#would just love to see his kid return the favour once in a while

[lambilegs]

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striking a deal (sevika x reader)

contains: sevika being a jackass (what's new tho I still love her), gambling, reader sort of being a hater against gambling due to the negative impacts its had on their friend, enemies-with-a-bit-of-desire sort of vibe going on, reader is called a "girlfriend," very sfw, not much explicit romance and just a bit of flirting + attraction

a/n: hiii pookies so this is my first fic for miss sevika!! I hope it's accurate to her character and you all enjoy <33 would love to hear what y'all think hehe

art: four gentlemen of high rank playing primero

✮🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺✮

"hey, do you know where I can find sevika?" you tentatively ask the bartender. he's some nervous looking kid who's probably going to quit after two weeks of witnessing the shit show that is the last drop since vander was killed.

not that you can blame him. you rarely frequent this part of the undercity, avoiding it for both the sake of safety and your own sense of sanity. you couldn't stand half the crap that went down here -- all the drunken fights, the sloshing of alcohol spilling and soaking through nearly every visitor's clothes, the lewd public displays that sent your face burning and ducking down -- and, of course, the gambling.

the damn gambling you had been imploring your friend, zafar, to put aside for almost half a year now. ever since he had lost his younger sister to an "intervention" enforcers had made at a party a year ago, every bad habit of his that had once been a small spring in the ground, roots shallow, had blossomed into a rotten, ugly plant that had spread faster than the blink of an eye could capture. you tried to be there for him, you did, but you also had your own family to take care of, and with his new friends being nothing but a bunch of enablers, he had now landed himself into a world of debt.

why, you ask? he had made the stupid decision to play with one of silco's little henchmen, sevika, whose reputation at cards is so notorious that even you've heard of it from your dinky little corner, far away from this place. you had heard rumours of her, some admiring, others downright terrifying. her help in smuggling shimmer, the ass-whooping she did for silco, how she was a constant presence when it came to the drug lord. that was enough to drain you of any admiration you could've beheld for such a strong woman. you had seen what shimmer did, the power it had in crumbling people's bodies, mental states, and their ability to keep living. you don't approve of anyone who's involved in the horrors of it.

the only reason you're here now is because zafar came to you sobbing this morning, grief heavy in his eyes over the money he had lost. he claimed sevika cheated it out of him, and while you still aren't sure as to how true that is, you'd at least try to set the record straight with her. you want to do something, anything, for standing around and watching zafar self-destruct no longer feels like a valid option. you promised him you'd try to see if you could convince her to return his money, under the condition of him avoiding gambling as best as he could and beginning to work part-time at the shop where you worked so he could have a more reliable source of income.

you can only hope this shitty plan will be in your favour. already, your stomach is tightening with anxiety, the knot circling and circling to bulge against your gut and make you slightly nauseated. but, you try to, at least physically, keep your cool, schooling your features to be calm, levelled and devoid of any jitters or twitches.

the bartender cocks his head to a dark corner near the jukebox. "right there. why, you've got business with her?"

a spring of irritation flickers through you at his prodding. the less he knows, the better. "in a way." you nod your thanks, then make your way to her.

you had seen flashes of sevika before. rallies, protests, gang fights. a blur of dark hair, a murky red cape and swinging fists. that's all she ever was to you. so, now, to behold her in her full state, feels... intimidating, to say the least. she carries herself as though the rickety wooden boards and worn out hinges of this place are her prized palace and she's the hailing king, rightfully seated on her throne. her dark lips are twisted into a leering smirk, haughtily bringing her cigar to them and taking a prideful puff from it. you swallow hard. you're definitely out of your league.

you linger nearby, watching through the crowd and awaiting an opportunity to approach her. when the men around her slam their palms down on the shared table, groaning and shutting their eyes in clear loss, her arm tossing towards them cockily, you stiffen up. you have an opening.

as the losers begin to file away, shoulders slumped in defeat, you can't help but feel a twinge of pity for them. everyone in this city struggles, one way or another. to have those struggles tied off with a loss in poker is a downright cursed fate. you try not to meet their eyes, sliding through the sweaty bodies until you reach her table.

you pause in front of her, hands twiddling as she collects the coins. you wait for her to look up, and when a few seconds pass and no such thing happens, you clear your throat.

eyes still casted onto the table, she speaks. her voice is like sand that's fallen through the surface of the ocean, rough and textured, impossibly deep and smooth. "you waited your turn long enough. what do you want?"

you flinch. "waited my turn?"

she tilts her head in the direction you came from. "you were lurking there. just watching, or is there something you need?"

jesus, and here you had thought you were at least a bit subtle. "oh, I--"

"didn't think I'd notice you?" she scoffs, scooping up the coins and pouring them into a small sack. "you almost fell head-first when bunny-face bumped into you."

your eye nearly twitches. "okay, well, good observation, I guess." honestly, it's impressive. you had expected her to be all brawn, no brain. "I'm here to talk to you about something."

her eyes finally meet yours. they're nearly silver, a dark grey that flashes under the colourful lights. her gaze is piercing, punctuated all the more by her dark eyebrows that are drawn in curiosity. "make it quick."

that's all you need. "okay, well, my friend, zafar, gambled with you last night."

"okay."

"well, you won, and took a bunch of his money." you wobble on your feet, hesitation seizing at you due to the accusation you're about to lay out. she could probably snap your neck in less than a millisecond. you've heard of her ability to totally crush any enemy designated to her by silco. definitely not a person whose bad side you want to get on. hopefully, nothing of the sort will happen if you express yourself in enough of a civilized way. "he, I don't know if it's true, but he says you cheated." you avert your eyes, the hand in your pocket gripping tightly onto the handle of your dagger. you haven't had to use it, not yet, at least, but in the undercity, it's better to be safe than sorry. and, frankly, you're expecting the worse from her.

which is why you nearly flinch when the corner of her lip twists up, and she says, "a common scapegoat for losers."

protectiveness immediately kicks in, searing through your body and urging you through your fear. you know it's hypocritical, considering you, too, don't fully believe him. but, still, you at least know his character, whereas she's just riding off her assumptions. "he could just as well be telling the truth."

"oh, yeah? is that why he sent his little girlfriend to save his ass?"

gross. the insinuation feels nearly as offensive as her insults towards him. "I'm not his girlfriend. and I volunteered to come here myself."

her eyes flicker up to you, and you rear back when they linger on your face, skimming over your features before settling back down to the table. "and while that's nice, and well, pretty stupid of you, I didn't do any cheating. anything he lost was because he couldn't play his hand well."

you grit your teeth together. "I'm not stupid. I just came here for a friend."

"a friend who clearly is a sloppy poker player and likely to lose to anyone who has the playing ability of a child." she snickers, and you catch sight of the split between her two front teeth, a little gap protruding. you force yourself to meet her eyes. the last thing you'd want is for her to catch you staring at her mouth.

what's worse is that you can't even argue back with her on this. for all you know, zafar very well may be a shit player. probably is, in all honesty. it wouldn't surprise you -- he always was impulsive as hell, and you wouldn't bat an eye to discover that challenging sevika had been an in-the-moment decision of his. but, you know what he's been through. you know how down in the dumps he is financially, and just how desperate he's gotten. his mourning has only made it worse.

"okay, well," you trail off, not really knowing where to continue. you didn't really lay a plan for yourself, and now that she's swiftly shut you down in a manner which you have no rebuttals for, you're not sure how to proceed.

"was that all?"

"no." you force your shoulders to straighten, hoping you sound somewhat firm, maybe even dignified. "is there any way you can return his money? he's been through a lot this year, and--"

she cuts you off with a bark of laughter, the raspy noise of it harsh and grating to your ears. the anger it's stirring in you probably isn't helping either. "okay. listen, friend of...?"

deadpan, you respond, "zafar."

she nods. "yeah, whatever his name is. this game comes with risks, and one of them is losing all your shit if you play with no tact."

you suck in a sharp breath at the condescension in her tone. "I'm well aware of that. but, listen, he's had a hard time of it lately, and--"

"and what? we've all had a hard time of it lately. if he chose to put his life's worth on the table, that isn't my problem."

"I'm not saying it is, but c'mon, can't you have a little empathy now and return his money?" you stick an incredulous finger at the table. "you have enough as is! no need to drain every zaunite of their hard-earned money before you're satisfied."

her eyes flutter in what seems to be exasperation, but you firmly planted, both on your feet and in your stance. physically, you can't do shit against this mass of muscle. but, maybe, just maybe, you can verbally get somewhere.

she stares up at you, elbows propped on her knees. "if it's so hard-earned, why did your friend gamble it away? are you asking me to return someone's money because they were an idiot?"

frustration begins to gnaw at your stomach, a burning sensation swarming through your insides and making you tense up. "I'm telling you, he's not in his right mind right now. things have happened in his family lately, and it's been hard for him."

"are you forgetting where you live? things happen in every family here. being smart is how you survive. if your friend can't do that..." she shrugs, continuing to sweep the coins into the opening of the sack. "then, that's not my problem."

"being a decent person helps in surviving in this place, too. being there for each other and our community. don't you care about that?"

her movements halt for a second, eyes flicking between you and the table. you nearly crack a grin and do a little rejoicing dance. bingo.

you add a sticky sweet tone to your voice, pleading and coaxing. you've heard she frequents babette's brothel, and if that's any indication about where her romantic interests lie, maybe you'll be able to woe her into complacency. "c'mon, I promise, he'll never gamble with you again, and if he does, take anything and keep it. but, please, just this one time, help him out, hm? do it for him, do it for your people."

her face, which was stoic only moments ago, shatters into a loud round of laughter, her palm smacking against her knee. "I gotta hand it to you, the 'for your people' thing was a nice touch." she stands up, and you try not to blink too hard at the sight of her towering over you. jesus, she's gigantic. no wonder people are scared shitless of her. no wonder you were scared shitless of her. "now, be honest. was the money yours? boyfriend left you and stole from the cookie jar? told you you had to come and get it back yourself?"

the more she talks, the more you get the sense that to her, this conversation is simply something to toy with, and just engage with as a playful little pastime. it only causes more anger to ooze within you, fiery and hot within your guts, like lava. this isn't a game. this is about people's lives, people's financial sustenance. she must earn a decent amount of time for her work for silco, and yet here she is, milking the people of zaun who don't know any better or who are too entrenched in their habits to put a stop to their gambling.

you want to make a jab at her that's as harsh as the blow to your ego was. it might risk you a limb, but you're praying the surprising amount of calm she's shown so far is a sign that your safety is secure. "you know what? I was stupid for coming here in the first place. to think one of silco's little servants would actually have a moral compass."

unfortunately, her irritatingly cool collection not only keeps your physical wellbeing in check, but does the complete opposite to your pride. for all she does is stare down at you, the long, blue scar seeping through her cheek curling as she chuckles, the noise husky and rough, like crushed velvet. "ouch. good one. anyone else might've gotten offended by that." her stormy eyes skip to your lips for a split second. "quite the mouth you have on you."

what the fuck is that supposed to mean? is that a pass or a genuine comment on your temper, which is very much flaring up? either way, you're determined to try harder to goad her. "yeah, well, I'm sure it has no impact on you, right? after all, you spend your days contributing to half the shit going down in this fucked up city."

her jaw suddenly clenches, mouth pressing together. you would've thought someone in this business would be a bit more discreet with the physical manifestations of their moods. but, sevika is like an open book, grey eyes wide, and eyebrows sunk down, her newfound disdain clear as day. "what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"the shimmer," you answer, squinting at her, praying the expression conveys how stupid you think she is. "your little boss has just tossed it to this city and watches the damages of it unfold without doing shit. wasn't his glorious plan to make this city a better place, not fuck us over even more?"

"the shimmer is helping," she retorts, her voice harder than before, lined with a firm pressure that had been absent in her prior teasing and casual dismissal. "we have something that topside could only wish for, something that gives us an advantage."

"an advantage?" you laugh bitterly. the injustice of it all, the agony you see your people in everyday -- it all floods your insides, wracking you from within. "it's been years since it's come about, and nothing has changed. piltover is still on top, and in addition to that, they have hextech." you make sure your eyes pointedly lock onto hers, hoping she feels every single fibre of your rage. "just admit it. you guys haven't done shit."

"and what exactly are you doing?" her voice is lowered to a heavy whisper, and you feel the noises surrounding you two melt away into a light, background buzz. the iciness of her voice feels almost worst than any other stupid tone she's taken since you started interacting.

"something you and your boss don't seem to be helping at all with." you give her a tight-lipped smile, your gums aching with how hard your teeth press in together, the disjointed shapes of them uncomfortable and crooked as they mash at the edges. "trying to survive."

her nostrils flare, her burning glare pulsing through the barrier of your skin and making your insides turn from the onslaught of anxiety that enters. god, will she unleash some goons on you now or something?

"sevika!"

you jerk at the sudden sound, whereas sevika simply blinks down at you, gaze unrelenting. "what?" she calls out.

uncomfortable at having her eyes still pointed at you, you turn to the voice, seeing a man with small, rectangular glasses hanging off his nose looking awfully mopey.

"you promised us another round," the guy wails, tossing his hands in the air.

you swallow hard at the silence that ensues, still feeling her stormy eyes hooked onto you. after a moment, she says, "maybe later."

the man's shoulders sag as he heaves a dramatic sigh, turning to who seems to be his friend, whimpering, "she's too busy with her date."

you grimace at the mistake, though the disgust you feel at it is fused with an irritation directed at the way your stomach spins at the word 'date.' you're not stupid -- sevika is, objectively, pretty attractive. hot, some people might say. but, jesus, she's a bitch too. and working with silco, which makes for a very unappealing combination.

"come on," she drawls out. you turn back to her, the anger from before now replaced with a wide smirk, one sharp eyebrow lifted up inquisitively. "I can't be all that bad, can I?"

you roll your eyes. this conversation has strayed too much as is, and you're not about to let it tiptoe off into flirtatious territory. "are you going to give my friend back his money or not?"

