#Little purple goblins I love them so much

[certainlynotasimp]

oh just a little tip, i think it would be wise if you added the spanish translations somewhere inside the fics, this could be at the end or next to the spanish sentence, since you can’t copy text from posts it’s hard to translate since you have to type everything in google translate by hand <33 anyways i loved your fic, you’re very talented and i can’t wait to see more of miguel and his beloved sunshine.

you know what might be funny? if they were on a mission and got hit with a gas that switches their personalities🤣 now that would be something i would pay to see 😂

From Your Point of View

((Miguel O’ Hara x Female! Reader))

A/N: Hello~✨ Thank you so much for the request and the critique. I have now added some translations at the bottom of the fanfics because I forgot how weird tumblr can be about copy and pasting stuff😅. Also I hope that I didn’t disappoint with this as I was kinda struggling on what to write for this one.

-Still haven’t seen the movie so be warned I may get some stuff wrong-

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, Female Reader/Female Pronouns, Barely using (Y/N) ((Sunny is their nickname not their name)), bioweapons, kinda graphic injuries, Outta Character and Outta pocket behavior, and Google Translated Spanish. ((Thank you @22carolina08 for reviewing it before I posted it))

~~~~~~~~~~~

The cackle of women enjoying the fruits of their labors filled the corridor of the abandoned warehouse as they surrounded the machine they were working on. It was a tall glass sphere with some kind of purple dust floating around inside while two titanium computers stood on either side of the device.

The three women standing around it were a set of Green Goblins who jumped from different dimensions to find a universe where there wasn’t an arachnid hero to stop them from using a bomb to take control of the city.

However they didn’t expect there to be four spidermen to be observing them around the property with one little spider hiding along the walls of their lair.

“Lyla,” Miguel whispers as he observes the meeting from the top of another warehouse. “Analyze the contents of that bomb and tell me how bad it is.”

The yellow AI materializes in front of him as Miguel tries to swat her away like a fly, not wanting her to compromise his location. Lyla rolls her eyes and explains, “The dust in that little bomb they have is made from spores of this rare mushroom. It’s been reported that inhaling the spores can cause drastic changes in behavior, mood swings, and mild hallucinations. Most cases detail paitents becoming aggressive and violent.”

Jessica’s voice buzzes through the intercom as she quips, “So they are planning on driving the city into a state of panic?”

“Sounds like it.” Ben Riley gruffs in annoyance. Miguel couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he knows the Scarlet Spider was still pissed that he couldn’t go ahead and stop the goblins.

“Sounds like a party to me, mate.” Hobie cracks as he watches from the ground. “Oi, Sunny, Dear? Wanna crash their party?”

“Yes, a party of people violently hurting each other and causing mass chaos does sound like fun.” Miguel grumbles saracastially before scolding Hobie. “She can’t reply to you, Brown. Not when she’s undercover.”

Miguel can barely make out her outline with the infared of his mask lens, but he can see his little jumping spider wander among the goblins unseen.

A big advantage to have someone with his beloved’s powers. She had almost every trait of the typical spider men, but she had a unique camouflaged ability. Without the suit Miguel made her, she can lower her heart rate and rapidly chill her body temperature so she can remain undetected by infared. She can also go invisible for a few moments without the suit, but both abilities are limited due to how strenuous it was on her being.

The suit allows her to remain undetected for a much longer time and prevents her from putting too much strain on her body. The slight heat the suit emits to keep her body functioning is the only thing that Miguel can use to track her. A major drawback of her gift is that physically she’s not as strong as the others, but she can handle herself in a fight.

Of course, he’s always there to help her. Her protective predator and his gentle prey. A match made in heaven as Jess always jokes.

“(L/N).” Miguel whispers into the com as he watches his love sneak around the device. “Attach the bug I gave you to the main computer so Lyla can deactivate the bomb.”

He makes a signal to the others to tell them to be ready for the ambush. The plan was suppose to be a simple get in and out. The invisible web shooter would get the bomb deactivated while Miguel, Hobie, and Ben rush in and take out the goblins. Jess served as support in case the villains ran past them. It was suppose to be an easy mission. Until it wasn’t.

As the bomb got deactivated, a light beep from the monitor causes the Goblins to turn around and notice that someone tampered with their bomb. Before the little spider could escape, one of the Goblins throws a jack o lantern explosive at her, causing the glass vial to exploded.

Miguel’s blood ran cold as he witnesses his love engulfed in black and purple smoke, and all reason went out the window as he rushed into the contaminated warehouse to save her.

“Miguel, wait!” Jessica screams out she drives her bike in front of the other two spidermen trying to rush in.

“What gives, Drew?” Hobie snaps, concern burning in his eyes. “We gotta get in there.”

“Not without these.” She snaps back as she hands the boys four sets of gas masks. “Lyla said it’s transmitted through air. Hurry up and put these on.”

Ben grumbles and slams the mask on before running in while Hobie and Jessica share a look. “You think Sunny will be alright?” The spiked spider asks as he places the gas mask on his already covered face.

“She better be.” Jessica sighs. “I definitely don’t want to find out how Miguel will react if she wasn’t.”

With that Hobie runs in while Jessica calls for backup to help contain the spores seeping from the windows.

~~~~~~~~

“Vitals appear to be normal.” Spider-Doc mutters to the three spider people surrounding one of the hospital beds. “O’Hara and (L/N) are both looking good on blood pressure and brain activity, so I expect them to wake up anytime soon.”

Thankfully, Hobie and Ben managed to capture the green goblin trio and reinforcements came just in time to contain the spread of the bio weapon. However, both Miguel and his companion were found bloody and unconscious when they found them.

The beloved spider woman had most of the damage with several shards of glass impaled into her back and arm while gaining a severe concussion. The team figured that in the rush of the moment and his vision obscured by the cloud of dust, the goblins took Miguel by surprise and got him with three sharp projectiles while he was trying to help Sunny.

Despite the horrific scene, both of them were deemed to be alright after some surgery and the only physical damage was Sunny’s now broken arm, which should heal in about a week thanks to the signature spiderman super healing. The only worry was the psychological damage.

Both were definitively exposed to large quantities of the gas and from what Lyla had said about the mental effects of the spores, they were worried about an invisible spider and her beast of a companion tearing everything apart.

Jessica sighs as she sadly gazes at the broken and restrained bodies of her friends as Hobi places a small bear on his little friend’s bed.

“Didn’t Lyla say anything about how that antitoxin is coming along?” Peter says as he bites his nail.

Spider-Doc nods as his lens shifts to appear like he’s hopefully smiling. “Lyla has said thanks to the samples from their suits, an antitoxin will be finished in two days.”

“Two days?!” Hobie snaps up. “We are about to have two spidermen possibly going on a rampage if we piss them off. I don’t think we can wa-“

A soft groan emits from the bed beside the ranting anarchist and everyone’s attention breaks from the poor doctor and onto the small spider. Her eyes flutter open as she frowns at her surroundings.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Jessica soothes as she helps the disoriented girl sit up in her bed.

“I’m fine.” The girl said in an unusually blunt way. Her eyes now harden in an annoyed expression as she looks around at the group. “Next time, you guys should be more considerate to someone recovering from having their shit rocked.” She scolds before growling at the pain.

The sight of the sweet girl now acting so bothered towards their presence was so unsettling, but not unexpected. They were aware the sweet girl they knew was gonna be changed by the gas, but it’s still disturbing.

As they all stare at the glaring girl, a deep groan comes from the bed next to her as her attention focuses on her love. Her anger emerges as she snaps back to the spiders.

“What the fuck did y’all do to him?! Was it that asshole Ben Riley? I’m gonna kick his ass if he’s the reason my Miggy is in-“

“Cariño?” A soft mutter causes her verbal rampage to end as a pair of ruby eyes focused on her. Once she meets his eyes, an uncharacteristically soft grin comes over his face as he mumbles sweetly. “Hola, mi niña bonita, ¿cómo te sientes?””

“I’m fine.” The girl mumbles as she tries to keep her stern face while a little dusting of blush takes over. “What about you?”

Miguel chuckles at her face and gently reaches over and caresses her hand as he swoons, “Siento que puedo enfrentarme a un toro ahora que he visto tu hermoso rostro, mi amor.”

The group of spidermen looked at Miguel horrified as he looks up at them. Expecting him to snap at them or try and escape his restrains, but he doesn’t do either. He gives them a bright friendly smile as he cheers, “Oh, you guys made it out alright. I’m glad we are all still here together. Great job, everyone.”

Hobie backs up a couple of steps trying to calm his raging heart before he had a heart attack from the shock. Jessica looks at him disturbed as she silently records the duo on her phone to show her husband later. Peter calls Lyla on his gizmo as his face looses all color.

The AI emerges out of the gizmo with a cheery, “Hello~ you ringed?”

“What’s wrong with Miguel?” Peter snaps as he hears Sunny immediately yell at him about what he said about her Miggy.

“Oh I meant to warn you about that. Well the aggression is on a most case scenario kinda thing, not an every case thing. Since Miguel is more genetically altered with spider than Little Miss Sunshine, his natural aggression cancels out the one caused by the bio weapon.” The assistant explains.

Hobie laughs at this as he looks at the now confused Miguel, “So our big bad leader is as harmless as a kitten now?”

“Yep.” Lyla giggles. “And because our sunny pants there was as dangerous as a jumping spider before this, she’s now part of the majority percentaile.”

“What the fuck did you say about Migue, you twig?!” The formerly harmless girl bucks in her restraints as her protective nature causes her to want to thrash the punk star.

“Mi amor, por favor cálmate... No está tratando de ser grosero…” A now teary eyed Miguel tries to sooth his partner in a shaky calm voice.

That was when Jessica realized a mistake they made. When they restrained the pair earlier, Miguel was placed in titanium bands that crossed over his chest, arms, legs and hips. Since Sunny wasn’t considered a ‘major’ threat in comparison, she was just held down by some chains.

Because of this, the earth deafening sound of chains shattering cause all of the spiders to scream. The AI giggles as she responds,

“I forgot to mention that the chemical not only increases aggression, but also physical strength. In humans, they would just be slightly stronger than normal, but in Miss (Y/N)’s case…”

The rest couldn’t hear what else Lyla had to say as Hobie started booking it down the hall with a pissed off Sunny hot on his heels. Jessica frantically tries to undo Miguel’s restraints as he cries for his lover to come back.

Peter sighs and asks, “How much longer until the antidote is ready?”

“I can rush it for you. Should take another 3 hours hopefully.”

“Do you have any tranquilizers?” Peter asks as a now free Miguel tries to chase down his angry lover.

“No~”

~~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Hola, mi niña bonita, ¿cómo te sientes? - Hello, my pretty girl, how are you feeling?

Mi amor, por favor cálmate... No está tratando de ser grosero…- My love, please calm down...He's not trying to be rude…

