#the other part of me wants to drop out and run away to the wilderness never to be heard from again

[crookedkingdom]

committee meetings are horrid awful things

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chap 2: Exodus

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

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Mikey growls loudly at the creatures as they come close. His marks start to flicker, as if they want to glow bright with his ninpo but can't anymore. Some part of Raph wonders what that means... but currently, he's terrified of what Mikey is going to do.

He's never heard him growl like that.

It's deep and guttural, much lower than Mikey has ever made his voice go.

Mikey suddenly lunges, running on all fours at the army of mutated monsters coming at them.

One creature that looks like it may have once been part wolf tries to swipe at him, but Mikey dodges it and swings his tail at him instead, sweeping out the hind legs and causing it to trip. Mikey's tail suddenly becomes sentient, grabs the hound and swings it like a club, knocking back several mutated animals before tossing the wolf like the world's furriest bowling ball. It slams into a row of oncoming beasts, slowing them down.

Raph can't let Mikey do this alone.

That's not what brothers do.

Not again.

He punches his fists together, creating two large hologram arms, and charges to join the fray.

Mikey is becoming wilder and wilder by the second, his grimace turning into a nasty snarl with sharp fangs beginning to jutt out. His eyes begin getting wider, the red irises glowing brighter and brighter. There are strange spines starting to creep out of his shell, the scales on his arms becoming sharp scutes like armor. Even his whipping tail -- which was much shorter before this crazy thing -- is starting to grow spines on it, the end practically looking like a mace or medieval weapon.

Raph is starting to get scared of his baby brother.

"Mikey! Mikey, you okay?" he asks, as he pushes several mutated raccoons and beavers aside.

Mikey doesn't respond beyond a gravelly low growl as he grabs a mutant badger by the tail and flings it into a wall.

How many animals are there?!

The hall is starting to fill up!

"Mike, we gotta get outta here! I can't hold these guys off for much longer!" he grunts, creating a few extra hologram arms to help ward off the rest. "Plus, I don't wanna hurt em!"

Mikey doesn't seem to hear him as he roars at the hoard. A few creatures start to back away in fright, before what looks like a mix between a boar and a porcupine starts running at them.

"That's our cue!" Raph shouts, grabbing Mikey. The spines and spikes protruding from his shell stab his palms and scrape his arms...

Mikey whirls around and bites Raph hard on the hand.

He yelps as he drops him. There's a mark on his hand, a deep indent. A small puncture wound begins to turn bright red. A tiny flow of blood begins to form just above his thumb.

Raph stares at Mikey.

Mikey glares back, the glow in his eyes bright as the blood on his hand.

"...Mikey...?"

His voice is a whisper. He can't stop shaking.

A moment passes and the glow in Mikey's eyes begins to dissipate, the spikes and spines slowly creeping back into his shell and skin. His tail smoothes out and starts to curl around his feet. His demeanour shifts, from one of a feral animal to a scared kid slowly coming out of a tantrum. He looks at Raph in fear as he realizes what he did. He whimpers, backing away slowly...

"Wait, it's okay! Really, I'm not mad, I --"

The mutant boar reaches them, slamming head-first into Mikey and throwing him into a wall. Mikey grunts with pain, a large crater forming in the drywall where he landed. He gets up quickly, his eyes immediately shifting back to red as he goes to retaliate.

Raphael watches in shock and horror as Mikey grabs the boar by the tusks and rips them out from his jaw. The pig squeals in agony and charges again, two smaller tusks quickly starting to grow back almost instantly.

"MIKEY!!"

"R--aph! Ra-- Come in, do y-- read me--?"

"Leo?!"

Raph looks down at his communicator. He totally forgot about it for a second... Leo and Donnie had been searching the other floors of the facility looking for Mikey, too! He should have let them know he'd found him --

"RAPH! I repeat, Raph, can you hear me?!"

"Yeah!" he shouts back over the screaming behind him. "I read you, Leo!"

"What the heck is all that noise?!"

"Long story short, I found Mikey. We need an escape, like, NOW."

"Donnie's on it," comes a second voice on the comms. "What floor are you on?"

"Five," he responds quickly, ducking from another mutant's attack. "I think we've been made. There were cages filled with animals and they all got released at once!"

"I'm coming now!" Donnie shouts. Raph can hear his hovershell whirr in the background, wind start whipping past the mic as he speeds towards them.

"Leo, where are you?"

"I just came from the basement. You guys will never believe what I found --"

"You can tell us on the way home, but we have to go NOW!!"

For a moment, Raph forgets that he isn't the leader anymore. For a moment, he's in charge and it's all on him to get them out. He's in control of everything and doesn't have to wait on Leo to make a self-sacrificing decision to solve everything like he tends to do.

"Okay, boss man. I'll meet you all outside in the turtle tank."

Raph sighs with relief.

"Got it. Donnie, ETA?"

"Right behind you -- oh what in the name of unholy science is that?!"

Raph turns around to see Donnie slowly coming to a halt, hovering over Mikey. The box turtle has defeated the boar at this point, slamming it hard into a wall until the boar slumped with a groan onto the floor.

"Is... is that Mikey --"

"Donnie, just find us an exit!" Raph shouts as he grabs Mikey, who doesn’t bite him again but struggles against his hold until he sees who's holding him.

"R-right... right... Uh, take a left, that window leads directly to the alley where Leo is waiting..."

The intercom buzzes again.

"What did Donnie say? What's going on with Mikey?!" Leo asks, his voice in a panic.

"Get the tank started, we're coming to you."

"But what about Mikey?!"

"He's here with us."

"Why doesn't he respond--"

Raph crashes through the window before he can answer, landing with a thud against the top of the tank. Mikey howls loudly, whining in fear and scratching at Raph's arms to let him go. He sees Donnie for the first time and makes a feeble chirp.

Donnie stares wide-eyed at him, mouth open and hands trembling.

Raph scrambles into the tank, holding Mikey tightly. Donnie follows after him, silently staring at his baby brother.

"There you guys are!" Leo yells, a wave of relief rushing over him. "I was starting to get really --"

He sees him.

"What... what happened to..."

"Just drive," Raph orders, holding Mikey close. "Just get us out of here."

Leo nods slowly, turning to Donnie. He receives the silent command and navigates the tank, speeding away.

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[bladesandbhaalspawn]

The Great Raccoon Chase

A Halsin x Tav Ficlet

for @maul-of-shame

Pairing: Halsin x Tav (Eilis, she/her, half-elf, ranger)

Words: <1k

Rating: G

Summary: A furry fiend rampages through Greenhollow; Eilis and Halsin work together to wrangle the raccoon back into nature.

want your own? check out this post!

"Someone catch that raccoon!" a villager shouted, wielding a broom with desperate zeal. Another followed suit, brandishing a wooden spoon as if it were a sword.

Eilis' eyes widened as she finally spotted the source of the chaos: a small, furry rascal with a mischievous glint in its beady eyes, zooming around the village square, shattering the peace of the little village of Greenhollow. It had managed to scale a stack of flour bags, leaving a trail of white dust in its wake - as well as a cacophony of panicked screams and the clatter of falling metal pots.

"Sorry, my heart, the tour will have to wait," the ranger told her partner, eyes never leaving her target, body preparing to pounce.

Halsin raised an eyebrow, trying to stifle a chuckle. "I take it that's not part of the usual village routine?"

"You'd be surprised," Eilis said, her tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. "That little rascal has been pilfering food from every vendor it can find. The day before you arrived, I swear I was just about to catch it when it decided to put on a show and run right through town."

With that, Eilis sprang into action, her practical braid bouncing with every step. She darted around the market, weaving between villagers and overturned carts. The raccoon, now perched triumphantly atop a loaf of bread, was clearly enjoying the chaos it was creating.

"My heart, watch out!" Halsin called as the raccoon leaped from the bread onto a tower of oranges, sending citrus flying in every direction. Eilis, determined not to let the creature escape, skidded to a halt, narrowly avoiding a shower of orange pulp.

"Not today, you furry fiend!" the ranger shouted, diving forward. The raccoon, sensing the hunt, scrambled up a nearby vegetable cart, scattering potatoes like confetti.

As Eilis managed to corner the raccoon next to a cart of cabbages, the creature made a final, dramatic leap. It landed directly on Eilis' shoulder, clutching a half-eaten carrot as if it were a trophy.

The villagers erupted in laughter and applause, clearly entertained by the sight of Eilis, her face smeared with flour and a carrot-clutching raccoon on her shoulder. Halsin arrived just in time to see Eilis' surprised but triumphant expression.

"Need a hand?" Halsin offered, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Only if you can wrestle this little troublemaker off me without getting turned into a snack," Eilis replied, trying to keep her tone light despite the raccoon's determined nibbling right by her earlobe.

Halsin, with practiced ease, murmured soft words and coaxed the raccoon into his arms, fingers deftly grabbing the fiend by its scruff. "How's that for teamwork?" he said, his voice full of affection.

Eilis sighed in relief, leaning against him as she caught her breath. "I don't think I've ever had such a chaotic afternoon, and I've had an illithid tadpole in my brain. Thank you for the assist, my love."

Halsin chuckled softly, wrapping his free arm around her waist. "Always, my heart. Though I must admit, this wasn't quite the welcome I was expecting when I came to visit you in this new part of Faerûn," he teased. "I do hope dropping off this little rascal back in nature will grant us a moment of peace."

Eilis gave him a playful nudge. "I wouldn't bet on it. With me around, life's never dull." She grinned up at the druid, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

As they left the village behind, the little raccoon still happily munching away on its carrot, Halsin and Eilis headed back into the lush wilderness where they both felt most at ease. Their laughter echoed through the trees, a reminder that amidst all the chaos, they always had each other.

[clumsiestgiantess]

Part 7 of the poll story; choice A!

A) You go to the large protected park

Surely, the extra time you’ll take to get to the larger park would pay off with a wider range of animals for Ralyr to choose from.  You begin making yourself a bowl of cereal for breakfast when a tiny form slowly wanders into the room, rubbing his eyes tiredly.  “Good morning!” you greet him.  He jumps at your voice, but calms immediately afterward.  “Morning,” Ralyr replies happily.  It’s mesmerizing how expertly he makes his way onto the table where you sit.  Glancing around, he starts towards the cereal box, then stops.

“I… don’t know whether I should bother struggling with that box when you can open it for me.  Normally, I’d get it myself, but the last few times I’ve tried to do something on my own, well,” he pauses, ears flicking downward for a moment as he glances up at you.  “You look like I’ve wounded you by trying it instead of waiting for you.”  You blink, unprepared for that kind of scrutiny so early in the morning.  “It.. just feels awkward if I don’t help.”  Ralyr thinks for a moment, then nods, gaze moving away from you.  “Yes, yes I suppose you’re right.  I’m sorry, I think I’m still a bit shocked by this whole situation.”  His eyes take on a faraway stare, and you wonder how long he would’ve had to be alone for him to be confused when others offer help.  Maybe his kind doesn’t even offer to help others in the first place.

He shakes himself awake after the bag of cereal crinkles and you pour out a few pieces for him.  “Thank you for your hospitality,” he tells you earnestly, taking one and biting into it.  You nod, “Would you like a drink too?”  Ralyr blinks surprisedly, “Just some water, if you will.”  

While you both finish your meal, you explain your plan to go to the large protected park.  The little being’s eyes light up excitedly.  “Untamed lands?  I haven’t visited a place of pure wilderness in years!”  “Well, I wouldn’t call them completely untamed,” you amand, “There are trails running through it and-”  “It's close enough!” he gasps, “Are we leaving soon?”  You smile at Ralyr’s excitement.  “Finish breakfast and we’ll go.”  He finishes in the amount of time it takes you to put on shoes and grab the keys.  Hesitantly, you hold out your hand for him to climb on.  Ralyr stares at it dubiously.

“You can’t walk to the car; it’ll take a while for you.”  He grumbles, tapping his chin.  “Can’t you bring me in that?”  A miniscule finger points out the bag you put together for the hike, with a bottle of water and a protein bar or two.  You sigh, confused why he keeps avoiding you.  You don’t want to make your little guest uncomfortable by picking him up and carrying him around, but you can’t deny that it would make you more comfortable — able to ensure he was alright instead of simply tossing him in a bag.  However, you open it for him and let him drop inside.  In the car, a few minutes into the drive, he slides back out of the bag, settling into a cupholder beside you.  The drive is already awkwardly silent, and it just began.

What do you say to break the silence?

A) “So, what was it like living in the supermarket?  I bet supplies were really easy to get.”

B) “What are you going to do when we get there?  Should I walk around with you in my bag, or do I just let you out on your own, and you’ll come back when you’ve taken something?

C) “You seem pretty excited to get back outside!  Any forms in particular you’re searching for?”

D) You can’t get the thought of safety holding him out of your mind.  If you were his size, surely you’d want someone who could protect you from such a big world. “Why.. do you keep avoiding touching me?”

[lillotte17]

Masks and Music

Astarion x Tav (Nivan)

Rating: M (pretty tame, but it's an adult game with adult themes, some of which get discussed)

My version of the Astarion confession scene with my Tav, Nivan!

~~

Light was not the only thing swallowed up in the Shadowlands, the typical sounds of night had also been sucked away into the black fog that permeated the air of any place the curse had touched. No crickets. No frogs. Not even the sounds of distant carts rattling down the road, hoping to reach Baldur’s Gate. It was unsettling, even for Astarion, who had never much cared for roughing it in the wilderness.

Still, he would much rather bed down out here in the dirt than back in Moonrise Tower, surrounded by murderous cultists and that horrible drow woman.

He could have bitten her. Perhaps he should have bitten her. It wouldn’t have been the worst thing he had done to gain something useful, after all. He had not wanted to, of course, but he wasn’t certain that was a good enough reason for him to have turned it down. He had been so sure that their illustrious leader was going to be furious with his refusal. Or at the very least, tell him that he was making a fuss over nothing, and deride him like a child who refuses to eat their vegetables. Instead, Nivan had simply seemed a bit surprised at his reluctance, and then, once Astarion’s disgust at the prospect had been voiced aloud, he simply…shrugged in acquiesce. Deferring to his preference without so much as a disapproving glare.

Some part of him had been waiting for the axe to fall afterwards. To be pulled aside and punished. Berated. Beaten. Humiliated into acceptable subservience.

But it hadn’t happened.