"hm," she ponders, and lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. you can immediately catch a whiff of the falsehood in the gesture, and tap your foot, waiting for her to just solidify your assumption. "no, I won't. but, do give him my regards."

you grunt, shaking your head. despite your expectancy of it, you can't help but feel a stone of disappointment sink through the waters of your body, falling to the bottom with more impact than you'd like. you shouldn't expect anything of her, there's no reason for you to feel disappointment. your expectations shouldn't have gotten this high in the first place. "of course. have a good day."

as you whirl around to leave, she grabs your forearm, callouses brushing against your skin. "hey, I just turned down a poker game for you."

"uh, yeah, and as a reward, you get a departure from me that doesn't include a kick to the shin." you snatch your arm from her grasp, trying to direct your thoughts to her shitty words as a desperate attempt to ignore the warmth in your stomach. "you're welcome."

with her snarky laugh ringing in your ears, you practically dash to the door, wanting to get out as soon as possible.

it's awful, but at the opening, something in you whispers for you to look back once more. it's okay -- it's reasonable, right? you barely frequent this place, anyone would want to catch one last glance at such a notorious woman in your city, no matter how degenerate and callous she is.

the only con to this is as soon as you find sight of her through your tentative search of the crowd, she's already staring back at you. at being caught, you internally cringe, the feeling only intensified by a tenfold when she tips her head at you with a grin.

ugh. never again.

two weeks later, you find a crisp envelope laying out on the mat outside your front door. in neat, cursive writing, it reads:

A thank you gift for the free business consultation. Do with it what you will. Whether you or someone else needs it. - S

[gam3r-girli3]

❛ i burn for you ❜

Arthur Morgan was many things: outlaw, gunslinger, collector of cigarette cards (since he learned from a man he met at the train station that a full set is worth money) - but he was also a fool, especially when it came to women.

The day he read that damn letter, eyes greedily drinking in the cursive writing and the faint scent of a sweet perfume he hadn't forgotten, he went running with his tail tucked between his legs. He was being played like a damn fiddle, he knew that, especially when she asked him to help her with her brother. All these years and she only gets in contact when she needs a favour and a fool like him to do it for her.

But seeing her again ... damn, if it didn't bring up a lot of feelings he'd tried to forget. Memories of happier days, of a love he once thought would burn bright and bold for a long time.

So, like the goddamn fool he is, he helps her. Rescues her younger brother from a strange cult in the mountains worshipping turtles. Brings him back to her. Drinks up her praise, her gratitude. Watches her board the train and continues watching until it's out of sight.

When he returns back to camp that evening, he notices your foul mood. Usually you'd greet him as you always did, a smile on your lips that gave him a strange, warm feeling inside - but this time, you didn't even look at him, face stoic.

What the outlaw didn't know was that when he'd read that letter that came for him and then taken off like a bat out of hell on his horse, you'd followed him, curious to see where he was heading to so eagerly.

You stayed a good distance back while he rode to a big house just outside Valentine, used your binoculars to see more clearly as he dismounts his horse, walks up the steps of the porch and knocks on the door. When the door opens, your heart drops.

It's her.

Goddamn Mary Gillis - well, Linton now, since she'd married a good few years ago. Regardless of her surname, she was still as pretty as a picture, and clearly, she still had a hold on Arthur's heart all these years later.

It stung, more than you'd care to admit. These past few months, before Horseshoe Overlook and Colter, before even the mess in Blackwater, you'd begun to notice a shift in your relationship with Arthur. You'd always been fairly close, having grown up together and taught by Hosea and Dutch, but the past few months ... something had changed. You aren't sure how or when but it had.

And now here he was, his hat in his hands as he stared starry-eyed at another woman, his old flame.

A sickly feeling rises within and you decide you can't watch anymore. Pushing your binoculars back into your satchel, you swing up on your horse and head back to camp with a heavy heart and tears in your eyes.

"Everythin' alright?" He asks uncertainly, concern in his eyes.

You still don't look at him, head down and eyes trained on your rifle as you smear gun oil over it to clean it. "Sure."

Arthur frowns, unconvinced. "Don't seem that way."

An exasperated sigh leaves you. "I'm fine, Arthur. Just not in the mood to talk."

Well then. He decides it's best to leave you to your own devices and turns, heading to his tent, bewildered by your frostiness.

It wasn't like you to be so cool with anyone, let alone him. The two of you had known each other since you were kids, grew up being taught how to read by Hosea and how to fire a gun by Dutch. There wasn't much you didn't tell each other.

And he'd lying if he said he hadn't felt a change between you lately. There was a warmth that bloomed in his chest when he saw you, a rush of air that left his lungs as you smiled at him. He'd spent countless hours sneakily observing you as he tried his best to sketch your likeness into his journal; the slope of your nose, the fullness of your lips, the gleam in your eyes, the light dusting of freckles across your cheeks and nose.

Every day he discovered something new about you he wanted to draw and soon he'd had to get himself a new journal, the previous one filled with pages upon pages of carefully drawn pictures of you.

Arthur didn't know what to make of these new feelings, didn't know what to do with them - so he buried them deep down, tried his best to ignore them and pretend they weren't there.

Acting on them was out of the question for two reasons: one, he was utterly hopeless when it came to women, and two, you were his closest and oldest friend which meant you were strictly off limits. He couldn't bare to lose you, not after everything you'd been through together.

You'd patched up his wounds from countless shoot-outs, helped him back to camp when he'd gotten so drunk he could barely see straight, sewn his favourite jacket when he complained about rips and tears in it. And after the death of his son ... you'd been there to pick up the pieces of his broken heart, seen him at his lowest and still stayed by his side.

Risking such a precious friendship he'd come to cherish was unthinkable. A life without you made less sense than Uncle pulling his weight and helping out around the camp instead of complaining about his 'lumbago'.

Days pass. The air grows a little warmer and the sun burns a little hotter with the coming of summer. The heat isn't the only thing that grates on Arthur's nerves.

You still hadn't spoken more than two words to him. When he'd tried to approach you and speak to you, you'd make some half-assed excuse about needing to go into town for a few supplies or going to collect a debt for Strauss and quickly left. You flitted around so much, in and out of camp, you were little more than a blur these days.

Arthur had had enough. He was tired of your strange attitude and quite frankly, if you didn't want to talk about whatever the hell was going on with you, too bad. Underneath the annoyance and frustration, there was concern. He didn't understand why you were behaving so unusually, why you seemed to be avoiding him.

He'd noticed you talking to other members of the gang just fine, joking and laughing as you often did - so why was it just him you seemed to be so frosty with?

One day, after another cold dismissal, Arthur's temper reaches a boiling point.

"Wha' the hells your goddamn problem, huh?"

You turn to look at him, eyes narrowing in defensiveness at his outburst. "Excuse me?"

He knows he should back off and calm down, he's far too worked up to speak rationally, but he's sick and tired of feeling like his closest friend has become a stranger. He misses you, damn it.

"You heard me. What's going on with you? Why're you avoidin' me?"

You scoff, trying to play it cool. "I ain't avoidin' anyone. You're delusional."

He returns your scoff with a bitter chuckle. "Oh, really? That why you scurry away like a goddamn rabbit whenever I try to talk to you?"

Heat burns in your cheeks. "I do not scurry."

"Well, ya sure seem to move pretty goddamn fast when ya see me comin'." He takes a step closer, face drawn in a tight glare. "So spit it out. What's goin' on with you? And don't you even try to deny it."

"How's Mary?" You ask suddenly, voice laced with venom and eyes sharp as Javier's knives.

The question throws him for a loop, his anger momentarily disappearing as shock registers. "Mary? The hell's she got to do with anythin'?"

"Oh, please," you roll yours eyes irritatedly, crossing your arms over your chest. "I saw you running off into town that day you got her letter. Saw you talkin' to her, lookin' like a lovesick fool. Did you forget how she broke your heart? How you weren't good enough for her? Or were you just thinkin' with your dick?"

Your words cut deep and fuel his anger even more. "You followin' me now?"

Ignoring his accusation, you press on, anger burning hot and bright inside your chest. "After everything that damn woman put you through, after the way her family looked down on you, after she rejected you because you weren't good enough, why in the hell would you go and help her?"

"What the hell has this got to do with why you've been avoidin' me?" He demands furiously.

You want to slap yourself in the face - and then him, and then Mary for good measure and because you're feeling a little petty.

How could this man be so oblivious and hopelessly clueless?

It was right there; you'd practically spelled it out for him and he still pretended like he couldn't read the words your heart had written for him.

Or maybe, he didn't want to. Maybe he didn't want to see how you felt for him because he didn't feel the same. Maybe he was still desperately in love with Mary after all these years and you'd imagined the closeness between you these last few months, foolishly deluding yourself into believing there'd been a spark.

From the way he was looking at you, angry and confused and so oblivious, you could only assume he hadn't felt the same heat from the embers you'd been nurturing inside longer than you'd care to admit.

So you swallow your anger, your hurt, your love. It's bitter and difficult, like trying to chew down Pearson's gristly stew, but you do it.

"Nothin'. It's got absolutely nothin' to do with it."

If the situation was different, you might have laughed at the absolutely bewildered look on the man's face.

But it wasn't.

And you didn't.

Instead, you did what you do best lately: you turn and walk away.

Days bleed into weeks and weeks into months. After robbing the bank in Valentine, you flee once more, packing up the camp and settling into a derelict mansion south of a town called Rhodes. Shady Belle, is the name of the new campsite.

Down here so close to the swamps, the air is much more humid and heavy, weighing down on everyone and clinging to them. The heat is almost unbearable, and everyone dresses in lighter layers to try and alleviate their overheated bodies from the warmer temperatures.

You hadn't spoken to Arthur in quite a while. Well, nothing more than a few words here and there when absolutely necessary, like for a robbery or when someone in camp said to tell him they were looking for him. Other than that, nothing. There'd been a large fracture between you, one that didn't go unnoticed by knowing eyes.

Having raised the two of you from young teenagers to hardened adults, Hosea could see from a mile off that something had happened.

Late one evening, when most everyone else had retired to their tents for the night, Hosea finds Arthur by the docks, a small lantern perched on an old crate illuminating his figure and the ever permanent scowl on his face these days.

"You know," the older man begins as he comes to stand beside Arthur. "When Bessie and I would get into a fight, she'd ignore me for days unless I apologised. Longest we went without talking was a week. Worst one of my life."

Arthur's surprised to see his older mentor up so late, but he doesn't show it, too confused by the meaning behind his seemingly random reminiscing. "Okay..?"

Hosea looses a tired sigh. "My dear boy, you were always a few branches short of a tree, weren't you?"

The outlaw scoffs. "You callin' me dumb, old man?"

"I'm simply saying that there was a time when I thought it was worth being right over being happy and I soon learned I was very wrong."

"I still don't know where you're goin' with this."

"Whatever you did or said, just apologise to her."

Arthur's face hardens as he realises now what Hosea's been getting at, the sly bastard. "I ain't got nothin' to apologise for."

"That hardly matters. You're upset, she's upset. The simple solution is to swallow your pride and say you're sorry."

"I didn't do nothin' to say sorry for!"

"You'll forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe, what with the way you two have been acting as of late."

"She jus' started freezin' me out and then one day she chews me out for goin' to help Mary out-"

"Ah." Hosea eyes gleam with a knowing glint as he begins to smile. "I see."

"See what?"

"She's hurt."

"Hurt? Why in the hell would she be-"

Oh.

Oh.

Hosea says nothing as the realisation slams into Arthur, leaving him winded and reeling.

How did he not see it sooner? You were hurt. Upset. Because he'd gone to see Mary, his past love. Which meant that you ...

Arthur turns on his heel and marches toward your tent, faintly registering a call of 'good luck!' from Hosea.

He hopes that you're still awake and he isn't sure if he's more relieved or nervous when he sees light illuminating from within the canvas. He pauses outside, hesitant and second guessing himself. What if he got it wrong? What if you didn't actually have feelings for him? What if he's being delusional and wanting to believe you do have feelings for him because he has them for you too?

It had taken him so long to get to this point, to admit to himself he cared about you more than just a friend. To admit that he loved you. And now there was a possibility you might just feel the same.

A combination of the heat and nerves made his throat dry, his hands growing clammy. He was frozen in place, staring at the canvas, thinking that if anyone walked by and saw him they'd scold him for being a pervert, but he -

The canvas parted and your face appeared, sending his heart racing even faster. You appeared just as surprised as he felt, eyes widening at the sight of him stood outside your tent. "Arthur? What the hell are you-"

Before you can even finish your question, he surges forward, leaning down to cup your face as his lips capture yours in a searing kiss that steals your breath and sends a jolt of heat straight to your core. His mouth is hungry, insatiable as he devours you, tongue sliding into your mouth and caressing yours. It's like he's a man dying of thirst and he's just gotten his first drink of water in years.

When you both break away, panting and breathing heavily, lips swollen and faces flushed, there's no denying the palpable heat between you now, the roaring inferno too loud to silence or ignore.

"I'm sorry," Arthur rasps lowly, voice husky. "I should've - I didn' - she's not-" He takes a moment to catch his breath and gather his thoughts before trying again. "I did love Mary but that was a long time ago. I helped her because it was the right thing to do, not because I still had feelings for her. You... you've had my heart for a long time now, darlin'. Youre in my goddamn veins, you're - you're everythin'."

Your heart stutters at his heartfelt confession, tears springing to your eyes. You'd been waiting a long time to hear those words, so long that you'd become convinced you never would but now -

His hands are still cupping your face, calloused thumbs gently stroking across your skin as his eyes search yours, desperate and wanting. "I should'a said it a long time ago, I was a fool, a goddamn fool, but I love ya, darlin'. I think maybe I always have."

There it is.

You swallow the lump in your throat, your heart overflowing as you struggle to choke out the words you want to say. "I love you too, Arthur. I love you so much it hurts -"

Nothing else needs to be said, no further words necessary as he kisses you once more, further igniting the smoldering heat between you that had been burning for years, slowly growing from flickering embers to this.

And nothing, or no one, would ever extinguish it.

requested ♡ hope you enjoyed anon!

this is the longest imagine i've written to date 🙈

[fanningfics]

DC Prompt: Kon Gaslights, Gatekeeps, Girlbosses Tim into a nuclear family.