Siento que puedo enfrentarme a un toro ahora que he visto tu hermoso rostro, mi amor.- I feel like I can take on a bull now that I've seen your beautiful face, my love.

~~~~~~~~~~

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#miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #fanfic #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Purple Houses and Paranorman

(Single!Dad Eddie Munson x Single!Mom Reader)

Summary: Eddie asks you and Oliver to go to a special screening of Paranorman with him and Charlotte. WK: 3.9K

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Warnings: Basically none, modern AU, mention of a dead family member (readers aunt), There’s like one second where Eddie is checking reader out and his thoughts get a little carried away, readers son has a speech delay, reader is implied to be alternative and have tattoos but I don’t talk about it much besides her outfits, fluff fluff and moreee fluff. But as always my blog is 18+MNDI

A/N: So I might have gotten a tiny bit carried away talking about the house, it wasn’t something I originally planned out but it kind of just came to me as I was writing, I’d like for them to all live there together eventually. I’m trying to make it a lil slow burn but I suck at that so hard so we will see how much longer I can go without making them kiss LOL. Also I said these were blurbs and this is almost 4K sooo Oopsie. As always my requests for these guys are open and feedback is greatly appreciated.💜💚

Your phone vibrated and the screen lit up, the contact reading “Eddie🎸🦇” you smiled to yourself before pushing the green accept button.

“Helloooo Edward, what can I do for you on this fine autumn morning?”

“Hey weirdo” He let out a laugh, one you’ve grown to find comfort in over these last few weeks. “What are you and Oli up to today? The theater is doing a special showing of Paranorman and I was wondering if you guys would wanna go with us later?”

“What’s in it for me?” You joked.

“Ummm you get to spend time with your bestfriend and do something Halloween related, which I know you love.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re my bestfriend.” You laughed, knowing he definitely had become the best friend you have but still wanting to fuck with him a little.

“Me? I’m talking about Charlotte, you are her new self proclaimed bestfriend and also you do her hair better than me, apparently. Can’t believe my own daughter likes you more than me.” He sighed dramatically and you could practically see him faux fainting.

“Awww I love her, she’s my new bestfriend too. Verdict is still out on her dad though.”

“WOW I can’t believe you would betray me like this, I thought you loved me.”

“Don’t worry, you’re better at playing monster than me apparently sooo I think we are even. What time do you want to go?”

“I guess we can call it even, for now. How about around two? Gives us a few hours to get the goblins fed and ready to go.”

Jokingly teasing each other had become the norm for you and Eddie, easily falling into flirty banter since the day you met.

“Okay, perfect.”

“Want to meet us there? Or I can come get you guys and we can ride together.”

Something you had noticed about Eddie is how perceptive he was. He picked up early on that you’d avoid going places you’d have to drive especially if you’d never been there before, which in those first few weeks was essentially everywhere. So he always offered to pick you and Oliver up whenever you all did something together.

“Could you pick us up? If that’s okay.”

“I wouldn’t have offered it if it wasn’t okay, babe.” Babe, was something he only started calling you recently but it made you giddy every time.

He was also constantly reassuring you that he didn’t mind helping you when you needed it. He knows how hard it is to do this alone so he was always offering to do anything to make things easier on you. Even if it was something as small as picking you and your son up for a movie. At first you declined his help every chance he offered, used to doing things alone, not wanting to burden him. But he’s told you over and over how he doesn’t mind, that it makes him happy to be able to help you.

So who could blame you if you had developed a not so small crush on him? You tried not to, but he was all kind gestures, big brown eyes and chunky jewelry. So how could you not? It’s not your fault it was like he was your dream come to life. You weren’t positive but you were pretty sure he felt the same. Hugs started lingering just a little longer than they should have, hands started brushing when you followed behind your rowdy children on evening walks, the cute little pet names he would always call you that made your stomach flip, the kisses on the cheek you had started giving each other.

So after you got Oli ready you gave him his tablet and spent a little extra time getting ready. You did your hair in your favorite style and added just a tiny bit more makeup than usual, both turned out perfect. But now you were standing in front of your open closet, staring at it like the perfect outfit was just going to jump out at you.

The October chill had set in throughout Hawkins, the days still sunny but the breeze cold, not quite bone chilling like in mid December, but cold enough that you needed some layers. You were also going to be sitting in a movie seat for two hours even if they were the reclining ones you didn’t want to spend that amount of time sitting in jeans.

After trying on several outfits, you ended up deciding on a black long sleeve skater dress, the neckline scooped just enough to make your boobs look nice. You layered some thigh high socks and leg warmers before pulling on your boots. You grabbed a plain zip-up just in case you got cold in the theater and gave yourself a once over in the mirror.

You couldn’t deny the fact that you looked good, and you hoped Eddie would think so too. He had never seen you this dolled up, usually wearing more comfortable clothes and simpler make-up.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, a mixture of emotions going through you. Excitement to see Eddie was in the forefront, but the nervousness was lingering in the background. Are you reading things wrong? Is it smart to get involved with someone that your son has already started to form an attachment to? You took a deep breath, checking your hair one last time before shaking your head as if it would erase those feelings like an etch-a-sketch, willing yourself to enjoy something for once.

When you decided you were as ready as you’d ever be you got on Oliver’s shoes and jacket before grabbing your purse and taking him outside on the porch to wait on the swing. You smiled to yourself as you looked at the porch you spent many summers drinking lemonade with your aunt. The various wind chimes that hung moons and stars and zodiac symbols chime in the mid October breeze.

You loved this house, it belonged to your late aunt who left it to you in her will when she died. It was beautiful but eccentric, kind of like your aunt herself. It stuck out among the many suburban style houses in your neighborhood. It was a late 1800s Victorian style home, with beautiful arches and various types of windows, a wrap-around porch, and a beautiful backyard with a garden that your aunt cared for until the day she couldn’t anymore. You and Eddie had planted pumpkins back there with the kids in her honor, she’s the reason you love them so much after all. They were almost ready to be harvested and carved, a Halloween movie on in the background and the smell of pumpkin seeds baking in the oven.

But what really made the house stand out was that your aunt had it painted a deep purple color, the shutters and roof black, matching the porch. The door was black but it had a beautiful stained glass window in the middle of it, depicting the same kind of crescent moon and stars that dangled from the wind chimes. Inside there were four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living and family room that held a mixture of her old and your new furniture, and your favorite part, the kitchen. It had been updated since the house was built, but still held a vintage feel. Your aunt had the cabinets and drawers all painted the same purple as the outside of the house, wallpaper with those same moons and stars adorned the walls. The only modern thing about it being the fact that she had replaced all the appliances with shiny new ones.

It was a lot of space, too much for just you and Oliver. But you couldn’t bring yourself to sell it, some of your happiest memories were spent here. So you decided you’d take this opportunity and get the fresh start you’ve been needing. You didn’t have much keeping you back home anyways. You and your mom weren’t particularly close but when she found out your aunt left you everything, not just the house, but her money too, she was furious.

Now that you’ve settled you know it was the right choice. Oli started school and despite his struggles with communication he was thriving in class, you got a job at a local diner where you made pretty decent tips, you had this beautiful house, and last but not least you had Eddie and Charlotte.

•

A large smile stretched across Eddie’s face when he turned down your long driveway and saw you and your son sitting on the porch. He loves your house, he used to drive by it when he would deal to the rich kids in highschool and always admired it. But when you stood up his jaw actually dropped. He had never seen you in a dress before, you always looked beautiful but right now you were fucking radiant.

He got out of his SUV to help you get Oliver’s seat in and you were even more breathtaking up close.

“Wow. You look… wow.” Eddie shamelessly lets his eyes wander your form for a moment, his cheeks turning red when he reaches that little sliver of skin between your socks and your dress.

“Thanks, babe. You’re not so bad yourself, I guess.” You repeated his words from earlier back to him and he cackled.

“Ha ha veeerry funny, brat.” He stuck his tongue out at you.

“Reaaaal mature, nerd.”

“Hi Eddie!” Oli ran over to hug Eddie’s legs and smiled triumphantly, having recently gotten his new friend's name down.

“Hey little dude! How’s a going?” He gave your son a wide smile while he affectionately ruffled his hair.

“Where Char?” He tilted his head to the side, more concerned with where his friend was than answering Eddie’s question.

“She’s in the car buddy, you wanna to say hi to her while I get your seat in?”

He just nodded, grabbing your hand and dragging you around to the other side of the car where Charlotte was, knowing he’s not supposed to walk down the driveway without holding hands.

Eddie couldn’t help but watch you walk away, internally groaning when he saw that same sliver of skin from the back. The dress is long enough to cover your ass, but not by much and he can’t help but imagine flipping the skirt of it up and-

“Eddie? Are you gonna put the seat in the car or are you just gonna stand there and ogle me?”

You couldn’t help but tease him when you turned around and he was just standing there holding the car seat with his mouth hanging open.

“Huh? Oh! Uh, yeah- yeah sorry.” His face turned beat red and he turned his back to put the seat in to try and hide it, but you saw it. At least you know he thinks you look cute, mission accomplished.

Once the kids were all buckled and ready to go you got in the passenger seat and flashed him a smile. He turned towards you and reached under your seat, his leather jacket covered arm going across your thighs where your dress rode up. You tried to act like your heart wasn’t beating a thousand miles a minute whenever you were this close to him, hopefully succeeding.

But Eddie caught the tiniest little squeak that came out of the back of your throat when he first touched you. Feeling satisfied with himself that he had any kind of affect on you because you made him feel like he was in highschool with a crush on a girl he didn’t have a chance with. But you were constantly showing him that maybe he did have a chance with you.

He pulled a bag from under your seat, plopping it in your lap.

“Me and the princess stopped at the dollar store and got your guys’ favorite candy. I figured since the movie theater candy is like crazy expensive we could get the candy before and get popcorn and drinks at the theater.” He said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal that he remembered you and your son’s favorite treats. But to you, it was. Every single time you saw him he gave you another reason to fall for him.

“Wow, thank you Eds. That’s really thoughtful of you.” You smiled at him sweetly, the kind of smile that made him feel like he was going to melt into a puddle in the driver's seat.

“Of course Darlin’ anything for my favorite dude and my favorite girl.” He smiled back at you, the kind of smile that reminds you of sunshine that you wanted to bottle up for a rainy day.

He put the car in reverse and of course he had to put his hand on the headrest of the passenger seat while he pulled out. You just wanted to tilt your head up and kiss his wrist where his jacket rode up. You wanted to be close to him so badly, you’ve been trying to find the courage to ask him to hang out, just the two of you but you keep psyching yourself out. You didn’t have anyone to watch Oli anyways and if he wanted that he never hinted at it. Always suggesting things for you to do with the kids. Which you love, having someone think of both of you the way Eddie does is something you’ve never really had. But what you wouldn’t give for just a few hours alone with him, no kids, just being yourselves. But maybe he didn’t want that?

Eddie glanced over at you as he turned onto your street, you were staring out the window, chewing your lip that way you always did when you were thinking hard about something. Usually something that was upsetting you, so he did what any good friend would do and reached across the center counsel to grab your hand.

You whipped your head around at the feeling of his larger hand engulfing yours.

“You okay?” He ran his thumb over the top of it before intertwining your fingers. He had never held your hand before, and you felt your insides grow warm at the feeling. His palm was surprisingly soft against yours, but his fingers were calloused from years of playing guitar and working on cars. The juxtaposition of rough and smooth was more soothing than you ever could’ve imagined.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just got lost in thought for a second. Thank you for checking on me.”

You smiled at him sweetly, squeezing his hand in yours. Expecting him to let go after he knew you were alright but he just held on tighter. One hand on the wheel, the other in yours, hidden from the kids by the center console.

“DADDYYYYY! I want an icee, a blue oneeee!” Charlotte said in a sing-song voice.

“Okay baby, we can get a blue icee.” Eddie smiled at her in the rearview mirror and she clapped her hands in triumph.

“Oli, do you want an icee?” His eyes moved over to the other side of the backseat as he addressed your son.

“Yuuppp! Blueeee!” He said in the same sing song tone as his friend. He was always parroting her and saying things she said back to her and it warms your heart. He’s come so far with his communication skills since he started school and started spending so much time with Charlotte, you couldn’t be more proud of him.

Eddie held your hand up until he parked the car and took the keys out of the ignition. Squeezing it before placing a quick and sneaky kiss on the back of your hand, giving you one of those goofy smiles you love so much and exiting the car like he didn’t just make a bomb filled with butterflies go off in your stomach.

You got the kids out of their seats and walked into the movie theater, Charlotte and Oliver insisting on being in the middle so they could hold hands too. Eddie showed the guy at the ticket booth the barcode on his phone that had the tickets on it since he insisted on paying for everyone.

“Icee! Icee! Blue!” Oli jumped up and down as he pointed at the machine spinning the different colored slushy ice.

“Yeah baby, I’m gonna get you an Icee.” You chuckled at how cute his excitement was, letting him drag you toward the concession stand with Eddie and Charlotte in tow.

You ordered two small and two large blue Icees and a large popcorn. You go to pull your wallet out of your purse to pay since Eddie bought the tickets but you feel a large hand on yours, pushing it back down.

He already had his card out before you even open your purse, handing it to the woman behind the counter.

“Eddie… you paid for the tickets, it's the least I can do.”

“Nope. My treat.” A triumphant smile spread across his lips and he sent you a wink.

He always did this, paid for you, drove you, brought you little things he saw in the store that reminded him of you or Oli. It’s not like you didn’t have money, your aunt left you plenty of it and you had your job at the diner. But you knew Eddie did well for himself, he had told you some about his childhood, how he grew up with very little and he didn’t want his daughter to ever feel like he did as a kid. So after he finally graduated he and his uncle opened their own mechanic shop. It was fairly successful, their lower prices and more efficient work times drawing in and catering to the less wealthy people of Hawkins.

“Dada I have to go potty!” Charlotte tugged on Eddie’s hand, pouting toward the bathroom sign that was on the way to your designated theater.

“Alright sweets, let’s go potty. Oli and your bestie will go get our seats.”

She shook her head and pouted, looking at you with big round brown eyes, asking without verbalizing, something you’ve became an expert at understanding after having Oliver. Ever since you had all started going on outings together more often she had been asking you to take her to the bathroom. She had hardly ever gone in the girls room, always having to have her dad take her, so after you took her that first time, she always asked.

“Do you want me to take you potty honey?” You smiled at her sweetly, titling your head toward the bathroom.

“Yes! Please! I like going to the girl potty room!”

“Alright little dude, looks like it’s you and me with the snacks and the seats. They have lady business to attend to.” He grabbed the drink carrier from your hand, guiding Oli to walk in front of him into the bright colored double doors that led to dimly lit theater.

You stood outside the stall while Charlotte used the restroom, “standing guard” as she called it.

“Have you ever seen Paranorman before?” You asked her as you helped her wash her hands.

“No but my daddy said it’s a lot like Coraline and I love Coraline so I hope I will like this one too!” She smiled at you in the mirror.

“I’m sure you will, Oli loves it!” You helped her dry her hands before leading her out of the bathroom and into the theater to find the boys.

“Mommmmyyyy! Sit!” Oliver patted the seat on his left, signaling for you to sit down next to him. Charlotte sat to his right and to her right sat Eddie.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to sit by him before you even got here. But he felt like he was a world away with two reclining seats between you, it made you miss the old movie seats, at least then you’d be close enough to reach behind the kids to hold his hand over their heads. You missed his hand in yours the minute he let go, it still felt empty now even as you held the large cup filled with sugary blue slush in your hand.

The movie went as smoothly as it could’ve with two five year olds. You had to shush them both more than a few times and twenty minutes in, Oliver had to go to the bathroom, Eddie took him, he liked going in the boys bathroom just as much as Char liked going in the girls.

When it ended you corralled the kids back into the car, Eddie offering to drive through McDonald’s on the way to your house to get the kids happy meals and they cheered.

The ride was filled with small talk, jokes, and all four of you singing along to different songs on your playlist because Eddie even let you pick the music in his car. He never let anyone pick the music, it didn’t hurt that you had good taste.

When you were a few minutes from your house, just like before Eddie reached over to grab your hand. You took it instantly, intertwining your fingers and looking over at him with a shy smile.

“I had a lot of fun today, thanks for coming with us.” He glanced over at you at a stop sign, his smile sweet and his eyes filled with affection.

“I did too, thank you for inviting us. Next time I’m paying though.” You ran your thumb along his, the soft gesture contradicting the teasing tone in your voice.

“Yeah, we will see about that sweetheart.” He sent you a wink as he turned onto your street, giving your hand one last squeeze before getting out of the car to help you with the seat.

He got Oliver and his seat out of his car, you grabbed your son's hand and he held onto the car seat as he walked you a few feet to your door. He sits the seat down on the porch before turning to Oli and asking him for a high five, he happily obliged, even offering to bump knuckles with him in return.

“I really did have fun today, I love hanging out with you guys, it’s nice… to have someone else to do things with.” Eddie rocked on the balls of his feet with a bashful look on his face.