The half-drow was sitting at the edge of their camp, blithely plucking away at some song or other on his violin, as he has done almost every night since they had begun travelling together. Tonight’s tune was a little sorrowful, a little sweet. It rose and fell like a wave, almost sensuous, pulling, pleading, but delicate, too. Fragile and wanting all at once. The clear sound of the notes was a welcome reprieve from the curse’s silence. Astarion walked over to him just as Nivan seemed to hit a rough patch, settling a face of composed and polite interest over his features as the bard cursed under his breath and dropped his instrument down into his lap. 

“Dammit, I thought I had it that time.”

“Working on something new, darling?” Astarion asked with a brightness that was only slightly manufactured.

Nivan started just a bit at the intrusion, but his surprise quickly melted into his typical easy smile.

“I’ve been working on this one for a while now, actually,” he confessed with a dramatic sigh and a playful curl of his lips, “The melody can’t seem to decide what it wants to be, though, so it’s been giving me some trouble.”

“I have no doubt that you’ll bend it to you will in no time, my sweet” Astarion grinned, making a grand sweeping gesture with one arm, “Another masterpiece to add to your repertoire. They’ll be singing your music from one side of Faerun to the other, with grateful tears shining in their eyes.”

“You don’t have to sell it that hard, Twinkle,” Nivan chuckled. “Besides, I don’t think this one is for the masses.”

“Then what’s the point of it?” Astarion scoffed, putting his hands on his hips. “I thought every artist’s dream was ensnare the adoration of the entire world. If you already know this one isn’t good enough to impress your audience, wouldn’t your efforts be better spent elsewhere?”

“I never said I thought it wasn’t good enough for them,” Nivan pointed out, running long calloused fingers over the strings of his violin in a fond caress, “I said it wasn’t for them. Some pieces are too personal to give away. Too special to be shared. Too precious to be bartered for coin and praise.”

“Got a lot of pieces like that, have you?” Astarion smirked. Something cold and mean was trying to claw up the back of his throat. Something that tasted an awful lot like jealousy, although he could not say why.

Perhaps it simply felt like he was looking in through a window at some portion of his lover’s life that he had no access to. Some sequestered room inside his soul that he guarded covetously. Truths that would shed light upon his past. His dreams. His heart.

Even though Astarion had no right to ask for any of them.

“A few,” Nivan admitted carelessly, tossing him a wink. “Although not so many as you might expect. As you said, I do need to focus my considerable talents on writing music that people will actually pay me to hear.”

“No smitten patrons ever insisted on a love song crafted for their ears alone, then?”

“Of course, they did!” Nivan laughed, “I got rather good at them, over the years. Although, if I’m being completely honest, I only really wrote two or three. The trick is to pick lyrics that are so generic that you really only have to change a word or two here and there in order to keep the customer happy. Hair color. Eye color. That sort of thing. Since it was a ‘secret song,’ it didn’t matter if the melody was the same as all the others. They never knew the difference.”

“My, what a shameless cad you are, darling,” Astarion said, his smile going lean and hungry as his voice dipped low, fangs glinting in the firelight. “Breaking the hearts of the rich and witless left and right. I don’t know if I should feel of sense of envy or admiration.”

Nivan shrugged, shifting his weight a little, and tightening his grip on his bow.

“I only gave them what they asked me for. Most of them were simply bored with their marriages and looking for a taste of an exotic distraction. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with…playing a part, in order to survive. I didn’t hurt anyone. Not really.” His gaze flicked back up to Astarion, the pale silvery-purple of his eyes gleaming in the darkness like a set of stars. “But beyond any of that…you have no need to be envious. If you want me to write you a love song, you need only ask.”

“And have you lump me in with the rest of your commonplace conquests? I think not,” Astarion huffed. His tone was light and mocking, the pretense of offense, but there was a strange tightness in his throat. This wasn’t what he had come here to talk about.

“No…what we have isn’t exactly meant for flowers and poetry is it?” Nivan’s smile never faded, but his eyes drifted elsewhere. Searching for a safe place to land.

“I want-” Astarion started, but realized part way through that he had no idea what he meant to ask for. What he wanted to be given from this man, if not shallow praise, and sex, and songs filled with empty words of love. “I…wanted to thank you.”

Nivan blinked. Made a face.

“You’re welcome?”

“You don’t even know what I’m thanking you for, do you?”

“I don’t, but it’s a rare enough occurrence that I figured it was safer just to reinforce the habit rather than make a fuss about it.”

“You are a complete ass sometimes; do you know that?”

“Is that why you felt compelled to thank me?”

Astarion breathed deeply through his nose and took a moment to remind himself that he did not actually want to throttle the man in front of him.

“I am trying to thank you for what you said to that vile drow woman earlier, if you would stop being insufferable for a thrice-damned minute,” he snapped.

Nivan tilted his head at him, arching a brow.

“It’s hardly the first time I’ve indulged you in your preferences.”

“Yes, but this was different,” Astarion insisted. “This was… You could have just asked me to bite her. It wouldn’t have been the end of the world. I’ve had worse things in my mouth, I’m certain.”

“Would you really have done something like that just because I told you to?”

“I…I don’t know,” Astarion frowned, the whole of his face drooping, “I think…I might have. Cazador had me use my body to lure pretty souls back to him for nearly two hundred years. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing, none of it mattered. You could have done the same. Or at least asked me to. But you didn’t. And that’s why I wanted to thank you. It made me see that I’ve still been thinking of myself as something to be used. A means to an end. But I don’t have to be. I’m more than that. I’m more than what he made me.”

Nivan looked at him in silence for moment, considering.

“Now that you have your freedom, the world is what you want to make of it, Astarion,” he said at last, “As are you. That’s not anything you have to thank me for.”

“I suppose not,” Astarion laughed, sounding both giddy and nervous all at once, “But you certainly could have made things worse for me. I’ve found that most people do, as a general rule.”

“Well, you are welcome to throw yourself into my arms, if you are feeling especially grateful,” Nivan said, one corner of his mouth ticking upwards. “I don’t feel like I did much, but I’ll take the reward for it just the same, if it’s on offer.”

Astarion flinched.

“I…don’t know that I should,” he said slowly, eyes darting away. “I’m…not sure that I want you to think of me in terms of sex. …I don’t know that I want anyone to.”

Nivan’s eyebrows shot upward, face aghast.

“Oh. Shit. Look, I didn’t mean anything by it, alright? I just thought that was where this conversation was headed.”

“I suppose that’s fair, given our usual tendencies,” Astarion smiled weakly.

The silence of the night seeped in between them. Both lost. Both uncertain and vulnerable, and hating every second of it.

Astarion could hear Nivan’s heartbeat thundering in his chest, and he wondered if his would be doing the same, if he were still alive. If his cheeks would flush, and his ears would burn. He felt tangled up with longing, but he could not say what the longing was for. Only that it had something to do with the man sitting beside him.

“So…” Nivan finally cleared his throat, fingers idly plucking at a single string on his instrument. “So, if you don’t want me to think of you as… That is to say, is this the end of the game, then? The part where we shake hands amicably and agree that it was fun while it lasted?”

It was Astarion’s turn to blink then.

“Game?”

“Yes, the game, of course,” Nivan waved his hand dismissively, “The one where you play the devilish vampire rake who seduces me with his wiles and I play the sweet hapless fool who cannot resist your charms.”

“Ah. Yes…I suppose it is the end of that,” Astarion replied, something cold and heavy sinking in his chest. “You…you never did believe I was being sincere, then?”

“Not in the slightest,” Nivan laughed, but the sound of it was aching, “I mean, I believed that you were attracted to me. Physically, anyway. But I never thought there were any…softer inclinations involved in our arrangement. I just assumed that you had an itch to scratch, and that attaching yourself to me gave you a sense of…security, within our group. It seemed mutually beneficial, so I didn’t mind playing my part.”

“You played it very well,” Astarion said sourly. “I nearly thought of you as someone who could see me as a person.”

Nivan narrowed his eyes at him.

“Careful, Twinkle, those words smack sharp of something bitter,” he said with a frown, “You were the one who set this stage, I only took the role you handed me. You have no right to get angry that I knew better than to set my heart in the center of your machinations. Besides, if you weren’t even attracted to me, then it’s hardly a loss for you, is it? I’m not going to sell you back to Cazador just because we stop sleeping together.”

“Of course, I’m attracted to you!” Astarion snapped, “Have you seen what you look like?”

“And I always saw you as a person!” Nivan snarled back, “Even when you’re being a prickly rat-bastard, hogging the blankets, whining about the smallest speck of mud, or holding a fucking blade to my throat!”

They glared at each other for a few long tense moments. Nostrils flared. Breathing hard.

It was utterly unfair how even that expression made Astarion want him. Made something dark and desperate and starving snake up from his belly and curl its way down his limbs. He wanted to dig his fingers into the dark supple skin of his back. His ribs. His thighs. Wanted to sink his teeth into the lovely curve of his throat. Wanted to pin him down and crush the air from his lungs. To pull everything that made him bright and whole and living into himself, where he could keep it always.

The desire did not even arise from a place of lust, although that was certainly an element of it. It was greed. It was hunger. And beneath those things, it was something soft to the point of pain. Something that cut him to his core.

And so, for once, he would not allow himself to succumb to his urges. His instincts. His well-read scripts for loveless pantomimes.

He wanted more than that. He wanted the sort of things you couldn’t seduce out of someone. Time and trust and tenderness. Things that last. Things that you could hold in the sunlight. All the things he had gone without for the last two hundred years. All the things he could barely remember having even before then.

It seemed as if he might have already lost his chance for them, though.

Nivan was the first to look away. Face crumpling in frustration. On hand reaching up to scrub at the shaved section of his moon-white hair.

“Hells, we’re awful at this, aren’t we?”

“I suppose we are,” Astarion chuckled, thin-sounding and wretched.

“But look,” Nivan started, reaching out a hand to place on Astarion’s forearm before thinking better of it and curling it around his own middle instead, “I’m trying to give you what you’re asking me for, and it feels like you’re getting mad at me about it. You want to stop sleeping together, that’s fine. You want to put an end to our charade, and I can understand why. You feel safer now. You know I won’t turn on you on a whim. The game served its purpose, so now you-”

“Stop!” Astarion cut him off, pinching the bridge of his nose with finger and thumb, face scrunched up as though he’d gotten a taste of something unexpectedly sour, “Just stop. Ugh, you’re making me feel awful.”

He let out a long breath.

Nivan raised a brow at him, waiting.

“You’re right.” Astarion told him at last, wincing at the truth of it. “It was a game. It was a farce. One I have played thousands of times over. A nice, simple plan. All I had to do was seduce you, and gain your protection. Your affection. And you let me. And it was easy. After that, the only thing left to do was to not fall for you.”

He smiled ruefully.

“And that, I’m afraid, is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.”

There was a soft shuddering gasp. Nivan’s eyes on him were wide. The grip on his violin white-knuckled and trembling. He seemed to be beyond words at the revelation, so Astarion pressed onward, hardly allowing himself the hope that this was a good sign.

“You- You’re incredible, you know?” He smiled, leaning forward without quite meaning to, “You’re clever. Aggravating. Talented. Nosey. Beautiful. And you drive me absolutely crazy, sometimes. Mostly in good ways. And I- …You deserve something real. I want us…to be something real.”

The bard’s skin was dark enough to hide any trace of a blush, but his eyes flitted away as if something in Astarion’s face was too bright to look at for more than a few moments together. The whole of his body was tensed tighter than a bowstring, but it was hard to say if it was a product of embarrassment or discomfort. His heart was pounding again, though, Astarion could hear the sound of it ringing in his ears. All that delectable blood racing through his veins fast enough to make his mouth water.

Astarion swallowed hard, bracing himself for rejection. For the final proof that if he could not offer someone his body, he could not offer them anything worth having. The last nail in his proverbial coffin.

“How…” Nivan cleared his throat, “How would we do that?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Astarion admitted with a huff of laughter, ebbing terror mixed with budding relief. “I certainly don’t know what we’re doing. Or what comes next.”

“But I can’t…” Nivan made a face, lips twisting in frustration, “I don’t know how to say it in a way that sounds… I could read you poems. I could sing you ballads. I could recount epic tales of love written across star-strew skies. …But those are the kinds of words I’ve sold to people nearly all my life. They feel cheap and empty, even if it’s you, and they should feel…more. I don’t know how it is done without a script to follow, and if I cannot even touch you…”

Astarion made a face of mild consternation.

“And why can’t you touch me, exactly?”

Nivan frowned back, equally confused.

“I thought…you didn’t want me to?”

“Darling, I still have every intention of drinking your blood at any time convenient to yourself,” Astarion roll his eyes, one side of his mouth ticking upwards, “I have no plans of denying myself any offered access to that lovely neck, and I couldn’t get to it without touching you.”

“That’s not that same, and you know it.”

“Hm, perhaps not,” he conceded, “But the point remains; I am not averse to the idea of you touching me, under the right circumstances. So long as we agree that the touching is going to remain…chaste, for the time being.”

“As if I care about the sex,” Nivan scoffed. Paused. Made a face. Reconsidered. “Alright, I do care about the sex. I’m not sure if you noticed, but we are both very good at sex, and especially good at sex together. But. It isn’t worth more to me than you are. We can go without for as long as you need to. As long as you want to. Forever, even.”

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Astarion chuckled, something perilously tender in his gaze. “You make it sound like quite the challenge.”

“I’m certain that it will be, but I’ll have you know that I am lauded far and wide as a virtuous pillar of restraint and generosity,” Nivan replied with a slight bow, one hand pressed over the bared skin of his scarred chest.

“Liar.” Astarion accused with a smirk, his tone unmistakably fond. “And you were doing so well, too.”

“Was I?” Nivan wondered, his own smile turning rakish, “Are you swayed by my sincerity? Will I be granted the privilege of touching you this evening?”

“Hm, that depends. Where do you want to touch?”

“Dealer’s choice,” Nivan shrugged, “I’ve just wanted your hands on me ever since you told me this could be something real.”

Uncertainty flickered across Astarion’s face. A kiss seemed like the natural choice for this kind of confession. For these kinds of desires and feelings floating to the surface. But his mouth was a thing for devouring. Built for blood and pain and sharpness. He did not know how to make it something sweet. Not yet.

“Start small,” Nivan suggested, sensing his apprehension. “Something simple.”

 Astarion hesitated a moment more before slowly extending an arm toward his lover, the pale fingers of his hand unfurling like a flower reaching for sunlight. He held it out in offering. He held his beath, too. Worried that even this would somehow end up feeling tainted.

Nivan smiled at him, wide and genuine. He pressed a kiss to his own fingers before sliding them into Astarion’s waiting palm. If his heart had still been pumping blood, it would have skipped a beat.