(Just a little something my brain cooked up)

Conner Kent had learned to treasure what life had given him, and be rid of the things that impeded him. That's why Conner loved Martha and John Kent and held absolute disrespect for Clark Kent aka Superman. He grew to be possessive of the things he considered his, obsessive almost - something he suspected had to do with Lex Luthor's DNA. And despite what some may say, Tim Drake is his. The first to ever look at him and see a person, the first to teach him about the beauty and reality of living, the first to ever prioritise him. So of course Kon had to return the favour. Kon loved Tim Drake, and he won't stand for his love to be exploited by the Bats any longer. He'd long since learned the art of manipulation at the hand of a master manipulator like Tim Drake. And he will use it without remorse to get Tim out of that toxic fucking family no matter what.

It starts with Kon hinting about eventually wanting children. It continues with Kon pretending to be sad about the fact they can't have kids with both his and Tim's DNA. When Tim tentatively Brings up the idea of using the same cloning tech as Luthor, Kon tells him that would be a great idea someday.

There was a bit of a hiccup when Kon briefly died. But apparently It turned everything in his favour because when he was alive again, Tim had been burned almost catastrophically by the Bats and had turned to him in tears feeling guilty about creating their test tube children during his death. Their kids were only a month old by the time Kon returned and Tim had fixed the Bat family's problems. Kon didn't turn Tim away like he had feared. No, for Kon this was the best news he had ever heard - he was elated. He was prepared for his plan to need 10 years to come into fruition but it turned out amazingly well during his death - of course Tim being incredibly worn out was bad, but this just meant Kon could wheedle him to his side more for comfort. So now, Kon has biological twins with Tim and he's ecstatic, because phase 2 of the plan could start right away.

Phase 2 meaning gaslighting Tim about the safety of their children around the Bats - what with Jason being so volatile, the demon brat being so aggressive, and now he can add Dick to it too being unreliable. Kon doesn't know why his beautiful boyfriend can't see how terrible the Bats are but their beautiful babies will make him see it. Because while Tim may not have any self-preservation Instincts, Kon knows he’ll wreck hell on earth for his loved ones, and their children have just now taken top priority.

Kon knows that logically, the Bats wouldn't ever harm babies but that's the point of gaslighting, to go against logic, to believe the unfactual. And it was working. Tim had been back from the time stream for three months and had yet to contact any of the Bats, too busy living their blissful life in San Francisco.

One day, Tim suggested to the team about staying in San Francisco permanently and taking on a new Hero identity. Kon is so glad their teammates are on the same page and encouraged it heavily. Kon is right beside Tim as he sends his resignation to Wayne Enterprises, returns his Red Robin uniform through the Zeta tube and remotely removes Red Robin from the Gotham roster. Kon is vibrating with delirious joy and rewards Tim with vigorously enjoyable love-making.

There is outcry of course, from the Bats, but Kon is there to tell Tim he made the right choice, that he had to think about their children, that he wouldn't want to subject their kids to the Bat treatment. He's not entirely sure which of his words hit, but one of them does, and suddenly Tim is gung ho about his separation from the Batfamily. Kon is more than relieved.

Dick, Damian and Jason try to come to the tower, but they have long since been banned. Damian and Jason for their previous attacks, Dick was turned away by Kon himself, never once catching a glimpse of Tim.

Bruce enters the tower and Kon is right beside Tim grinning smugly as the man spots the babies between him and his adoptive son.

“Tim what did you do?” He had forgotten about everything he wanted to ask as he saw the babies each boy held.

“These are mine and Kon's children.” Tim told him, cradling one of them close.

“How?”

“A little help from clone technology.”

“Tim thats unethical-”

“He had my permission” Kon interrupted “I wanted the kids, Timmy just made it happen”

Bruce is surprised by Kon's even stare, shoulders bared protectively. And then he spots the smirk on his lips, that proud tilt of his lips, something about it was mocking.

“What are you doing here Bruce?” Tim asked.

“Tim- I -you left. Permanently. You resigned from everything. You didn't even talk to us, you kept refusing to talk to us.”

“I'm not hearing a question” Tim said distractedly, cooing at his child.

“Tim, why did you leave?” Tim looked up, this is the first time Bruce has seen his eyes in months - and he doesn't recognise the coldness in them.

“I left for them” Tim brushed the cheek of his baby.

“I don't understand” Bruce stammered.

“We would never turn you or your kids away.”

“I don't feel safe in that manor.” He was direct, unfeelingly straightforward, and unregarding of the flinch his statement caused.

“W-what?”

“I don't feel safe in your family where two of your sons have tried to kill me without reparations, where your oldest tried to convince me I was insane for knowing you were alive, where the most sensible man there has ignored every abuse thrown my way, where you have repeatedly insisted on making me just as paranoid and mentally unwell as you. I don't feel safe in your home mentally or physically, and I don't want my kids to be anywhere where they might get hurt.” Tim takes a deep breath, and stares at him with that distant unfamiliar stare “Bruce, I love you,” he said quietly, loudly in the silence “but I don't feel safe with you.”

Bruce can feel his heart break, “Tim” he croaked out weakly, and from the corner of his eyes, he spotted Kon's wide grin, wider than it had been when Bruce had first entered, full of satisfaction, glee and vindication. Bruce has the eerie feeling that this was his fault somehow, his Ducky would never do this without being pushed and this boy had something to do with it.

Kon, having noticed Bruce's realisation only smiled harder “I think it's time for you to go Batman” Kon said mockingly “if any of you want to get in touch with Tim, you'll have to talk to me first.” Bruce glared at the upstart, and then looked to Tim to try and have him deny it, but Tim only nodded his assent and averted his gaze. Bruce fumed, somehow he knew that Kon had obviously manipulated Tim's compliance.

[bunnyreaper]

Gaz taking care of his babies while his wife has a birthday spa day? 🥹🥹🥹🥹

this is... something? i tried okay <3

you'd heard horror stories from other wives about leaving your kids alone with your kids alone with just their dad, but you knew that when it came to kyle--you didn't have a single thing to worry about.

that man had the kids routines memorised, even when he was off on the other side of the world fighting the monsters that hide in the dark. he knew when to call to say goodnight, if he could, when not to call because it would be bath time, and what football team his sons under 7's team were playing every week. 

kyle garrick was a great father and a fantastic husband--having sent you off for a birthday spa retreat where you could truly have some time off from being a mother. you carried the family when he was away, so when he wasn't deployed he made every second count, and took on the weight of the family. 

he hadn't wanted to bother you with updates during your day and night away, so he and the kids had instead taken plenty of photos and videos to show you when you came back.

you sit now on your family's couch, snuggled up to kyle while your kids cuddle up on each side of you, and you all watch the video kyle had put together. 

the first shot is a video of you driving away, them saying they loved you and to have a good time, then the camera immediately cut to a video of them all in the kitchen, baking a cake for you'd return. both of your children throw flour at each other, while kyle films the whole thing. then it shifts to a picture of him back in the kitchen, the entire place spotless with him and the kids grinning. 

after the cake chaos, there are clips of them all gaming together for their allotted screen time. kyle had used the couch cushions to construct makeshift cars while the kids played mario kart. your son let his younger sister win at least once, and the image of the characters on the podium makes you smile. the camera was even left running to capture the kids not complaining even once when their dad tells them it's time to finish. 

and then came the clips of bedtime--your daughters first. her and kyle were currently working through a re-read of her set of bluey books. there's one book in the set she never lets you read, only her dada. you watch kyle sit next to your girl, reading the story with such enthusiasm and even doing his terribly amazing australian accent. 

next was your son's bedtime, and seeing your two boys together always warms your heart. kyle is always teaching your son to be the best little man he can be, even if it's not the traditional way of being. you watch as your son asks questions about how much his dada loves you, as he wonders aloud about his future spouse. 

the video comes to a close with a shot of kyle in your shared bed, clutching your pillow close to him as he cuddles up for the night. 

"aww, I love it. I'm so glad you all had such a good time while I was gone!" you smile from ear to ear, heart completely full at the video made by your family. 

"we did!" your son cheers, just a touch too loudly in your ear. "did you have a good time?" 

you nod fervently, your smile mirrored on your kids faces. you pull your son in for a smooch to the cheek, as your daughter cuddles close to her dadam "yes baby, i did, though i missed you all so much." 

which is the truth, you did miss your family while you were gone, but you also really appreciated some time just for yourself. you make a mental note to return the favour for kyle, or to arrange something for just the two of you.

"go grab your mum's cake from the fridge, yeah?" kyle says, sending the kids out of the living room and into the kitchen, giving the two of you time alone.

you turn to your husband, about to thank him when he pulls you in for a deep, sensual kiss. your eyes flutter shut, as kyle kisses you like he's missed you for so long, not just a night.

"i love you, kyle." you sigh into his lips.

"love you too." he replies, before smirking filthily. "got a video to show you later though, your eyes only." 

[real-minnesota-state]

I'm feeling sleepy so let me tell you a story.

Let me tell you about fairies.

There are 3 rules:

1: NEVER, and i mean NEVER, go out without a way home. If you don't pay attention to the trail, it will change. Don't go to the lights in the wood, they are not home. Keep the track home and tred lightly.

2: always ask their names. Never ask for favours. I learned this when I was young, first with spirits and then the fae. They give away blessings to those that ask for them. You must be corteous- say hello, say goodnight. Ask their name and their story. If they tell it, do not leave before they finish.

3: never leave the connection open. If you open a gate, shut it. If you greet them, say goodbye. If you ask, you must thank, and if they give a name you must return one. If you break a fairy circle, fix it with plucked dandelions and inkcaps before they can find you. Flower crowns left on branches make good gifts, and so do leftover local fruit. Pick up litter, but leave something natural to replace it.

After the rules, there comes simple things you need to know. The fairies in my town liked inkcaps the best. I grew up in a Minnesota town full of cliffs, wood, and running water. The places fae love and hate. Always greet the shadow figures- they are not fae, but they are friends. If you have other people around, don't say a word. Just because you can see them doesn't mean the others can.

The fae are for more human in this day. They aren't monsters anymore. They are the deer hunters with leather gloves separating them from the iron. They are the children with missing fingers from old mousetraps. They are the little boys sitting in rings of dandelions with too many teeth missing. They are not monstrous, do not treat them as such.

Some will call them unholy. Their mirrors break. Some mock the spirits- I saw the burns from his possession. Some hurt those the fae like, and the dandelions wilt a bit faster in their hands. I see them the most in November and March- the footsteps without start or end, the boots without a brand on the bottom. They like the snowbanks that are melting. The fae can feel the mushrooms beneath.

You do not insult the fae. A Fairy tree is a fairy tree, and I grew up with plenty. Now that I think about it, I met many fae. Most taught me songs while we sat in fairy trees. I learned things nobody else knew, and I learned songs before they came out. My mother called me a fairy, once. The church kicked her out a few months later. She resorted to calling me a devil instead.

One of the girls I met never gave me her name. I just called her evelyn. She taught me a nursery rhyme, one by her name. Her hair was in red ringlets. I told her my name, and she left after we found mushrooms beneath the slide. I got rid of those mushrooms. At the same park, I met many people. There was a vine that everyone used as a swing under one of the mulberry trees, and I never fell off. I used to climb up to a place only i could reach and swing- ironically, I was the shortest. Those kids didn't believe in fairies. They took more than they needed. Those ones forgot my name quickly. I think the fae were helping me get away.

Another time we were at the local school. Walking distance, far from anything related to spirits. You were more likely to find wasps than anything else. Someone else saw it first- a silhouette with glowing orange eyes. I called it out and waved. When the shadow shifted, everyone decided to leave. It rained before we could reach the mulberry swing, and I saw two more.

There was a fairy tree in my grandparents backyard. It connected my grandmother's garden and the birdbaths. I would always go through the tunnel it formed, but never saw anyone despite her garden leading directly into the street. I learned to stop going that way quickly, but i leave snacks there for the fae sometimes.

My town was haunted, but we could accept that. The fae were a dirty secret nobody could admit. Why, the fairy trees were just bad lawnwork! Not like the last person to try cutting it down broke his leg. They left everything so open and yet so dull. To an untrained eye, it was only a birdbox in the woods. To me, it was a closed fairy door.(You could see the iron nails and the horshoe charm on it.) To you, it was nothing special. To us, it was a gate we needed to close behind us.

There was many paths behind my school. We spent hours exploring them- but it was only thirty minutes, even though it had changed so much. The doorways changed how time worked. Fairy doorways always take something from you, and you need to go back through them in order to get it back. I never found a four-leaf clover in my life, but i still scoured it even before i knew they were lucky. Even before i knew clover revealed the fairies.

The snow melts slower where the fairies step. If you follow, they teach you how to balance. They teach you how to make your steps small and fast and delicate. They teach you how to make flower crowns and how to pick the wild strawberries. The fae teach you everything you taught them.

Don't get in their bad favours. Always wave back, and smile at the reflections. They love you. That doesn't mean they won't dish out consequences.

[tea-stained-notes]

Colin x Penelope - Divide | Chapter 16

Colin has made it: He’s a famous pop star, touring the world, adored to extremes. If only he wasn’t drowning his loneliness and anxiety in too many drinks, missing home and yet incapable of going back. But when Violet falls ill and he reluctantly returns he has to face the mess he has made - not only with his family but also the woman who might have always been the one.

Warnings: illness (cancer), death, anxiety, drug use, alcohol abuse, suicidal thoughts, eventual smut

Chapter word count: ~1500

MASTERLIST

We were just kids when we fell in love Not knowin' what it was I will not give you up this time - Perfect

Lush wisteria frames the facade of Bridgerton House, infusing the air with sweetness and the buzzing of nectar-drunk bees, as Colin and Penelope stroll up to the front door. He pauses for a minute to take in the scene. The familiar home, the warm sun on his face. Penelope looks back at him. “Everything okay?” He nods. “Yeah. It’s just… Sometimes I still can’t believe this is my life again.” “In a good way?” He catches up to her and cups her face in his palm, studying her like a portrait. Finally, he captures her lips in a soft kiss. “In the best way.”