“It is nice, I’m glad we have you guys. I love spending time with you, both of you.” You were sure the smile on your face was lovesick and dopey but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care. “The pumpkins are almost ready to harvest, would you guys want to come over and carve them next weekend? We can put a Halloween movie on, make some popcorn, make a whole thing of it.”

“I’d love that, and I’m sure she would too. It’s a date.” His eyes widen as he realizes his choice of words and you can tell he's about to correct himself so you cut him off.

“It’s a date.” You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug that he immediately reciprocates, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, his chin resting on the top of your head. You give him a final squeeze before pulling away and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight Eddie, get home safe.”

He was beat red with a flustered look on his face, you had kissed him on the cheek a few times now, but something about this felt different, more intimate.

“Goodnight sweetheart, sleep tight little dude!!” He waved at Oli before giving your forearm a squeeze and walking back towards his car. You sigh as you watch him drive away, knowing you’ll be counting down the days until next weekend.

Taglist: @comic-harley @yujyujj @witchwolflea @ali-r3n @bmunson86 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @sheneedsrocknroll92 @melodymunson

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagines #Eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson series #being weird is cool #Dolly writes

[ecoamerica]

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[dreamingcricket]

Hi Cricket! I soaked up your Tav/Halsin snippet, about them being injured and shrugging off Halsin's advances, it's absolutely sweet! I kindly request another Tav/Halsin if you don't mind... My Tav is a naive little sunshine and as a tiefling bard loves to dance, sing along and play on her fiddle, I imagine her having skirts that flow around her feet whenever she danced and plays around camp or inn's for some coin. Halsin being in love with Tav and like totally unable to hide it and it's obvious to everyone but Tav themselves. I would love for him to join her dancing, maybe something slower, more intimate with meaningful touches. He loves seeing her so at ease in rare moments like this, even when he's a clumsy dancer. 🤭

I'm so happy people are enjoying these!

Halsin was unused to revelry. 

He couldn't speak for every druid, of course, their kind ranged far and wide in both calling and temperament, but the Emerald Grove was prone only to subdued rites. He certainly couldn't fault the refugees for wanting to release some tension, however, and he wanted to show his appreciation to the small band that had saved him and his grove alike. Her, especially. 

And of course she was at the center of it all.

She reminded him of a celestial center, the hub of a wheel around which everything else turned. She glowed in the firelight, all orange and gold and purple, skirts flying as she fiddled. Music seemed to follow her everywhere. She danced like water, one pattern to the next without pause. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

“You’re staring.” Shadowheart was difficult to read, as she appeared behind him, goblet in hand. He couldn't tell if her observation was meant to be an admonishment or not.

“I know.” He was usually reserved, if not stoic, and his developing feelings bubbling to quickly to the surface was alarming, but it would do no good to deny it.

"We all know. You're not subtle, Halsin." 

His attention was drawn back to Tav as she laughed. The sound was like the sun on his face.

Shadowheart followed his gaze. “Nobody blames you, Halsin. But she should know.”

“I don’t want to rush her.”

“Under any other circumstances, I’d agree. But we’re running out of time, and…” She shakes her head, clearing the morbid thought. “Just… everyone knows.

She finishes her number with a bow, and yields the stage to Alfira, who begins to pluck a lively tune. Her eyes lock onto Halsin’s and she bounds over, holding out her hands.

“Come, dance with me?”

He could feel the eyes of the camp upon him. Knowing. Halsin coughed. “I’m not much of a dancer. I may trample your feet.”

“That doesn't matter!” She giggled, and leaned in conspiratorially. “Everyone’s too drunk to notice anyway.”

Suddenly, she was pulling on his hand, tugging him to the wide patch of dirt that served as a dancing circle in the middle of camp. His heart hammered against his ribs, and it wasnt from embarrassment. 

He could vaguely recollect the steps, some hazy memories of his youth floated back to him as they began to whirl. A tavern dance, not refined in the slightest, but light and fast, more momentum than intent. While there was something to be said for his particular brand of ursine grace, it didn't lend well to dancing, and he let her lead. Her hands were so small in his, and she flitted around him, almost birdlike. 

“You’ll have to slow down, Tav, I’m not as young as I used to be.” 

She giggled, twirling under his arm. “I think you’re a fine dancer.” 

“The wine has apparently gone to your head, as well.”

“Perhaps. Or maybe it's just good company.”

The music slowed, and their pace changed. They circled each other, hand in hand. She held his gaze, not defiantly, but with tender trust. He hoped beyond hope he wasn't reading too far into her gaze. 

There was an ease to her here he hadn't seen before. The weight she carried throughout the battle at the goblin camp (and how fierce she had been, she had torn through their ranks like a diving hawk) had seemingly lifted. She wasn't a warrior, her hands were gentle as they gripped his, and so small. He loved her already, but even more so like this, when she was unburdened.

He wondered if this was what she was usually like, sans tadpole. There’s a terrible pang in his chest at the thought: that her days were numbered, that she might be doomed. It's quickly followed by a wash of righteous fury. It wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let it. 

She stepped in close. Their palms pressed together, chests nearly touching, and he nearly stopped breathing. She was so close, if he only leaned down, their lips would touch. He was halfway to her, his rational brain screaming to stop and his instincts screaming to kiss her until she couldn't breathe.

And then she pulled away, dropping into a curtsy. The song was over. 

There was already a  buzzing flock of people vying for her attention. Halsin released her hand and bowed out of the center of camp, excusing himself as she leaped onto a rock to begin a new number. 

It had been a long, long time since anyone had made him feel this way. 

He rolled into the grass, reveling in the coolness against his heated skin, and prepared to trance. 

Halsin smelled her before he saw her. Lilac and honeysuckle and musk, and the scent of the open road. She moved to lay beside him in the grass, and whispered, "Can I join you? Everyone is quite drunk, Karlach is sleeping in my tent for some reason, and I’m getting really tired."

"Of course."

He didn't expect her to nestle into his side, his heart began to hammer in his chest, his skin became hot. 

She gazed upwards, and pointed into the sky, at a smattering of stars. "That's the huntsman." Her hand drops back down. "At least I think it is. We didn't have much time for stargazing at home, and the city lights are so bright. But here? I feel I can see every single one."

Halsin pointed upward himself, “The… spine of the dragon? I realize… I don’t know exactly how to say it in common, that’s as close as I can get.”

She hummed. “I can see it. With the wings, there.” She gestured lazily, and he became aware of how close she was for the second time that night. He was less intimidated by his own feelings here, without the watchful eyes of the party, and only the music of night time insects, the grass rising around them like a shelter. She turned her face toward him, blinking slowly, and clearly holding back a yawn. “I think… I’ll just sleep here.”

“That’s fine by me.”

The rhythm of her breathing slows and evens out, and he brushes a stray lock of hair away from her cheek, running his thumb over the apple of her cheek. 

Tomorrow, she would take up her burdens again. She would brave her future with the noble ferocity he had come to admire, he was sure, but he would miss this carefree night. 

Whatever it took, he’d ensure she had many more to come.

#baldurs gate 3 #halsin x tav #halsin #bg3 x reader #bg3 #halsin romance #ask

[greenscreen-dress]

Hhheeeeheheh I love these skins so much I CANNOT wait to see them in-video... But until then here's my ranking of them, long rambly full thoughts below.

Also here's the tierlist!

Ultimate Slayage: no discussion these 2 are the best. Every single one of Sausage's skins are a smash hit & this one is no exception, it's just so well done. The eye make-up the little tied shirt thing the HUGE extravagant sunflower, contrasted by those big clomping boots... The GENDER of it all aough I love him.

& Pix of course. Pix my guy just STUNNING. Idk about the other skins but this one is very likely made by Pix himself (bc of a thing he tweeted) & that makes it all the more impressive bc it's just?? So good??? The floor-length the off-the-shoulder sleeves leading into long gloves(?), the corset-y bits with golden buttons or lacing up the front, the BRIGHT BLUE bodice bits which (based off the colour) are definitely Ancient Capitollian Dodo feathers or inspired by them at least... It's just a masterpiece. The only comment I might have is maybe make sure you match your foundation right, Pix... But I've also decided he's in a full white lace/mesh bodysuit under the dress so. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Surprised &/or Delighted: honestly this category fits all of them purely bc I don't think anyone expected these ^^. Oli & Jimmy are in here specifically because, while they're not my ultimate brain-frothing faves, these dresses are extremely good adaptations/elevations of their regular skins— Oli's especially looks so natural on him bc it's in exactly the same glitzy faux-medieval style as his bard outfit. The purple is a staple colour with him, fits the royalty theme, & somehow looks both elegant and like a Halloween costume with its bright shade & tinsel-like gold trims. It's silly and fantastic and VERY Oli Orionsound. Cannot wait for him to play the fainting damsel-in-distress at every occasion <3

Jimmy's is plainer but just as faithful to his sheriff skin: off-the-shoulder sleeves appear to be a theme with these skins and they look amazing on everyone, Katherine is so epic if this was her Royal doing. Jimmy looks AMAZING in a long jean(?) skirt & the slit just elevates it even more... I am beginning to notice I have a Thing for long skirts and big boots ^^;. This is going to look stunning with the hat, and just plain adorable at Jimmy's current height.

Fits the brief: ok so these skins are fantastic and I LOVE the colour on both of them, but there's not as much tying them to their Empires... fWhip's goblin skin is so intricate with that embroidered waistcoat & bright primary colours so it's a shame to lose that, though the plain red looks very elegant on him & the shape of the dress stands out from the other skins in a very fun way. It's definitely between the 2 categories and I will likely be swayed by the first bit of fanart I come across for it, but for now: yeah.

Joey's is the opposite case, where it fits the brief and the simplicity of it not only looks good but makes some sense (semi-broke pirate usually wearing tattered sailor's garb). I just wish it had gone a bit further to match Joey's big personality. The slit and shape is lovely (as is the neckliiii— wait where does that neckline end? /pos), but what about some more gold, or prismarine accents? Fishnet gloves, or stockings striped like his shirt? It just feels like it could go much further, & maybe fanart will push it there for me. Also I'm removing points for no dress + epic pirate boots /j

Expected more: oh this skin... Yeah I'm not blown away by it. The colours that are present are very nice but there just aren't enough of them, and the shape... The cutaways at the hip are very nice, but Girl. That is a tank top. & for some reason the skirt refuses to register as one in my brain despite the pretty gradient. With the vibes of Chromia I'm picturing Scott in something shorter and frillier, high-heeled boots, feathered hat and cape— real Barbie and the 3 Musketeers kind of vibe basically. I need to draw that. Definitely more colours though, that's the first step. Bi-coloured bodice, tie-dye skirt with petticoats, a flower crown, something!! Maybe there's custom items involved to accessorise, maybe this is a temporary self-made dress while waiting on a commission, idk but I'm going to need to see some out-of-this world fanart to salvage this skin as it is. :/ Sorry Scott, sashay away.

And finally...

Joel: Joel. Joel Smallish "Massive" Beans that is a recycled MCC skin I am SURE of it. Joel this is so lazy and stupid and perfectly on-brand I love it I hate it this is peak Wish/Aliexpress cosplay. Keep it up you bastard (I still want to see / draw him in proper femme greek garb. But alas).

ANYWAY.

Big long ramble, thankye for reading this whole thing & feel free to make your own lists / yell at me for interpreting these pixels wrong. No matter my minor gripes the fact we have these looks at all and go insane over them is so so SO fun ^^

#HOOH BOY this took me an hour to make the tierlist / type out my onions lol #but these looks are ✨worth it✨ #esmp s2 #empires s2 #empires smp #esmpblr #empiresblr #esmp ensemble #namemc spoilers #fwhip #joey graceffa #mythicalsausage #oli orionsound #joel smallishbeans #scott smajor #jimmy solidaritygaming #pixlriffs #WOOOH. LOTS OF TAGS ^^; #eMerambles

[shannaraisles]

Still Yours - for @50sjello

For @50sjello, who has been incredibly patient - this has been sitting in my finished folder for almost a month, due to various of my own issues, but finally, here it is! Thank you so much, lovely!

Still Yours

The mood in the camp was ... awkward this morning, to say the least. It isn’t every night you wake up flooded with physical ecstasy, only to discover it isn’t actually yours, and you’re feeling it secondhand from the nominal leader of your group as they couple with a mindflayer in their shared dreamscape. Sylvana was fairly sure none of the party was ever going to look at them the same way again. 

“Well, that was quite the wet dream we all shared last night, wasn’t it?” Astarion declared in a surprisingly innocent display of avuncular good humour. “I do hope it doesn’t become a regular thing. I prefer my intimacies ... intimate.”

The look that flickered in the direction of a certain purple tent spoke volumes of both judgement and unexpected concern, underscored by the faintest hint of a smirking smile as Karlach took up the theme.

“Gods, I never want to look at another octopus ever again,” she said, shuddering as her flames intensified for a moment. “That was ... no. Nope, I am not thinking about it.”

“It was a very stimulating evening,” Shadowheart interjected, straightening from her morning stretch. “Who would have thought the Emperor would have such creativity when it came to such an unconventional coupling?”

Face flaming red, Sylvana focused on fastening their bedroll, trying to ignore the spirited debate now being undertaken by three members of their party, all of whom were dying in equally creative ways in the secret, hidden pathways of their mind. A prickle of fur brushed their calf, drawing their attention to the sharp eyes of a tressym standing entirely too close for comfort. Nothing can judge you for decisions made in the heat of the moment quite like a feline with a bone to pick. 

“Good night, was it?” Tara asked, and Sylvana only just suppressed the flinch at the ice in the tressym’s tone. 

The young rogue steeled themselves, setting down the bedroll to turn and face the closest thing to a mother Gale of Waterdeep had handy. Tara’s yellow eyes were hard in the morning stillness, more than a little resentment stirring within the magical feline for the harm done to her young Mr Dekarios in the night. Sylvana swallowed, taking a moment to clear their thoughts and their throat before addressing the acid remark.

“I know I have made a terrible mistake,” they informed Tara. “I know it’s worse because everyone is aware of it. But the shockwaves of that mistake are between myself and Gale, and while I appreciate that you love him and want only to protect him, he is a grown man and we should be able to discuss this like adults, without others inserting themselves into our dynamic.”

The tressym considered them for an excruciating moment, that sharpness in that gaze almost enough to draw blood. Then she ruffled her feathers, her tail rippling from straight to just slightly curved.

“Then I suggest you begin this adult discussion of yours,” she said primly. “Mr Dekarios is a great man, but when it comes to matters of the heart, he is a teenaged nightmare with all the social skills of an erotically charged goblin. Good luck to you.”

Even as Sylvana raised their brows at this rather brutal description of the man they loved, the two of them heard a choked objection abruptly cut off from within the tent. Ah. Well, that made sense of Tara’s comment on his emotional maturity in this matter. Apparently hiding in his tent and listening to everyone else was Gale’s idea of dealing with this. Sylvana could not entirely blame him. He must have decided he was being set aside yet again by the beloved of his heart, something he had still not truly come to terms with when it came to Mystra. 

With Tara flicking her tail and heading toward the campfire to ply her wiles on Wyll for breakfast, Sylvana straightened their shoulders and ducked through the thick purple fabric. Their eyes found Gale near instantly, stumbling back from the curtain they had just stepped through as though he had not expected them to make their entrance so soon after speaking with Tara. His eyes were red, betraying tears he would no doubt be horrified to know were so easily discerned in his weary face; his gaze pinned to Sylvana’s face with wide-eyed trepidation. 

Yet before Sylvana could so much as open their mouth, he held up a hand to still any words that might be said. 

“If this is to be the end of us, then land the blade sharply, I beg you,” he said, each word ringing with a certainty that could only have come from practice since he had woken. “No excuses, no softening of the blow. Tell me, once and for all, if this truly is the end of the love I have come to trust so wholly since we met.”

Sylvana narrowed their eyes slightly at these last words, not particularly liking the attempt at emotional manipulation but understanding that, as Tara said, he was emotionally an angsty teenager still. 

“It’s the last thing I want, Gale,” they said, voice trembling just a little now they were faced with the consequences of their curious interlude the night before. “But if we are to continue, we need to talk about what happened last night.”

“You chose to betray my trust with a mindflayer,” he snapped. “In a way that broadcast my humiliation to the entire camp, to these people who have become our - my - friends. People who know my history have seen me cast aside a second time, for what? For sport?” His gaze hardened as he stared at her, brows furrowing in pain. “Tell me it meant nothing.”

“I can’t do that.”

The answer was honest. And in all honesty, they could not blame him for the faint cry of misery that left his lips, the way his knees seemed to buckle and toss him down upon the makeshift bed he had not yet packed away. Sylvana forced themselves to step closer, to crouch, to kneel at his side, not daring to offer a touch in consolation. They only had words, but it was a language that this man certainly understood. 

“Let me tell you why,” they said, each word soft but firm in the pain-filled silence of the tent. “And when I am done, if you still wish nothing more to do with me, then I will accept that. I have wronged you, but not with malicious intent.”

Knees drawn to his chest, hands clasped and twisting anxiously together, Gale drew in a staggered breath, seeming to force away fresh tears as he nodded. Whatever else happened now, he needed to know. Taking the invitation, Sylvana twisted themselves to sit beside him on the padded bedroll, staring at the star-filled constellation of Mystra they had never once asked him to remove from his sleeping place. 

“I don’t know everything about you,” they began, careful to keep their tone light, conversational. No blame or implication of guilt; nothing to provoke an emotional reaction from him. “I don’t know every fleeting thought that pulses through your mind; every impulse you restrain, every judgement you make on those we pass by or interact with. I only see what you choose to show me, and I love every part of that man, even the parts you are perhaps ashamed of.”

They felt him shudder beside them, felt the unspoken acknowledgement that no mortal truly knew another in the way they were describing. Felt the realisation of where this was going even before they continued to explain. 