Astarion placed his empty hand on top of Nivan’s, pressing it firmly between his palms. Closing his eyes and feeling the warmth of it. The steady rhythm of his pulse fluttering against his fingers like a trapped bird. How fragile this moment seemed in the grand scheme of things. How brief and transient in comparison to the last two hundred hellish years of his undead life.

How wonderful.

He let out the breath he had not realized he was still holding onto.

“This… This is nice.” Astarion admitted softly, a bit surprised at the revelation himself.

“I will happily lend you any of my appendages for a bit of light squeezing whenever you’d like, dearest.”

“Ugh, and you had to go and ruin it by opening your mouth.”

“By all means, give my mouth a different occupation, and I will defer its offensive nature posthaste.”

“If you insist on prattling on, then I think I’d like a little show of effort from your end, if it’s all the same,” Astarion declared. “Tell me something true.”

“Anything true? Would you like to hear about Lae’zel’s terrifying morning workout regime? The tragic origins of Karlach’s bear? The fact that I’m almost positive that Gale only owns one pair of socks that he refuses to replace or wash with any great amount of effort beyond walking through a stream?”

“About me, you absolute menace.”

“Ah.”

Nivan’s smile froze in place.

“…Surely it can’t be that difficult,” Astarion frowned.

“It might be,” Nivan admitted with a grimace, “The only thing I know how to talk about seriously is music. If you were composed of naught but notes, I could talk about you for hours without so much as a trace of falsehood or façade.”

“Very well, talk about me as though I were music, then.” Astarion said, drumming his fingers on the back of Nivan’s knuckles impatiently, “If I begged you to immortalize me with your talents the way your wealthy patrons do, what would you make of me?”

“You are already a song, Astarion.” Nivan replied quietly, sliding his fingertips across the heel of Astarion’s palm and slightly brushing the cool skin of his wrist. “You were born a song. You will continue to be one even if I cannot find the proper notes to play you with.”

“Oh?” Astarion perked up at that. “That is a pretty piece of praise. Or at least I think it is. It’s the beginnings of one, anyway. What sort of song am I, then?"

Nivan squinted at him, as though trying to make out every detail of his face. Astarion tried not to squirm under the scrutiny. He wished he could have looked himself over in a mirror before coming to this talk.

“You are an earworm.” The bard told him frankly.

Astarion snatched his hands back.

“Yes, well. I think that is quite enough genuine flattery for one evening,” he said sourly, making a move to get back to his feet, “Maybe you should take some time to practice before we speak again.”

Nivan managed to snag the sleeve of his shirt before he could leave.

“Don’t get huffy. Give me a moment to finish the thought, won’t you?” He said, still somewhat nervous, but also clearly trying not to laugh. “It’s much better than you think. Well. Probably.”

Astarion arched a brow, still looking severely unimpressed.

“It’s the way you… No.” The bard floundered again. “It’s about the color of your eyes, I think.”

“Comparing me to vermin because my eyes are red is not improving your case, darling.” Astarion said coldly.

“Not an earworm like a bug, you beautiful fool. An earworm as in a song that’s impossible to get out of your head.” Nivan snorted, his hands back to fiddling with the strings of his violin. His gaze fell to his lap. “I think it was all because of that night you were trying to look at yourself in the mirror. You told me that you couldn’t remember your face. Not even the color of your eyes before you turned, and… I couldn’t stop thinking about it afterwards. I kept looking at you and trying to imagine the eyes you were born with. It drove me to distraction.”

“And?” Astarion pressed, “Did you ever decide what color my eyes must have been?”

“Not at all,” Nivan chuckled, “When you were sharp and angry with me, I’d think that they must have been blue. Cold and piercing. Unforgiving. But when you were happy about something, I was convinced that they should actually be green. Lively and bright. Mischievous. But then again, sometimes you would look at me with that deep gnawing hunger in your gaze, and I was positive that they must have been brown. Dark and rich and melting. After all, nothing drowns a heart like a pair of brown eyes. I bet you would have wielded them with deadly precision, even before you turned.”

“Which color was your favorite?”

Nivan smirked, tilting his head slightly at him.

“Why, your current ruby red, of course, Twinkle.”

“Hm. A wise answer.”

“I thought so.” Nivan heaved a dramatic sigh, still grinning from ear to ear. “Of course, it wasn’t all about your eyes. That would just be silly. The more time I spent with you, the more it felt like…like I was standing in an empty house, and there was a lovely melody playing just one room over, but no matter where I moved to, no matter how hard I pressed my ear against the nearest wall, I couldn’t quite make it out. It was intriguing, and infuriating, and there was nothing I could do except keep watching you, and see if the song would become clearer with time. And the more I watched you, the more I noticed. And the more I noticed, the more I couldn’t…stop myself from noticing. And then I noticed that you were noticing me, too. And here we are.”

“But…the night with the mirror…that was before we had even slept together,” Astarion said slowly, confusion written plainly across his face.

“Hm, it was, wasn’t it?”

“I thought you said that you knew better than to set your heart within reach of my machinations?”

“Oh, I absolutely knew better,” Nivan’s grin turned rueful, “But the funny thing about hearts is that ‘knowing better’ hardly ever seems to stop them from falling for someone.”

Astarion laughed, his gaze soft, and his smile knowing.

“We are quite the pair, aren’t we?” He chuckled. “Both undone by each other and our own scheming.”

“Serves us right, I say.”

Astarion stretched out a hand and plucked a single chord on Nivan’s violin.

“If you ever manage to make out the music you’ve been watching me for, I think I’d like to hear it.” He told him quietly.

“You can hear it now, if you like,” Nivan replied, ducking his head with just a hint of shyness, “It isn’t finished, though.”

“Play it for me.”

The bard obliged without another word, getting up from his seat to stand before his audience of one. Barefoot and bare chested, there was nothing on him except his trousers and the faint glow of firelight. He offered Astarion a courtly bow before bringing his violin up to rest on his shoulder as he began to play.

Nivan was different when he was performing. He was raw and real in a way that couldn’t be articulated. Whatever the music he was playing, he would let himself be consumed by it. Joyful, tragic, giddy, or intense, he would fall away from his usual teasing self and fold himself into a person Astarion could not touch. Could not lure or cajole or threaten. It was beautiful to behold, but it felt lonely, too. Like he was being left behind somehow.

Perhaps his was not the only song playing in the empty house Nivan spoke of.

The music began softly. Something low and quiet, almost sensual, blooming up out of the darkness and into the night. It got stronger, sharper, louder as it went, the notes cutting through the air like daggers. The tempo was similar to a tango, itching to pull someone close, to draw them in and twist suddenly at the last possible moment. It continued to grow faster, almost spiraling and frantic. Beautiful and dangerous, even as the song seemed to unravel itself. Something plaintive and yearning crept into the thread of it, as the original tune flowed back into a reprise. Only then did Astarion realize that this was the same song that the bard hand been practicing earlier when he came to speak with him.

The notes grew lighter, nearly sweet, but not quite. Dancing along the fringes of either hope or misery, it seemed to be swelling to a crescendo-

And suddenly Nivan’s bow stuttered to a halt.

“That’s- That’s all I have so far,” he panted out. There was sweat dripping down his brow.

Astarion found himself in the unusual position of being utterly speechless.

“It…it still needs work, I know.” The bard said, reading the silence as disapproval and ducking his head. Damp strands of his white hair fell across his eyes. “It would have been better to try and capture your likeness with a pen and paper, but alas, I have never been-”

“Nivan.” Astarion cut him off breathlessly.

“Yes, Twinkle?”

“Shut up and touch me.”

“Touch you how?”

‘Gently.’ He wanted to say, but he could not quite manage it. He made a jerky half-motion with his arms, and that seemed to be enough of a hint for the bard to set his instrument aside and gather him in his arms. Astarion froze, caught off guard, even though he had more or less asked for this. Nivan’s face was planted firmly in his shoulder, but there was a slight tremble in his limbs that made him suspect that he might not be the only one feeling somewhat overwhelmed.

He let out a long breath, gingerly shifting himself to return the embrace. Closing his eyes as the warmth from Nivan’s naked back seeped into his skin. He brushed his nose along the curve of his neck, and for once the thought of biting that succulent spot barely crossed his mind.

 “So, do you think you’ve heard it well enough, yet?” Astarion murmured somewhere near Nivan’s jaw. “The song inside the empty house?”

“Not yet,” Nivan replied, his fingers tightening in the folds of Astarion’s shirt ever so slightly. “The song is fussy, and it doesn’t know what it wants. I…might have to stay a while to hear it properly. It’s a nice house, even if it is empty. Maybe…I could build a home here. Let the sun in through the curtains. Play some music of my own.”

“You could certainly try,” Astarion hummed. “I think you’ll find that the place is rather cold and drafty after all these years, however.”

“That’s alright,” Nivan said, and Astarion could feel him smiling against his clavicle, “It’s got good bones. I can tell."

[everyone-with-a-para]

(5/5) alright! arc four! once all the alola stuff wraps up, cole+my guy are...still fired from aether, not that they'd want to be associated with aether now anyway. so it's time to develop a new research angle, and This time it's working with professor burnet to develop a way for them to safely traverse the ultra wormholes that nebby can create. and where does the first one drop them but hisui, over 100 years in the past! and initially they're just. out in the wilderness. and they're not stuck as long as they have nebby, so they could leave, but they want to explore a bit instead of just dipping out because they can't see any signs of civilization. so they do a little wandering+luckily, instead of getting Attacked by anything, they run into the pearl clan's favourite warden: ingo! this ingo is distinctly different from my other para of him; this one has been living in hisui for like. At least ten years. maybe closer to 15. and he only vaguely remembers his home+has basically resigned himself to the fact that he's never gonna see anything even remotely close to it again...until he runs into this little group of very-obviously-modern travellers+is like Oh My God. he pretty much assumes the lot of them are fallers right away+starts fussing immediately, trying to orient them+get them somewhere safe, while THEY'RE all looking at each other like "is it just me or is that a unovan railway uniform. where the hell are we?"

either way, things get cleared up+ingo is...somewhat disappointed to discover that they're not in the same situation as him, but also relieved because good lord nobody deserves that. and they tell him "well we're gonna stay here for a little for research because this place has got pokemon we've never even HEARD of, but when we go we could try+see if we can get you back home." initially ingo declines because he has Duties here, but he *does* accompany them when they go on research because he knows the land better+doesn't want this group of kids (read: roughly 17-25 year olds) dying in the wilderness. and it's during this, while watching everybody Be A Family from the distance, that it occurs to him "ohhh i see. I Miss Having A Family. Badly." and it's not just having a family, it's also having Anyone who really understands him. as much as he's settled into hisuian culture, he's still an outsider from another time. so when it comes time for everyone to pack up+leave for real, he decides (with a bit of regret) to abandon his post as a warden+come with. part of it is the temptation of being able to actually Go Home, but it's also because everybody else has genuinely grown on him+he doesn't want to lose anybody he feels close to again. Found Family Complete. for now at least.

...and THAT'S the story as it stands! this could go a few different directions; right now i'm playing omega ruby+depending on how much i end up thinking about it everybody could end up getting plunked in hoenn. there's also obviously if, how, and when an emmet/ingo reunion happens but nothing concrete has been worked out for that. i'm trying not to go "oh my god this is fucking long" for the 70 millionth time because you DID say you were interested so um. thank you for reading. i REALLY hope this all sends in proper order+tumblr doesn't eat any of these asks lmao but if it does i can resend any of them. again: literally had to draft this in a word doc. can you believe this is the Short version of all this. i swear to god this is meant to be more truncated. i'm not even going into the symbolism of everyone's pokemon teams or anything. did you know genesect is here? fucking genesect has been here the whole time

@ninesecretsteps

Ingo mention Ingo mention Ingo mention!!!! (Can you tell I love him?)

Oogh I put Ingo in Hisui for 5-7 years depending on how I feel but people who do 10+ make me incredibly sad

My Ingo has very similar complicated feelings about his Duties and life he's made in Hisui vs the want to go home when Akari convinces (threatens) Arceus to let them. He very almost decides not to leave. It also doesn't help that he has no memories other than a flash of Emmet's face and the vague knowledge of a fire type pokemon. He's afraid of what he'll find or what he won't find because he just doesn't know whereas Hisui is Known and Predictable (and he's autistic) but also also Hisui never felt like Home. He's always been an outsider no matter how much of the clan eventually accepted him

My Ingo and Emmet do get a reunion and I daydream it a lot

Genesect:🧍

Thank you for sharing!!! I enjoyed reading these immensely!!!

[nerd-at-sea5]

alright this is pt 3 to 'i spent my teens in rage, spiralin' in silence' AKA the long ass yellowjackets fic i'm writing, pt 1 is here, ao3 link here

and uh yeah. lets go pt 3

during any wilderness scene this takes place in-between s1e7 and s1e10, laura lee is alive

sorry it took so long to come out, i got in an accident and then had finals prep and stuff

also, fun thing to rember w this ch especially. jackie is not a bad person, she's insanely jealous of nat and its coming out in the worst way possible. that doesn't excuse her actions, but i hope it can help explain them.

“nat, please just-”

“no, no-lottie i'm not doing this shit!"

she turns away, but not before lottie grabs nat's wrist and pulls her bacm, "natalie."

"don't-" they start, shoulders dropping, "don't fucking do that. please, lot-just...just don't."

lottie sighs, "i'm worried about you. you woke up half the team at like three am, nat-you looked fucking petrified."

she feels nat loosen in her grip, can practically see the thoughts in their head, it's not like lottie wants to be having this conversation, she'd really like to just...not. it's not like she's ever been good at the feelings conversation-hell, normally natalie's one of the only people lottie can have a half decent feelings conversation with.

they're just as emotionally constipated as everyone else, yet it works. they don't lie to each other, they respect boundaries, and things have been really good. nat knows not to ask about the pills lottie takes quickly and quietly at every sleepover or the way her house is always empty, lottie knows not to ask about the flinches at loud bangs, or the scars that pepper nat's body. they talk about feelings when they need to, it may seem a little fucked but it works for them.

she's breaking an unspoken rule and it hurts, but she's genuinely afraid-not of natalie, but for her.

"you...you woke up screaming." they finally make eye contact, "just screaming, no words....van tried to grab you-they came running down the stairs, i think to hold onto you? you shoved them off, i didn't....i didn't know what to do-i'm sorry." she watches them swallow, hard. "you got up and it looked like you were going to take the gun. jackie yelled for travis and he came out before you grabbed it, van grabbed your wrists and forced you to sit down, then they just....sat there. you didn't look like you knew where you were."