These past few months have been a whirlwind. The label executives were less than amused when he shared his plans, especially after the whole PR fiasco they’d had to clean up. But with Colin finally standing up for himself and some intense pressure from his legal team they eventually released him from his contract, once he agreed to do an extra ten concerts as a ridiculously overpriced farewell tour. He played the last one just two weeks ago — his first proper show in Britain and possibly his best one yet. Maybe because his family was there to support him, maybe because he felt much more at home, maybe because the nostalgia of this era finally ending hit him, no matter how difficult and painful it had been. All the while he has been working on new songs and setting up his own small label with Mei's invaluable assistance. His first EP is already doing better than he had dared to hope. Ditching the sugary pop in favour of a fresh take on his earlier style is actually welcomed by some old and new fans alike. He also has plans to re-record his first album, now under the simple name Colin B. No more pretence, no more unresolved bitterness about his past. And just as she had promised, Penelope has been there every step of this rewarding but exhausting journey. A quiet reassurance, a bright light on dark days. Once more his closest friend. He's been trying his very best to be all this for her as well, through paparazzi hunts and wild rumours and the strain it all took on her own work and private life. But after sharing hotel rooms and stardom insanity for three months and still remaining mad about each other, Colin was finally certain their love could withstand anything. So when she returned to England to compile her research into a manuscript while he played the rest of his tour, he no longer doubted whether they were truly meant to be. And luckily, most of the press and his fans eventually agreed. But he was revelling in the hopes that all those opinions would soon matter less and less. That he would breathe easier with every day he could spend at the studio instead of dragging himself into the harsh spotlight. That he could focus on the things and people that actually mattered. He has also been lucky enough to find the perfect therapist in London and sees her in person whenever he can, with video calls tiding him over in between. Penelope has even accompanied him a couple of times. With their help and tireless work on himself he is now completely sober and panic attacks have become a rare occasion. So the Colin who stands in front of his childhood home, the love of his life in his arms and surprising calm in his head, is one he could never have imagined on that fateful night ten months ago.

Penelope suddenly smiles, a blush dusting her cheeks. “What is it?” “It’s embarrassing.” “Well, now you have to tell me.” She glances at her mother’s house across the street. “I was just thinking about the many hours I spent by that window, looking over here and daydreaming about this.” “This?” he chuckles softly. She pokes him in the chest. “You, dummy. Us.” “Aww, you were pining after me, like in some regency romance novel.” “Please, in a good regency romance it’s the men who do the pining.” “And I did.” Penelope sighs. “God, we were idiots.” “We were kids.” He pushes a stray lock behind her ear and leans down to kiss her again. “But we’re here now.” “Are you just gonna keep snogging or will you actually come in?” Greg and Hyacinth stand on the threshold, matching smirks on their faces. “Always a pleasure to see you little goblins.” “Isn’t it just?” They all hug, exchanging more quips as they step into the house. Eddie comes running towards them, Miles toddling after him with Newton by his side. “Uncle Colin!” "Hey, buddy!" He throws Eddie into the air and spins him around until they’re both dizzy and giggling. Then he reaches down to pick up his other nephew who is clinging to his leg. "At some point you've got to tell me what kind of magic you're using on these two," Kate laughs as she walks up to them and plants a kiss on Colin's cheek. "Says the woman who managed to charm Anthony Bridgerton," he teases. "Believe me, that was easier than handling his sons."

When they enter the dining room, he releases the boys onto the floor and stops in front of Violet’s portrait on the side table. He gently touches the frame. “Happy Birthday, Mum." Penelope caresses his back, her head on his shoulder. Although it’s become much easier, he’s still infinitely glad to have her by his side. They smile softly at each other before diving back into the chaos that is their family. Many hugs and greetings later Colin stands in front of the high chair that holds ‘Mini-Sophie’ — who turned out to be a boy after all and is now beaming gleefully up at him. “Hey there, Charlie-Barley.” “I hate it so much when you do that,” Benedict groans. “Oh please, his name is begging to be rhymed with something silly,” Colin grins, wiggling a finger in front of the baby’s face who tries grabbing it with a happy squeal. “Isn’t that right, Charlie-Gnarly?” “Don’t listen to your uncle. He’s the worst.” “I’m your dad’s favourite,” Colin murmurs conspiratorially. “That would actually be me,” Eloise intervenes as she bumps her hip into her brother’s and leans down to look Charles in the eyes. “So I better be your favourite aunt.” “For Christ’s sake, can you stop pestering my son?” “He’s a Bridgerton, Ben.” “If we don’t start him now, he’ll never survive in this family.” Colin and Eloise high-five each other. “Leave them be,” Sophie chuckles as she wraps an arm around her husband’s waist. “He’ll be just fine.” “Come on, you’re his mother.” “And that’s why I know exactly how loved my little guy is.” Benedict huffs but can’t hold back the grin spreading across his face at the sight of his siblings cooing over tiny Charles.

“Speaking of love, I adore that song you’ve written about Pen,” Daphne says, bringing her hands to her chest. “So heartfelt.” “It almost killed us on the way here,” Simon chimes in. “Daph was crying so much she could barely see the road.” “Oh wow, which one was that?” “Your EP only has the one love song on it.” Colin shrugs. “True, but every love song I’ve ever written has been about Pen.” “What?” Penelope stares up at him, wide-eyed and blushing. “Took me a while to figure that out myself,” he smiles, pulling her into his side and pressing a kiss into her hair.  “God, you guys are gonna give me a fucking cavity with all that sweet talk,” Eloise moans. “Why did I ever encourage this?” “Because you wanted us to be happy, dearest sister.” “That doesn’t sound like me at all.” “She’s lying, El always bawls at that song about your family,” Philip says with a wink. Eloise hurriedly presses her finger to his lips but everyone is already looking at her with fond expressions. She slaps her hands over her face. “I love that one, too,” Francesca murmurs to Colin. “Thank you. I was hoping you’d come in to record a piano version of it for the album.” “Really? That sounds wonderful!” They beam at each other.  Colin’s music once more being a source of happiness for him and others is still incredible to him. Even though the right lyrics and melody for Violet’s song keep eluding him. He’ll get there someday.

Anthony calls out that lunch is ready and everyone finds their seats around the massive dining table. It’s beautifully decorated with forget-me-not flowers and daisies that Kate and the boys have picked in the garden. The chatter continues while they all fill their glasses and plates. Colin lets his gaze wander over his family, bathed in sunlight and warmth. A safe haven he can always return to. He thinks of the day Mei came to him with that horrible message no longer as the day his world fell apart, but the day it was tilted back into the right direction. Allowing him to grow and heal in ways he hadn’t thought possible. And maybe tonight he will finally be ready for his mother’s last letter.  Anthony rises to his feet at the head of the table. “Thank you all for coming. I’m sure she is very happy to see us together like this.” He swallows heavily but smiles at them, raising his glass. “To Mum. And to love.” They all echo his toast with glistening eyes. Colin glances over at Penelope to find her already looking at him. She intertwines her fingers with his. “You alright, darling?” He raises her hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to it. “I know that I will be.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

This is it, folks 😭 Thank you so much to everyone who's been along for this ride ♥️ While this is the end of this story, I'm itching to write another one about these two (although I've been planning one about my beloved Benedict for ages 😬) but I'm still lacking a decent idea. So, if any of you have any inspiration or favourite tropes, I'd love to hear them! 🥰

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[blackghostm2o]

Phantom Ramblings time.

I’ll yap about the Y/K Phantom musical (I saw the Riverside 2004 production). -> random unorganised thoughts.

Generally speaking I did enjoy it, it was a nice and fun watch.

I enjoyed the songs (especially Melodie de Paris), they were really catchy, but I do admit that my foreign ass had a really hard time understanding the choruses (unsure if this is the right term) and there were A LOT of them, compared to ALW’s musical that has them, but to a lesser extent. I also noticed (or maybe I’m wrong) that the pacing of all the songs here was faster compared to the other musical.

I obviously cannot talk about Y/K Phantom without bringing up the 1990 miniseries (my beloved). SO… The miniseries benefits A LOT from the added hour of runtime, the story, especially the ending, are allowed to breathe and don’t feel rushed.

In the miniseries ALL the songs have been cut (it wouldn’t have been bad if they kept some of them), but they added some stuff: showing Erik’s shenanigans towards LaCarlotta (which in the musical are only hinted by showing the aftermath), the plot line of Raoul and Christine knowing each other as kids (I always find it really boring and an unnecessary addition), moments of Christine and Erik bonding (ohh <3333) that in the musical are condensed to just them rehearsing (again: time constraints), the whole final part!!! = Christine escaping then returning and singing in Faust, Erik being a fool and kidnapping her again after their duet.

Here Erik is a bit more aggressive than Cherik, he actually killed Buquet, kills LaCarlotta with electricity (iirc), which took me really by surprise lmao, is shown getting a bit mad at Christine during rehearsals… Alas… He doesn’t have the same charm of Cherik, tho this is not Christopher Carl’s fault, his acting was really good, it has to do with the additions that were made to the series, for example: him choosing his hat, the hug between them, singing her a lullaby <3, THEIR DUET IN FAUST (I’m normal about Cherik, I swear!).

This scene was better delivered by Charles Dance in my humble opinion. I do like how the miniseries maintained almost completely all the spoken parts of the musical.

The Unmasking… Well… I do like how they do a bit of chit chat when they sit down (Erik is so precious here ahhhh), instead of immediately being “Heyyy! Would you mind doing me a favour?” There’s a song before it (by Christine) singing about how she will learn to love him getting past fear and doubt (I was crying ngl… Knowing it’s outcome…Seeing how scared Erik is… God dammit…), BUT I, once again, prefer how the miniseries did it… Christine here is scared and runs away while saying sorry, in 1990 she faints… And… Oh God… Cherik’s reaction… Crying onto himself, then slowly (hardly) getting away while crying… And the the distraught “why” and his distant wailing… Terrific acting… As I already said this is possible, because they had more time to let the scenes breathe and had no songs to fit in (I also prefer this to having a song, sorry musical fans don’t kill me).

LaCarlotta here is an even bigger bitch than 1990.

Philippe (Raoul) is useless as always :)

I like the ballet to show Gerard and Erik’s past.

No Faust duet here :( big sad… (How much I love that scene)

The ending here is really rushed (as I said), he didn’t kidnap Christine and didn’t almost kill Philippe, tho. Not as emotional as 1990 (which broke me into pieces, I was ugly crying).

Christine is not as manipulative as 1990 Christine, sorry but we can’t deny how much she used Cherik’s love to make him do what she wanted…

Nice to see what 1990 was based on. In general I love Erik Carriere <333 (my pookie, I’d hug him)

[sugar-omi]

NAH HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT ITS CLICHE AS FUCK BUT MC THROWING HANDS WITH SOMEONE IN SCHOOL CAUSE THEY WERE BULLYING COVE

(And to clarify just in case not like with Jeremy during step 2 where the mc can push him or hit him once or smth I mean like full on fight fight)

I just like to imagine everyone’s in the principals office and MC mom’s are all concerned and angry with MC cause they just beat up their classmate but then they’re like “Well they hit Cove first I was just returning the favour” and moms immediately FLIP cause why is the other kid just getting away with bullying why is their kid the only one getting punished?????

YEAHHH AND IT DOESNT EVEN MAKE SENSE WHY THEY TRIED TO FUCK W COVE BC IF HIS BIG ASS WASNT GONNA FUCK EM UP, YOU WERE BC YOURE CRAZY ABT EACH OTHER N IT JUST DONT MAKE SENSE BUT THATS OKAY, YOU DELIVER WHAT THEYRE ASKING FOR!!

ITS A WHOLW FUCKING RIOT AND IN THE END THE OTHER KID GETS PUNISHED AS WELL BUT UNFORTUNATELY MC GETS THE LONGER SENTENCE

and when they finally get home n your parents stop fretting over you, cove is all fidgety and when it's time to change any bandage, no matter how small, or add ointment to a bruise, he's all "wait! let.. let me help you" when you go to ask your mom's for help w it

and he's all gentle, but he looks sad so you ask what's wrong

"I just hate seeing you hurt"

taking coves face into your hands, squishing his cheeks, "I'd do it all over again. and I'd beat them up even more for even looking at you, I'd jump em even before they hit you if I could've."

cove is teary eyed n crying a bit prbly

"don't ever feel bad if I get into a fight. if it's for you, I'd get into 10 fights! no, a thousand!" you throw your arms wide in the air at that. "no one can touch you like that without getting fucked up twice as bad. so stop fretting okay" you smile and cove cries a fucking river bc you have a bandaid on your cheek, and your knuckles are still flushed/inflamed and have a scrape from missing one of your punches

"you're an idiot.." cove laughs, still crying

"ya know you love me, holden." you smile, wiping his tears.

he nods, "yeah, I do"

and you're stunned bc he just confessed???? omg???

and cove kisses your shocked face, you slap a hand on your cheek bc "KISS?"

n cove just laughs at your expression bc you're so surprised n it's so fuckin cute

so after that sometimes, during your suspension cove will give you a kiss on the cheek for defending his honor if you ask<333 (or don't, he'll do it one more time or so unless you ask him to stop ofc)

if anyone tries to fuck w him after, they're fucked once again

cove does try to keep you outta fights but I mean... if you do turn around n jump em, he won't stop you

giving very much Heather's "fight for me" but you're not deranged like JD

also Liz teases yall bc cove does admit that he loved watching you jump em LMAO

your friends would also be concerned, randy n Terri especially bc they saw it but they'd be like "FUCK YEAH!!!"

no one fucks w cove either while you're gone, OMG GOING TO PICK COVE UP EVERY DAY

the teachers are like "You're suspended you can't be here!!"

like I'm not here for you I'm here for HIM, n you ride off together laughing bc everyone is whispering but fuck em 👐👐👐👐

pls this is making me wanna zoom n like go crazy omg my head is spinning I love this sm

[mercars-musings]

Hey! For Woe! Rook ask game be upon ye! ?

🌸, 🌼 and 🥀

SUPER sorry for the delay, I had an all weekend event that kept me from answering all these and I've been desperate to get back here the entire time asdfghjkl; TYSM for indulging me in my Az yapping & TYSM for asking! ANYWHOO, Under The Cut are the first of my asks finally answered !!! 🥰

🌸 Does your Rook have any siblings or close friends they see as such? Where are they during the events of Veilguard?