“The Emperor knows everything about me,” they told him. “All of it. Not just what I choose to show, but everything I intentionally hide. Every unkind thought, every urge toward pain and destruction, everything that I know would sour the affection of the people I love toward me ... it knows all of it. Can you truly blame me for doing as I did, at a moment when I felt seen in a way no one has ever seen me before? For just those few moments, I could finally understand why you remain so devoted, so loyal, so tender toward Mystra. She knows you, the way he knows me. And yes, perhaps I wanted to even the score in that regard. Perhaps I knew it would hurt you, the way it hurts me each time you say her name with such fondness. The way it hurts to have to see her celestial face each time I come to you in privacy. But am I so unforgivable?”

There was a long silence, still wracked with pain but now peppered with understanding, the words he loved and needed so much guiding him down the path to truly understanding the why of what had gone before. 

“It felt ... clinical, to me,” he said finally, his tone calm, almost detached. “I could feel your curiosity, your physical pleasure. Where was your heart, Sylvana?”

“In your hands. Always.”

They felt him suck in a breath, a sudden change in the turmoil radiating from him softening to their words as this commitment was made. A moment later, his fingers found theirs, hesitant but warm, daring to cross the divide between them. 

“Had it been me in your place,” he said, each word tremulous but firm, “I do not think I could have gone through with it. Not that the temptation would not have been great, but ... I have been set aside by those I adore too often to willingly do it to another. To you.”

For the first time since waking, Sylvana felt the shard of pain they had been holding at bay slice deep. They knew this, of course they did. Some things could not be retracted or forgotten. But perhaps they could be forgiven?

Gale’s fingers tightened about theirs, drawing their palm to rest over his heart. 

“My heart is yours,” he said, whispering painfully into the stillness. “Still yours. Always yours.”

Sylvana tilted their head toward him, finally finding his eyes on them with the by now familiar adoration back where it had always been. An adoration that was now just a touch guarded, but still there.

“Can we come back from this?” they asked, eyes burning with the urge for tears they did not feel they had earned the right to shed. “Can you forgive me my weakness?”

His brow pressed to theirs, and they shuddered together, each one fighting back those tears, knowing that such a display here and now would do neither of them any good. Hands gripped hands, breath mingled in staggering gusts, both wizard and rogue breathing together to eradicate the harsh reality of their painful morning. 

“If you can forgive me for mine,” Gale said finally, lifting his eyes to theirs. “I have held onto the memory of her affection when I should have given you all of my focus. I swear this to you, my beloved heart, I will let her go. And when the time comes that the Emperor has no further need of us, I will stand by your side as you let him go.”

The relief was palpable - audible, even, as they heard Astarion suddenly declare that the fun he had been expecting wasn’t even going to start now. Sylvana let out a rueful laugh, joined by a wry chuckle from Gale as they wrapped themselves in each other’s arms, squeezing close to chase away the last of the uncertainty the morning had wrought.

“As long as you are mine, I could face anything at your side,” Gale murmured, at last pressing a tender kiss to his lips. 

“I’m yours,” was their answer, heartfelt and unshakeable. “I’m still yours.”

#50sjello #fanfiction #niamh does commissions #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #oc - sylvana #gale x sylvana #angst #hurt/comfort #sfw #emotions #tara the tressym #astarion #karlach #shadowheart #group dynamics #the morning after the night before

[jellymellydraws]

Masterlist ~ <<Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter >>

Astarion x Dark Urge Chapter 15 Rating: E Tags: Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, two guarded people fall in love so hard it makes them stupid

Chapter Summary:

Astarion begs Rose to gossip about Gale's super secret but very obvious condition. She learns that the resident sassy elf might be starting some rumors about her promiscuity. Withers makes his services available, for a fee. With all their scouting and prep done, the whole camp marches towards the Selune Temple.

Whether it was foolishness, desperation, and a deliberate step towards openness: Gale revealed there was something going on with him. Eyes were on her as she departed from the wizard’s tent. The questions were clear on their faces, but she wasn’t going to be the one providing answers. They had to know that much, by now.

Rather than entertain their curiosities, she continued towards the command tent. Aside from distributing the magical items, she still had to prepare her own pack for their visit to the Selune Temple. Anything could happen once they arrived, and she was going to be prepared.

Goblins could be wielding more powerful weapons, or have new mastery of magic. Drow soldiers could be hiding within the shadows. Spiders as large as the arachnid matriarch could be lurking in the rafters. All of this was a possibility. Not to mention: surprises.

Detestable surprises.

Of course, hoping to do this prep in peace was as reasonable as hoping a fish could breathe air. She didn’t need to look up at the shadow which stalked over to her. She already knew who’d be ballsy enough to ask. Only one very nosy and gossip hungry elf: Astarion.

“We all saw that— you can’t honestly believe that you can pretend none of us saw that!”

“I can, and I will,” Rose couldn’t help the small smirk which snuck across her face.

Astarion didn’t understand the concept of ‘minding his own business.’ That was a cute little trick he pulled that morning— toying with his tone to imply he was being coy, stating he heard nothing but sounding like he did. His words spoke true, his tone tricked. 

Clever man. Too bad he sucked at committing to the act when very valuable information came to light. In this case, bright purple lights emanating from their wizard. But oh, his desperation to know what was going on was the sweet confirmation she was waiting for. He had absolutely no clue what happened between her and Gale that morning.

The elf wasn’t going to leave it alone. Not until he knew what the hells he saw. Even if that meant stalking after their leader while she meticulously prepared her pack for the rest of the day. She tried to feign her next steps a few times, looking one direction but turning towards another. He kept up with the fancy footwork, and somehow managed to keep up with her speed.

”Right outside his tent,” the elf continued, “what was that— he hugged the damned things and—“ he crouched next to Rose as she sifted through their potions crate. His voice suddenly hushed, “can he make our stuff more powerful?”

”Wouldn’t that be something?” She sassily answered, stowing a small healing potion in her pack and tying it closed.

“Do you know how useful that would be?”

“I do.” She stood up, turning towards the rest of the camp.

”You still aren’t going to spill, are you?”

”I’m not.”

She playfully bumped her good shoulder into his as she walked by him. He groaned with defeat.

But he continued to follow.

Alright, fine, she’ll give a little. What was a little fun before heading into uncertainty? 

Rose turned on her heel, arms crossed in front of her chest as she faced him. “How about a trade?”

Astarion’s brows raised, before a tempted smirk crossed his features, “A trade? For?”

“Information,” she offered, stepping closer to him as her words softened, “Gale said you have quite the imagination, I’m still intrigued: what exactly did you say to him this morning?”

“Oh, my dear,” his finger hooked beneath her chin, gently tilting her face towards him, hovering closer, “I just asked him if you left him satisfied with…” he pulled away with a devilish smirk, “whatever it was you two did in that tent.”

“Gods above,” she stared incredulously, “you asked him if he fucked me in there?!” 

He burst into laughter. She dragged her hand down her face, only briefly stopping to pinch the bridge of her nose. Her cheeks darkened and she could hear her blood rushing into her ears. This only made him laugh more boisterously. Wasn’t she supposed to be the one having fun, here? 

Mission: failed. Miserably. No— not miserably. 

Laughably.  

“You think I’d be so tactless as to ask outright?” He gasped, remembering to act scandalized once he regained control of his amusement, “Well, maybe I’d ask you, but Gale?! He’s much too, erm,” he circled his hand in the wizard’s direction, searching, but finding nothing but a frustrated tut, “he’s Gale. ” 

She knew she should’ve changed assignments. Of course she should’ve! She knew better— she knew Astarion better!

“But,” the elf continued, much to her delight, “if you weren’t having a quick one in there, what was all the sneaking for?”

”He entrusted me with a private, personal, matter,” she stated with finality, despite his pout. She rolled her eyes playfully towards him, “he’ll divulge the details when he’s ready. Or I’ll do it when I find it necessary for the camp to know.”

“I thought we had a trade,” he continued to poke his lips out, dramatizing his pouting.

”We did, and I kept my end of the bargain. We talked about something private, and I won’t share the specifics. That’s it.” She smirked at him, triumphantly. “Don’t sulk, I’d do the same for you.”

“Hm, I suppose you would ,” his tone shifted. Less playful. “Seems you owe it to me, afterall.”

”What is this about?” Her eyes narrowed warningly. Sounded like their fun was over. 

“Heeding your advice,” Astarion answered plainly, pretending to examine his nail beds, “something about favors?”

“Don’t underestimate the power of a favor owed,” the words felt like an echo as she recited them. 

“Yes, that was it,” he shifted his gaze towards her, lifting a brow at her cautionary expression, “at least you can remember some things.” He hissed his emphasis, not-so-subtly slicing with his words. 

“And what is it that I owe you for?” Her tone dropped out of its playful lilt in response. “Remind me.”

“Oh nothing much,” he began counting on his fingers, “just for keeping quiet about your quirky little bursts of murder. Or perhaps for being so discreet about your memory problems, especially considering how easily Lae’zel reaches for her blade. Oh, and you know, Shadowheart asked me about your scars— I kept that to myself too, in case you were concerned. Quite a debt you’re accumulating, it seems.”

Her eyes widened with disbelief. A speech given several nights ago, a mantra that came to her in the moment that she gave no thought towards. It meant more to him than she intended. He was keeping score in a game she had no intention of playing.

And yet, she had a finger on a piece, in need of completing her next move.

“The favors thing doesn’t apply to the camp,” she clarified.

“Sure it doesn’t!” He scoffed, throwing a hand up flippantly, “you just gave Gale whatever he asked for?”

”Yes!”

”Must not have been so important then, if he doesn’t need to pay you back.”

Her blood simmered as he glanced at her from behind his nose. Through her fury, she saw a slight smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. 

No. No, he would not trick her into whatever the hells he wanted. Whatever outburst he hoped to pull from her, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

”I’m not falling for this,” she finally managed after taking a controlled breath, “I’m not going to tell you what he wanted. I’m not going to tell you what that magical light show was about. I’m not going to tell you anything.”

”And why’s that?” His red eyes burned towards her. The creases of a scowl began to form.

“Because I take care of my team,” she articulated slowly, “no favors required. If you need anything Astarion, I’ve got you; just ask and I’ll see what I can do.”

He stared at her, brows furrowed. Examining her face for traces of a lie, of deceit, of trickery. “Just ask ? Just like that?”

She nodded, “just like that. Exactly like how we got you that violin. If it’s that hard to believe that I’m a woman of my word, that’s your problem. Not mine.”

Waves of expressions washed over his face like phases of the moon. Everything from doubt to relief to disbelief flashed over him. Watching him closely, she was just realizing how weary he looked. Bags had begun forming under his eyes, which in turn made her see how pallor his face was. In short, he looked like hells.

Her eyes couldn’t help but soften. She released another heavy sigh, running a hand through her violet locks as she pushed back her frustration.

“Astarion,” she met his gaze, sincerely, “if you need the score to be settled, we’ll go over who owes whom later. I have to focus on our mission right now.” 

He said nothing as she left towards the edge of camp to finalize prep for the afternoon.

The living corpse marked an open scroll with a quill that never needed to be dipped in ink. No one knew where he found such a thing. He muttered in a voice that forever carried from the beyond, faintly echoing at the end of his words.

“Withers,” Rose announced herself as she approached. He didn’t move his eyes from his task. Frustrating as it was, she became accustomed to it. At least, in some capacity, she knew he was listening. “We’ll be departing soon, can you handle watching over the camp?”

“I shall be here in thy camp, for whenever thou hast need of my services.” A practiced response. 

If his voice didn't hint at his age, his manner of speech could make it obvious. She was sure it was in the range of twenty years to twenty centuries. 

“Services like....watching over the camp?” She pressed, somewhat sarcastically.

But, to be fair...would he actually do that? Someone was ALWAYS back at camp to keep watch, never just Withers. For the most part, he might as well not be there. He haunted the outermost edge of their camp, hardly said a word, and hardly made a sound. If no one else saw him, she’d be convinced it was her mind playing tricks.

There was still time for that. Best not to get too sarcastic, unless she wants to accidentally curse herself further.

Finally, he paused his scribbling. His next line of thought needed his full attention and effort, it seemed.

“A mending of threads between life and death.” He lowered the scroll, eyeing her dully, “that is what I can offer.”

Her brow raised, intrigued, “go on.”

“For a pittance of coin: should thou or any of why compatriots perish, I will cleave soul to body once more.”

Both brows raised. “How much?”

“200 pieces of gold.”

Her eyes would've popped out of her head, had they not been firmly tethered to her skull. Suddenly the price of Astarion's violin felt like copper pieces by comparison. Gods, they haven't even been to a proper storefront! Where in the hell's would they get that amount to do coin?!

This was a joke, right?

It had to be?

This was Withers they were talking about-- where the hell would he even spend that money?!

...this was Withers she was talking to. No, this wasn't a joke.

No, he probably wouldn't answer where the money would go.

“Huh, well...that’s,” she adjusted her stance, trying to make light of the price. “That’s a pittance of an assassin’s contract.”

“I know.”

She shifted her weight again, chewing her lip as she stared at the living corpse. She took a quick glance around, making sure the coast was clear before lowering her voice, “do you know anything about me; my bloodlust?”

“Yes.”

“Keep talking,” she demanded.

“For a pittance of coin--”

“How much?”

“--should thou or any of thy compatriots perish--”

“You already said that--”

“I will cleave body and--”

“Withers.”

Uninterrupted by her attempts to disrupt him, unphased by her frustration, he continued. As she rubbed her temples, a dull thudding started to come on as he completed his speech.

“Are you going to charge me,” she quickly interjected, before he could start another rehearsed line, “if I ask you to watch over the camp?”

“No.”

“Okay,” she sighed with relief. “One last thing, then: if the owlbear shows up, give it some food.” She pulled a small parcel from her pack, passing it along to the animated undead being. 

Wrapped carefully in a piece of torn cloth, were pieces of meat that had been dried overnight while traveling. Some of the last pieces of meat that she had for herself, but untouched. Withers held the package with an open palm, as if he collected payment from her. He said nothing. 

“Well then. That's that.” Rose turned on her heel, ending the interaction on her own terms (seeing as the skeleton wasn’t going to). From her pouch, she removed her journal and a piece of charcoal, opening to a fresh page towards the back, “I guess we’ll…” she muttered as she scribbled words to the page, “start a revival fund…”

The entirety of the camp marched their way through the destroyed village. With their reputation of being True Souls, the guards were eager to ask Rose if she needed anything.

An escort. They needed an escort.

Utilizing one of the goblins, they were able to walk by the guard post with ease. The power of their status continued to intrigue Rose.  A thrill ran through her veins with every passing acknowledgement. ‘Yes True Soul,’ ‘right this way, True Soul,’ ‘the temple is just up ahead, True Soul.’

Very few people would question their reasons for being there, none dared to ask. She could get used to this.

Once they were beyond the guard post, their escort was dismissed and free to return to their position by the village.

”Here we go,” Shadowheart sighed, “walking right into a goblin camp. Most would think we’re insane.”

”Aren’t we?” Astarion hummed with a smirk.

”Speak for yourself.”

Rose couldn’t help but shake her head at the banter behind her. They approached the wooden bridge, leading to a stone entrance that was dirtied over time. Statues of similar form to those in the village guarded each side, both in various states of destruction. The bridge was decorated with spike traps, and whatever railing existed had been torn from their posts.

From the looks of it, the goblins were prepared to destroy this bridge, if they needed to. Her eyes scanned along the top of the wall, looking for signs of guards and other goblins who they needed to be wary of. No one watched atop the walls, despite the bits of activity she saw beyond the doorway. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Rose asked Alfira, who stood beside her clutching the lute in her hands. The bard hadn’t said a word as they got closer, and most of the color drained from her face now that they were mere steps away from the heart of the nest.

“I have to be, right?” She tried to chuckle, weakly. 

As they approached the bridge, their footsteps began to feel heavier. Rose’s heart thundered in her chest, the hairs on her arms began to raise. Reflexively, she grabbed Alfira’s arm, stopping immediately.

“What’s wrong?” The tiefling asked, looking around with caution.

“Hear my Voice,” a feminine voice spoke calmly, steadily. “Obey my command.”

“Shit!” Rose fell to her knees, head aching to the point of her vision blurring.

“Is it the tadpoles again?!” Alfira’s voice started to sound distant.

The others behind her were all brought to the ground, straining to get up or even move.

Then everything went dark.

“These are my Chosen,” the voice continued, echoing around her. “They speak for me.”

A soft light forced her vision to focus on three figures before her. Her chest tightened. Fists clenched. Blood boiled. The longer she stared, the louder her head pounded.

An old hardy elf stood at the front of their formation, looking down at her with an unfeeling expression. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel he was annoyed by her. Disgusted. He wore heavy armor, carrying himself like a commander would. But the voice she heard in her head was feminine, it did not fit this man. His chest piece was illuminated by a colored gem.

Behind the elf was a human man wearing a draped coat adorned in gilded thread. He did not look as old as the elf, but his face was aged by a lifetime of troubles. She saw it in the creases of his brow, the tiredness in his eyes. Old enough to be tired, but young enough to have fire. His smile was easy, sleazy, but oh so charming in a dangerous way. Arrogance oozed from his stance as he looked at her with a cocked brow. Intrigue. Curiosity. Another pang in her chest, joined by a sickly turning in her stomach at the sight of him. She wanted to scream. She couldn’t. Embedded in his shimmering gauntlet was another gem, much like the elf’s, which softly illuminated his features as it glowed.

Opposite of the human was another elven woman-- elven-like, more precisely. Pale was the only descriptor appropriate for her. Pale hair, pale skin, pale eyes. Pale like the corpse she deserved to be . Rose clenched her jaw. The desire to drown this woman in her own blood grew. How beautiful she would be, a blank canvas covered in red. The woman’s grin appeared to grow, burning down onto Rose. Taunting her. She was frozen in her stance, licking the curve of a red blade, which glowed with another gem centered in its hilt. Rose reached towards the blade, but the weight of darkness forced her hand to the ground.