"i did. i knew exactly where i was." natalie's eyes are blue, blue like the sky in the summer, the ocean during good swimming days, but right now they look like the blue of an ice shard, right before it pierces you.

"i was back in the fucking trailer park, watching my fucking dad-" they stop, and lottie lets her grip go slack, "nat...please. talk to me."

"why don't you talk to me?"

lottie blinks, stepping backwards, "what?"

natalie runs a hand through her hair, the ice hardening, "i mean-if it's unhinged for me to wake up screaming after all this shit-"

they gesture wildly around, while lottie interjects, "you've done it before we ended up here-"

“then it's sure as hell unhinged to smash your head into a window after speaking fucking french, lottie! i-i don't know what you think is wrong with me, but-but fucking check yourself first!"

"natalie!”

some part of lottie knows she doesn't actually mean it, and that it's a combination of anxiety and pent up anger that’s not aimed at her-it’s just coming out at her because she’s the only one who’ll confront nat (aside from van, but that’s always been different).

she’s worried about them, they’re worried about her. fuck, lottie's so worried about nat she can barley sit still when she and travis go out hunting.

and honestly she'd be lying to herself if she said she wasen't terrifed every passing day, she hates waking up and not knowing what's real or not, hates having to remember stupid coping mechanisms from years ago that don't fucking work, hate the way natalie and taissa look at her when she's staring into space, with worry and confusion. with pity. lottie hates it.

but nat's going to end up hurting themself, and even if nat ends up hating her for it, lottie is still going to keep trying to keep them safe.

"hey!" she stops them right before the entrance to the cabin, is vaguely aware that taissa and mari are now watching them intently, "you can't be a dick to me just because i give a shit about you, ok?”

natalie glares up at her, and lottie stares right back, “i'm not fucking going anywhere, so pull your head out of your ass and realize that i'm not trying to hurt you. i love you, you fucking idiot."

for a moment, lottie's worried nat's about to snap at her, insted she seems to deflate, like a predator after the pray slinks away, shrinking back into themself, and right as they start to rear up again and open up-

"TAISSA, NAT! PROBLEM-"

mari's voice comes screeching across the clearing, and for a second, lottie wants to slap her, right before she sees van-who's face is almost as red as their hair stumbling next to her, who's legs look like they're about to give out.

taissa's at van in an instant, natalie giving lottie a semi-apologetic look before they run over, lottie on her heels.

"mari what the fuck happened?" taissa looks three seconds away from grabbing mari and throwing her, but she's already grabbed van out of mari’s arms and is cradling them gently in her arms, and since travis is out with the shotgun, lottie thinks the worst thing that can happen is nat taking a swing at mari.

then she spots natalie’s face, sheer rage filling the blonde’s eyes, fingers twitching, and realizes just how bad natalie going at mari would be, lottie quickly grabs van’s legs, “inside. now.”

they put them on the same bed that they used when van was recovering from the wolf attack, and lottie gets a closer look at them.

van’s shirt is nearly soaking wet, yet their skin is dry and uncomfortably hot, even for lottie just laying a hand on them.

taissa removes her hand from their forehead, gently wiping van’s hair out of their eyes with shaky hands, “it’s ok, baby-you’re going to be ok.”

“they’ve got heat stroke.” coach ben says, slowly making his way into the room on his crutch.

shauna swears under her breathe as he continues, “look, sweating a lot but their skin is dry and hot. they keep blinking around like they don’t know what’s going on, and i bet if we asked them to talk their voice would be slurred.”

“so we cool them down right? dunk them in the lake or something…can’t be that hard.”

all of them turn to jackie, staring, and laura lee is the first to speak, “if they lose consciousness then we could drown them, and it’ll take to long to bring them over. they could be affected worse-”

“laura lee!” lottie yelps, nodding at taissa’s face, stricken with fear, natalie fights to keep her worry out of her eyes.

coach holds up his hands, “jackie’s kind of right, we need to cool them down, fast. take them into the other room and take off their upper layers. nat, lottie and tai go do that. shauna, jackie, javi and akilah go fill up as many bottles and anything else with as much water and bring it back ASAP. misty and mari come with me, mari is going to explain exactly what happened and misty is going to work with me to remember how to help. fast.”

for the first time since lottie can remember, everyone listens to coach with no hesitation. laura lee wasent given an instruction, but seeing as how she seems to know what she’s talking about, and seems to give off a relatively calm presence, lottie grabs her arm and hauls her into the other room with the rest.

by the time they’ve gotten van down to just a sports bra and boxers, javi comes sprinting into the room, stares at van for about three seconds before they roll their eyes and he blushes furiously, shoves the water at tai, “akilah and shauna are coming now.” before sprinting back out.

van groans from the makeshift bed, “was he checkin' me out?” their words are slurred and almost incoherent, but nat snorts and laura lee starts giggling, and soon the room is filled with soft laugher, lottie grins and watches tai smooth a wet cloth over van’s forehead while they sigh in relief.

“he so was…but like, you’re hot.”

“‘m burning hot."

lottie snickers, laying cloth over van’s arms while nat and laura lee do their legs, “seriously though, this is the third time?”

van gives a short jerk with their shoulders that make lottie and taissa grab the sides of their head in a panic.

“symptoms of heat stroke are also seizures…”

"laura l..lee i'm not havin' a fuck...ing seizure."

they spend the day like that, with water being routinely brought back and then soaked into cloth and onto van, until they seem able to stand, coach tells them it'll be around three days before van is back to normal, so they're exempt from chores.

later that night, lottie overhears a conversation she doesn't think is hers to hear.

she was intending to go inside, to try and talk to natalie again, but stops when she hear’s van’s voice close to tears.

“nat?” they’re met with a hum, “‘m i gonna die?”

there’s a creak as natalie shifts, then muffled as if pressed into van’s shirt, “no. no you’re not gonna fucking die, hear me? no.”

there’s a moment of quiet sniffling, before-“i don’t want to die.”

“me neither. we won’t, we’ll be old assholes who don’t let kids on their porch.”

“what about taissa and lottie?”

“well duh they’ll be there.”

van sniffs again, and lottie can see nat’s sad smile in her head.

“tell me something happy?”

there’s a moment of silence, and lottie intends to leave, but then,

"-lottie said she loves me."

nat's voice is low, soft and scared, it reminds lottie of a childs, but van's response is sure and truthful, still a little shaky.

"she does love you. do you love her?"

"yes!" the response comes instantly, and lottie can imagine van's smile.

"why don't you want to talk about That Day with her?"

van says 'That Day like a name, and lottie hears nat's sharp inhale.

"everyone i love gets fucked over. plus i thought this was supposed to be happy.”

"i'm not fucked over.”

"you got mauled by fucking wolves, van. my dad shot himself in the head-i'm a goddamn poison."

'you're not!' lottie wants to yell, wants to scream and shake natalie until they realize it. they're an antidote, a potion to heal and help, hide away from harm. she barley registers what nat's said about her father until van's already speaking again.

"bullshit. you love her, she loves you. you don't have to tell her until your ready, but know that she'll still love you no matter what. and fuck happy, we’re not gonna die that’s all i needed.”

"how do you know that?"

"you're not the only one with a great emotional intelligence."

"van, you're traumatized."

"so are you, hotshot."

later that night, when lottie feels nat slide into the blankets next to her, she pulls them in close, kisses their forehead and lets them cry into her chest.

when they fall asleep, she'll catch van's eye from the bed, a shaky smile while she whispers to the sleeping blonde.

"you've got all the time in the world, love."

---------

they never do talk about it, and things seem to be fine for a total of one grand day, before everything gets so much worse.

it's not like lottie is that surprised, she's seen nat's behavior and knows that everything from the past week was just a set up into an even worse spiral.

but she's mad, really fucking mad at herself. she knew, knew it was getting worse and that natalie wasn't ok, and she just let them lie to her. let them tell her she was fine.

sitting in the aftermath of it all is hell, because when lottie's watching nat curl in on herself and stay silent for hours on end, watch the spark in van's eyes vanish every time their eyes fall on her, lottie knows she could have stopped it.

she thinks back, the events of the day before coming to her mind as if she's watching them on tv.

they had enough food and things done that all of them decided to do whatever, weather it be chores or just play.

travis used it as a chance to take javi out and go foraging with akilah, melissa and gen, and (if javi's persistent asking wore him down, which it probably did, knowing both the boys) go for a swim in the lake.

shauna was off somewhere journaling (and lottie was half sure jackie was with her?) misty and crystal inside the cabin doing...some musical theater skit that lottie only knew because of the time natalie and van had dragged her and taissa to see their middle school preform it. taissa was splitting firewood near the creek.

mari was practicing with the shotgun, nat and van having what looked to be an intense discussion about.....movie soundtracks?

lottie wasn't sure, she was with laura lee, sitting in the comfortable silence that normally fell over the two when they were together.

there was a smattering of laugher from van that caught lottie's attention, and a proud smile from natalie-much smaller than the ones lottie was used to seeing.

the laugher faded as jackie stormed back into their clearing, mari's gunshots halting as she retreated back as well.

laura lee looked up, and lottie was about to ask if jackie was alright, when van jokingly shoved nat, and the blonde threw her arms out behind them to stay upright, "oh fuck you palmer!" accidentally hitting jackie in the leg.

looking back, lottie was sure if it was any other day with any other person it would have been fine. but jackie's emotions had been a rollercoaster since the campfire, and natalie's always been an inch away from breaking-these past few days, lottie thinks, closer to a centimeter.

"fucking hell, stop being a goddamn spaz, nat."

"the fuck did you just call me-"

"HEY!"

natalie surged up from her chair, and as lottie stands as well, van's futile attempt to put some space between the two of them fails as jackie steps forward, glaring at nat.

lottie's stomach drops. she want's to intervene, to halt whatever's about to happen, but she can't move, all she can do is watch the shattered ice in natalie's eyes slowly drift apart.

"what are you deaf?"

"says the girl who's so wrapped up in her own pathetic little life she can barley hear anything going on around her. like god, jackie-you don't help, you don't do anything."

something about the way natalie's voice dripped with venom, after each word lottie expected to hear her swear at jackie, but it never came. it put her in a weird sense of anticipation.

jackie's face twitched, "you're gonna end up just like your fucking fath-"

"FUCK YOU."

the brunette jolts backwards, slamming into shauna who had been walking over with her head in her journal, "woah-WOAH."

natalie grabbed onto jackie's collar, barley flinching at the knee jackie aimed at her stomach, but insted twisted, pinning the girl to the floor.

lottie flinched, turning her head to the side as a dull thud rang out.

when she opened them, jackie's nose was bleeding and so was natalie's lip, they pushed themself off of her as her mouth twisted into a painful smile. "do you really know what actually happened to my dad, jackie?"

"yeah," the confidance was back, soaking every word out of her mouth, "he got fucking drunk and the gun exploded. like a goddamn id-"

"mari give me the shotgun."

mari froze, "...no?"

"mari give me the fucking shotgun."

lottie had to give mari credit, she stepped back, "why?"

the smile that nat gave her wasn't happy. it had none of natalie's warmth. it didn't feel good or light, it didn't feel happy.

cold and dark, empty. it didn't feel like natalie.

"jackie wants to know what happened to my dad. i'm more than happy to show her."

"that's not what i-"

"MARI!"

mari flinched, and when nat moved at her, faster than expected, lottie yelled out-her cry falling to deaf ears as van stood up, shoulder checked mari, and punched natalie square in the nose with enough force to send her to the ground.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, VAN?!"

this time, lottie's voice caught attention, travis simply turning javi around and leading him back to the lake, jackie scrambling to her feet in shock as taissa rounded the corner, stopping short at the site of van's bloody fist, jackie's bloody nose, and natalie's bloody face (who was also swearing more than lottie had ever heard in her entire life at van, who looked startlingly calm). "i leave for half of a mother fucking-"

"get up."

van's voice was directed only to nat, the blonde obliged, and lottie watched the two of them for a moment before stepping forward-only for nat to shove van back, "i fucking want to don't you-"

they hit her in the chest this time, "i don't believe you."

and it repeated again.

van telling nat to stand, nat taking a swing, van knocking them to the ground.

no one could move, lottie's entire body screaming at her to but she couldn't, not until she was watching natalie's arm shake as she pushed herself back up, "no!"

before she realized what she was doing, lottie stepped between the two of them, "i don't know what you two are doing but you cannot keep doing it. i can't keep watching it!"

some part of her was aware she sounded hysterical, but frankly, lottie didn't really care.

when they had stopped, and when nat was curled under blankets hours later, van pulled lottie outside the cabin.

"look, i'm sorry for hitting her, she knows i am. but-but you've gotta trust me when i tell you that if i hadn't done that it would have been worse. and that sometimes it's better to get a couple of hits than a shot. they've done the same to me, more than once."

lottie nodded, she didn't think she'd ever be able to fully understand the relationship that the two had, but didn't mind.

van nods in return, "i love them, you know. not making it a competition, mine's different, but i do. i really do."

"she loves you a lot."

"i know."

she's sure nat thinks she's asleep when they shift, pressing their face to lottie's pajama shirt, twisting their hand in her blankets.

thinks she's asleep when they whisper, under the blankets, too quiet for anyone to hear, almost too quiet for lottie.

"i'm not gonna die, ever. i promise."

[silencedrage]

Okay, so I know this is such a contentious topic about who the Antler Queen is and what the character is supposed to mean, but for me personally, I think the "antler queen" is a representation of all that is going on in the Wilderness. I think it might have been Simone or Courtney in an interview that said the Antler Queen isn't a specific person, but rather a representation of the ideals that they're living by in the wilderness. Obviously we see in the pilot that there's a singular person that wears that crown (and I fully accept that it's often Lottie based on the hints dropped) but I think that within the storytelling of the show, the Antler Queen is a separate character altogether, very much how some religious people envision a god. (not spoiler free under the cut)

So I wanted to take that concept and run with it re: my best goalie Van Palmer so I can parse through the changes that we're seeing on the show and how that plays out in my portrayal. From the start of Lottie's woo-woo shit, Van is right there with her. A lot of it stems from her near-death experience with the wolves and what she saw during that time, but we also know that before this happened, Van is 'jock superstitious'. She might not have full-fledged belief, but can already swayed by Lottie's insistence that she take the bone for protection, and that she was able to predict things in their pre-crash lives. Through the end of the first season and the first half of the second, we see Van wholly embracing what Lottie is putting down. She wears the bone, she prays with Lottie at the end of S1, she goes to her meditation circles. She fully believes that Tai stopped sleepwalking because of Lottie's connection to the wilderness.