Rook doesn't have any siblings, he was an only kid growing up much to his dismay. He always wanted siblings so he'd have some form of companionship when he was younger but his parents weren't intending on kids at all till Az came into the picture. They didn't hate kids or anything just they never really planned on it, but when Rook's father found him in the middle of the battlefield in Ventus he was so upset at the idea of a kid alone in the middle of war that he took him home. Rooks mother wasn't ecstatic about the idea but warmed up to him pretty quickly after a few days when Rook wouldn't stop clinging to her like glue and she kind of fell in love with how sweet he was.

Az actually became friends with Tarquin before the events of Veilguard. They both bonded over sarcasm, their inability to make friends with others very well & the whole being trans men thing. The pair started to get decently close & at one point actually got a lil too drunk & had a one night stand just before Rook got sent to work with Varric for a bit.

So, when Az returns it's a little weird for them both after the hook up and then not seeing each other for a year or so, though it returns to friendly pretty quick after Rook realises Tarquin's developed a thing for Ashur while Rook was away and starts teasing him about it which does eventually backfire when Tarquin realises Az has a thing for Emmrich and returns the favour.

🌼 If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say? Anxiety, Lavender {soap}, ashes {from incense} & once Az starts to take a shine to Emmrich hints of Lilac starts to join the mix. {He's totally not trying to attract Emm's attention with a new Lilac beard oil, not at allllll~} 🥀 What figure from Rook’s personal past would be added to the regret prison?

His mother, his father and the Qunari family friend I've mentioned once or twice here... for many reasons lmfao

If you wanna know more hit me up with another ask saying so & I'll happily divulge the angsty tea ;P

If you'd like to ask me more things about my Rook Az, then you can find a link to this particular ask game below! More Here

[rookinthecrownest]

14 & 18 for the Rook partner asks?

14. Does your Rook get their partner any other gifts (besides the ones already in game)? Does the partner get Rook any? Any gifts that are particularly special?

Yeah! Madeleina loves stories, and loves reading. When she saw how excited Lucanis got over the Wyvern dagger, and went on his cute lil tangent about how much he loves Wyverns, the gears started turning in her head about other Wyvern-related gifts she could give him.

She spends quite a bit of time (and coin) tracking down a signed copy of Lucanis' favourite childhood story, The Joyful Wyvern - one of the first editions that ever went into print. She also calls in a favour with the Inquisitor, who is acquainted with Frederic of Serault, to get her hands on a few volumes of published literature on Wyvern physiology.

Lucanis ends up buying her a journal in return. Her father used to read her bedtime stories from a journal he took with him all over Thedas while he travelled as a bard. The journal is destroyed in the process of getting her back from the Fade Prison, so Lucanis buys her a new one so she can write and collect her own bedtime stories :)

18. When all is said and done, where would they like to retire together? Is marriage in the cards for them? Children? Pets?

I still haven't quite figured out where they'll end up yet - but I'd like to think they retire to the Antivan country side. after all their adventures and travels post-Veilguard are over, they would indeed get married.

Madeleina and Teia become quite good friends, and you just know Teia is not going to pass up the opportunity to plan that wedding. The First Talon and the Hero who ended the Blight to End All Blights? And they're Antivan/Tevene? That's going to be a massive event. If it was up to Madeleina and Lucanis it would've been a very quiet affair with close friends/family only but you know there's no arguing with Teia once she's set her mind on something!

They have two kids! The first is their daughter Francesca - basically Lucanis' twin (in looks and personality), except a mage. She goes on to study Necromancy in the Necropolis under Myrna. Their son, Rafael, is a charming troublemaker (so, Madeleina's twin, haha) who I could see end up with the Lords of Fortune as a dashing rogue/swashbuckler/adventurer. While Lucanis may not retire from the assassin lifestyle, I think he and Madeleina would elect to keep their kids sheltered from the bloody history that's followed House Dellamorte.

In terms of pets, I can definitely see them being a cat family lol. Madeleina loves the strays in Treviso, and probably catnaps a few of them to live in their home. I'm sure Lucanis would love a pet Wyvern but I don't think those play nice with ... uhh.. any other animal. Or small children.

[dreamyfanfix]

Chapter 7: Who Do You Want to Be?

Trigger Warning: Abuse. Assault.

Present:

Anthony never would consider himself an anxious person...

And yet here he was in the waiting room of Beckett, Sharma & Associates. The building was moderate size but he was quite surprised at how small he felt.

He had an appointment with Kate, Anthony was not sure why but it felt like quite a formal affair.

Flashback (Yesterday)

Anthony arrived back at home and was greeted by his mother. She did not look as happy as she usually did or as happy as she usually pretended to be and frankly, Anthony was not pleased to see her.

"Mother what are you doing here?" he asked sighing. "I wanted to check on you. Let you know that I miss you. The littles miss you too," she said softly. Anthony tried to ignore the guilt he felt wash over him "I miss them too but you won't let me see them without you and despite your barging in here I don't want to see you," His mother had tried to walk towards him and he recoiled back so she sighed and returned her hands to her lap "Son, why won't you let me apologise properly?" "Are you sorry?" he asked quirking his eyebrow. "Of course I am. More than you know," she replied instantly. "What are you sorry about?" Anthony asked as he made his way to the kitchen to get some water. "Are you sorry I am not around anymore? Are you sorry your kids finally what kind of monster you are and are avoiding you too? Are you sorry about Kate? Are you sorry that you ruined my life?" The last question came out louder than he had intended but he had not seen his mother since the hospital and he was having a tough time applying all the techniques that his therapist was teaching him. His mother looked taken aback by his tone and guilty "I'm sorry son. More than you will ever know," It was a while before she spoke again "My mother was not the best person. She only saw her way through society as a way to climb up. When your father asked for my hand I was more than happy to leave her behind... but after your father died..." she took a breath and then continued "I needed my mother and she was there for me. I hadn't realised just how much the relationship with your father had sheltered me from the realities of what it is like being in the peerage," "Don't blame them or your mother for your own choices," Anthony said to her and himself honestly. "You are right. I am working on that with my psychologist," Anthony was surprised by that revelation but let her continue "I just wanted you to know that I thought that was how I was supposed to act, that was how I was supposed to be as a mother. I thought it was my job to secure you a favourable match because if I could have control over your match I would not lose my connection with you. I realise now how selfish it was. I also realise how hypocritical it was for me to have this great life with the love of my life but then deny you yours," Anthony held his breath at this moment. His mother hadn't really mentioned Kate since the night they broke up, even when Simon called her up to be his best woman she made it seem as if Kate never existed and Kate seemed happy to do the same. Anthony sighed and rand his fingers through his hair "It doesn't matter now, mum," "It matters now more than ever," she said and something about how she said it made Anthony lift his head to look at her. "Is there something you want to say?" Anthony asked. "Kate was here,"

Anthony barely remembered what his mother had said afterwards but he knew he had to call Kate. His mother left quickly after telling him that she had tried to get Kate and her mother to stay and wait for him to return but Kate's mother was not interested in keeping company with his mother and he couldn't blame her. He had blocked Kate's number before his hospitalisation but he had called her but she was in a meeting so he told her secretary to let her know that he had called.

The thing is once Anthony had unblocked Kate, a lot of messages began to pop up. She had been checking in on him wondering if he was okay, some were even messages about maybe getting coffee. She had called him the morning of the baby shower. He winced at the memory of that event. Of that day entirely.

The response to Anthony's message was not what he thought. He had received a call from Kate's secretary to schedule an appointment so that they could meet this week. They were both free the next day (today) so he jumped at a chance to see her. He wasn't sure what he was going to say but he knew that he had to be honest with her about his feelings and failures even if it didn't go anywhere.

Clara had suggested he bring a family member for support but who was he supposed to bring? Daphne was six months pregnant and Simon was stressed out looking after her. Eloise was finishing up exams. Colin was in Ireland for some reason and he couldn't use his teenage siblings as security blankets. He could have called Ben but they weren't on friendly terms these days. Yeah, they spoke, Ben, was helping out with certain familiar responsibilities but Ben never stuck around long enough for them to talk properly and it still bugged Anthony that over the last two years, he had basically lost four of his closest friends, Simon, Daphne, Ben & Kate.

Kate's secretary Clara had come to fetch him to take him to Kate's office, he smiled at her but he sensed apprehension coming off of her. Trying to ignore the knots in his stomach, he went over the talking points he and his therapist had discussed. It was important to Anthony that Kate at least knew how he felt about her and his failures as a boyfriend and as someone who he considered to be progressive.

When Clara opened the door to Kate's office, Anthony took a breath and walked in.

"Hey, Kate," Anthony greeted trying to sound not as anxious as he felt.

"Hello Anthony," Kate said and then she turned around to face him and Anthony's eyes were drawn down to her stomach.

---

Kate was not sure how she was expected to feel but she was surprisingly calm. She wasn't sure if she was getting unknown amounts of resilience from her pregnancy or because Edwina and Mary had taken up her anger and protectiveness in her stead. Mary was not happy coming face-to-face with Violet Bridgerton yesterday. It was the first time in her life she had ever truly seen her stepmother angry. Kate was sure Mary had probably been angry before but Mary was raised in the peerage so she just assumed she knew how to hide her hostility a bit better than Kate. Well, that theory went out of the way yesterday. Mary made it clear that she and Kate would not drink anything Violet had to offer or speak to her directly. After a while, it seemed foolish to wait for Anthony in a silent living room so Kate told Violet that she should let him know she stopped by.

Before they were able to leave Violet asked if the baby was Anthony's, Mary shut it down and let Violet know that it was no concern of hers and that she would be the only grandmother the child knew.

When Clara told her that Anthony had called about 3 hours after leaving Anthony's place, Kate knew that he knew and instead of feeling dread like how she had been feeling since she found out she was pregnant, Kate felt relaxed because once this meeting was done, Kate was under no obligation to hide her pregnancy anymore and Edwina had been dying to do a pregnancy photoshoot in the style of Beyonce for weeks.

There was a knock at the door and then Anthony walked. Kate hesitated turning around but then looked down at her belly.

"Hey Kate," Anthony greeted.

Kate turned around "Hello Anthony,"

His eyes widened and his mouth opened a bit as he stared at her belly.

Kate looked at Clara who was waiting at the door and said "Thanks Clara. Send up some tea in about 45 minutes please,"

Clara nodded "Yes Ms Sharma," and then she closed the door.

Kate took a look at Anthony who still had his mouth agape and said "Anthony please take a seat," she directed him to the couch facing opposite her as she took a seat on the opposing couch.

Anthony cleared his throat and then said "Congratulations, I guess,"

Kate was shocked at the instant positive sentiment "Th-Thank you," she put her hand on her belly instinctively.

"Is it...?"

"Yours? Yes. I hear there has been some confusion on the closeness of me and Ben's relationship," Kate did not pose the last statement as a question because she knew it to be true Edwina had heard about it at school because Francesca and Hyacinth were talking about it with their friends.

"Yes, well Simon told me I was being an idiot but still... You guys are close," He said the last part softly and Kate felt bad for a moment.

"He knew. Ben knew I was pregnant and since he had caught us in your place exactly 4 months and 27 days ago, he was able to figure out that the baby was yours," Kate levelled him with a look.

"I- I- I don't understand why he didn't just tell me that," he said running his fingers through his hair. Kate knew this to be a bit of a nervous tick.

"It wasn't his news to tell. Besides if you had not had me blocked or yelled at me at Daphne and Simon's baby shower, I would have been able to tell you," Kate said. She hated how much hurt she was letting seep through her tone but it was important to be honest.

"I'm sorry Kate," Anthony said looking at her in the eyes for the first time since he entered.

Kate could not hold the look for long "It's fine. You know now and that is all that matters,"

Anthony sighed but nodded "Yes, we can decide what is going to happen next,"

Kate was actually prepared for this part of the conversation and finally slid the folder she was holding across the table to him "Yes about that, I have a few things you should look over,"

"What is this?" he asked.

"Well, they are tabbed for the mental organisation but the green tab represents the Co-parenting Agreement, the red tab represents the Termination of Parental Rights document, the yellow one represents my medical history since beginning the pregnancy and the pocket at the back has all the sonograms pictures from each visit,"

"Termination of parental rights?" Anthony asked wide-eyed.

Kate sighed "Anthony I know you have been through a lot over the last couple of months, and having a child will only make any mental stresses you have ten times worse. Not a lot of people know about my pregnancy and those that do either think it is Ryan, my ex, or I just went down to the sperm bank. Those that know you are the father are family so they would never reveal the information but we can make them sign an NDA just in case. There is no reason for you to walk out of this office with any more obligations than you already have. You can find an agreeable lady, get married and she can birth the next Viscount Bridgerton. Nothing has to change,"

"Kate, what are you saying? Why would I not want to be in my child's life?"

"Well, that's the thing. If you terminate your parental rights, it wouldn't be your child. Legally," Kate added the last part quietly.

"But it is my child and I would know that," Kate shrugged her shoulders "I am doing better Kate. I don't know what Simon or Ben has told you but I am putting in the work," Anthony looked at her and his looked wide.

Kate sighed "I know and I am happy you are doing well but its not just that..."

Anthony's eyes widened "It's about my mother, isn't it? What did she say to you?"

Kate was taken aback for a second. Anthony being suspicious of his mother's behaviour was not something she was used to "She didn't say anything but Anthony I am not a fool. I know how things work in the peerage. I know how it works in your world. Well, I know enough now,"

"I can protect you," Anthony said and Kate scoffed. She didn't mean to but she had heard those promises from him before.

"As much as I would like to believe that, it's not just about me anymore. I have to do what I have to do to protect my half-Indian baby," Kate said standing up.

"Kate, I'm learning a lot about racial dynamics. I have picked books and have done the work at progressive organisations-"

"That's great Anthony truly but what about your family?" Kate said.

"What if I told you that you needed to cut the majority of your extended family and friends out of your life would you be able to do that?" Kate sighed "This is off-topic. Just take the folder home and think over all that we have discussed today,"

Anthony stood up "Kate, I feel like we need to discuss this further,"

"Anthony I think you need to sit with this information for a little bit longer before making any decisions. Talk to your family or a therapist and make a decision not just on some misguided guilt but on whether you want to be a father and all that would entail,"

There was a knock at the door and Clara came in with the ginger tea to help soothe her upset stomach. Clara set the placement for the tea, Kate thanked her and she left quickly.