The voice continued.

“Aid them, and you will be worthy to stand beside them. In my presence.”

It was tempting. Delicious. 

Power.

Authority.

Next Chapter >>

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #dark urge #astarion #astarion x dark urge #baldurs gate 3 #durge #astarion x tav #oc: rose #I've Got You

[tigertales9]

Sex and Candy

Pairing: Vampire Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: You have a very unexpected visitor on Halloween.

A/N: Just a little something fun for spooky season. This turned out smuttier than planned. Oops!

The fic title and lyrics are from "Sex and Candy" by Marcy Playground.

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

"I can't believe I got talked into this," you mumble under your breath, taking a sip of your drink while trying hard to avoid making eye contact with a pack of guys leering at you from the makeshift dance floor.

Your bestie loved any excuse to throw a party, and this disco-themed Halloween party was probably her best one yet. You glance around her living room, taking in the lava lamps, strobe lights and huge, gaudy disco ball while shaking your head in awe at her decorating skills. As you take another sip of your drink, your best friend flings aside a beaded curtain and sashays into the room, giving you a huge grin as she hits the dance floor.

You return her smile before heaving a sigh. I should have stayed home, you think to yourself, chewing on your bottom lip as an image of your shitty ex-boyfriend pops into your head. Your already blah mood sours even further at the thought of ~ Hurricane Kyle ~ as you not-so-fondly call him. "A real Category 5 fuck boy," you mutter under your breath. You roll your shoulders to relieve some tension, annoyed that he's still able to dampen your mood 3 months after the break-up. Luckily you'd only wasted a few months on his lying ass, so there's that.

You quickly check your watch before waving your bestie over. You give her a hug while screaming in her ear over the loud music. "This party is amazing, but I need to head out. It's past my bedtime."

"You sure?" she asks, swaying with you to the thumping beat for a bit before you nod your head. "Yeah girl, I'm tired. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Shoot me a quick text so I know you made it home safe."

"You got it." You give her another hug before heading for the door like it's an escape hatch. As you step outside, you inhale the brisk night air and tilt your head back to enjoy the sight of the moon nestled in the clear, dark sky; perfect night for ghouls and goblins, you think, adding a swish to your step as you sing the cheesy lyrics still stuck in your head from the party:

. . . there she was, in platform double suede Yeah, there she was - Like disco lemonade I smell sex and . . . candy . . .

You give a little shimmy as you deliver that final line, the heels of your platform suede boots clicking against the pavement as you stride the short distance toward home. In the intermittent shadows between the bright streetlights you start to notice a purple mist curling around your feet as you walk. You stop in your tracks and watch as the mist winds its way from your ankles -- to your knees -- then slowly inches upward. When it reaches the top of your thigh-high boots and caresses your bare skin you yelp in surprise and squeeze your legs together. "What the hell?" you whisper, watching as the mist slowly dissipates around you. "I know I didn't have that much to drink," you mutter to yourself, glancing around to make sure no one's watching. "I'm losing my damn mind." You shake your head as you hurry to walk the remaining distance to your apartment.

Once you reach your 9th floor apartment, you quickly let yourself in then shut the door, throwing all 3 locks before walking into your bedroom. You toss a treat bag full of candy on top of your dresser and dig your phone out of your pocket, shooting off a quick text to your bestie before placing your phone beside the brightly colored treats. You think about having a fun-size candy bar but decide you're too tired to chew. Instead, you pull your minidress off over your head and toss it on a chair quickly followed by your bra. You sit on the bed to unzip your boots and place them in a corner before walking into the bathroom. You flick on the vanity lights and study your reflection for a bit before finally mustering up the energy to wash your face and brush your teeth. You say a few cuss words while trying to scrub off the smoky eyeshadow and liner, heaving a sigh of relief when you're finally done.

You throw on a slinky white t-shirt before you turn off the lights and walk back into your bedroom, collapsing onto your bed with a dramatic flourish. "Finally," you grump, sounding more like a grandma than a woman in her early 20s. You actually hate loud parties, but you occasionally make exceptions for good friends.

Just as you're starting to doze off, you decide it's too warm in your room; you hop out of bed and raise the window several inches, breathing in the cool air for a bit before sliding back into bed.

After what seems like only a few minutes of sleep, you find yourself wide awake, head turning toward the open window as a blustery gust of air blows in. You squint your eyes as you realize a large, solid shadow is blocking out most of the moonlight. "What the hell?" you mutter, sitting up and leaning toward the window to get a better look. The shadow materializes before your horrified eyes into a very real, very large man; you open your mouth to scream, but the man quickly raises a hand and the cry for help dies in your throat.

"I'm Joe," he soothes. "I'm not here to hurt you. Take a good look at me." You do as commanded before smiling at your unexpected guest. "Are you kidding me?" you laugh as you realize Joe Burrow is perched on your windowsill, your gauzy white curtains billowing in the breeze around him. "Can I come in?" he requests. "Oh hell yeah," you giggle. "I've been waiting forever to have this dream. I just hope I don't wake up before we . . ." You trail off as Joe stands up to his full, impressive height and walks into your bedroom. "Before we what?" he asks, his blue eyes looking almost opaque by the bright light of the moon streaming in the window. "Nevermind," you mumble, not willing to tell Dream Joe all the naughty things you want to do with him. At least not yet.

You watch as he walks to the dresser at the foot of your bed and leans against it. He moves like a large cat, you think to yourself, running your eyes over his tall frame as he gives you an enigmatic smile. You admire his white long-sleeve button-down shirt with snug black trousers. You know this is a dream because both items are impeccably tailored and pressed, not one wrinkle to mar the effect like with real-life Joe. You snicker to yourself at the less-than-charitable thought, trying to maintain a neutral expression as Joe continues to watch you.

As you stare at each other across just a few feet of distance, you start to notice a wispy purple mist rising up around him. "What's with the purple mist?" you ask. He glances around and shrugs his broad shoulders causing a curl to stray from his hairline and bounce saucily against his forehead. Your eyes are drawn to the curl, basically mesmerized by the sight of it until he runs his long fingers through his hair, neatly tucking the rogue curl back into place. "It's nothing," he mumbles, waving his elegant hands to dissipate the purple vapor. "It just happens sometimes." You fight to suppress a laugh at the way it looks like he's trying to banish a lethal fart with his hand waving. He immediately narrows his icy eyes at you and stills his movements. "It's certainly not that, sweet girl," he purrs, stepping closer to the bed.

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

He shrugs again. "Lucky guess," he mutters, smiling at your suspicious look. "Anyway," he continues. "It's just something that happens when I manifest."

"Manifest what?"

"Myself, of course." He gives you a wicked grin and reaches a hand out; the purple mist dances along his fingers before floating toward you. "Don't be afraid," he purrs, staring into your eyes as the mist twirls around your throat. You feel paralyzed in the moment - not with fear but with anticipation. You bite the inside of your cheek as the mist tightens ever so slightly; the pulse in your carotid artery literally jumps out to throb against the increasing pressure as your vision blurs. Just before you fade to black, the pressure relents and you're met with a mysterious smile gracing his full, sensual lips.

"What the hell?" you croak, raising a hand to your throat. "I saw that purple mist when I was walking home. Was that you?"

"Yes." He slowly licks his candy-pink lips. "If I stay long enough the mist will turn orange."

"Orange? -- Oh, I get it. Purple for LSU and orange for Cincinnati. That's cute." You smile as he raises one agile eyebrow. "Cute?" he snarls, clearly not thrilled with that particular adjective. You shrug. "Yeah. Super cute." He makes a face and mumbles something under his breath that you can't quite make out; you're just about to ask him to speak up when a thought hits you like a freight train. "Hold up!" you say loudly, narrowing your eyes at him when he raises his gaze to meet yours. "I saw that mist when I was walking home. I definitely wasn't dreaming then."

"What makes you think you're dreaming now?"

You give an incredulous snort. "Because Joe fucking Burrow is in my bedroom, manifesting or what-the-fuck-ever in some purple mist and there's no way that's reality!" You shake your head as you continue. "Either I'm dreaming or it's an alcohol-fueled hallucination."

"Did you drink a lot tonight?"

"Hell no," you shake your head. "Not after the hangover I had last year. I only had a couple of drinks over about 2 hours. I drank lots of water too."

"I can check your BAC for you," he says matter-of-factly, like that's a totally normal thing to offer.

This shit is getting cray, you think to yourself. Might as well lean into it. You give him a naughty grin before shooting a pointed look at his crotch. "Is that a breathalyzer in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" you ask, laughing like hell while he gives you a bemused look. "A blood test is much more accurate than a breathalyzer," he deadpans, his eyebrow once again heading toward his perfect hairline as you continue to giggle. "Of course," you gasp, more than a little light-headed at the ridiculousness of the situation. "But how the hell are you gonna test my blood, Burrow?" You take a deep, steadying breath as your giggles finally subside. "This dream is really getting out of pocket," you mumble, shaking your head to try and clear your thoughts.

He slowly licks his lips. "I'm gonna test your blood the old-fashioned way," he whispers, baring his teeth as a pair of prominent fangs slide into place.

"Holy fuck, you're a vampire!" you chirp, laughing hysterically before taking a few deep breaths to calm down "Okay -- yes -- I've clearly been dosed. I knew that disco lemonade tasted funny!"

When you finally make eye contact with Joe again he's giving you an inscrutable look. "We can settle this fairly quickly if you'll just consent to a blood test."

You cackle at the sheer absurdity for a bit before he steps forward and reaches a hand out toward you. You look at his pale, elegant hand suspended between you and think What the hell? It's just a dream. You place your hand in his much larger, much cooler one, watching intently as he immediately flips your hand palm up and delicately traces his fingers over your wrist. "This won't hurt much," he croons, leaning down and licking your wrist slowly as he holds your gaze. "It'll just be a little prick."

Hope I get a big prick later, you think to yourself, trying to suppress a giggle as Joe stops licking and levels that disconcerting gaze on you. "I can read your mind," he says blandly. You can't decide if you should be amused or ashamed so you just go with ambivalent. "Sorry," you mumble, trying and failing to break eye contact. "I'm not," he growls, his eyes flashing with something primal before he sinks his fangs into your delicate wrist.

The sensation is like nothing you've felt before - a hit of ice cold followed by a gradual warming. All of your pulse points throb in unison as you watch, seemingly unable to blink, as Joe's cheeks flush and his opaque eyes turn a darker shade of blue. Once he's finished, he retracts his fangs and graces your wrist with delicate licks to close the punctures. You feel a rush of arousal as you watch his tongue slide over your wrist, his hand tightly gripping yours now warm instead of cool.

He struggles to catch his breath for a second before speaking. "No drugs," he declares, his icy-hot gaze pinning you in place as effectively as a chokehold. "Barely any alcohol," he continues, snaking his long tongue out to capture a drop of your blood as it slides down his chin. You watch his prominent Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallows the wayward blood drop; a white-hot throb of pure lust ignites inside you as he continues to lick your ruby-red essence off of his full lips.

You fight the urge to slide a hand down to your throbbing crotch. So it's not an alcohol or drug-fueled hallucination, you think to yourself. What the hell is it? You stare at him for several seconds before taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. "Listen -- I'm not gonna lie -- I'm more than a little freaked out right now." You ease off the bed and start edging your way toward the bathroom door. "I'm gonna go splash some cold water on my face and see if that helps." You scurry in the bathroom and slam the door, switching on the vanity lights and turning on the faucet while perusing your reflection in the mirror. "I look totally normal," you mutter, sliding your hands under the cold water and splashing your face several times before staring at your reflection for a few more seconds. "I'm wide awake," you say out loud, trying to convince yourself. You quickly pat your face dry as you continue your pep talk. "That shit was just a crazy dream. He'll be gone when I get back out there."

Instead, he's casually leaning against your dresser when you walk back into your bedroom. He watches intently as you freeze in the doorway. "I helped myself to your candy stash," he says, brandishing a sucker before taking a long lick. "Caramel apple suckers are a real weakness of mine." He gives the bright green candy an obscene slurp before gracing you with a feral grin. "Matter of fact, there's only one thing I crave more." Your breath catches in your throat as he gives you a slow up-and-down look, his gaze lingering on your breasts and crotch.

"This is crazy as hell," you mutter, shaking your head in disbelief. You walk right up to him and snatch the sucker out of his hand, popping it in your mouth as he watches you closely. After sucking on it for a few seconds you whip it out of your mouth, holding it in his face like an accusation. "This tastes real!" you snap.

"Uhhhh, it is real," he mutters. "I got it from . . ."

"No way this is real," you interrupt, shaking your head in annoyance.

"Are we still talking about the sucker?"

"No," you answer. "I'm talking about this whole thing." You wave the sucker in his face before continuing. "This is just a dream, right? No way it's real."

He gently takes the sucker back from you and pops it in his mouth. You watch, transfixed with lust, as he easily manipulates the sucker with his acrobatic tongue. "Do you want it to be real?" he asks, his eyes locking onto yours in a way that sends a shock-wave of heat down your spine. You try to read his expression for a bit before answering. "Of course I want it to be real. Who doesn't want Vampire Joe Burrow in their bedroom looking like a walking wet dream? I'd be crazy not to want that."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is this is crazy as hell! Why are you here? How are you here?"

"I'm here because we're on the same wavelength mentally." He rolls the sucker around in his mouth before continuing. "I can feel when you pleasure yourself while you're thinking about me." He nods at your bedside table and you immediately want to die from embarrassment. "No fucking way," you whisper, dropping your head as you feel a hot blush rising in your cheeks. Joe reaches a finger out and tips your head back up; he takes in your flushed face for several seconds before speaking. "You invite me in when you say my name," he groans, chiseled nostrils flaring as if he's trying to pick up your scent. You squeeze your eyes closed to escape his penetrating gaze, mortified at the thought of him watching you. You sneak a quick glance at your bedside table, a shiver of desire racing through you as Joe chuckles low in his throat.

"You're looking at that drawer like the contents are dangerous," he purrs, leaning way down until his lips are even with your ear. "It's just a vibrator, baby. It's not a live grenade with the pin pulled." You lean back and chew on your bottom lip while locking eyes with him. "I'm starting to think you're a live grenade with the pin pulled," you whisper. "Maybe," he teases, flashing a wicked smile that hits more than a little dangerous, like an apex predator toying with his prey before moving in for the kill. "But I won't do anything you don't want me to."

This is definitely a dream, you think to yourself. Might as well just go with it. "It's gonna be a really long night for you then."

"Promise?" he whispers.

"Yeah, I promise." You give him a slow up-and-down look before crawling on the bed and patting the space beside you. "Why don't you join me?" He sets the half-eaten sucker down while slowly licking his lips. "Would you like me to disrobe first?" he asks, reaching for the delicate pearl buttons on his shirt. "Yes," you mumble, trying to suppress a giggle as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. "What's so funny?" he asks. You shrug nonchalantly. "Disrobe is such an old-fashioned word. You sound like you're 200 years old." He gives you a cryptic smile. "Close, but not quite."

You shake your head at the absurdity. "Oh yeah, I forgot you're a vampire." An incredulous snort slips out and you try to play it off as a cough. "Anyway … are you, like, always a vampire? Even when you're playing football?" He shakes his head no as he continues to unbutton his shirt. "I usually only turn during full moons and Halloween. If one of those falls on game day, I just wait until after the game to turn. I have total control over it."

"Of course you do," you murmur. "You definitely seem like a guy who loves control."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

You look down to avoid his heated gaze and notice a hazy orange mist rising up around him. "Oh look, the cute mist is back! It's orange this time just like you said it would be." He stops unbuttoning his shirt and throws his hands up in exasperation. "Cute? Really?" You nod your head yes as he stares daggers at you.

"We'll see about that," he growls, waving a hand toward you while mumbling something under his breath. Before you know it you're flat on your back on the bed, both arms stretched above your head. You give a tug to try and lower your arms but they don't budge. You crane your neck up to see what's holding your arms so tight, a frisson of panic shooting through you when you realize the orange mist has your arms firmly tethered to the headboard.

"Still think it's cute?" Joe smirks, taking a long stride toward the bed as you struggle against the restraints. You shake your head no as he takes another step toward you. "What was that?" he asks, giving up on the remaining buttons and impatiently ripping his shirt off; he smiles with satisfaction as the dainty pearl orbs fly through the air and scatter across the hardwood floor. You listen to the delicate buttons bounce around for several seconds before they finally skitter to a halt. You lick your lips and try to drag your gaze from his ridiculously chiseled physique.

Joe takes in the look on your face then laughs a deep, throaty laugh that echoes against your throbbing eardrums; his kaleidoscope eyes change color as he rests one knee on the bed and leans closer, full lips nestled against your ear. "I said do you still think it's cute?" he whispers, smiling at your harsh intake of breath. "No, sir," you croak, more than a little terrified at the raspy, feral tone in his voice. He slowly leans back and captures your wary gaze; his eyes flash with that same primal energy from earlier and you're confused at the way you're simultaneously scared as hell and dripping wet with arousal. It's just a dream, you remind yourself again.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he soothes. "Sure you did," you counter, "but I liked it." Both of his eyebrows jump up as you continue. "What else does that mist do?" you ask, smiling as Joe's eyes darken with lust.

"You want me to show you?"

"Obvs."