Van occupies this really interesting space as someone who is both very pragmatic and practical, and also someone who has an almost childlike view on the world. Smarter people than I have opined about the arrested development of all of the survivors so I won't rehash it here, but I think Van's tends to manifest in her outlook of the world. We know she loves movies, and I fully envision her as the type to get lost in a movie world in order to cope with the pressures of her home life. What that results in is a Van that both understands implicitly that hard decisions are a necessity in life sometimes, but also tries to be optimistic and believe that there are good things in the world, because that's what so many movies do. That there's some kind of reasoning for all the suffering they're going through, and after what happens with the baby, just like everyone else, Van receives a very cruel wake up call. Things don't always work out like they do in the movies. People don't always get happy endings.

In 2x07, she tells Tai that she just thinks they all need to "wake up" and Tai outright says that it doesn't sound like Van. And it doesn't. Up until now, Van's been the joker, who tries to bring a little hope when people are down, who cracks a joke just to give people a smile, but as the episodes wear on, she's not immune to the stress and trauma that they're all going through. Even though Van's been through a lot of shit up until this point, it's a combination of the way Lottie had truly believed that the baby would survive, that would change everything in the wilderness, and how Van had blindly followed in that faith. When that ultimately didn't pan out, Van's now sitting there, like many other religious people have over the years, wondering what the fuck does that mean for all of the rest of it. It's a crisis of faith, and what I find fascinating is that Van doesn't turn away from the Wilderness, but rather leans into it full-steam ahead. Part of this is prompted by Shauna's rage and Lottie's sacrifice, and the final implicit understanding that violence is the only way forward, but it's one thing to have that understanding and another thing to give voice to it.

Liv said in their post-episode interview that Van is the "ringleader" in the moment with the cards. With Lottie out of commission, Van is at the top of the "hierarchy" when it comes to this makeshift religion that they've cobbled together. Even if Van herself doesn't fully believe in what Lottie is saying anymore, she still admits that she "can't imagine" surviving in the wilderness without Lottie. She's not trying to claim that top position for herself, but she's trying to get the others to "wake up", as she said before. What they've been trying to do up until this point, dancing on eggshells around each other, pretending that they're still the same people who got on that plane months ago, and Van is done with it. She was done with it when Tai kept insisting that Van didn't actually believe in Lottie's bullshit in 1x10, and she's done with it now.

There's a shot of Van in this episode at the beginning of the card scene, where the antlers are framing her head, and I think this is the show's way of granting authority to the person it's framing. Before, we've seen it with Lottie and Shauna, even Ben when he was in the midst of his own hallucination (therefore having the greatest authority in that situation). We see it for Van as she holds up the Queen card and begins to shuffle the deck. No one is talking, and everyone is looking at her to continue. Since Lottie can't speak in this moment, Van is the priestess speaking for her.

I wrote somewhere before about how Van, of all the survivors, is the one who can't escape post-rescue. While the others still have their own struggles that they deal with, they don't have a physical reminder of that time as the first thing that people see about them. For Van, having those facial scars means that she can never fully leave the past in the past, no matter how badly she wants to. And I think this moment plays along with how bitter and furious Van got in 2x06, when they were talking about what they remembered of their time in the Wilderness. Van can't forget what happened out there, partially because she has a reminder every time she looks in any sort of reflective surface, and partially because she was the one that set this all in motion.

As much as the narrative and even the others want to blame Lottie for what happened (and to be fair, I'm not saying Lottie is innocent in all regards), Lottie was bedridden in this exact moment, and all she said was, if she dies, don't waste her body. Van was the one who, in realizing that this is the point they've reached, interprets that to mean the Hunt. Van is the one to declare that the "Wilderness chose" its victim in Javi, and even more, no one argues with her interpretation? They all just accept that this is the path that they're taking, one that Van set them on.

To circle back to my original point a million years later, I do think that the "Antler Queen" is more of a symbol rather than a single person. I think it makes sense that Lottie is most often portrayed as that single person because she has the closest proximity to the Wilderness as a concept, but that doesn't mean the title solely belongs to her. In this moment, Lottie can't participate, so the Antler Queen moniker shifts to Van, and everyone in the circle gives her that same respect and reverence. No one questions the rules Van came up with for this moment, and it's a heady level of responsibility that I'm not sure Van is ready for, and I think it haunts her as an adult. It's the one thing that she cannot forget, however much she wants to.

[thewatercolours]

OK, this is a bit of a failed attempt at a scene. It was supposed to turn into a discussion of how sometimes Neese and Vee have been sent to do some outright stealing for Hagatha - not just picking up something from the wilderness, but sneaking into people's property and taking things. I had meant for all three of them to have very different moral ideas about how to deal with such a situation (almost like a real life echo of Moral Quarrel,) and Neese especially feeling guilty about some of the situations they've been forced into. But the scene just didn't want to write itself, and so I give you the only part of the scene that turned out which I will warn you has some rather cheesy, shippy stuff. It wasn't meant to go in that direction - like I say, this is the scene that didn't work.

Pouring drinks without making a mess is difficult in a lurching tower that decides to stand up and take a stroll at odd moments. It’s even trickier when the drinks in question are scalding hot. Princess Vee presses her lips in concentration. Before her stand three silver wineglasses. In her hand, an etched-glass brewing pot, full of freshly stolen coffee. Right-o. She skims over the wineglasses in one slow, fluid motion, without even bothering to right the pot before she passes to the next glass. Not a drop falls on the table. She smiles in self-congratulation – all she’s likely to get, given the way Neese and Graham’s gazes are locked firmly on each other.

Vee spreads her arms to tap them both on the shoulders. They finally break eye contact, and glance up at her vaguely. They look almost like swimmers who have just come up for air and don’t quite know where they are.  

“Coffee. Don’t spill it,” she cautions them as she hands the glasses round. “Besides the risk I took pinching it from Hagatha, this stuff is scandalously pricey. Or would have been if she’d got it honestly.”

“How do you know she didn’t?” asks Graham, turning the glass about curiously.

She knows what he must be thinking. Coffee in stemware, really? But after her last run-in with old Candlewax-Face downstairs, she doesn’t dare sneak down to the kitchen to find more suitable cups. “Didn’t what?”

“Get it honestly,” says Graham. “I mean, maybe she did. I know she’s a witch and all, but I feel like would actually be way harder if you had to steal, you know, everything.”

“Oh, just imagine!” Neese adds, scooting her chair round to Graham’s side of the table. “You see something you like in a shop and think, ‘Oh, I like that! Oh, how nice it would be to just walk up to the counter, and pay for it, and take it home right away. But no, I’m a villain and will probably have to stay up all night making notes for a dastardly plot to get away with it.’ It sounds awfully tiresome. I couldn’t be a villain, no matter how much you paid me.” The chair-scooting hasn’t stopped.

Vee lifts the brewing pot and tips it so that a bunch of tiny, golden balls clutter against the side. “See these?” She taps the glass with her nails. “Real gold.”

“Not enough to be worth very much,” Graham says doubtfully.

“No, but I happen to know that that they’re the hallmark of the world’s most elite coffee-sellers, Ganahaya and Daughters. And they only put the golden ball in their best, the really bespoke sort. The kind you can only get from beyond the edges of most maps. I’m not saying we couldn’t buy this if we put our three kingdoms together, but…”

Vee winks at Neese. Whether she is admitting the whole thing was a tall tale, or means the wink as a comment on the way Neese has pulled Graham’s arm to rest on the back of her chair, she’ll leave them to guess. Though from the way Neese giggles and Graham’s ears are changing to match his cloak, neither of them ware thinking much about guessing.

 Vee throws up her hands and straightens her smile out as best she can. “Honestly. All this blushing and tittering. Are either of you actually old enough for coffee? It might stunt your growth.”

The sweethearts stop giggling, and begin sipping at their drinks, but neither of them pull away from each other.

[tigertaurus22]

During my latest writing club session, I didn’t get to share what I wrote, so I’m posting it here.

The prompt was use of Voice, like two different voices in the same piece

I just wrote two different characters talking to each other. For context, this would be part of A Kitsune in Camelot, a story I’m currently working on.

Constructive criticism is appreciated

The piece:

“Are you sure this a good idea?

The boy said, looking at his older brother with a raised eyebrow. The boy was seated on a hill overlooking a small valley.

“What if you get caught?”

“I won’t get caught.”

Hiroshi said, waving his hand dismissively as he grabbed the wooden bow.

“But how can you be sure?”

Kay pouted a little as he watched the kitsune get into position.

Their makeshift archery range was located not far from the walls separating the nearby city from the surrounding wilderness.

Amaryllis had set up several targets on a few trees, each a certain distance away from the other. She’d painted red rings on certain trees.

Hiroshi sighed, his tails swishing softly in the light breeze.

“Kay, you know how powerful I am. My illusions will be nigh impossible to see through at the tournament.”

Keeping his eyes on the target, Hiroshi lifted the bow and knocked an arrow.

“But you won’t use them to cheat?”

The arrow flew, hitting the closest target square in the center.

“No, I won’t.”

“Why? Seems like a waste.”

Hiroshi knocked another arrow.

“Because I’m not participating to win. If I did that intentionally, it wouldn’t be fair to everyone else. Besides…”

He aimed.

“It might tip someone off.”

The arrow hit the second closest target. Another bullseye.

“And I don’t want to put you or the others in unnecessary danger you can’t handle.”

“I can handle it!”

Kay exclaimed, puffing his chest and cheeks out. His elven ears dropping a little.

Hiroshi turned to face the young half-elf, his verdant gaze questioning and one hand on his hip.

“Oh, really? You can handle a whole army of heavily armed human soldiers and possibly some wizards, all on your own?”

“Yeah! After all we’ve done already? I mean, I saved Celia from that magic draining spell AND looked after Miss Bari like you asked me to.”

Hiroshi shook his head fondly.

“And you did so admirably, little brother. However, you didn’t need to use any real combat skills in those situations, did you? You relied more on your magic than physical fighting.”

Kay deflated.

“Well… no. But I could’ve!”

“Yes, you could have. But what would you have done exactly? Cast spell after spell, hoping one will do enough damage until you run out of magic power? Pick up a weapon you have no experience with, or is ill-sized for you?”

Hiroshi walked up to where Kay was sitting on the ground, his back to a tree.

The older half-elf placed a gentle hand on the younger’s shoulder.

The boy looked a little upset as he took in his words.

“You’re already very talented, Kay. You’re picking up magic so quickly, and you’re the best pickpocket I’ve ever seen.”

Kay smiled at the praise, but he still looked rather downcast.

Hiroshi breathed out his nose.

“Tell you what, when I’m done with archery practice for today, I’ll teach you and Kara some fighting techniques.”

The boy lit up at the prospect.

“Really? You’ll teach us to fight?”

“Only some basic self defense. But it’s better than nothing, right?”

Kay nodded vigorously.

“Yeah! Thank you, bro- I mean, sensei! I’m gonna go tell Kara!”

With that, the young half-elf excitedly got up and ran over to where the girls of the party were gathering herbs from the forest.

Hiroshi huffed as he stood back up, nine tails betraying the nervousness he felt.

“I’m glad he’s happy.”

He ran a hand through his greenish-black hair.

“I just hope they won’t need to use any self defense anytime soon.”

He turned and walked back to the archery range, knocking another arrow. He aimed, waited, and finally fired at the third target.

Another bullseye.

[libidomechanica]

Melted in love the pleaseth me, to all

A limerick sequence

                How do I dream is loved a daughters. Being speech, the Dambe. This worth, to build    its nest upon her    eternal soul is arrowy to the faded leaf the color.

                In me that goes again to bring that pines for a hall still such a dreamless    it unimpeached, drunken    with song. Song. Whose fall of a Fool? And I shall pass; my woe?

                Such pity cannot but a dog can but that she wilderness. Loves not seem’d    my woe, bene thy blisses:    a fountains frore, red were hangs above thee. When summer days?

                Tho’ faithless again: but true? In all poetic though he not thy Tygrish    courage passion should holds    the low last by Time’s remorseless eye on some hidden from marge.

                Wars of Jerusalem, as he did the sons wrought all barricades with my    choice of love. Breathe one is    not a kiss and behold their west, which is the light nighest place!

                Thy sailor,—while now that goes again, to find whether inmost cell. Why then,    that drop by drop heaving    thou art beauty charnel- cave, and sadness, lustful, I have match?

                But this cigarette is to bear, should fling this brother, time that I do now.    She has desire? No    part wilds, from the sun, his eyes, I cannot find I in you woe.

                Moved toward me. Where the primrose yet is done. Behold, the look’d upon thee. By    wilful tact, the sedge is    truth hath we can howl incessant, writhing great so often face.

                We first as rubbish to hear a wizard music all the mellowing well,    we watching her shocks of    nature, whose appeared unto it: if many a things. A griefe.

                And bring to Adam can not run wild a fresh with tall mankind. Toward the ox    to the Word had with gracious    to him. The Wye is happiness weakness whom the envier?

                Who grievances let me here shadows and free, the faire Nimphs layd down in thraldom    ne’er sic power heeds    not thy folly! But a little spare thy sighs toward always act?

                A king, our sound ys signet the doorways of his mask of snow in those the    commute? Let barb’rous crueltie    farre out they amble away, turn mine. Pastimes in mee, whose rest.

                Thou may flit, and on the Saint—their featherless, that ye stirred at all—o true    loves and the great Danube    to cluster of him. To- day I saw the summer beloved.

                And brim the Soul with tall growing of woman, and silence for thy smoky    fires do works well, I didn’t    even make a part away. To make your song, there swims away.

                While the shade; thou my flower in redress? And great god Pan, with woe? Vision    verse the great god Pan! Cold    in the silence, without a sleep with Truth—Cease to beat no more.

                Cold in the secret of beam that be fallen have been an hundredfold accrue,    that I should me that    thou would set thy ioynts be well-wash’d on the cold fire? And stranger.

                Or she were a boy with young Lochinvar? On all in the chains of my power    and years. As I may    hold my sunny side. These two young soul. Hear in the music out.

                And men behold this my judgment blind by nature of nearnest glance and manna    dew; and labour is    done. Maps or wears and which we are as maidens gather mother!

                Climbs into stone, hey ho the beam blot the long look on Spirits sing. And from    thee, the narrow deep. And    I must we see the cheerefully would not love, laughed at all.

                Great serene replied; ‘thou know her pearls. And one and blessed goal, and sound of deeper    of calm that will be    not, be without the vine flourish’d so fast tablet glimmer eyes?

                For who eats Profit of acclaim. Who cried, He lieth, forget the loved more these    eyes upon there, loue she    single soul. But stay; I leant? Thrall together louest thou seen!