"There is a tab with my medical history that has a calendar for all my visits, I have a couple of weeks until my next appointment. I think that should give you some time to decide how you feel about the whole thing,"

Anthony sighed and stood up "This isn't how I thought this visit would go,"

"Nothing really goes the way we want them to these days," when Anthony did not respond Kate led him to the door "Goodbye Anthony,"

Before Anthony walked through the door he turned to Kate "Do you think I would make a good father?"

Kate was taken aback but answered honestly "Yes. I do,"

That seemed to calm him down enough to leave and Kate sunk into the couch closest to the door. His scent lingered in the air and Kate was shocked at how much it calmed her stomach.

---

Past:

Anthony was in agony. It had only been two weeks since he had seen Kate after the benefit. She was not returning his calls or messages. So he would come every two days and leave flowers at the Sharma home. He was delivering them himself in hopes of getting a glimpse of Kate. He didn't know what he would say exactly but just knew he wanted her back.

Anthony walked up the stairs to the Sharma's flat and just when he was about to leave the vase of Tulips at the door, Edwina opened the door.

Edwina looked at him so much ire, he could not imagine someone like her ever hating anyone and yet here she was "Can't take a hint, can you?" she asked with her arms folded.

"Edwina, get back inside," Mary Sharma called to her and Edwina went back inside.

"Hello Mary, I was hoping I could-"

"Speak to Kate? Over my dead body," Mary said and Anthony tensed. Before Anthony could speak again Mary held her hand up to stop him "I wanted to speak with you myself. Kate has been throwing away your flowers and Edwina is allergic so stop this already,"

She said it so calmly Anthony did not reply immediately "I am sorry but I need your daughter to know I am sorry,"

"What are you sorry for Anthony for her being disrespected or us?" Mary asked and Anthony did not know how to reply so she continued "I was rooting for you. I actually understand what it is like to break peerage rules and fall in love with someone outside of your normal society," Then Mary levelled him with a stare and said "Then again I'm sure you know all about that given your investigations into our family,"

"Mary I am so sorry,"

"It's Mrs Sharma to you. Milan is Kate's father okay, that abusive asshole drove his wife out of town and when Milan and Citra were trying to get married he claimed she had run off. Just to save face,"

"Mrs Sharma you don't have to -"

"Only I do. I have to because I had to explain the same thing to Kate. I had to explain something that was so ugly to my daughter, something her father wanted to be buried with him. I had to go against his wishes because your family don't have common courtesy," Anthony hung his head in shame and guilt "We both grew up in the peerage. Our family are colonising rapists and pillagers but we should be proud, while those of immigrant histories have to be ashamed. That night two weeks ago was the first time I was ever thankful Milan was dead because if his daughter's emotional state didn't kill him, he would've killed you. So take this as the final mercy the Sharma family is going to give you and leave us alone,"

Mary went back into the flat and left Anthony on the doorstep feeling dejected.

Had he been able to see through his tears he would have seen Kate watching him walk away from one of the windows.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I was sketching earlier just for funsies and…. It made me think. How do you think satosugu would feel with an artist!reader who uses them as drawing references teehee… like maybe you ask satoru to go fetch you ur workbook and he goes into ur room & gets confused and ends up stumbling upon your sketchbook…. And he’s like oh a little peek couldn’t hurt!!! And then he finds various drawings of him and sugu, and gets such a sappy fuzzy feeling in his heart because you captured all of their features perfectly, even down to the little details about their appearance that the average person wouldn’t really take note of :((( this could also work in different au’s tho… merman sugu perhaps? Maybe he’s having a little sleep on the nice cold bedroom floor and wakes up n sees reader in a baggy hoodie + sketchbook and colouring pencils/pens in hand admiring his tail and making sure they get every pretty colour right <333 or royalty au where satoru and suguru are royalty of some kind… reader is the kid of someone unimportant and they both stumble across reader’s art room while causing mischief one day and satoru decides then and there that you’re THEIR honorary artist and you will paint their portraits from now on whenever it’s necessary <33 he’s bratty but we love him. Back to canon jjk universe…. I’m thinking abt how it would be so much cuter if they had no idea reader was an artist like. Satoru jokingly takes what he assumes is ur diary and waves it around in the air so u can’t reach it…. Threatening to read it unless u give him a kiss (he wouldn’t actually read it but he wants his kiss leave him alone) and he accidentally drops it and it falls open on a page that’s just full of drawings of him and sugu with a few hearts dotted around and just so many sketches of them smiling… maybe little notes reader added about how pretty stsg are…. Satoru is sooo giddy and so teasing like he’s so honoured u think he’s pretty enough to DRAW and sugu is just as flustered but he hides it a lil better…. :3 Sorry I’m actually going insane right now SEDATE MEEEEE EYGEHEHUJJEURHUHH 😭😭 I hope ur doing well tho !!!! I’m glad to see there are more anons joining the party hai hai hello fellow anons !!! TAKE CAREE MWAH MWAH🧁🍰🍨🍦🍩🍪🍫🍮🥞 <<< MANY SWEET TREATS JUST FOR U!!!! :3 — stsg anon <33

STSG ANONNNN MY LITTLE GUARDIAN ANGEL this concept has been rotting in my brain ever since i saw this…… u r very bad for my health…. 😥😥

ARTIST!READER IS ALWAYS SUCHHH A TASTY CONCEPT and ofc i agree w u….. stsg would absolutely eat it up. they would BOTH be so soft for it but in different ways i think…..

likeeee w satoru i think he’s super flattered and impressed and giddy bc!!! you drew him!!!! :33 you think he’s pretty enough to draw!!! you love him so much!!!!! and obv he would LOVE posing for you……. until he finds out he has to sit still for like an hour LMAO 😭😭 but i just know he’d get so excited once it’s finished….. he looks at it and you’re all nervous hoping he’ll like it and obviously he does. literally jumping up and down with joy + picking you up and spinning you around + kissing you silly bc you’re so talented and sweet and he’s soooo in love w you <333 def calls you his little picasso. that’s the only artist he knows . he’s a dork but we love him.

aaa but then!!! sugu!!!!! :(( i think he’d be the weakest for this tbh….. i picture him as an artist type more than toru so he’s just??? so touched???? and i think we all agree that he’s a big sap…. huge on homemade sentimental gifts……. so when he sees the drawings i think his heart just melts 🥺🥺 he would pose for you if you asked nicely (he’s just playing hard to get <33) and contrary to toru he would sit perfectly still the whole time. waits until you’re finished and praises you sooo much when he sees the result <333 he’s so impressed with you!! wowow!!!! just stunned!! awestruck!!!! would 100% try to return the favour too…. i picture him as a sketcher type. makes a very pretty little sketch of his beloved and is uncharacteristically shy when giving it to you… our sweetiepie :>

this could also work in different au’s tho… merman sugu perhaps? Maybe he’s having a little sleep on the nice cold bedroom floor and wakes up n sees reader in a baggy hoodie + sketchbook and colouring pencils/pens in hand admiring his tail and making sure they get every pretty colour right <333 or royalty au where satoru and suguru are royalty of some kind… reader is the kid of someone unimportant and they both stumble across reader’s art room while causing mischief one day and satoru decides then and there that you’re THEIR honorary artist and you will paint their portraits from now on whenever it’s necessary <33 he’s bratty but we love him.

AND THISSSSS STSG ANON MY LITTLE GENIUS artist!reader/mer!sugu 🥺🥺🥺……. oh he would be so flustered. so embarrassed. VERY impressed though... what if he leaves a couple pretty seashells by your pillow…. as ”payment”……………. mer!sugu the actual loml aaaaa stsg anon you’ve broken me T—T AND THE ROYALTY AUUU that’s such a cute idea too!!! bratty lil royal!toru…. reader being their honorary artist……. that’s soooo good <3 now i’m just thinking of what the portraits would look like HHHH they’d be so pretty!!! :(((

anyway this concept is just the CUTEST <33 tysm for the meal as always!!! i hope you’re doing so so well and taking care of yourself :3 ALSO I AM MUNCHING ON THE SWEET TREATS and sending a bunch of flowers and treats ur way immediately🌻🌸🌷🌹💐🍓🍒🍪🍰🍦🧁

[bubblegum-blackwood]

Marius/Daniel: Fear

:)

AO3 Thanks for the ask!

Man, he looks so young, Daniel thought; it was easy to forget sometimes just how youthful Benji was, would always be. Yet here was such a blaring reminder of it, reminiscent of Daniel’s little cousins in the sixties, the way Benji had seated himself just a foot or so in front of the television set, his neck craned to see the screen, jaw slack and eyes glowing with the film’s reflection. Sybelle was equally absorbed, eyes utterly focused on the screen - while Armand and Louis went out hunting together, the other residents (and guest) of Trinity Gate decided to turn on a movie, and the kids had begged to rent this new horror flick Benji had heard about, so that’s what they were watching (a shame Armand was out - it seemed like something he would enjoy). Benji and Sybelle were too caught up in the movie to pay attention to their surroundings, but Daniel notised Marius’s discomfort, he could sense it in the air and feel the tightness of Marius’s grip on his shoulders. Placing his hand on Marius’s knee, he said softly with the Mind Gift, You all right, Marius?

He heard Marius swallow, felt him shift slightly, as if rousing back to life. Yes, I’m perfectly fine. Why do you ask?

Don’t lie to me, man. You’re tense as hell, something’s up. Daniel removed his head from Marius’s shoulder to look at his face, and he saw Marius staring straight ahead, jaw clenched, something unfamiliar in his eyes; Daniel had never seen him like this before. If Daniel were still human, Marius might have seriously bruised or perhaps even broken Daniel’s arm, and Marius’s other fist was clenched so tightly Daniel thought he saw blood trickling from his palm. Daniel shifted, squeezed one arm around Marius’s waist and brought the other to his chest, resting his head again on Marius’s shoulder. The heartbeat under his fingertips was quick, too quick -

Is the movie scaring you?

No, Marius lied, and Daniel knew him well enough to know that’s what he was doing.

Sure, was his lovingly eye-rolling reply, then he straddled Marius’s lap with a little smirk. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.

My little white knight, Marius laughed as he put his arms around him. Daniel kissed him softly on the throat, once, twice, thrice, feeling that elevated pulse tantalisingly under his cold lips. They hadn’t fed yet tonight, and Daniel was hit suddenly by how hungry he was. And there was blood, sweet blood, alluring blood, ancient blood just a pinprick away. Under the thin skin of Marius’s neck, he could smell it, calling to him. He couldn’t resist the bite.

Like always, Marius’s blood was hot, thick, overwhelmingly satisfying. All he felt in it was a flash of love, a flash of need, before he had taken all his young vampire body could hold of the rich viscous stuff, only a few sips, and broken away, guiding Marius to return the favour. He did so gladly, trying for the presence of Benji and Sybelle to muffle his moan in Daniel’s throat as immortal blood hit his tongue, as Daniel ground their dicks together through their pants. He held on tight to his hips, holding him in place, and Daniel didn’t fight it, Daniel leaned into his grip, closing his fists on handfuls of blonde hair, eyes fluttering with pleasure. When Marius broke away, Daniel sighed and sank into him, head on his chest, arms around his neck. Marius’s hands snuck under the hem of Daniel’s t-shirt, massaging his lower back, and he kissed his forehead.

Are you still scared?

How can I be, when I know my white knight will protect me? 

Daniel huffed out a little laugh and settled further into Marius, closing his eyes contentedly. Marius’s hands in his hair were so soothing . . .

Marius had to wake Daniel up when the movie ended.

[tieflingtareon]

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 12 | Words: 4k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

That devil is getting into his head, while others get into Tar'eons. He doesn't appreciate not having the upperhand after years of being at the disadvantage. He will find a way to make him see.

He is the one he should be listening to. Astarion would make it so, no matter the means.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

Eventful. That was a great description for their lives right now.

After speaking with Jaheira, and then Isobel to receive her blessing, something Shadowheart did not seem pleased about, a feathered freak had come through to kidnap her, but ever the noble heart who couldn't allow the Harpers to perish to the shadow curse, Tar'eon took him on, one on one, while the rest of them slayed the winged minions.

It had been quite eventful, for the first night in the inn. Astarion thought he'd find himself in the company of Tar'eon after all of it, but when the tiefling found out Mol had been taken, he'd abandoned his side to comfort the distraught children, even if some of them were trying to act tough, trying to make a plan to get her back.

Tar'eon vowed he'd return her to them, and when Mirkon would not leave his arms, he resigned himself to putting the children to bed himself, much too big for the tiny beds, but it seemed to make the kids feel much safer to pile on top of him like pups with their mother. Astarion would admit, it was a sweet sight to come upon when he went to look for the man in the morning.

He may say he lacked perfect control over his tail, but it still managed to wrap around the children he couldn't hold in his arms, eyes closed and seemingly fast asleep.

Once Tar'eon finally came out to join the others for breakfast, Astarion noticed his tired gaze despite him drawing out a map of the Shadow Lands he'd borrowed from Jaheira. He hadn't slept much, and Astarion could tell. How much of the night did he spend worrying over Mol's kidnapping?

Tar'eon had gotten wind of a certain Sleeping Beauty over breakfast, and while Halsin insisted they figure out what was wrong with him, Tar'eon was stubborn in going straight to Moonrise and getting the tieflings back. Karlach and Wyll backed him up with no arguement, of course, and so, Halsin was stuck behind with the resting man, to be dealt with later.

"You didn't sleep well." Astarion noted as he dressed in his armour in their shared room that funnily enough, they had not shared the night before. Tar'eon sighed.

"He visited again. That butler of mine." Tar'eon sounded bitter as he struggled to lace his gauntlets. Astarion brushed his hand away with a huff and laced it tight for him, if only to end his nervous fidgeting.

"Well? What did he say?"

"He wants me to kill Isobel."