He starts to crawl on the bed beside you and you shake your head. "Strip down to your undies first," you order. He studies your face for a bit before giving a nod. "Okay," he purrs, stripping down to nothing but a pair of tight black boxer briefs before crawling on the bed beside you. He licks his lips then inhales sharply, pulling the orange mist circling your wrists directly into his mouth. As he finishes inhaling the gossamer haze, you realize your wrists are suddenly free; you leave your hands over your head as you watch in fascination as he leans down toward you, his mouth hovering over yours for a second before he closes the gap. You smile in comprehension and part your lips, moaning deep in your throat as he molds his mouth over yours, exhaling as you inhale. The warm vapor hits your lungs like the sharp crack of a leather whip. You moan as a surge of heat pulses through you causing your pleasure points to throb in unison. "Damn," you whimper. "Do it again."

He obliges - swirling a hand quickly to conjure up more mist before sucking it in and sharing it with you. You inhale deeply as he presses his full lips over your open mouth, forming a tight seal before releasing the intoxicating essence. You curl a hand around his neck to hold him still as you take every last wisp of vapor he has to offer. "So good," you sigh, heat rushing through you as his tongue darts between your lips. You suck his limber tongue into your mouth, swirling yours around it as he groans his pleasure at the delicious friction.

The contrast between his slick tongue in your mouth and his scruffy whiskers tickling your face gives you a very naughty thought. I wonder what that scruff would feel like … somewhere else? He breaks the intense kiss and gives you a dirty smile before nibbling his way down your slender throat. "Reading my mind again, Burrow?" you gasp, trembling with anticipation as his lips hover over the heartbeat throbbing in your throat.

"Obvs," he mutters, giving a quick lick to your carotid pulse before continuing his downward journey. You whimper as he drops his mouth down onto a hard nipple, licking and sucking through the slinky fabric of your t-shirt. "You need to lose this," he orders, shimmying the shirt up your body before sliding it off and tossing it on the floor. "Much better," he moans, latching onto a bare nipple as you writhe beneath him. You arch off the bed as he moves back and forth between your hardened peaks, driving you crazy with his lips, tongue and scruff.

"Joe," you moan. "C'mon! You're driving me crazy." He looks up and gives you a panty-dropping smirk. "Are you wet for me?" he asks, licking his sinful lips while holding your gaze. "I'm always wet for you," you whisper, fighting the urge to glance toward the bedside table where your purple vibe named 'Joe' resides. His smirk intensifies as he catches your train of thought. "That vibe ain't got nothing on me," he brags. "Put up or shut up," you challenge, light-headed with lust at the hot look that flashes across his face.

His eyes never leave yours as he slides your panties off and tosses them on the floor. You hold your breath as he quickly slides down and maneuvers himself into place, his broad shoulders spreading your thighs wide as he settles in between. Fuck! you think to yourself, almost jumping out of your skin at the feel of his hot tongue deep inside you. He was right, you think, sliding your hands into his silky hair while he continues to pleasure you. The reality is way better than the fantasy.

"Told you," he boasts between slurps, his smug laughter vibrating against your sensitive flesh in a way that sends a delicious jolt of arousal to all the right places. "Cocky ass," you scold, hissing in pleasure as he slides two long fingers inside you. "Damn right," he agrees, flicking his tongue over your clit while fingering you with smooth, steady strokes. He quickly brings you to orgasm, almost scarily tuned in to your pleasure points, reading your body language as easily as he reads opposing defenses.

He lets you catch your breath for a minute before waving a hand to conjure his orange mist; it slowly winds around your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples with feather-light touches. "You like that?" he asks, giving you a filthy grin when you moan your approval. You watch as he lowers his head again, tickling your clit with his scruff as you grind against him. Your entire body vibrates with pleasure, transfixed by the sight and feel of his tongue and fingers working magic between your thighs.

After what seems like an eternity of him teasing you -- your throat damn near raw from moaning -- he does something that causes you to momentarily black out from the intensity; once you come to, your screams are still reverberating around the room as you ride out the extreme orgasm.

You struggle to catch your breath for a minute before untangling your legs from around his neck and rolling over, burying your face in the mattress to escape his heated gaze.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, running a hand up and down your spine as you pant against the cool sheets. "You didn't have to flex that hard on me," you whimper, embarrassed and a little scared that he literally made you pass out and scream like a banshee. "There's no reason to be scared or embarrassed," he soothes, reading your mind like it's his job. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Are you shitting me?" you ask, your astonished squeak muffled by the mattress. You flip over onto your back and give him a bratty look. "My throat is literally sore from hollering. Yes, motherfucker, I enjoyed it, but you damn near killed me!" You flop back onto your stomach and grit your teeth when you hear Joe give a throaty chuckle. "It might have felt like that, but you were never in any danger," he states. "Your blood pressure, pulse rate, pulse ox and hematocrit were all within a safe range the entire time."

"Oh my God, dude damn!" You roll back over and give him an incredulous look. "That medical shiz isn't very sexy. This ain't Untold Stories of the E.R.!" You laugh as he blushes and drops his gaze. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I just wanted you to know I'd never put you in danger."

Shit, you think to yourself, taking in his bleak body language before reaching a hand out to squeeze his arm. "I appreciate that," you soothe, running your hand up and down his chiseled arm. "I was a little embarrassed and a little scared, but I shouldn't have lashed out. Forgive me?"

"Of course," he answers, giving you a quick grin.

"Soooo, how did you know all of that medical stuff? Did you … uhhhh … bite me? Down there? You know … ummm … with the fangs?" Geez, talk about unsexy, you think to yourself, embarrassed all over again at your super awkward delivery.

"Just a little," he admits, sliding his fingertips all the way up your left inner thigh. "Right here," he whispers as he reaches the juncture; his eyes flash with desire when you let your legs fall open to give him better access. "What do you want now, baby girl?" he murmurs, licking his lips while lightly teasing your super sensitive clit.

"I wanna see it."

"See what?"

"Your cock," you say, matter-of-factly, nodding at the prominent bulge in his boxer briefs. "Next time I fantasize about you, I wanna know what you're working with." He immediately slides his briefs off and lays flat on the bed beside you. "Damn," you whisper, pushing up into a sitting position to get a better look. "I'm gonna need a bigger vibe."

"Sorry," he mutters, his smug facial expression letting you know he's anything but.

"You're perfect," you whisper, eyeing his rock-hard length. You reach out slowly and ghost your fingertips over the prominent veins crisscrossing his shaft, biting your lip hard as you slide your fingers all the way up to where it flares into a plum-shaped head. It jumps against your hand and you lock eyes with him. "If I wake up before I get this inside me I'm gonna be so … fucking … pissed."

"Tell Daddy how you want it," he growls.

Your mouth drops open as you struggle to form words amid the tidal wave of lust created by his command. If literally anyone else said those words to you, you'd find it cringe as fuck, but his hot gaze and even hotter body language have you absolutely weak with desire. "I … I want …"

"Get on your knees for me," he orders. "Drop your forearms on the bed, face down ass up." He helps maneuver you into place as you try not to hyperventilate from the suspense. "You read my mind," you whimper. "This is exactly what I wanted." You arch your back as he positions his cock at your entrance, gasping as he drags the tip up and down to gather moisture. "Please," you beg, sighing in satisfaction as he finally eases the plump head just inside your tight entrance. He immediately wraps both hands around your waist to stop you from grinding back against him. "Easy, baby," he whispers. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I don't mind a little pain," you whisper, looking over your shoulder to lock eyes with him. "Plus this is the perfect angle for me to feel every vein on your cock."

"Shit," he hisses, fighting the impulse to thrust balls deep inside you. "Gotta take it slow," he orders, trying to convince himself as much as you. You grit your teeth at the way his thick cock stretches you as he slowly inches in, the walls of your core clenching at the intrusion in a way that makes both of you moan.

Once he's fully inside you, you drop your forehead down onto the cool sheets, barely able to breathe at the anticipation of what's to come. "Please fuck me," you whimper against the mattress, light-headed with desire as he pulls all the way out and slides back in. He does it again and you grind back to meet the thrust, both of you gasping when he bottoms out. "Are you okay?" he whispers. You nod your head as you catch your breath. "Don't stop," you finally manage, arching up into his slow, deep thrusts.

As he picks up his pace, you brace your hands against the headboard and grind back against him, making sounds that are half-moan, half-whimper. "You like that?" he groans, continuing to ride you hard while reaching a hand around to tease your clit. He gently pinches the swollen nub, rolling it between thumb and forefinger while you struggle to pull air into your lungs between the steady stream of whimpers spilling from your lips.

You feel a jolt of fear quickly followed by excitement as your vision goes hazy. "I'm about to pass out," you warn. "Not yet," he answers. You eventually realize the haze in your peripheral vision is the orange mist creeping toward you. A surge of electricity shoots through you as it touches your shoulder; your entire body hums with supernatural energy as the mist deftly moves your long hair off of your neck.

Joe groans at the sight of your slender throat laid bare; he leans down and presses a trail of hot, wet kisses from your shoulder up to your neck, fluttering his tongue over your hammering pulse for a bit before sinking his fangs deep inside; the double penetration from his fangs and cock sends you over the edge and you smash your mouth into the mattress, screaming your pleasure against the black silk sheets as your climax hits like a sledgehammer. Joe follows you over the edge, the hot spurts of his climax making your walls spasm harder before finally tapering off. You groan as your knees collapse and you fall forward onto the bed, sweaty and trembling; Joe follows you down, careful not to crush you under his full weight. Your last conscious thought is of Joe murmuring soothing words in your ear while you gasp for breath.

----------

You come awake slowly the next morning, eventually turning to look out the window where dawn is just barely breaking. That's weird, you think, furrowing your brow at the closed window. Pretty sure I opened that window last night. You kick the covers off and quickly realize you're completely naked. "Must have got hot," you chuckle, your eyes suddenly going wide as a rush of memories flood into your barely-awake brain. "Oh my God!" you whisper, bolting upright in bed as the porny highlight reel continues to roll in your mind. Your mouth drops open as you remember Vampire Joe and all of his substantial charms. "What a fucking dream," you marvel, shaking your head in astonishment. "So realistic!"

You crawl out of bed and head to the bathroom, switching the light on to squint at your reflection. "What the hell?" you mutter, looking down at the half-eaten sucker stuck in your hair. You extricate the sticky disc and give it a quick sniff. "Caramel apple," you murmur. "Did I try to eat this in my sleep," you giggle, sucking in a quick breath as another memory hits you. "He ate a sucker last night," you whisper, shaking your head in confusion before tossing the sucker down like it might bite you.

You turn the cold water on and splash your face several times, muttering under your breath. "Get a hold of yourself. It was just a dream." You pat your face dry and take several calming breaths before studying your reflection more closely. "What's that," you mumble, leaning forward to inspect a weird mark on your throat. "Holy Shit!" you squeak, running your fingers over the faint puncture marks while trying not to freak out. "Probably just mosquito bites," you reason, slowly rotating your wrist to check for more vampire receipts. "Jesus!" you hiss, staring at the punctures for a bit before sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. "No fucking way," you sputter, shaking your head in disbelief. "I'm not even gonna look at my crotch," you state before immediately doing just that. You stifle a scream as you see the tell-tale marks nestled at the juncture of your thigh.

As you're struggling to keep a level head, a song starts blaring from your bedroom making you yelp in surprise. "The hell?" you gripe. "Did I set an alarm?" You stomp in the bedroom and snatch your phone up, immediately realizing it's not the culprit. You set it back down and scan the room, your eyes landing on an old battery-operated radio you'd bought just because you liked the mint-green color. "No way it's that old thing," you snort, cautiously walking toward the bedside table to inspect it. As you get closer to the radio, the volume cranks up causing you to jump.

. . . there she was, in platform double suede Yeah, there she was - Like disco lemonade I smell sex and . . . candy . . .

"You have got to be shitting me," you breathe, grabbing the radio and flicking the battery compartment open. A tissue-thin wisp of paper falls out and you grab it before it can float to the floor. You notice there are no batteries in the radio and you toss it on the bed like it's radioactive. The radio falls silent as you take a deep breath before looking at the note.

See you on the next full moon. ~ Joe ~

You let out a squeal of delight as you run to the window and throw it open, gasping in deep breaths of the crisp morning air to try and bring your hammering pulse under control.

"I can't wait," you whisper, your body humming with anticipation as a beautiful purple and orange sunrise stretches across the horizon.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fanfic

[storyofmychoices]

Blades 2 Inside Choices Blog: Blades of Light and Shadow 2

We’re so happy to be back in action with the gang we know and love! Where does Blades of Light and Shadow 2 pick up after the first book’s ending?

Emi: I will say that we don't pick up where you're expecting. 

Kathleen: Unless you were expecting to get hucked out the back of the plot truck and onto the action highway at 80mph. (Fury Road theme plays)

Lil: (is overtaken by the Two Towers theme)

Emi: But rest assured, our original four love interests are back and dealing with their own challenges. 

Lil: And they’re definitely going to need help with those challenges whether you’re romancing them or not. Though we support all variations of ‘mancers here. Mono-, multi-, and necro- . 

Emi: Also they get some new looks that can best be described as "sleeves are B.S."

Jay: Don’t forget “badass pirate coat important”.

What kind of new main characters will we meet in the sequel? Or perhaps, any new love interests?

Jay: There is a strange but familiar hooded figure…whose hotness level was of great discussion.

Lil: He’s very constructive with his feedback. And a monster from Book 1 returns, but not in a way you expect. 

Emi: I think we all know I'm obsessed with Valax. I mean, she's a badass purple lady who only has one sleeve. Obviously that makes her my wife.

Tom: EMI YOU HAVE TOO MANY WIVES!!!

Kathleen: Idk I'm still mad that hot scorpion lady didn't win the monster contest.

Lil: Sky whale supremacy how dare. 

Kathleen: Okay I am excited about the dwarves and goblins though. New dwarf friend is just A+ chaos babe and I love her.

Emi: Honestly though, my fave character is the one who's "head empty, no thoughts, falls over a lot."

Making this sequel has been a labor of love. Does the book team have any must-tell stories/bloopers during production?

Jay: There was an accidental floating dwarf? And too many battles with code. Writers, please don’t do it to me again. I cannot take it. The while loop will win.

Kathleen: During one of my editorial passes I had to give Emi a note like "Okay when we first meet the Big Bad maybe we should use that moment to establish that she's really imposing/scary instead of just going off about how hot she is."

Emi: I may have made too many Aerin memes that are now weekly traditions for our team.

Danielle: I was instructed to design a character with “Vision as a hotness bar” as a guide, I ignored them and used Jeff Bridges instead 😏. 

Jay: Danielle also came up with some incredible filenames, my favorite being “tentacle_monster_buff”.

Danielle: It’s accurate, is it not?

Are there any elements that you are particularly proud of?

Tom: The Shadow Realm was fun to make! Think the Upside Down, but more purple. And to make all the awesome new weapons and armor work with the outfits took 150 unique assets! You’re welcome.

Danielle: My first full book!

Lil: The lore guide for Blades was 60 single-spaced pages before we started adding things that came up during active production. I’m really pleased with how much actually ended up being discoverable in the book itself, so be sure to explore every nook and cranny of Morella and beyond! Because they are filled with beauty and chaos. 

Emi: I cannot tell you how many spreadsheets we made to keep track of things. I mean, the outline alone was 100 pages!

Jay: My code built 😭. And that my production planning got it to you a little earlier than y’all had anticipated hehe.

At the end of the first book, we seemed to have wiped out the forces of evil for at least a day or so. What kind of dangers will we face in the second edition?

Lil: Evil never sleeps y’all. It gets its coffee from Aerin. 

Kathleen: (Aerin, walking up to the counter): "I have a large non-fat birthday cake latte with caramel drizzle and four shots of espresso for (squints at label) ...Emile?"

Lil: In all seriousness, you’re really getting it from all sides in this book. There’s rival factions, shifting leadership, societal upheaval, and monsters. So. Many. Monsters. (Thank you for giving us the Shadestalker, by the way. Can’t wait for you to meet the beefy boy.) 

Kathleen: One cool scary thing about book 2 is that THIS TIME, IT'S PERSONAL (like instead of you and your buds racing against bad guys to collect the magic things, you've now got a villain single-mindedly hunting you down so she can steal your <REDACTED> for use in her evil plans).

Emi: Kathleen may have called me out for it but our Big Bad is hot! Both literally and figuratively!

How much do you love QA?

Lil: SO MUCH.

Emi: Pour one out for our poor QA folks who have had to test what is the most complex book we have ever done! You are the real heroes!

Jay: QA peeps are my saviors!! Their work alone cures my anxiety.

Kathleen: Gawd I would be lost without QA my grammar is a disaster

Erin: Everyone on the Blades team is so wonderful to work with. I also tested Book 1, and to be able to contribute to Book 2 means everything to me. It’s absolutely a labor of love.

We know that years of hard work and passion went into this book. What would the Blades team like the readers to take away from this sequel?

Emi: So Kathleen and I actually helped to brainstorm the entire Blades world back when it first came into being, so it felt like coming full circle to be back and expanding it in new and fun ways. I was already in love with all of these characters and they're even closer to my heart now. I can't wait for you all to see what we've come up with!

Jay: Y’all better like it! This book has taken years off my life. *lies down on floor* (But seriously, we’re as excited about Blades 2 as all of you and hope that it brings as much joy to you as it did for us to make. I think the best word to describe the team as we wait for September 1st is giddy.)

Danielle: I hope you like our art :).

Tom: If you don’t, please keep it to yourself, artists are fragile :’} 

Lil: I was one of the few people who was new at Choices when I began working on this book, and it was truly an honor to see this thing come together. These are the minds that brought you The Crown & the Flame, The Cursed Heart, Wake the Dead, and the first Blades. It was amazing to go from watching them work as a fan to taking this epic journey together. 