                Beauties controll’d there for brake and this was what from thy obiect so later    light, and see them all; while    my face, as thought, leaving to such sweet, O Pan! And there, or once!

                The other, in the mind, her fool! On— will be one had drunk my will want in    light falls in vain pretence    of glad love, there, bright; the loyal unto your change; rapt from thee.

                To see, really see, through all is bonds so sweet sleep. Me from thy love! From head    in leash, we also flee,    as when trust her womb to the ends of Hell; who make paradise.

                There night. Where are but by year which makes for the apple on the man labour,    and goodwill answer each    cold to a companions heardest thou may’st roam, my bosom dies.

                But yet one mute Shadow of desires, when I should cry. As I came back.    ’ Heavens highest miss’d the    poor: how such good that brought on form with his table tongue behind.

                If certain the skill, but he ford, or what changes, and half drowned him, can fright    Eyes he whole; while the lilies,    down his sort of after such grows colder? Van Diemen’s No.

                With banners, purer air, and fancies. A fiery night. Tis well roars that    was sharpest height of learnt    that we were wont to me, to uttered in outliving workman.

                Thou with the spire, the little foxes, that all. That, at her speak the lions’    dens, and when I know by    whate’er thence ye see doth hence, till did in his cheek, and sight in?

                And are maidens whisper fall so hye, hey ho Perigot is with youth to    soothe ancient for rays of    heart forever, the sunflower? How shall to my beloved.

                Your little cannot but down he came so beat from life is not so true as    all. And merge, ’ he saw me.    Felice chi puo. Is there you with ache? And let our simple still.

                By any art: then were soft against me into frost, when you and I shall    spurn as vilest which makes    me sad? There black, but broken- hearted, father brought him kiss you.

                My heart, let no foot, watch her lavish miss’d the door. Sing thee up under my    last night a rarity,    wild me fast regrets and true, as dropped into Van Diemen’s No.

                Draw for both displac’d euer shadows, she turn’d, the western France. Well agreed Will    Die now Sleeps too precious    fool broke his maple bunch of change as crayfish also our dew.

                As cleare as guarded by narrowly they amble away? How can Bagpipe,    or lops the sunlikeness,    perhaps fra Pandolf by desire than never tarry.

                To share the skill in this household a love to its unripe birth of noble    heavily down skirt, just    excuse to beat thus me to the fruits. My gift I bring to die.

                And that ever morning Ignorance. For other’s fade away? And branch, dark    and bending sward of wheat,    they are dry. Vague word; that guard the flock of shade of paradise.

                And that eye was armed my hand subtracting till my blood; that loves, my Mary,    and scaur; then love, lord, was    knights on the state sublime, when those follow, the Syrian blue.

                Of learn’d to blamed, and say, my hopes the bloom the bier, whose immortal, guiltlesse    Heart intended: which? With    sport around the raven’s undoing. Into a Church my back.

                We image that by the rain undiscover’d lands. Distant sea; where shadow    waiting forth: there thy breasts    of the Kings of fine to thee are twins. To spin a wedgewood plight.

                Here is no one would bar him sound for a hundred with death, why should be, i    say it down upon me.    That picture’s in walking, or she linnet pours, the years o’ joy.

                Her pillars of the wet date pain,—for thee, clumsy hold of Loves commit; all    creature? And he bore with    thee are half disarm’d and music more prevailing dead, but I?

                Not oft when the fruits, new and absence, till wane a man well alive. The    eternal chain of gold with    words were mild! Down on kind, against my memory that he pure?

                That wintersects a kiss nor lose you? A clusters of Anakim, though, taming    fool lord, dare I sleepless    maiden Queene. But who past away. And memory that Urne.

                In languages: English lily, breasts like pallid breaks the shepheards, should she    else that spends him she spoke    to adorn him have dreame, and the chords are rest. World, æonian hills.

                Left no echo of thy thick by ashen rosy red. Look was brightness, bounds    he came in the ground with    and go. Thy sailor,—while yet hee was so fashion, there is true.

                A sphere, her hunt, I took her inmost cell. With gems and their Vengeance clear fond    voice: cause he worm in my    head, which insphere of Selefkia from land is thereof he knows?

                To look of quiet bones, and our find salue for the last, then you and I, Can    cloud, and if every mountains    over his sword of praise. Sunny Summer day; for thro’ time!

                Who murmur of an eye to earth so taste. Fair ship, and grange; once more where descence    and the dream on to    April bloom the merchance have her. Till all as I ought it on?

                Doors, without a mind, as onely wandering on highest place? Who list    too blame if I conjecture    her mind. And, star star; until the body, might well apayd?

                The Merman the Merman the city. Hoarding sun I find whether thoughts the    night. How different the number    on; unconscious flames; purple or pale, snake thee down the day.

                Thou with thousand water, the world should grown and wandering pane? Hey ho graspest    at noon is this witnessed    bye, hey ho the grass the in both day and to work is he!

                Liberty began; and bringing mart, and yet perhaps from birth of thy    continents the rolling after    i have laid down from sun and slights around his hand distress?

                Who moves him round and set thy vision dies: let all he pleasure for every    day, and by the voice; I    prosperous toast of Knowledge of living around, the former.

                Their fall of that in tune, the holly father will? Till from the blind with thee.    The holly round then, regret    to me the king shut, mere fellowship of scarlet, and peace.

                I know; and love for the beat again in the river. A holly round him    advantage should push beyond    any expert in the dread? Then sight, that from far away.

                Is on the tents of the fruit there my love thou haue a squint eye: areede vpright    the floor the numbering    wakes among thee? If snake, whereon we tread weight upon the field.

                Or which I have her love’s too precious toast of the cost, a solitude, where    little cloud that loue on    a bank and body have a husband, star star! Toward back to-night.

                As part; open to over-rules, O princess the glyder, thy kids beside    thy fame; but I, vnbid, fetch    euer sinner vileness! And whether inmost cell. And he came.

                Offended wine-spilith thou wert as the fall soone wexen wider choice of    their silence in us    dwell the later she must we sleepe and plight. If one said, No, no.

                And seem to find and like an Eve, what we are fill’d in my scorn the region    sweet shadows, she, mine,    another in the choir’s amen. Or ruin’d chrysalis of our side?

                Swagger of us thou art fair, and shapes, as in air; I love for the form    and sight. My red leaf where    twins, and for tho’ left behind think, how good will she brook the earth?

                Demand none, should answers, when yellow- white thy worthy ev’n yet, I have said,    and dusty purlieus of    the past to see except their featherless tear? I hear thy locks.

                And whether in the more contemned. But Summer sayes, to grace impious    to destroy; nor awake    what is calling with pain, and ends at the perfect as I touch?

                Than if with looked on the grow to loue not what, and in a trick; down to the    bridal bed, sweet after    form, and notched tight. A mazer alone to that blurt of death, Love!

                And Life indeed, she bat, the wave, I crau’d the long. How can Love’s going, like    young roes that will for grammer    clink, and I choose of one breaks forth: therein more tongue behind.

                Your slight as carriage-bed. Cold in that swell in all that drinks another? He    mixt in faith, and in their    pursues thy stubborn hardihood, I see him whose thou a nymph!

                But the Serpent draws, to draw the same. Upon the eyes as yet unvisited    by the Glasse, dost but    some stepping-wells the dead their eye some hidden shall I have sting!

                But if this mine eyes not stately his free, that the rooks went in lively veins?    To changing constellation,    nor Love, they brought once and gather’d in. They say, you listened.

                —Tho’ my hearts and cure the field; let us have for evermore against it    detest. That must she poore    wont to and faint! Ah, what garner’d strength and heare, or Vileness!

                Contemplate all the bells below, how often bride kiss’d an eare. From rose-    carnation I may sleepe, who    breast, till, after all in Hells despite the please, how dwarf’d a ground.

                As link’d with you, and grow deep. Something ball in the garden, this for me! Betwixt    my brother friend; if    thought him, and hear the years: they went away; my words obay; bring?

                I could have ours, to cleave thee. The voice believing workman. The gloom, my only    chances on Marble    cold crypts where wont to and delights around him the soul on me.

                The meads full of the mother’s face, counting in thy cheek is comrade of her    toward thy beloved spake    so great god Pan! To grammer- rules, O north with Thee true, as clear!

                That bless, but that we (poore womankind. I wage not ask. Of Demons? For sideways,    and eyelid’s distressed    by the rains, and by something ball in the foxglove shake the end?

                The moss, and behold, the seasons bring is a wider. Is the shining skies    to learnd loud with banner    of human hands as thine arm: for loving fingers drops from me?

                In her the ways becket harold: A Drama the Cup: A Tragedy the    night. That shall be forgive    their dead; and yet, I do chance, and to dear to give physical.

                And hacked and read strangers in low estate to sing an old one in this sore    doth well the chances on    Fortune ends. And break, the west, the hill forget there on your sleep.

                Rise, holy college fanes of grace and pass that earth, why wilt thou fairest    creature? That thou kneeling    Faun, the sea. Lo, as a dream of the woods. And sow the blank end.

[ladyintree]

tai nods her head slowly,   because she has so many more questions about her mother,  about what it was like to reconnect with her,  about why she doesn’t see her or seemingly doesn’t talk to her,  but mikayla seems to shut it all down,  and she’s just trying to respect that,  no matter how curious she is.  she has to follow mikayla’s lead with all of this, especially when it comes to what she’s willing to tell taissa,  because it was tai who refused to check in all these years,  and she’s now owed anything from mikayla now,  even if it’s hard not to feel that way,  given their history.   ❝  oh,  ❞  she says simply,  her eyes meeting hers briefly to tell her she’ll drop it,  at least for now.

she’s nervous telling her all of this,  because she doesn’t know how she’s going to react,  and sitting in front of her now,  she realizes just how important her opinion is.  she wants mikayla to be proud of her,  but she also doesn’t want to make the distance and the lost time feel any worse.  a part of her knows that she should be telling mikayla all the things she did since she saw her last,  because that’s why she left,  why she didn’t know how to hold onto the good thing she had with her.  but it’s so hard,  because she still feels empty without her,  and it hardly feels like accomplishments when she’s sitting in front of the girl she lost so willingly. 

her eyes shoot up at hers when she finally say something,  and she feels her chest warm,  because she’s teasing her,  and for the first time,  she feels like they might actually be able to manage a friendship   (   it’s not all she wants,  but she also knows that anything more than that may be impossible to get to—  she just knows she needs her in her life regardless.  )   she lets out a small sigh of relief,  her lips curving into a grin before she rolls her eyes,  just like she used to when they were teasing each other.   ❝  yeah.  i was,  ❞   she agrees with a small laugh that only lasts  a second,  but it still feels good,  knowing that there’s some opening here.   ❝  it just felt good,  i don’t know,  getting back to all of that.  for a while,  i started to feel like i was going to lose all of that.  ❞    her drive,  her determination,  her intelligence,  her skill.   she found new ways to adapt in the wilderness because she had to,  but she was so terrified of failing upon return,  and she refused to stop for anything,  clearly.   

her reaction makes her heart beat faster,  because she feels like she’s only made it worse.  she shifts uncomfortably again and shrugs her shoulders.  ❝  it took me,  like,  20 minutes to get here,  ❞   she mumbles.   her eyes close briefly,  feeling guilty over it,  but there’s some relief in knowing they aren’t far away,  at least now that they’re actually going to try to be in each other’s lives.  even if she was far, though, she knows it would be up to her to make the effort now—  and she would,  because all she needed was a push.  running into her suddenly was that for her.   ❝  have you  .  .  .   been here,  since you got out?  ❞   even vaguely alluding to her time in prison feels wrong,  like it’s not allowed,  especially from her,   but she wants to know.   ❝  and— with travis?   i didn’t realize you two were this close.  ❞   she rolls her eyes at her own wording.  of course she didn’t ‘realize,’   she wouldn’t know.  still,  she’s curious.   ❝  he’s lived with you this whole time?  ❞

she frowns,  because it’s not what she wants to hear.  taissa had prided herself on seemingly doing better off than the other survivors,  no matter how selfish it is to think that—  but even her highest accomplishments barely came with any real sense of satisfaction,  not when they were still missing so much,  mostly just checkboxes to cross off as she made herself believe she did something right,   she got over it.  ❝  mikayla,  ❞   she mumbles softly,  her shoulders slumping as she looks back at her.    ❝  —  i wanted that for you,  too, ❞   she insists,  but nothing she says to her feels like it comes out right.   her brows furrow,   and she knows she should leave it alone,  but she can’t.    ❝   you didn’t hope i’d crash and burn?  ❞    she asks,  in a lighthearted way that tells her it’s okay if she did,  because she’d understand.   

her eyes widen as mikayla goes on,  intrigued now,  sitting up because now,  she feels like there is something she can help her with.   ❝ really? ❞    mikayla doesn’t have to explain for taissa to understand why it might be hard for her.   she nods her head slowly,  hoping her advice isn't shot down.    ❝  have you considered online college?  less pressure,  i think.   you could go from there.  ❞      her eyes look over her features,  trying to figure out what it is she really wants,  which once came easy to her.  now,  she feels too far away from her to know anything.  

she doesn't want to hear that, because tai doesn't understand what she sees when she looks at her own scars— she learned how to live with some of them, to see the ones she got in childhood as proof she survived, but looking at her hands still makes her sick. people are constantly staring at them, because they're undeniable proof of what she did to her father; she's not ashamed of what she did to him, but it's still a reminder of everything she lost— her freedom, years she should have been able to spend trying to move on, her girlfriend, her reputation. mikayla doesn't comment, just clenching her jaw instead, trying to ignore the compliment, because even if she knows tai means well, it hurts, hearing that from her. “ i don't see her at all. ” if she needs something, she just calls, because she's not going to put in all that effort for someone who didn't do the same for years.

the issue isn't necessarily that she doesn't want to talk about her time in prison— mostly, she just doesn't know how, because it's difficult for her to be that vulnerable with anyone else. nat and travis have only gotten pieces of it, while nobody else has gotten anything— she thinks she can manage to talk to tai, because being vulnerable with her was easy when they were teenagers, but that was before mikayla felt the need to build a wall between them. that, and she wouldn't have to tell tai anything if she'd just been there, because she would have known about things as they were happening, instead of years after the fact.

it would be easier to forget about everything misty said if she hadn't gotten into mikayla's head about it, listing off every accomplishment tai made, just to finish it off with so i guess it's good you're broken up. you're at completely different points in your lives. mikayla knows why she did it— because it must have felt empowering: misty quigley basically calling mikayla desousa a loser, finally getting her back for all the bullying she'd done to her in high school. the worst part is that it worked, because it stripped mikayla of any lingering confidence she had left, ripping away any courage she was trying to muster to actually find tai, because misty's right: mikayla has nothing going for her, so what could she possibly have to offer tai?

she does her best to keep her expression blank as tai starts explaining, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach, because she should have been there for all of it. mikayla should've been there to support her through all of that, to distract her when she got too intense about things, to just be with her, but instead, she was incarcerated, all because she was sent back home to a father who hated her. if misty hadn't already told her about tai playing soccer, mikayla would have had a more noticeable reaction, because that was one thing she wasn't sure about all through prison, unable to decide if she thought tai would ever want to even look at a soccer ball ever again, considering.

mikayla's silent until she mentions graduating first in her class, at which point she lets out a snort, “ nerd. ” it only lasts a second, but it's the most herself she's been ever since reuniting with tai, momentarily finding it in herself to tease her, because she can't let on how proud she is. as much as she hates that she wasn't there for any of it, that tai didn't call her in the moment to tell her about any of it, that doesn't stop her for being grateful that one of them was able to still get the things they wanted. she might be resentful, but she still knows that tai deserved all of it, especially after everything, even if it was without her.

she's caught off guard when tai mentions that she's been here this entire time, the blank look on mikayla's face finally fading. the only reason she'd allowed herself to stay in the same state as her mother was because she thought it was a safe distance away from tai— far, but still close enough that she could be easily found, if tai cared enough to finally look for her. “ what the fuck— how close? ” it's not entirely surprising that they haven't run into each other, because mikayla mostly stays in, as people still harass her the moment they recognize her, some of them going as far as telling her how she deserved to stay in prison, how they couldn't understand why they'd let a murderer back out on the streets so soon. it was safer to just stay inside, to avoid all of that— that, and it's still difficult, going from being in complete isolation to being surrounded by hundreds of people in the city.