"The only one holding the Shadow Curse at bay? I may not like the Harpers, but I am not a fan of the idea, personally. For our own sake." Astarion grimaced. Killing her would just bring the curse right to them, and he knew Tar'eon wouldn't dare do that to the Harpers, or to the refugees staying there. Did this butler think the man daft?

"I just...don't understand his motives. Killing Isobel would be the death of us all."

"Perhaps all he wants is death." Astarion mused, fixing the collar of his armour. "Forget it. Can't kill the cleric if we aren't here, now can we? We have a mission to get to."

"You're right. I need to focus on getting Mol, Lia and Cal back. All of them." Tar'eons expression hardened with resolve and Astarion shook his head, grabbing the cloak off his bed. He offered it back to the man, seeing as it was his. Tar'eon took it and Astarion turned his back to grab a couple daggers, stashing them along his body, but keeping his favourite at his hip.

He stood straighter when he felt the heavy blanket of the cloak rest upon his shoulders, Tar'eons nimble fingers tying a sturdy knot to keep it there, looking as his work over Astarion's shoulder.

"It...it was a gift from him. The butler. I hate wearing it. It just - it just reminds me of what I did to Alfira. But it'll keep you safe. For every kill, you gain the power of invisibility, if only for a short period." Tar'eon smoothed his hands over the fabric, The Deathstalker's Mantle, a gift he had tried to refuse. It would have it's uses, he was sure, but he couldn't wear it himself. Couldn't bring himself to.

On Astarion though, objectively, it was quite fetching.

The vampire looked at him, seeming hesitant to accept the gift before he gave a smile, giving it a little swoosh as he stood before a mirror. He couldn't see himself, but the cloak - the cloak was gorgeous. Definitely expensive, and tailored precisely to Tar'eons measurements, if he had to guess.

To think, Tar'eon had a butler, an expensive cloak...Hells, maybe he was a prince, a murderous one at that, and just didn't know it? Astarion had always dreamed of a prince saving him from all his troubles, hadn't he? The irony of stumbling upon a possible one only after he was snatched from Cazador's grasp by another entity...

"Well, as they say. One man's trash, is another man's treasure." Astarion smirked and stepped forward, smoothing his hand over the others chest as he hummed. "I quite like all these gifts you keep giving me. However can I repay you?"

"By having my back, as I have yours." Tar'eon took his hand off his chest, holding it and chasing the chill from his fingers before he dipped his head and pressed a gentle kiss to his pale skin. The tiefling smiled at him, eyes fond as always.

Astarion was too focused on making sure his hand in his didn't shake, or god forbidden, grip back so tight he might break it.

****

"Have I ever told you how much I love your tongue?" Astarion picked up the Moon Lantern with a devilish smile, the bright light illuminating his features. A little pixie banged around inside, pleading to be set free. Tar'eon frowned, looking guilty, but Astarion shook his head.

"We're not letting you out."

"I"LL GUT YOU LIKE A-" Astarion gestured to the pixie for Tar'eon to see.

"Never trust a pixie, or any fey, my dear." He chuckled and kept a tight grip on the lantern as they travelled through the Shadow Lands. It only made sense, considering he only needed one hand for his enchanted dagger, though if needs be, he was happy to toss it to another and pull out his bow.

Seeing as he held the lantern, he led the way, but after a few hours of walking in what he was starting to believe was a circle...Well, they were honestly a bit lost. No, it wasn't his fault for refusing the map twice.

"If I have to follow him for another hour, I'll kill him." Wyll groaned, obviously sick of walking to nowhere.

"Astar, please. Just let me lead."

"You cannot fight and hold the lantern, darling, trust me, we're making head way -" And by the grace of whatever was holy, it seemed they had. Up ahead, he saw buildings, and he smirked. Not a castle, but something. "See?"

"It doesn't look like Moonrise."

"And how do you know what Moonrise looks like, hm?" Astarion challenged.

"It's a castle. This is not a castle, Astar."

"It's a town though, which means the castle is close. Trust me." Astarion waved his concerns off and continued on. Unsurprisingly, they were ambushed by shadow creatures.

It wasn't a hard feat to slash them down, not with Wyll and Lae'zel on the team, as much as he wished for Shadowheart's healing. Unfortunately, she'd woken up with a bloody limp. He should have expected it, after all those little glances, all those secret smiles. Their darling who burned hotter than Avernus and the Shar princess were down bad. With Karlach no longer a workplace injury in the flesh, she must have jumped at the chance.

He did wonder how a limp played into it, but who was he to expose such secrets? Though, they were barely a secret.

"Gods, I miss the sun." Astarion muttered. This place was so gloomy, and cold. He did peak a castle in the distance though, and smirked. See? He had been on the right track! "Tar'eon-"

Before he could inform him, the tiefling took off, curse be damned, and Astarion swore, running after the stupid man, Wyll and Lae'zel behind him.

"Arabella!" He barely kept their leader in the glow on their safety net, but once he saw what, or in this case who, he was running towards, he found himself rolling his eyes. It was always children. He had no self preservation when he saw a child in need. It was that young tiefling girl they'd saved from Kagha's viper.

"Hey! I know you. You're -" Astarion moved for his dagger when two shadow-y creatures burst from the ground, looming over Tar'eon and the girl. He readied himself to strike, but it seemed the child was one step ahead.

"Twist'em up!" With a pale green glow, the tiefling child managed to bind the shadows in place with her vines, looking exhausted from that feat alone.

"It's you - our little idol thief from the druids grove!" There was no doubt about it. Astarion would admit, he was growing a touch fond of the little band of thieves. He'd make an excellent mentor, he'd like to think. He could teach them more than a thing or two about being a rogue.

The tiefling child slumped her shoulders, and Astarion wondered if he'd said the wrong thing, but no, the child was looking at Tar'eon.

"Sorry. Knocks the wind right out of me." Arabella apologised. Wyll stepped forward with a smile.

"You did that with no incantation. That's an impressive feat. That kind of sorcery only comes from deep within." Of course the warlock had an opinion on her magic. Arabella seemed to stand straighter after the praise.

"That druid idol I took? It changed me. I can do all sorts of stuff now, not just the vines." Arabella looked to Tar'eon like she was searching for his praise next. "I think real hard and say some loud words and then it happens. Mostly." Tar'eon rested a hand on her head and ruffled between her horns, crouching down.

"What are you doing out here, Arabella? It's not safe." The girl withdrew into herself, suddenly as scared and frightened as she should be.

"I was looking. For mum and pops. When Zevlor - when he -" Her chin gave a little wobble but she stopped it quickly, as if refusing to cry over the matter. "Well. There was an ambush. Mum yelled 'run!'...So we ran. I could hear 'em running behind me. 'Til I couldn't."

Tar'eons eyes softened, filled with mourning for the girl as they both drew the same conclusion. They were both likely dead.

"Still can't find 'em - but I bet you can. You'll help me, I just know it!" Tar'eon gave a tight smile and nodded.

"I'll find your parents, Arabella. You can count on me." The relief was palpable from the young girl.

"Thanks, mister. I knew you'd help me again." Of course he would. He was a bleeding heart. "The vines won't last forever." Arabella looked towards the shadow creatures with apprehension. "I don't - I don't s'pose I can stay with you? Just 'til you find mum and pops, I won't be any trouble, I swear it!"

Astarion looked at Tar'eon apprehensively. A child? In their camp? That sounded like a dreadful idea. Though, Scratch could always use some more love, he supposed.

Tar'eon smiled.

"My friends are currently at the Last Light Inn. Cerys and the other children are there too. I'm afraid Mol was kidnapped during an attack, but I'm on my way to bring her back, along with the other tieflings." Tar'eon took the girls hand and squeezed. "I'll help you there with a little bit of ancient magic, alright? Speak to the others of my party when you arrive. Though, do not mind Withers. He's a bit scary to look at, but he's harmless, despite his lurking." Tar'eon smiled and took her other hand. He closed his eyes.

"I'm find your parents, Arabella. I'm going to make sure you all make it to Baldur's Gate this time."

"Thank you - Bring mum and pops back there. I'll be waiting." In a flash of purple, the young girl disappeared, likely landing herself outside the Inn as Tar'eon promised.

"Always the bleeding heart, darling." Astarion chuckled.

"He did the right thing. Who knows - maybe if we find Arabella's parents, they'll have a lead towards where the tieflings are being held in Moonrise." Wyll interjected and Astarion rolled his eyes.

"They'll either be dead, or in a prison cell. These Absolute cultists aren't exactly creative, or merciful. He saw the drow woman, and Nere."

"I'd like to hold onto hope that they're still alive regardless, thank you." Wyll frowned, annoyed by Astarion's blase tone.

"Of course you do. You're obsessed with fairy tales, and not the cold, hard truths of this world." Astarion bit out, glaring at the other man.

"Fairy tales can teach us a lot about how hard the world is, but in the end, hope will always prevail." Wyll crossed his arms, matching his gaze. Every thing about him screamed nobility, even in drabs, and Astarion wanted to tear into him. He wanted to sink his nails into his insecurities, his righteous nature, and claw them away until the man was raw and hopeless, just like he was.

"Hope drives men to madness more often than it does to happiness, devil man."

The muscle in Wyll's cheek twitched, looking ready to draw his blade on the vampire, but Tar'eon stood between them, a hand on either ones chest.

"Stop it. You've lived vastly different lives, with separate, incomprehensible struggles. You may believe the world to be bleak, Astarion, but Wyll does not. You may have given up on the notion of hope, but the rest of us haven't. All I ask is that you let it go."

Astarion could feel the back of his neck burning from the scolding, even if Tar'eon tone was more netural than fierce. He huffed and with a whip of his cloak, continued forward. He heard Tar'eon sigh, the others footsteps following him, if only because he held the lantern.

"Thank you. For sticking up for me." Wyll said in a soft voice to Tar'eon, but he could still hear it.

"Don't thank me. I'm just not ready to give up hope yet. It's...all I- we have left."

****

"Well, we've got our solution to my little problem. I say we go ahead." Astarion smirked as he made towards the entrance, but Tar'eon held him back by the elbow. He turned to the man and quirked a brow. "Yes?"

"We have to find Arabella's parents first, Astar. And free the tieflings, remember? Get Mol back."

"They aren't going to be more dead if we take a detour, darling." Astarion waved a hand and narrowed his eyes. "This is a deal that doesn't involve servitude. I'm going to take my chances before he decides to up the stakes."

"And if they're not? We don't know what's inside there, but I doubt it's leaving any time soon. Komira and her husband, Mol, the other tieflings - they can't wait."

"I thought this was important to you. Am I remembering it wrong, dear?" The pet name held no affection.

"Don't use that against me. I promised you we'd find a way to translate your scars. I meant it. But lives are at stake, and this can wait."

"You know I'm not patient."

"Learn some patience then. This will be a good lesson." Tar'eon wasn't giving in, and Astarion gritted his teeth, baring his fangs with a growl and shoving the lantern into the other mans hands.

"Fine. But if they're dead, like I predict they are, you owe me."

"Astarion..."

"Go on. We have corpses to find." Astarion said bitterly and stalked down the hill, forcing Tar'eon to follow. The tiefling sighed, looking weary as Wyll placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't take it to heart. He's a prickly creature. You're right to put urgency to this mission. They're your people, and they're relying on you. The best decisions aren't always the easiest."

"He doesn't believe in heroes. I know he doesn't. He's selfish because he see no point in being selfless. He doesn't gain anything from it. No one was ever selfless was his sake. I know he hates it when I tell him no." Tar'eon knew Astarion had flaws. That didn't stop his heart from aching.

He loved him. Deeply. In such a short time span, he'd managed to launch himself into the deep end of this pool of affection he felt for the other man, but he didn't know how to love him without receiving his fangs half of the time. He knew why Astarion was this way. He was afraid, they all were, but his fear was volatile.

He cursed Cazador for breaking down the man who held his heart in pale hands, ready to be devoured between sharp, pointed teeth.

"We can't always get what we want. He'll learn that with time."

"He's never had what he wants, Wyll. He hates when I tell him no, because that's all he's ever heard." Tar'eons brows drew together, pinched into a painful expression as he departed from Wyll's side, head bowed. Wyll stayed a few paces behind, unsure what to say to that. Lae'zels arm brushed his and he looked at her, the githyanki staring ahead at the pair.

"Tar'eon is a warrior, while Astarion is simply a survivor; they bear their burdens differently." She made a sound of irritation, as if she were planning to spit on the ground to get a foul taste out of her mouth. "I do not know what draws them together, but it is...palpable."

"And why're you telling me this?" Wyll quirked a brow, voice low as not to be heard, much like her near whisper.

"Because you follow after our leader like a dog. You are a warrior, like he is. Yet you hold yourself back. That is your failing. You idealise stories, fiction, and expect things to simply fit into place, like words on parchment." Lae'zel's cat like eyes turned onto him, intensely yellow in the darkness of the shadow lands.

"You must take action. Like a warrior." She stood straighter, somehow. Her posture was always perfect, much like his. Instinctive to stand tall. "Before he is tied down by the vampire."

"Astarion and Tar'eon - it won't last." Wyll was sure of that. "Astarion doesn't seem the type for...long term. Tar'eon seems the type to only want that."

"And yet, Tar'eon can convince the nightstalker to do many things that are out of the ordinary for him."

"What do you suggestion then? You seem to be well versed in this after all." Wyll quirked a brow, crossing his arms.

"Woo him." Lae'zel's eyes shone, her slitted pupils widening like she had spotted something she quite liked, gaze intense on the warlock. "Show him you are the better match. In my culture, the Githyanki do so by intimate combat."

"I'm afraid to ask what makes it intimate." Wyll frowned, looking away from her. For a githyanki, she was a beauty, but her ruthless attitude until now had made it hard to converse with her, not to mention her unsettling amount of eye contact. It was quite intimidating. As the journey continued though, he found she had opened up, if only a little, without her knowledge.

"I'd show you, if you weren't after another." Lae'zel hummed. "If things fall through, do feel free to ask for my company. Your scent is...not unpleasant."

Wyll blinked and watched her break stride, staying beside Tar'eon now in silence. He frowned as he picked at the collar of his robe, giving it a small sniff. While he had bathed the night prior, his armour hadn't had the chance to be washed in quite some time. He watched the githyanki and the tiefling, the large man offering her half his apple after breaking it in half.