Kathleen: THE REAL VILLAIN WAS THE IMPERIALISM WE MADE ALONG THE WAY

Lastly, how much does the team love Aerin?

Kathleen: I DON'T love Aerin he KIDNAPPED my WIFE.

Danielle: Which one…

Emi: Aerin is my sweet baby boi with a little dose of evil. He should be protected at all costs but also really needs to go to therapy. I live for the angst of him and Raine though. It's so juicy.

Danielle: Aerin has caused me, personally, a lot of pain.

Lil: Really, one of the fun things about the book is you can decide how much pain Aerin causes you. Unlike us.

Jay: He haunts my dreams and my Wednesdays.

Danielle: Livid and sad and livid and sad

Thank you team for taking us through the fantastical production journey of the Blades of Light and Shadow 2! We can’t wait to dive in and meet up with the gang. Launch day is so close!! 

Thank you, readers, for supporting us and our book teams!

<3 The Choices Community Team

#choices #playchoices #choices game #pixelberry #mal volari #tyril starfury #nia ellarious #imtura tal kaelen #choices update #blades of light and shadow #bolas #bolas 2 #blades of light & shadow #blades of light and shadow 2

[obsidiancreates]

This Is Much More Beautiful Than The Dumpster

Twig found a baby bugbear alone in the swamp about seven years ago.

Roughly seven years, at least, in Feywild Time. In Material Plane time, it’s hard to tell how old he’d be now. He might be much older, might be much younger. It doesn’t matter much, because he’s not there and his life is not what it would’ve been. Instead Twig had scooped up the abandoned baby bugbear, brought him into her Inn, and raised him as her little brother.

To say he was raised lovingly is undeniable. To say he was raised responsibly…

Well, Torbek had stumbled into patches of wild Witchlight fungi over a dozen times by the time he was six, and had licked enough frogs to lose count by the same age. He’d begun showing signs of uncontrollable magic just a couple of weeks before his 5th birthday (well, Twig thinks it’s his birthday. She was once paid in a single-use orb that told her anything she wanted to know, and she had had very little reason to doubt the customer who’d given it to her). By the time he was six they had both gotten a general handle on things, and by the time he turned seven Twig figured he’d either grow out of it’s wild and unpredictable nature or they’d just have to find a more affordable way to repair the inn.

Especially after those episodes started up. Sometimes his magic did silly things, giving Torbek Twig’s hair and Twig Torbek’s, or turning them both bright purple, or summoning a thousand small tap-dancing ants who thought of Torbek’s head as their stage- all of these delighted both siblings!

And then there were the… incidents. The days when his bright magenta magic seemed to get caught in his veins, clogged in his blood, his entire being just… shifting. When it first happened Twig thought it was an overstimulation meltdown- until Torbek tried to slice her open from hairline to belly button, and growled at her in a way he’d never growled before, and spoken in a voice not his own. She’d run into the swamp and hid in the mud, and heard the exact moment the change ended. When Torbek had come back to himself, alone and digging in the muck of the swamp with a shred of Twig’s apron stuck to his fingers, he’d cried loud enough for all of Hither to hear, and it took Twig two weeks to convince him it wasn’t his fault and it was safe to hug her.

But those incidents are, thankfully, very rare. In the two years since his magic manifested, he’d gone ‘Gorebek’ only twice. But twice was too often, and it made Torbek… shrink. He enjoyed making friends, being loved, but he feared. He began to shrink into himself, curl up in small spaces, struggle with hygiene and social interaction and self-confidence. Twig did as much as she could to help him, listened to him talk about his nightmares and the unpleasant itch in his mind that sometimes came with his magic and the looming feeling of Being Observed. She truly tried to be the best big sister she could be to him, but it was difficult. Especially with the Inn being so empty, the realm being so broken…

And then, they came along.

An alligatorfolk in a smart purple suit, a genasi with a laugh as explosive and passionate as an erupting volcano, a tabaxi with a calm demeanor yet plenty of his own chaos, a goblin with the air of Pure Silly Patrenhood, and a baby owlbear so adorable and sweet she could give your eyeballs cavities.

They came knocking at the door, and it swung open on its own in the middle of Twig and Torbek playing a game of ‘Toss The Petunia’. Both of their heads had snapped to look at the door, and poor Pigtunia went right over Torbek’s head. She quickly turned to avoid slamming into the wall, and the rest of the momentum sent her right into the genasi’s arms.

“Whoa! Hey there, lil’ piggy.” He’d held Pigtunia with care, and well- that was enough. 

“My name’s Twig Toadspring, aaand I’m a brownie! Aaand, I run the Inn, at the End of the Road with my brother Torbek!” She gestures down at Torbek, herself standing on top of the bar and Torbek getting cups down behind it. The whole crew peers over the counter to get a look, and Gricko gasps.

“Ooooh, a little bugbear! Gosh, I ‘aven’t seen one of you fellas so little since I left home!” Gricko gushes. “Do’ya know any goblin, little guy?”

Torbek looks up at Twig hesitantly, and Twig gives a grin and a thumbs-up. He sets down the cups and begins to speak in stilted, broken goblin. “We have book on it.”

“Not bad, little guy- what was his name again? Turbwreck?”

“Torbek!”

“Torbek! Sorry, sorry, I’m a little lightheaded from various activities and curses.” Gricko climbs up over the counter, Hootsie following, both of them kicking Gideon and Kremy and Frost in the faces by accident as they go. Ignoring the shouts of their friends, the father and daughter plop down next to Torbek as Twig keeps talking to the first guests at the Inn in ages.

“How’d you end up here, little fella?” Gricko sits next to Torbek, who shrinks away a bit. “I know bugbears usually have ancestors from the feywild, but I didn’ know they lived here!”

“Torbek came from the swamp.” He points a long, spindly finger at the window. “Twig found me in a traaash heap.”

“Ooooh.” Gricko winces. “That’s… nice, that she found you.”

Torbek nods. “Twig the greatest.”

“Oh, she seems great.” Gricko hears her trying to convince Kremy to let her and Torbek have a slumber party with the party in one big room, and Kremy very politely trying to decline while Gideon doesn’t think it’s the worst idea. “This is my daughter, Hootsie!”

Torbek looks at Hootsie and waves. Hootsie tilts her head at him, making her judgment…

And then nuzzles her face into his hand.

Torbek is shocked for a moment, and then giggles. “Torbek has neeeeever felt anything so soooft!”

“Yes, she has very good personal hygiene habits.” Gricko beams with pride. “She’s probably the best at it in our group! Don’t tell Kremy I said that.”

“Torbek doesn’t know who Kremy iiiiis. So he won’t. … Do you like making pillow forts?”

“I love making pillow forts! Hootsie and I are expert fort makers, if I do say so myself.”

Torbek lights up! “Twig and Torbek make pillow forts allllll the timeeeeee  because Twig loves to crochet! We can make the best pillow fort eeeeeeeeeverrrrrrrrr!”

And then they did. Because no monsters struck that night. No twisted, agonized shells of former and future friends, no painful admittance of guilt, no realizations of just how real this adventure is getting.

They build a pillow fort. They get everyone in on it. And when the party wake up after a strange nightmare-like dream of a man in tight pants who’s searching for someone ‘with Witchlight fused into their very blood’, they have no clue who that might be.

Not for now, anyway.

#legends of avantris #once upon a witchlight #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic #injury mention #No actual injury just the threat of it

[zeriq-5]

[A FNAF Movie Sequel fanfic, essentially]

"Abby's return to freddy's"

____________________________

The New and improved freddy's, Abby was joyful to be back, Why wouldn't she ? It's everything she remembers but double the size ! She Just, doesn't like the New Animatronics. There's Something about them that rubs her the wrong way, she misses her friends. But they're interacting with everyone else just fine so maybe It's just her own sorrow taking over her head.

She was there for a reason however ! She was there to play with her new-ish School friend Cassie, She already heard of her before their friendship. Sometimes Mike would give her father a ride when they still worked at the mall.

She was great ! She loved wearing a red sweater, loved anything with Wolves and resonated with them a little too much, she was considered a "weirdo" for It in her past. Abby knew How that felt, so It made Cassie a much more huggable person.

While they explored the main arcade, a Kid emerged from the Ball with a toy freddy mask. It had empty eyes, the darkest eyes, that would scare anyone their own ones out. After Abby and Cassie screamed in fear, rightfully so, the kid took It off while giggling like a devilish goblin saying "Well Hello there New friend", Cassie now mad screamed "GREGORY, STOP DOING THAT".

The New kid who now had a name, Gregory. The prankster was small, bug eyed and looked like he would roll on dirt If given the opportunity to. He jumps out of the ball pit, he had a blue striped shirt and had Bear themed Band aids on his knees and right arm.

"Say, you're here to try to beat GGY on Polybius again ?" Said that Smug boy, Cassie replies "No you Dummy, I came to introduce you to Abby, that School friend i was talking about ! Remember ?". The Boy tilts Its Head, Analyzes her from top to Bottom with still the same Smug look.

"Yeah she's the one indeed ! Actually, have this as a gift !" The boy searched the Ballpit and got a toy of what looked like to be the "new" foxy, Abby felt conflicted at first but accepted Gregory's gift. It made him Smile from ear to ear.

"Awn, look at you two ! are already friends!" Cassie Said like she was talking to two dogs. Abby asked where he got It from and He says "freddy gave It to me" which immediately got Abby's attention, the animatronics seemed life-less compared to the older ones.

"Nuh uh he didn't" Said Cassie and Gregory replied "Yuh uh ! He's my buddy, we spent hours playing together yesterday", yet again the familiarity hit Abby. "The place was closed for maintenance yesterday ya liar" Said Cassie that took Gregory by surprise, he made a face not like he was caught lying but that he was caught almost saying something he shouldn't have said.

"Hey wanna play Hide-and-Seek ?!" Said Gregory, pointing towards a purple-ish arcade machine. The two girls agreed almost immediately, Hours and hours and hours passed as they played, laughing and running. Never Alone.

Abby bumps into Cassie's father when she went to get Ice cream for them, she apologized to him. He was a New Security guard, He had been fired from the mall for unknown reasons. It confused her a lot since he was a big strong man. Speaking of strength, He was carrying a box that appears to be full of masks.

"What are those for ?" She asked and he replied with his soft yet rich voice "We're having some problems with those shiny critters over there. So until it's resolved, Mr. Emily came up with a temporary solution that would still be fun to both employees and customers".

He takes a white rabbit mask with piercing red eyes from the Box, "But some of these seem old, I don't know if it was something they sold here in the past or just really everything in this company only looks like it was from 20 years ago" he put It back to the box, "I hope we don't get sued for giving conjunctivitis to someone" he said and started laughing like Young Santa Claus.

"Hope you are having fun" he said while leaving, Abby waved and screamed "thanks Uncle Fitzgerald" then also continued on her way to get Ice cream for her friends who were waiting at the arcade.

She still missed her fuzzy friends, She was Happy to be accompanied anyways. But those at the stage, the redish cheeked plastic made ones at the stage singing. Those still felt wrong.

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's #abby schmidt #Cassie fnaf #fnaf cassie #fnaf gregory #gregory #jeremy fritzgerald #fnaf movie #tringy talks #fanfiction

[ordin-arily]

Ghosts, Goblins, and Good-for-Nothings

i was intending to keep my tumblr for requests alone but please enjoy this halloween drabble in the spirit of spooky season! 🎃🖤

Notes: fem reader, 2nd person pov, language, mentions of street harassment 

Halloween is on a Monday this year. It’s not great for trick-or-treaters—never is on a school night—but for every other enthused fan of the holiday? This means three days of non-stop festivities.

Saturday in its entirety is booked to the brim with plans for pumpkin carving, hayrides, costume contests and, later in the night, throwing back October 31st-themed shots 'til you puke orange and purple sparkles.

Sunday morning is for recovery and what Leo dubbed Boo-zy Brunch in the group chat. Pumpkin Pancakes, Candy Corn Crêpes, Witch’s Brew (re: coffee), AHH-vocado Ghost, and Devilled Eggs are all on the revamped menu at Pepe’s for the season—and how could you possibly do without a few Bloody Marys? (The words come from Mikey because you can fair just fine without that tomato juice concoction monstrosity. And, come to think of it, you’ll probably be so hungover the mere smell of alcohol will be enough to deter you regardless of the potion it comes mixed in.)

Sunday afternoon is reserved for horror movie marathoning and engorging on the candy meant for some infant-sized ghosts, goblins, and ghouls ringing your doorbell the following evening, which is a dangerous game because they promise tricks without the tempting of treats.

These plans had been months in the making and you couldn’t have been looking forward to it more. Still, this left you with a vacant slot on Friday night. The spot blinked at you on your calendar mockingly, like a neon sign on its last leg. How could you not have plans with anyone else?

In hindsight, you probably should have begun asking around a little earlier than the day of. You love the Mad Dogs—obviously—but two back-to-back days are probably about all the celebrations you can manage.

You send out a few texts after class and plan to try some more on your commute home.

Nothing of the sort transpires.

You end up walking through your front door sort of dazed and out of it, lost somewhere inside yourself.

You’re not sure how much time passes where you sit motionless on your couch, feeling just as trapped as you did on the subway fifteen minutes ago. Eventually, you get up to change clothes. You fish out your favourite seasonal crewneck from a bottom drawer. It’s soft and comforting and it has the words Halloweentown University plastered across it with an outline of the famed pumpkin at the centre. It’s your best attempt at saving face, if only for yourself.

You peel out of stiff jeans next and replace them with plaid sleep shorts. It’s not the most cohesive outfit—especially not with a full face of makeup and all your jewelry still on from the day—but it makes you feel better than you did before so you leave it on.

Your feet shuffle slowly, numbly, one foot in front of the other until you reach your living room couch again and smooth your fingers over your phone screen absently. It’s already dark out with only one sliver of teal haloing the horizon. You mull over sending out another text.

If you’re being honest with yourself, there’s only one person you really want to see. It’s becoming more and more of a regular occurrence and you try not to beat yourself up over it too much. He’s good at making people laugh and you like to laugh.

The odds of him being free this short notice are slim but you shoot him a message anyway and stare off into space until his response comes.

Miraculously, he thinks an early movie marathon at your place is an awesome idea and asks if you’ve already eaten. You lie and he tells you great, he’ll just bring snacks then.

Somehow, that little text bubble makes it easier to breathe (and think and move) and you get up to toss a bag of popcorn in the microwave. You wonder if he’ll beat the timer.

Leo, never one to lose a challenge, indeed proves successful. His circle of cerulean light appears just six seconds before your microwave bellows at you.

You're pouring the bag out into a large bowl as you greet him in the most uplifting manner you can muster. You fall into light, engaged conversation—mostly about the snacks he opted to bring—and, before long, the two of you end up buried alive in wrappers, Cheeto dust, and popcorn kernels.

You try to keep concentration on the TV screen, you do. Leo's laughing and making comments that you would find downright hysterical—possibly some of his best material yet—if you had it in you to listen, but your mind continues to derail, veer off course, sink into terribly murky waters below.

You’re drowning by the time he pulls you up to surface.

The screen is paused and you have to focus on it for a few seconds to remember you’re supposed to be enthralled in the campy 80s thriller he picked out. Leo’s eyes are trailed on you, like he’s gathering all the info he can just by sizing you up.

“Sorry, what?” you have to ask.

Leo’s brows knit further. “I asked what was wrong. You seem… I dunno, distracted.”

He’s right. You hadn’t even noticed him grab the remote to pause the film, forget trying to recount any of the plot.

He’s been observing you for the last little while—the way you seem so far away.

Hollow stares don’t suit you.

You shrink a little. “No. Sorry. I’m good. Just, uh… It was a long day, you know?”

He throws an arm around the back of the couch and angles his body more openly toward you. A silent invite.

You sit there in the dark for a long moment. The silver glow reflecting off the colour of his skin makes for something supernaturally beautiful but this observation is merely a form of stalling.

A small, defeated breath wilts your posture. “Some guy kept taking pictures of me on the subway today and, honestly, I’ve just been kind of mentally fucked by it. It’s so stupid but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“He did what?”

You have to fixate your gaze on one of the empty bowls on your coffee table to keep your face from twisting, but the tears are already forming and they don’t yield for anyone.

April is tougher and more resilient than you—you know this—but you kind of take pride in coming in a close second. You’re loud about injustice and rant and rave about pet peeves all the time. Mostly for comedic purposes, sure, but you like to think you’ve got a backbone built from the same stuff as hers. A similar brand of gall that has the two of you teaming up to fight… whatever it is that needs to be fought, really. Suddenly, you wonder, not without a payload of shame, if maybe April’s been doing most of the heavy lifting this whole time.

“I should’ve put my hand around his neck and told him to delete them but I just sat there like an idiot until it was time for me to get off."

You can feel the mascara and eyeliner getting into your eyes and it makes all of this a lot more uncomfortable. Though, still not quite as uncomfortable as you felt today so you decide this is fine.

Your fingers reach high to tug at the elastic holding your half-up bun in place, if only to give yourself something to do.

You don’t get to fuss a ton before Leo’s wrapping you up in a hug. “Don’t call yourself that."

You blink slowly and heave a shattered sigh into his shoulder.

“That’s messed up,” he continues. “And if you can paint me a portrait, I’ll hunt that creepo down and kick his ass.”

“I wish I’d done something,” you mumble.

He pulls back and doesn’t say anything for a long moment, sort of like he’s weighing the words in his mind. “That’s not... your responsibility. You don’t have to manage the shitty things people do to you.”

You're not anticipating that out of him but, weirdly, it's what you need to hear. You nod, unexpectedly entranced by all this.

“Don’t worry about him, okay? Donnie’s insane with this kind of stuff. He’s got facial recognition tech better than the CIA's and he can tap into any electronic device in the state, probably the country. He'll track the phone and wipe it clean in under an hour without even moving from that stupid-comfortable gaming chair he never lets any of us sit in.” His voice goes sort of bitter at the tail end there and it makes you giggle.

Leo smiles at you.

“C’mere.” And then he’s hauling you in close, incentivizing you to lie down with him, willing some of that tension out of your shivering frame. (You hadn't realized you were shaking so badly until his palms came up to rub warmth up and down the length of your arms.)

You stay there for a little while as Leo starts the movie back up. Neither of you is really watching but that’s okay. You feel better knowing justice is afoot, even if that makes you some vindictive low-road traveller.

“I wish I could go everywhere with you. Be your little bodyguard.”

You snicker. “You just want to wear aviators and an earpiece.”