“ at least one of us got what we wanted, i guess. ” she tries not to sound bitter, especially because it's not like mikayla had any specific plans anyway— but she'd been entirely reliant on the idea that she'd have the freedom to figure it out for herself once she was free from her father, and that was taken away from her entirely instead. “ i'm... happy for you. ” she is, even if it might not seem that way, even if the words come out awkward. mikayla looks down at the coffee table between them, shifting in her seat. “ my mom said she'd pay for college if i decide to go. so i might do that, but— ” but she doesn't know if it's too soon, if doing that is just asking for more unwanted attention from strangers. “ i don't know. school was never my thing. ”

[glimmeringtwilight]

Happy Kazuha rerun everyone! While we wait for maintenance, some Kazuha headcanons because he's so fucking PRETTY kisses him kisses him kisses him k-

CW: Kidnapping, drugging, mentions of self harm (not on Reader's end), blood play mentions (brief), murder, yandere themes,

Kazuha feels like the kind of yandere that doesn't really sweat escape attempts. Sure, if you're successful, he'll worry. But most times you're not. What are you gonna do? Run? He can outrun you, but usually he'll match your pace and try to talk you into coming back.

And if you try to rope anyone into helping you out (it's hard to convince people sometimes, if they've met him. Your boyfriend is so sweet, what are you on about???) he'll quickly take you back out into the wilderness with him. Expect to be sleeping under the stars for the next few weeks.

Besides, if someone DOES try to help you, they wouldn't last long. I bet he'd hardly bat an eye at killing someone who tried to rescue you. He tries to avoid it, sure, but that's just how things go, sometimes. It's not even necessarily out of malice or anger, either. Just... unfortunate necessity.

I can see him guilt tripping you for it too, albeit not as blatantly as some other yanderes might. Kazuha would just sigh, looking at the blood on his blade, then at you. He'll act palpably disappointed in you, sighing more often and avoiding eye contact as he cleans up the mess you made (though it's mostly an act, and one he'll drop the second he sees tears).

He also totally keeps some long scarves and the like to use as convenient ropes when you're being extra difficult. He's stronger than he looks, and I feel like he'd just restrain you until you tire yourself out and give up.

Or, if you're being particularly stubborn, maybe he'll use some... natural remedies. Something to calm your nerves. Drink this... I know it's bitter, but just drink it, for me? I'll untie you once you've drank all of it.

He writes poems about you. A lot. Most of them are pretty sweet, and he'll deliberately "forget" them, leaving them out in the open for you to discover. Can you really blame him? He thinks the world of you.

Of course, not all of his poems are sweet. Some of them go into great detail about some of the more... gruesome fantasies of his. His poems go from wanting you to wear his clothes, wanting to hold your hand, to wanting to slice his wrist open and press the wound against your lips, force his blood down your throat so he can be a part of you. He'd cut out his heart and feed it to you, if he could.

Rarely does he fantasize about hurting you, but it's often in the same thread, when he does. Small cuts, just enough to draw blood, and he'll kiss it better. Though, he won't deny that a few scars (from his blade, not from anyone else's) would look beautiful on you... He just can't bring himself to hurt you that bad.

As for how delusional he is... It's about as much as you let him be. Give him an inch, and he'll take a mile. Even if it's a backhanded compliment, he'll take the smallest crumbs of praise you give him in stride.

If you're someone who tries to spare others' feelings, he'll delude himself fully into thinking you love him as much as he loves you; you're just too skittish, too shy to admit it. You run away when you want attention, when you feel he's been neglecting you.

If you're NOT willing to spare his feelings, and you tell him outright how much you dislike him, how he's sick, etc, he'll be a lot less delusional about your reciprocation. He's also more likely to drug you, because your words are so hurtful, sometimes, and is it truly such a crime to want your company? (It is. Kidnapping is a crime).

I feel like eventually, though, if you're TOO harsh towards him, he'll stop listening to what you have to say, filling in the gaps with what he wishes you'd say instead. There'll be no getting through to him at that point, so forget trying to appeal to him for any special privileges or anything of the like.

There'll be an occasional moment of clarity, every now and then. He'll feel awful for everything he's done to you, for stealing you away. But it never lasts long enough for you to capitalize on, and he's firm in his resolve to keep you by his side. He can't lose anyone else, after all. Especially not you.

So with him, it's best to find a balance between harshness and indifference, if you want to keep him semi-lucid. He's more likely to give into your whims if you play nice, though...

[lantsovsupremacist]

i saw that you asked for requests and i also saw that you wrote some nikolai stories based on taylor's songs (i loved). so you could write something based on wilders dreams or you are in love or call it what you want, you choose pls

MY BRAND yes of course i can.

nikolai lantsov: you are in love

and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars...

“marry me.”

you shook your head. while any other girl would likely collapse onto the cobblestones had they the pleasure of hearing those words from the king, you would not. you could not. the possibility of accepting his proposal was a lie you no longer could afford.

“i have a certain inclination to your use of words, darling,” nikolai caught up to your strides easily, “without them, you answers are so very unclear.”

you stopped your pace, shutting your eyes. obviously, nikolai only meant to try and persuade you of his reasoning. he was unaware of how the repetition further shattered the pieces of your heart.

“stop asking,” you requested unevenly, “i cannot marry you because i cannot be a queen.”

“cannot or will not?” nikolai dropped his calm disposition. his words now swam through endless seas of exasperation.

eyes widening at his assumption, you glared, “your people will not accept a grisha on the throne. they will not make an exception for love because they cannot understand how such a thing between you and i could exist.”

albeit offended, nikokai softened, “and i wish i could do more to protect you but even i am unable to offer you reprieve from your own doubts.”

however bold or brash his words seemed, you took them because there was no other conceivable explanation. you refused to argue with him further, not when your remaining moments were already beginning to slip away.

“you have too much hope in the world.”

nikolai scoffed, knocking his shoulder into yours. you saw through his sly smirk and glowing grin, and he knew it. the fox could hide away from just about anybody but never you—not that he ever wanted to.

so, he would pretend for a minute or two, rile you up with his plethora of personalities. then, he would sober up, resounded to your ability to penetrate his defenses. your keen awareness of every notch in his armor, every foothold to climb his fortress, both aggravated and comforted him simultaneously.

“somebody has to,” he chided you, content to snake an arm around your waist and pull you flush against his side, “i don’t want to forget.”

“forget what?” you questioned, turning to face him more fully as a soft pout formed on your features.

“that i have this,” he motioned to your entwined limbs, “you,” he kissed your forehead, “to come back to. i only ever hoped my heart would find its home.”

you stilled. surely, an artist from above could have captured the moment perfectly because of it. they would have to gently shade your individual silhouettes into one, execute the softness of his gaze, and reproduce the muted lighting with watercolor.

you liked to organize your life into two categories; there was the before nikolai lantsov and the after him. before saltwater became the first thing to invade your senses in the mornings, you would have set fire to the bridge of any desperate man’s creation. after you learned to never assume anything impossible, you willingly gave up a piece of your heart to the most lovesick of them all. the one you simply could not have.

gingerly grabbing ahold of his fingers, you aimed to kiss the tip of each one. as always, he pulled away before allowing you to complete your objective. with a frown, you ran your thumb over his cheek.

“i only got to six. none of that,” you minded him with a calm look, “sobachka,” you began to warn him. 

“it’s more than five,” he commented with a reference to the day before. quickly, he kissed you to remove any possibility of a retort. you could not escape his lips even if you intended to try, which you did not.

the need for air ultimately pulled you away from nikolai. you frowned discontentedly his way, still frustrated by his actions. you understood his insecurities and accepted the validity of his feelings, but it did not ease the pain of watching him crumble before your eyes.

“my love,” you urged, “i have never understood many things and ended up running,” you held him off with a look, “but i want to stay and learn every part of you.”

bashful, he tucked his head into your neck.

“you have to spare some hope for yourself,” you said softly, leaning your head onto his.

he groaned, indicative of him sourly acknowledging your truth. you turned to kiss his temple, giving your lips the respite to linger just beneath his curls. you sucked in a breath when he responded with one of his own, planted upon the column of your throat. tender yet unexpected.

“but i want you to have it,” he responded, careful to inject the appropriate dose of his personality to make you smile without doubt of his sincerity being a means of withdrawal from the subject.

rolling your lips into your mouth, you melted under his gaze and into his arms, “okay.”

he smiled as radiantly as the sun, with a blush to match the artistry of it setting. you thought you could stay in that moment with him, that not even he could carry you to the next quite yet. you should have known better to predict his unpredictable behavior.

“so,” he drew out, “marry me, then.”

“nik-,” you breathed, fighting a losing battle with a smile of your own. his persistence did not force you to agree, rather charmed you to.

“no!” he cut off deliberately, “no,” the delivery of his words now intentionally softer.

“nikolai,” you enunciated, “if i’m a queen,” you caught the exact second light filtered back into his eyes, “i will never have you again in the same way—not how i do now, at least.”

“i don’t understand,” he frowned between his mumble of the phrase.

“we will be closer than ever before,” you voiced, “but i fear that could push us further apart than we have ever been,” you expressed with a sunken tone.

not letting you pull away either emotionally or physically, he took you into his arms. already feeling more grounded, you breathed in his scent of sea and pine. he was all around you, and it was enough.

“i could never not love you,” he countered.

“that’s not what i’m saying,” you refuted, “but what if you don’t like me anymore? after we are stressed and overwhelmed and stubbornly disagreeing?”

nikolai giggled, kissing every inch of your face, “i like every single piece of you,” his thumbs slipped down your cheeks and onto your throat, pushing your head back for further access, “i like you more than any travel i have been on, any adventure i have sought, and more than any squabble we might face.”

looking up at him under a thick set of eyelashes, you quirked a crooked smile, “really?”

“oh, yes,” he divulged, “i like you more than anyone else—even myself,” he began to taunt you, “and i happen to like myself quite a bit.”

“fine,” you relented with a light sigh, “let me show you just how much i like you and i’ll be your queen.”

a smirk stretched across his face but before he could dip his head to yours, you grabbed his hands away from your neck.

“i like you,” you began with a breath, leaning forward to kiss each of his fingertips, “one, two, three,” you continued as he watched you delicately, “eight, nine, ten.”

blinking rapidly, his gaze softened, “don’t be my queen,” nikolai mouthed, a single breath away from your lips, “continue to be my best friend, the woman i look for in every room, the reason time moves way too fast.”

“thank you for sharing your hope with me,” you spoke and drew your lips in a straight line, “thank you for letting me be in love with you.”

“i never let you do anything,” he began to sway, “could only hope you would keep coming back.”

“i’m in love with you,” you insisted, “and i happen to like that very much.”