Had he...been propositioned while being given relationship advice at the same time?

****

"I can't believe you convinced him to just kill himself." Astarion couldn't help the surge of giddiness thinking back to it. He knew he liked Tar'eon for a reason.

"I was avoiding a fight, and the man was insane." Tar'eon shrugged. "They say everyone is their own worst enemy." He picked up the lute and frowned. He doubted it belonged to the man. He'd find use of it. He slung it onto his back and placed his flute in his bag. It wasn't the only instrument he knew how to play, but it was his preferred instrument. It made a sweet sound, in his opinion.

"Well then...lets ransack the place." Astarion smirked as he went about looting anything he could. He wasn't particularly happy about this little side quest they were doing, but he was refusing to let Tar'eon get under his skin. He could act civil. The better person. Let Tar'eon come and grovel to him first.

They traversed through the building, searching for anything good, and stumbled upon what looked to be an infirmary. Wyll's face grew grim as he looked upon the bodies lying in the bed.

"It's Arabella's parents..."

"Fuck." Tar'eon came closer to look, shining the lantern upon them. Wyll was right. Komira and Locke laid together in the bed, well past reviving. His heart broke for little Arabella.

Tar'eon would have to tell her...she'd been so hopeful that he'd be able to help her. He felt like he had failed her, even if it was obvious that her parents had been dead for a while, a couple days at least. How long had Arabella been out there, looking for her parents?

"I told you." Astarion said, arms crossed, shaking his head. He sounded disappointed despite being right. "I told you this mission was pointless."

Tar'eon whipped around and grabbed the collar of his cloak, his tail whipping wildly in his anger.

"Don't. Just- don't."

"Oh please, even that child knew, deep down. She got her hopes up - she got your hopes up. I told you, it's pointless. If you think someone is dead? They likely are." Astarion had given many people over to Cazador, and while he didn't see their demise, he knew. When people were captured by monsters, they didn't simply come back. There was no point in hoping they'll escape their fate, whether you helped them or not. Sometimes death was better than what they'd live through if they were to live.

Tar'eons eyes held nothing but anger, with hurt bleeding into them as he let Astarion go, stepping back.

"Go back to the Inn then. If you don't want to help me, then you can go." Astarion opened his mouth in shock. He'd never been banished from the party before. He was always beside him, throughout the whole journey.

"You- you can't banish me." He laughed, breathless. "You need me."

"Not right now, I don't." Tar'eon gaze steeled. "Go, Astarion. Maybe a bit of time alone will make you realise how much of an asshole you are sometimes."

"I-..." Astarion scoffed. "I've never tried to hide that part of myself from you. It's your own fault if your poor heart is broken over the hard truths of this world." He stepped back and put on a expression that Tar'eon hadn't seen since the first day they met. Cool and calm; superior. Unfeeling.

"I'll see you tonight. Do tell me all the gory details when you find the bodies of those tieflings, unless they are by some miracle, alive." In a flash, he forced his connection to the sigil to bring him back to the Inn, opening his eyes to firelight and the scent of grass, rather then damp, darkness.

Astarion scowled and stormed off to his room, ignoring Shadowheart and Karlach's sounds of surprise at his return as he bounded up the stairs and slammed the door hard enough to rattle through the wall, dust falling into his hair. He snarled and ran a hand through it, running the perfect picture he tried to maintain painstakingly ever morning.

Good riddance. For once, maybe he could relax and read a book instead of being blasted and slashed at. He laid back on his bed, not caring about his armour as he tugged off his boots. He reached for the book sticking out of Tar'eons spare pack and opened it to the first page.

A Beginners Guide To The Infernal Language.

He glowered but read on. It might do him some good to learn more about the language scrawled on his back, if he was to convince Raphael to explain.

He never should have expected help. How foolish. He would help himself, like he always had.

The only person you could trust in this world was yourself.

[firebirdsdaughter]

To refocus…

… I wish they’d let Jack actually. Have a part in saving Mac in 2x11. Like, even if it’s just the customary ‘comes in at the right moment to clock a dude’ sort of thing. I love Mac being resourceful, but I do feel like he’s occasionally a wee bit… It’s not exactly ‘over powered’ but… Perfect?

Like this is what I mean by we needed more Jack appreciation. While I agree w/ a comment I saw somewhere on here that s2 Jack is best Jack (right down to the beard!), I can’t help but feel like, say, 2x11 for ex, woulda been good opportunities to highlight Jack’s part in their partnership a bit more. It’s not that he doesn’t do things, but I just… Don’t feel like it always gets recognised? Mac’s crafty, but sometimes there a situations where even I, the fanniest of Jack fans, kinda wonder… Why he needs a partner? It just feels unsatisfying to have the cavalry get there but lol, Mac’s already saved himself! It doesn’t have to be big—like I said, even just arriving in the nick of time to take up/finish the fight. Or even just like. Tactical/moral support? For ex, compare 1x07 to 2x11; in the former, Mac’s incredibly genius and resourceful, gets out of the prison—but then he winds up in a situation where he can’t do things on his own, and he’s forced to resort to doing what he can do and trusting in others getting the message to Jack to come for him… Which happens, and Jack does the whole cavalry thing and once again takes out someone about to shoot Mac. In the latter, though, despite Jack being integral and dedicated throughout the episode, in the end he doesn’t get to do anything, bc Mac effectively resolves the situation himself, and if the others hadn’t done anything, it probably wouldn’t have changed the outcome (the situation gets worked out bc the guy tries to kill Mac in the police station, not bc of the evidence the others gathered and worked out—the guy was planning to do that anyway, so the result woulda been the same no matter what). For an ep so rife w/ Jack being a competent agent, it’s frustrating and disappointing to have him not get to do anything in the finale, and instead Mac saves himself and the detectives just fine w/out help. Jack contributes in a minor way of letting Mac know he didn’t kill anyone and boosting his confidence and spirits (I saw that smile as he was leaving!), but very little attention is paid to that. Naturally, it’s in character for Jack to not care about recognition as long as he can ensure Mac’s safety, but I just… It’s esp clear I think in 2x11 and 2x04. I know 2x04 is about Murdoc being Mac’s special enemy, and part of this is me wanting recognition for Jack’s status as Mac’s real dad, but esp w/ Jack blaming himself and Murdoc then going and picking out Cage later… Feels like their relationship shoulda been more of a factor? Given that everyone goes on like Murdoc targets people around them, in this he’s only focused on Mac and then Cage for some reason (even going after her again later bc… The actress had vacation time? I adore Cage but she seems like an odd choice to zero in on to get to Mac). Maybe Murdoc acknowledging how dogged Jack will be, or Mac shooting back that Jack will find him, no matter how well Murdoc has hidden them. I’d love to hear Jack brought up when they’re talking about fathers, maybe Mac saying Jack’s name when asking for help. Just small stuff that acknowledges that for all Mac’s smarts and ingenuity, he can’t do everything alone, highlight how Jack contributes to the team and partnership, how sometimes they need someone who can think like Jack. I’d’ve much preferred 2x11 ending w/ Mac just holding the guy off until Jack arrives to jump him, maybe even commenting to the detectives that he’s got the best Overwatch ever who is definitely on his way. 2x04 there’s just more acknowledgment about Mac’s reliance on Jack’s protection, maybe a few nasty comments by Murdoc that further upset Mac. Nothing huge, Mac’s still the inventive, brilliant one, but enough to make his ‘[Jack] doing his job meant I could do mine’ line from the probational season 4 ring consistently true.

And while we’re at it, could we please get an ep about how much Mac cares about Jack?? We get a lot of Jack being willing to move the world, bust Mac out of prison, lead a dictator to diamonds, out of love for Mac, blaming himself when Mac gets hurt. I’m sad we never really got one of my favourite tropes which is that in reverse. We get it a little, but there’s not much that really focuses on it? The Ghost’s debut ep it was all crammed into the end of the ep and the focus was completely on the bomb, in 3x01 James MacGyver ruins everything, and there’s also a ticking clock to work w/, you don’t really get to see Mac reacting. When stuff happens, there’s an attitude of ‘it’s Jack, he’ll be fine’ and I just kept waiting for the moment where he wasn’t fine and how that would go. They keep talking about how Murdoc’s targeting them, but again, after his debut he only goes after Mac and Cage. While his ‘welcome to the family’ thing is in character, for the second one, I’d much rather see Jack get attacked than Cage?

Honestly, weird as it may sound, I wish Jack got shot more.

[knight-of-flowerss]

The hobbit

Thorin x hobbit reader

Reader is bilbos older badass sister who kills anything and anybody with her cast iron pan.

So we know dwarfs don’t get pregnant much, an basically rare to have girls, so how would the others react to reader (everyone lives au) telling thorin she’s pregnant after the battle, now hobbits are small so one imagining they have have up to 4 kids at once and be ok, probably even expected.

So when the dwarfs and surprise her (and bilbo the soon to be uncle along with lady Dis) with her finished nursery, and after the excitement, reader asks were the rest of the cribs are!!!

…

The dwarfs ask what she means and she an bilbo say that hobbits give birth to more then one child, so I wanna see there reactions (including Dis) when reader says she’s pregnant with 4 children I wanna know the reactions of the grate thorin and the fearsome Dwalin!

Bounes if you add when the babies are born (3 girls and 1 boy ) and the reaction of the company

thorin screaming “I can’t hold them all I need more arms or bigger ones!! 😭😭😭”

OMG YES I LOVE THIS SMMMMM ITS SO CUTE AHAHAHHA!!!! I opened this at like 10 o’clock at night so I was tired so I’ve don’t it today after school so I had more time and it didn’t sound loopy 💀

This hasn’t been spell checke btw!

Masterlist

Happy Ending

Anyone’s name: this colour and in bold

Thorin Oakenshield x Hobbit!Reader

You’re little brother Bilbo has always really only kept to himself, occasionally having relatives (but never distant because he doesn’t trust them around his cutlery) around Bag End.

You were his daring older sister, never afraid of anything, selfless, badass. You were staying at your brothers while your burrow got a new door. You offered to help but the other hobbits refused as they were paying you a favour.

You and your brother sat in shock as twelve dwarfs and a wizard wrecked Bilbo’s house. But after the table was set you soon forgot all about it, your brother on the other hand..

When a dwarf named Thorin showed up you couldn’t help but stare at him. He was your height, had long, dark locks and eyes so beautiful that you could get lost in them with just one glance. And when they proposed Bilbo come on this journey with them you immediately invited yourself along.

The journey was harrowing, fighting off ogres, goblins, orcs. Then there was the ‘final battle’ against Azog and his army. It was tough but it was no match for the dwarves and their resilience.

They fought with all there might, defeating the army and Azog and returning home safely.

For almost half a year now, you and Thorin had been married. Half a year of pure joy. And surprises.

You felt sick as a dog for almost 3 weeks now, your body weak. Dís, Thorin’s sister, suspected something was wrong and encouraged you to go and see a doctor of some kind. It had been confirmed though that it wasn’t any fatal illness, nothing of the sort.

You and Thorin where actually expecting.

The two of you were estatic, jumping for joy, but a little bit inside of you was sacred, terrified even. You knew what this meant. You knew you had to push out multiple of the little creatures miracles. But you would go through all that pain for Thorin.

As the months passed your belly grew and grew, never stopping, even for just a moment. The dwarves and your brother offered to help build a nursery for the little lad inside you (they assumed it was a boy because of the very low chances of a little baby girl popping out), at first you tried to help them but they just brushed you off and told you to relax, so, you hesitantly accepted the offer.

While they moved everything into the nursery and decorated it, you took a nap (which ended up being like 3 hours but we don’t talk abt that-). When you woke up you saw Bilbo and the side of you, reaching to wake you up.

You jumped as you hadn’t expected him to be there.

“Bilbo! What are you doing here?!” You whispered-shouted through gritted teeth. “Uh- the nursery- um, it’s ready.” Bilbo stutters, clearly shocked that you wanted to shout at him.

Bilbo helped you up as you where weaker and your belly put more and more pressure on your back.

You stood at the doorway as Dís and Bilbo pushed the doors open with big smiles. In the room stood Oin, Glóin, Dori, Ori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dwalin, Balin, Fíli, Kíli and stood in the middle with a soft smile one his face was your dear husband, Thorin.

You slowly stepped into the room looking around. Little toys on shelves, a play area with a fur rug, a changing station, one crib and more.

When you had finally reached your lover, you turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a cocked head.

“One crib? Really?”

Thorin looked a tad confused, “what do you mean my love? What is the babe supposed to rest in?”

“I think you mean babes.” You replied with a smirk. A bunch of ‘eh?’s where muttered around the room while Bilbo suppressed a chuckle.

Thorin sat with a half confused, half shocked face. “Whatever do you mean my love?..”, “you do know Hobbits have multiple children, do you not?”

Thorin’s eyes widened as your words registered in his head. “What-..”

The pregnancy was terrible, horrendous even, but your spirits where high when Thorin was by your side. You had given him four children, 3 girls and a boy.

(I got the last two names from a D&D website for dwarf names cus I couldn’t think of owt 💀)

Your little boy was named Thráin (III) after his father. Your first girl was called Dísa after Thorin’s sister Dís. Your second girl was named Arrin, meaning ‘exalted’ and ‘lofty’ and your last little girl was named Asta, meaning ‘divine strength’ , ‘love’ and ‘star-like’, she was named this due to her being the hardest out of them all to give birth to and that you and Thorin nearly lost her.

You and Thorin are sat on a couch in the children’s room with a fur blanket o top of yous while your four little toddlers play with eachother with wooden and plush toys.

You lean your head on Thorin’s shoulder as you look at your children and then up at your lover, who was already staring at you. “I am so grateful for the children you have brought me, love. You have made me a father, you a mother and all of us a family, I am forever in your debt my queen, I love you.”

You smiled up at your husband, tears welling up in your eyes as you wear a dopey smile on your face, “I love you too my King,”, you lean up and kiss your husband, you couldn’t ask for a better life.

An amazing husband, a gentle son and three graceful daughters, you loved them all so much, you finally had your happy ending.

I hope you like this cus i finished this while I was ill 😭

@thethreeeyed-raven