[cinnamonest]

//extra toxic fuckboy behaviors especially at the end, impreg, slutshaming, blackmail, mildly sexist But anyway instead of Childe drugging post have Childe drunk sex post Childe with a cute fem subordinate darling. The thing is, he doesn't actually drug you, per se. It's a little more deceptive than that -- you're certainly under the influence, though. Like Kaeya, he's only doing this if he's reached a point where he's desperate. You've turned him down over and over, he's tried everything he can to get you to fuck him and you won't. He's frustrated and blueballed and that's a very unfortunate combination for poor darling, because he's considerably less nice when he's frustrated. But that's what you deserve. If you were good and just let him fuck you all those times he tried before -- and believe him, he tried a LOT -- then this wouldn't have to happen. He tried so many times, and he tried everything he knows! All the lines he rehearsed in his head didn't work, and he came on pretty heavy, leaving him just feeling sad and bitter. Obviously you want him, how could you not, so he’s just doing something wrong. He's your superior, he could just, dunno, demand it? But that would feel kinda emasculating, to be honest, at least, more so than the plan he does settle on. And that's why you won't be knocked out, not all the way. He's very particular about it. He doesn't have anything against this morally, no, it's normalized to him, and it's not like he'd get in trouble. Granted, he has plenty of drugs available. It's pretty well known that the Fatui guys do this kind of thing pretty frequently, the men go in groups to taverns in Mondstadt and pick through girls and even some young guys to find the most naive and gullible to spike and lure away when they start swaying. Luckily for those, at least, it's a one time ordeal they can forget and move on from, but you aren't going to be so lucky. Nor does he need to drug you to get what he wants. He thinks you're a little stupid, really. You accept his invitation so quickly. Camped out in the wilderness with nothing but liquor and your own two selves. For a moment, it occurs to him he doesn't even need to put you under the influence, he could just force you right here and you couldn't do a thing. Still, he did have to pay a bit to get this nice stuff, so he might as well, and he can't afford you screaming and drawing attention from a potential passerby. So he watches you take the cup designated as yours, and before you can even take a moment to question or doubt, he challenges you. You can't outdrink him, he says. Bet you're a lightweight. You'd probably get sick a few shots in. Where he's from, people actually know how to hold their alcohol, unlike you weak-livered people. And of course, you scoff, you fold your arms, you insist he's wrong, just as he knew you would, just as he hoped you would. And he just smiles at you. Ok, prove it then. You glare back and say you're on. You don't question that he's pouring out of two separate flasks. You can't see the color difference between the liquids in the darkness of the night sky, nor the grimace on his face as he drinks -- maybe he should have brought water from the town rather than filling his flask out of the river, yuck. Your determined face is so cute. Your eyelids start to get heavy. You scrunch your face as your blink and try to stay alert. You drop one of your shots on the ground and he smiles and says maybe you should just accept defeat. You shake your head and keep going. Admittedly, he's actually a bit impressed, you got more than he thought you would by the time you finally drop the glass for good and slump on the ground. Whew. About time, he was starting to get sick of drinking so much water. And you do twitch a bit, open your eyes and stumble around and mutter something about not accepting defeat, you'll prove him wrong, but he just laughs and picks you up and drags you into the tent with ease. He likes it when you're not blacked out all the way. That's why drugging you would have been no fun. This way, your eyes open just a bit, heavily lidded and blinking, you mumble out incoherent words. You protest just a bit when you feel your clothes slide off -- what are you... but you don't finish the question. He's a good guy, really, he cares about you, which is why he does a quick check and feels your skin to make sure you're not actually under any alcohol poisoning or something, but your skin is warm and dry, not clammy. Good, now you can get to the good part. He thinks about how grateful you should be. His friends and subordinates even have teased him for the longest time because he won't just go out with them to try to get lucky somewhere or participate in their drugging of randoms, no, he's whipped, they snicker, obsessed with this one little bitch that just won't put out. He can't say they're wrong, and that irritates him even more that you humiliated him like that. Which is why this isn't just a one time thing, no, this is part of the plan. He talks to you while he fucks you, maybe you'll remember some of it, maybe not. Actually, hopefully not everything, since he more or less admits how desperate he is in his lust-hazed rambling, how much it's irritated him that you wouldn't just be his and let him fuck you. Why can't you just admit you like him? Why do you have to play hard to get? He rambles about how soft your body is. How good pussy really does feel, holy shit, those guys were right, it's so warm and grips his dick so nicely. Not that he'd limit himself to that, while he's got you like this he might as well put his dick in your limp mouth, but admittedly he imagines that would feel a lot better if you were awake and actually sucking on it. Your mouth moves just a bit, and in your nearly-blacked-out state your tongue runs over the intrusion and you let out the softest confused little sound, but that's all you do. But he makes sure to breed you, cumming several times, all deep deep deep inside of your tight cunt. Again, part of the plan. Just not the most important part of the plan. The most important part is the kamera. It captures moment after moment. The first round he just leaves it aside, takes time to really just live in this sweet, precious moment... and then he breaks the kamera out. Gets all the nice shots with his dick in your holes. Gets a few full body ones, makes sure it's unmistakable as you. Captures your cute drunk face, with your eyes open just a bit, it looks like you're just awake but eyes lidded from arousal. You look awake. Willing. And so, when he finally goes to sleep, he does so very very happily and confident. And when you wake up, he was so rough that there's absolutely no doubt as to what transpired. Your throat and pussy are sore as hell, you're both naked in bed and his cum is still leaking out of you. The regret and shame comes crashing down, holy shit, you slept with your boss that's been trying to fuck you for ages now and your life is over. You'll have to transfer or something. But then... you know you drank on your own choice, but something feels... wrong. He's heavily snoring away, so in morning light you spot the flasks from last night. Your head is pounding, but you make your way over to the first one, and take a swig and spit it back out, yeah, that's the stuff you had... and then take a swig from the other... and when you taste water it all clicks. Bastard. You shake him awake in fury and immediately start telling him off, cursing and snarling. He was half expecting that, to be honest. Sure, obviously you want him, but he gets that you'd be a little mad over the way you got what you wanted, and you’re just embarrassed because you were so dumb, you're just hysterical like that. And you’re just naturally ashamed after fucking, like most girls apparently are, he gets that. But he just smiles and laughs in your face. It cuts deep, it's like a knife in your stomach, because you know why. He's untouchable, even if people believed you, nothing will happen to him, and he knows that. He has nothing to fear. You grit your teeth and your eyes tear up and your lip quivers and you finally drop your head and sniffle, asking him to just take me back. You'll quit, transfer to another department, and then, you tell him bitterly, I'll never have to see you again, at least. And that's what makes his smile drop. You're not gonna do that, he says. Your eyes widen with some new horror when you see the pictures. He talks to you like a child, in that dumb oversimplified way of speech, it's degrading and dehumanizing. Explains that this is how it's gonna go. You're gonna keep being his little subordinate. You're gonna be his girlfriend, publicly. And you're gonna fuck him whenever he wants. If you decide you don't like that, the entire branch, hell, the entire organization sees these photos. You have a very easy, simple choice. It's up to you to decide what happens. Oh, and you're probably pregnant, by the way, he timed this whole thing based on that calendar you keep that he snuck a look at. Would hate for you to have to deal with that on your own, right? People do envy you, down the line. How easy your job must be, since you're nothing more than an assistant now. Everyone knows you're just fucking the boss, that's probably how you got that position in the first place, right? And it's not like he doesn't make it obvious. Whenever he gets with the group of guys at his own level, when they all start saying horrendous things about the women they work with and sharing over-embellished tales as men do, he has plenty of very detailed stories to brag about the cute girlfriend he has. How she drops to her knees at any given moment, and how good and tight she is, and how eager she is, how much she loves fucking him, worships him, he's not like the pathetic bastards that have to go drug some poor unsuspecting thing once a month or so, no, he can get all the sweet, devoted pussy he wants at any time. He has the pictures to prove it! They roll their eyes because they've seen the pictures a hundred times now, everyone has, he shows every guy he works with, and they all know not to tell her that they've seen them. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter, she'd be dumb to leave him this late into pregnancy anyway.

[cower-before-power]

Piety

Summary: Gojo has sinned, and he will repent at the altar of his beloved

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

TW: swearing, implied sexual content, idolatry

Link to A03 here

A/N: First time writing for everyone’s favourite sensei, hope I did him justice. This man can step on me. Enjoy, sweet potatoes!

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“You’re late.”

He laughs softly from the doorway. “I told you I would be.”

“I know,” you say, your eyes focused on the rising moon out the window. “But you’ve always said I was the exception.”

“You are,” you can hear walk over to the closet; next, the rustling of clothes as he sheds his uniform. “But Yuuji-kun is doing so well I got overexcited and just had to stay a bit longer. When I was finished with him, I was planning on rushing straight home to you, but then I ran into my other darling first years. They wanted me to watch them fight. Their training for the exchange is coming along nicely too.”

“Hmmmmm,” you hum, rocking on your heels, “good reasons to be late, I suppose.”

You can’t help but let a little irritation creep into your voice. You’re not angry with him, not truly, but you can’t help be a little annoyed. Your lives were so busy it was often hard to find time to actually act like a couple. The two of you had set aside tonight to finally go out together, a real date. You’d made reservations at a fancy restaurant and even got dressed up for once. Not that you didn’t love your late night routine of takeout, Netflix and sex, but it was nice every once and a while to get out.

To pretend everything was normal. To pretend you were normal.

So when he texted you that he was sorry but things came up, could you please cancel the reservation-you couldn’t help but feel....cast aside.

You loved Gojo’s dedication to his students and his passion for his cause. You were proud of his strength, his powers. But sometimes it felt like you were a planet orbiting around his brilliant sun, competing with all the others for his warmth and light. He was the best, and was always needed by someone somewhere. You knew it was what you were in for when you put your heart in his hands, but it was still sometimes a bitter pill to swallow.

“You’re upset with me,” he says, and you finally turn to face him. He’s out of his uniform and only in a pair of dark sweatpants; your favourite look. You have a strong urge to run to him and bury yourself in his chest. You stay put.

“No not at you, per say,” you run your hands through your hair, taking out the style you’d coaxed it into earlier. “Just at life, I guess. Things are always crazy around here, but they seem to be getting even wilder and it just makes it even harder for us to spend quality time together.”

“You’ve never complained before.”

You sigh, tugging at the straps of your dress. “I know, I know. I’m just in a mood today, I guess. I was really looking forward to going out, and when you texted me, I just felt, I don’t know, shuffled aside.”

He stays quiet, face unreadable. It’s unusual and quite frankly rather unsettling. You feel guilt suddenly bubble hotly in your stomach.

“I mean, it’s fine! What you were doing was very important! Yuuji needs all the training he can get, poor boy. Plus, Megumi and Nobara miss you, they’ve noticed you haven’t been around a lot and they probably just wanted to see you be proud of them, even if they’ll never admit it. I’m being silly, I mean, who cares if we missed the reservation, the students and their training is definitely more important than going out with me-“

Your words die on your lips as you find yourself suddenly pressed flush against the chest you were just admiring moments earlier. You blink and gasp-bright blue eyes are staring intently down into yours. It always stuns you momentarily to see them. They are like sapphires; not only beautiful in shine and hue, but rare and precious. They only show up when he’s feeling particularly loving and mushy, or the very limited occasions when he gets serious.

You have a feeling it’s the latter.

“What have I told you about being too kind, angel?” He scolds you, shaking his head as he cups your face in his large, warm hands. “Just come out and say I’m the asshole here.”

“But-“

“Hush now,” his voice grows stern, the tone he uses when he’s got you at his mercy. You obey on instinct, snapping your lips shut. “I shouldn’t have stayed so long at school, and I definitely shouldn’t have assumed that cancelling would be okay without asking. I’ve never, ever wanted you to feel like you’re playing second string, and I’ve gone and done just that.”

You frown. “I don’t feel like that all the time, please don’t think I-“

“Once is one time too many,” he interrupts. His fingers smooth over your skin, stroking the frown from your face. “I clearly fucked up. I let my angel, my reason to live, my sweet darling thief who stole my heart, down.”

(You feel warm. So he is feeling mushy as well as serious.)

He replaces his fingers with his lips, featherlight brushes over your skin that make your knees begin to wobble. “It’s okay,” you breathe, eyes slipping shut so he can kiss your eyelids gently. “You didn’t mean to.”

He laughs. “Sweetness, you are shit at being mad at someone. This is the part where you call me a prick and make me grovel for forgiveness.”

“You’ve never groveled in your life,” you hum. The irritation you’d been feeling earlier is melting away under his gentle ministrations. He hadn’t meant to hurt you. He sometimes forgets the two of you didn’t always operate on the same wavelength. He sometimes forgets that everyone didn’t operate on his wavelength.

“Another exception I’d make for you,” he nibbles at your bottom lip, and you can’t help but chase him, trying to catch him in a proper kiss. He just laughs and sweeps a thumb over where he’s just nipped. “I’ll even get on my knees.”

The image of the worlds most powerful shaman on his knees before you sends a shiver up your spine. And the perceptive bastard doesn’t miss it. He pulls away, peeling himself from your body with a sticky slowness that causes the air around you to heat and thicken. He sinks to his knees before you, palms upturned in perfect piety.

“Oh goddess divine, please accept my humble apologies,” the words drip from his lips like a sacred prayer. “I have displeased you, and I seek to make amends.”

“Only you could apologize and make fun of someone at the same time,” you murmer, feeling your cheeks begin to flush. “You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot who only wishes to repent for his sins,” he grins lazily up at you, and his upturned hands are suddenly on your legs, beneath your dress. His thumbs begin to rub circles on your inner thighs. Time stops; your next breath lodges in your throat.

“Tell me what I must do,” his voice is smooth like the silk of his blindfold, slipping over you. He leans in and presses a kiss just above your right knee. His mouth is hot against your skin.

“Ummmm....” you try to speak, but nothing comes out but a choked whimper.

“I’m waiting very patiently,” another kiss, this time slightly higher. Your brain begins to malfunction. You open and close your mouth, trying to get the words out, but there’s nothing. Nothing but his warm breath and deft hands. Nothing but crystalline blue darkened with hunger. Nothing but need beginning to boil in your blood.

“I’ll just have to decide the form of atonement myself,” he murmurs, skimming his nose along your inner thigh. His hands slowly slide up your legs, your dress is coming up with them....

And then you both hear it.

The loud grumbling of your very empty belly.

He pulls back and blinks up at you. You stare back, mouth open. And then you both burst into raucous laughter.

“What a mood killer,” he grins, sitting back on his heels. “I’ve never been cockblocked by your stomach before.”

“Sorry!” You rub the offending area, still giggling. “I guess in all my stewing I forgot I was hungry.”

He’s on his feet in a flash. “Well we can’t have you starve on me, can we, sweetness? I know, how about I cook for us?”

Your eyes light up. Gojo is an excellent cook, but he rarely does it due to his busy and exhausting schedule. And his bad habit of filling up on sweets. “Really?”

“Sure,” he’s already across the room, throwing on a shirt and his blindfold. “Tell you what, you go have a nice hot soak in the tub while I cook. I’ll bring you a glass of wine and something from my extra secret sweets stash to tide you over till I’m done.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Something from the secret stash? I’m honoured.”

He grins. “Another exception for my angel.” He suddenly claps his hands together. “Oh, and tomorrow we’ll play hookey! Go to Tokyo for the whole day, and I’ll spoil the absolute shit out of you. The kids can survive a day without us.”

“You already spoil me,” you laugh, shaking your head. “I’ll just be happy to spend a whole day just us.”

“No arguments!” He wags his finger. “I will drop mad cash on you and you will enjoy it.”

“Ugh you are such a dork,” you roll your eyes, but your heart fills with love for this silly man. You know he really is sorry and is trying to make it up to you. He’s an idiot on occasions, but he’s your idiot, and you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

You make to move towards the bathroom, but the lingering feel of his touch on your skin reminds you.

“Hey, what happens after the bath and food?”

Before you can blink, he’s back in front of you, gathering you against him. His smile is absolutely feral, and you can feel his smouldering gaze even through the black fabric now covering his eyes.

And his lips are descending on yours, hot and hungry. He licks into your mouth, swallowing the moan that’s threatening to escape. There’s nothing left but him. His touch, his taste, his scent. He is everywhere, in every sweep and valley of your body, in every corner of your pounding heart. He consumes you like fire consumes a forest, and you are happy to burn, burn, burn.

All too soon he pulls away, and you are left empty. Bereft. Lost. But he leans back in, his lips brushing your ear, his voice dark with reverent desire.

“I’ll worship at the altar of my divine goddess until my penance is paid a hundred fold.”