“Come on…!” Leo whines. “I’d look so cool! And you’d get 24/7 personalized security. All I’m seein’ are wins here.”

You hum. “I’m inclined to agree, Nardo.” There’s a space of silence where you have to keep from replaying the incident in your mind per Leo’s request. (He told you not to worry and you intend to follow through on that.) He must sense your labours, though, because he goes on with his scenario.

“Eh, scuze me, Mr. Sleazy Scumbag, sir, no flash photography,” he proclaims, voice getting somehow more nasally than usual. “I know it’s hard to resist capturing such model-like energy but I’ll have to ask you to exercise some self-restraint.”

You put on your best manly impression, voice descending somewhere that is comically deep and husky. “Uh, I’m trying to exercise my personal liberties, here, my dude. It’s my constitutional right—nay, my duty—on this earth to harass women and be a colossal piece of shit.”

“Sir, I won’t ask you again.”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it, tough guy?”

You’re not sure what kind of response you’re expecting but it is nowhere near one that includes being tackled to the floor and pinned down in an ambush taking the form of hellish tickles. You laugh and squirm, only marginally resentful over how easily this boy manages to lift your spirits.

He shows you mercy quickly enough, declaring, “See, I don’t even have to use violence to take down my opponents. God, I’m good.” And then he’s leaning down, whispering secretively to you: “But I wouldn’t be nearly as friendly with that clown. Trust me.”

“I do,” you tell him, and Leo has to hide the surprised elation that glosses over his face.

You grin and grab for his cheeks with your palms. “You’re so important to me.”

For someone who talks all the time, it's unbelievable that he can’t find the right words to reply. In lieu of anything verbal, a chaste peck finds its way to your forehead. (Well, it’s not like that isn’t a welcome response.)

“I should go wash my face,” you shrug sheepishly from under him. “Bet I look like a raccoon right now.” (You might have to play the lottery if it turns out your undoubtedly smudged makeup has somehow slid itself back into place.)

“Prettiest raccoon I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re sweet.”

Leo pauses the TV once again as he waits for you and the screen goes into sleep mode, transposing stock images of landscapes he’s finding it difficult to trust are real places that exist.

In this lapse, he takes the opportunity to look around. Tiny pumpkin fairy lights are strung up along the cupboards in your kitchen. Next to him, the napkins are patterned with ghosts and bats. Your bowls are colour-coordinated. The one harbouring the Doritos he brought is forest green, sporting the cartoony face of Frankenstein’s monster. There’s another with Dracula and a third violet one that doesn’t at all fit in with the others. There's just some random, unknown witch on it. Leo’s bottom lip juts out disappointedly.

A platter of chocolate-covered pretzels sits off to the side of your small table and Leo helps himself to one. And then another and a few more, until he ends up unveiling the eyeball motif on the ceramic. There are scarecrows on the matching one on the other side of the table, that one brandishing the fluffiest sugar cookies he’s ever tasted.

You’ve got werewolf coasters and pumpkin pillows and, upon further inspection, Leo finds that even your throw blanket is littered with dancing skeletons. He grins. It’s just so like you.

And then, while you’re still in the bathroom, he sends out a few texts.

***

You’re at the lair bright and early on Saturday morning and you come bearing orange-frosted cupcakes and pumpkin-spiced lattes. The turtles and April cheer in unison when they spot your goodies. It doesn't take very long at all before you're learning they’ve got surprises of their own.

The first is impossible to miss; the Hamato home is thoroughly decked out in Halloween memorabilia, including a few extravagant displays that look like they belong in the annual fun fair’s haunted house (an event that was, at the last minute, added to tomorrow’s evening agenda).

“Guys!” you squeal excitedly, taking it all in. “The lair looks incredible!”

You’re, like, fully hopping from one foot to the other, bouncing on the tips of your toes, and Leo could not find it more adorable.

Donnie outs his brother almost immediately. “It was Leo’s idea.”

Mikey’s parading around the kitchen with oven mitts on. “We’re baking pumpkin bread too!”

“Also Leo’s idea!” Donnie interjects, sliding his way over.

“And we managed to swap tickets for the forest hay ride,” April announces buoyantly from her seat, picking at the bowl of kettle corn in the centre of the table. You’d tried for those tickets initially but they’d been completely sold out so you’d had to settle for the farm route instead.

You’re about to ask how they managed to swing that when:

“Leo was on the phone with them for over an hour…” Donnie volunteers.

Raph, who’s sitting on the floor hunched over a pumpkin and getting a head start on carving offers yet another headline of terrific news: “Oh! And we’re VIP tonight. Drinks are free and we get to judge the costume contest.”

Leo’s hand wraps its way over Donnie’s mouth before the boy can so much as inhale. “I think she gets it,” he bites out through gritted teeth.

Even behind Leo’s hand-muzzle, Donnie looks entirely too smug.

Raph and April glance at you, grinning from ear to ear. Judging by this reaction, you’d say your expression has to be somewhere between awed and flabbergasted.

You don’t know what to say.

April helps you out. “Donnie’s being annoying about it but, yeah, Leo really does deserve all the credit for this.”

You watch Leo’s head turn mechanically in her direction, the stiffest grin etched into his face. It takes everything in you not to laugh. It’s strange, though. Leo’s the type to seek credit even where it’s not due so this feels suspiciously out of character.

“Oh, Leonardo…” you singsong jubilantly. “Might I have a word?”

His gaze whips up at you and he nods, shyer than you know him to be.

“Don’t take too long!” Mikey calls, removing the pan from the oven as you branch off to another room. “It’s better when it’s still warm!”

You end up in the projector room near the pile of pumpkins you’re set to carve today. Leo sucks in a pitted breath but you start before he can.

“I don’t even know how to thank you. You didn’t have to do all this.”

Leo’s shoulders come up to his jaw and fall back down slowly. “I wanted to make up for what happened. And I know you love Halloween so…”

“That’s insanely thoughtful, Leo. Thank you.”

“Oh, and I made sure Donnie caught the guy. Saw the pictures with my own two eyeballers. They were gorgeous, by the way, as always, but they have been eradicated from that perv's cellular device along with his entire camera roll and every password, contact, song, and app." He gives you a little bow. Theatrics are always in full bloom with him. It makes you smile. "We also may have leaked his bank information online but that's because Donnie's cynical and I have no self-control.”

“How am I supposed to return this kind of favour, huh? I’m gonna be buying you pizza for the rest of my life.”

Leo waves you off before picking up a pumpkin. You do the same, mostly to give yourself something to fidget with.

“You could… uh, go on a date with me instead. Like a… yeah, a date.”

Your head tilts to the side. You’ve always felt there might be something more between the two of you but you weren’t confident either of you would ever act on it. It’s hard to tell if he’s being sincere now.

You venture an answer: “One measly date in exchange for a whole weekend of fun? You’re not making this a very tough decision.”

Leo smirks at you, lip caught by his teeth. “Then say yes.”

“Yes. On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“I get to plan it. You’ve done so much, let me take this one.”

Leo slumps in relief and nods at you, eyes filled with stars. You giggle and tap your pumpkin to his, an extra pep in your step as you start off on a walk back to the others.

The rest of the weekend might just be the greatest of, like, your whole freaking life. It’s impossibly fun and chaotic, and you go home each night with your cheeks hurting from smiling so wide and your throat raw from laughter.

Everything is wonderfully spooky and delightfully festive and, come Monday night, you and Leo spend a rooftop dinner on a decorative picnic blanket mottled with broomsticks and pointy hats. You laugh and chat and cling wine glasses together, watching the sun go down and the streets below fill with costumes. Later, you’ll hand out candy and watch family-friendly classics but, for now, you dither in the wind and kiss underneath the stars.

***

#rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt fanfiction #my writing tag #rise leo x reader

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[obscurecharactershowdown]

Bonus Bracket, Round 1

[image ID: the first image is a character sheet of Dynambi, a character with a big smile, sharp canines, blue hair and horns, wearing a brimmed hat, orange shirt, blue pants, and red and white shoes. they have no arms, instead their hands, fully white, are floating. their legs are also disconnected from their body. text next to their left reads, "Dynambi, they/them. a short tempered destruction entity created by EXPUNGED." below that is a nonbinary flag, an aroace flag, and the autism infinity symbol. below that a smaller drawing of just their head with the caption "front pov + hatless!" to their left is a color palette. the second image is of Krummhorn, a short, fat goblin with bright green skin and shoulder length black hair. he's wearing a purple doublet with hot pink stripes, a purple shirt, dark purple breeches, a purple hat with a gray feather in it, brown boots, a bandolier, and a rapier in his belt. he's carrying an instrument case. end ID]

Dynambi

by @sweetnpeachie I LOVE DYNAMBI!! they're really cool and have many fans including myself. so a little more known than some ocs but still they're based on sonic mostly, or rather as a character they grew to resemble sonic due to being a fan of him!! they also based themself after their creator/sibling which is really awesome :)

Krummhorn

by @officialjamesflint Krummhorn is the most legendary/notorious of my TTRPG characters and I need everyone to know about him and appreciate him. He's a goblin bard who's probably the most wild character I've ever played and I love him so much. He started adventuring because he met a celebrity and decided that they were soulmates and then went off on a quest to find his soulmate (so parasocial relationships taken to a deeply absurd level). Once that quest ended in despair (for Krummhorn), he became absolutely unhinged and lost all sense of danger. Currently he is a pirate with the rest of the party! Other important facts: -Plays the hurdy-gurdy -Has an ancestry trait that allows him to eat anything without being harmed and WILL use it (once he ate some food out of the garbage and got attacked by ants) -Canonically is always wearing a ladybug costume -Collects crossbows -Gay -Is named after a Renaissance instrument! I may be a music history nerd

#obscurecharactershowdown #obscure poll #bonus bracket #round 1 #dynambi #sweetnpeachie #krummhorn #officialjamesflint #hey officialjamesflint i lifted some of your image ids of krummhorn for this i hope thats ok

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Oh hey what if you wrote anaroceit with one of them(extra love if its janus) having a bad day and so they cuddle and take a nap together?

Fit For Kings

----

Janus is stressed out and overwhelmed by a discussion that quickly devolves into arguing, Roman sets about helping him - and Virgil too - out in the most extravagant and perfect way possible.

----

| Ao3 |

Warnings: one or two suggestive comments (if there's anything i should add please lmk)

Pairings: Anaroceit

Word count: 1596

Notes: Thank youuu for the prompt!! This was really fun to write and really got me back into the spirit I think, if anyone else wants to send me fluff prompts (or... any prompts at all) please hmu :D

I really hope this is good! haha, enjoy!

----

If they were just going to ignore him, Janus thought, then there wasn’t much point in him being there.

So he left, sank out back to his room without a word, flung his capelet and bowler hat unceremoniously onto a chair and snapped his fingers. His outfit, while so familiar, had become too hot, too itchy and almost outright unbearable as the conversation had gone on. It changed into a far too large black and purple sweater he had stolen from Virgil at some point and looser, more comfortable trousers too. He’d crawled helplessly onto his bed and wrapped himself tight in a blanket he had stolen from Roman’s room because he was - as Remus described him - a thieving little goblin and rocked gently back and forth in his little ball. 

It was okay, it would be fine. It wasn’t like this was a super important issue that could hurt Thomas’ mental health even more if it wasn’t sorted right. It wasn’t like Patton and Logan kept advocating against him because despite his ‘acceptance’ they still thought he couldn’t suggest anything helpful. 

So they were arguing with Roman who - while he was on his side and Janus was eternally grateful for that - didn’t exactly know the ins and outs of the situation, it not really being his department. And Virgil had already been having a bad anxiety day and left earlier in the discussion because arguing with Patton got so repetitive and frustrating and - well Janus wasn’t even sure how he himself had lasted so long.

And not to mention Remus had been there, which wasn’t… the most helpful, with the circumstances. He’d been riling up both Patton and Roman, and freaking Virgil out as he did so and honestly no wonder Virgil left when he did. Janus wanted to summon him, since everyone else was probably still arguing, but… he couldn’t deny that he felt a little bad about doing so when Virgil wasn’t faring well himself.

Maybe… less of a summoning, more of a gentle tug? Just to… let Virgil know he could come if he wanted to? But if he didn’t want to come, would he feel guilty and come anyway? But-

Whatever, he’d probably summon Virgil anyway if he started overthinking it too much. He sighed, closing his eyes and gently tugging on the mental string that kept them all connected as sides, whispering Virgil’s name down the bond before closing his eyes and burrowing into the blanket that he kept himself wrapped in. 

“Jan?” Virgil’s voice said, his head immediately popped up from the blanket to find Virgil standing next to his bed, “You okay? You called…”

Janus shrugged, reaching a hand out of his blanket cocoon for Virgil, who took it only to be pulled closer onto the bed. He yelped in surprise, before sitting up properly and moving closer until Janus could wrap the blanket around him too. 

For a moment, Virgil just wrapped his arms around Janus and nuzzled his face into his shoulder. Janus smiled, finally relaxing a little as he buried his nose in Virgil’s hair. Soft and fluffy as it always was. 

“Where’s Ro?” Virgil murmured. 

“Totally not still stuck with the others,” Janus whispered back, feeling as though he would break something fragile if he spoke any louder. He felt Virgil frown against his shoulder and pulled the blanket tighter around them both.

“Did it get too much for you too?” Virgil asked.

“No,” Janus said, “That’s why I’m still up there.”

Virgil chuckled and Janus thought that a win as the corner of his own lips tugged itself up into a small smile without him trying. 

“Is this his blanket?” Virgil asked after another moment of tense but comfortable silence. 

“What? No- definitely not - I’m no thief,” Janus denied reflexively. Telling the truth was always so much harder when he was overwhelmed. 

“And I suppose you’re no liar either?” Virgil asked with a small giggle, before gently tugging at the hoodie he was wearing, “Because this is definitely my hoodie.”

“You must be mistaken, Virgil,” Janus said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “Because this is my hoodie, always has been.”

“Of course of course,” Virgil rolled his eyes, “That totally explains why you give it back to me after it’s been washed and then steal it again, every single time.”

“It- it stops smelling like you when it gets washed.” Janus said, cheeks flaming, he didn’t realise Virgil had noticed!

“It’s ok,” Virgil said, smirking and squeezing him a little tighter for a moment, “I know you’re a little schemer, I think it’s cute.”

“Shut it,” Janus huffed, “I’m not cute.”

“But you still called me because you were sad and wanted cuddles?” Virgil said, “and you built a nest on your bed of stuff you stole from us?”

“Only comfy things,” Janus protested, as if that would help. Virgil snorted. 

“You’re not denying the rest though?”

“I deny everything.” Janus said, pressing his scaled cheek to Virgil’s hair. 

“D’you think Roman will come join us when he wins the argument?”

“What makes you so sure he’ll win?” Janus asked.

“Cause he’s Roman?” Virgil said as though it was obvious, “and he’s arguing your point, which was right, by the way, sorry I wasn’t more helpful, but he’ll win.”

“I’m glad you’re so confident in me, Virgil,” Said Roman, coming in through the door that very second, “And you’ll both be glad to know that I did, in fact, win the argument.”

“Hurrah,” Virgil said, raising a fist, Janus breathed a quiet side of relief, so they’d been able to avoid the mental health bullet in the end, “Join us?”

Roman grinned, not moving closer, “I would love to, dearest Stormcloud, but I have a better idea.”

“What could be better than cuddles in a blanket nest?”

“How about,” Roman said with a grin, “A luxury castle break for three?”

“Benifits of moving from this very comfortable cocoon being?” Janus asked, “C’mon Ro, advertise.”

Laughing, Roman walked over and sat down just a little ways away from them, “Onsite sauna, a banquet for just the three of us with anything you could possibly want, the comfiest beds, fit for kings, grand clothes, a guarantee than no-one will bother us until we choose to come back-”

Roman wiggled his eyebrows and Virgil found out that he was just out of punching range from their blanket cocoon.

“You had me at sauna,” Janus huffed, reluctantly peeling himself away from Virgil’s side, “Can I bring this blanket?”

“I certainly have enough blankets there-”

“I’m aware, I totally don’t want this one specifically.” Janus huffed, holding onto it a little tighter. Virgil chuckled and pressed a kiss to his cheek before scooting over to whisper something to Roman, who’s eyebrows shot up before he went bright red and ducked his head with a smile on his face. 

“Sorry, sorry, you can keep that blanket,” Roman said, clearly trying not to laugh, “Promise, now, c’mon, we’ve got a palace waiting for us!”

“I can’t walk,” Janus said, flopping back onto the bed, “Whatever will we do?”

“Well I suppose the only solution would be to take Virgil and leave you here by yourself-” Roman said, putting a finger to his chin as though he was pondering the issue. Virgil rolled his eyes and scooped Janus off of the bed, tossing him over his shoulder as though he were nothing more than a sack of potatoes. 

“Ah- hey!” Janus yelped as Roman picked up the blanket that had been left on the bed and gently draped it over him. Virgil laughed and patted his back gently. 

“This is what you get for trying to be slick.” Virgil said, before nodding to Roman, “Will you do the honours, my Prince?”

Despite the blush that once again overtook Roman’s face at the nickname, he stepped forward and put both hands on Virgil’s other arm, sinking the three of them out to the imagination together.

—-

Virgil put Janus down once they’d sank out, and Roman gently ushered them through the massive palace gateway. 

They’d gone to the sauna, taken a dip in the bath that looked more like a pool to Janus, with beautifully fancy tiled floors and modled golden faucets and so much bubblebath, afterwards they’d gone to the banquet hall to dine on a feast fit for kings. Janus almost forgot the upset from before, as Roman hand fed him chunks of some bread that tasted perfect - still soft and warm - and Virgil giggled as he drank soup straight from the bowl. He couldn’t help but think about how Roman had done such a brilliant job of distracting them and providing relaxation for all three of them, himself included. 

Something he definitely wouldn’t lie about was the way it made him want to kiss both his partners silly and he did just that the moment Roman brought them up to what may have been the most elegantly decorated bedroom he had ever seen. When they had later collapsed onto the fluffiest, most comfortable bed Janus had ever had the pleasure of lying in, both of his partners around him, cuddling each other tightly and Roman’s blanket from back in Janus’ room covering them along with heavy duvets that seemed to radiate the most comfortable warmth…

As he closed his eyes, Janus found he had forgotten entirely about the issue from before. Now as he drifted off to sleep alongside the sounds of their breathing, he felt nothing but safe and warm and happy as can be.

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @reptilianrapscallion420 @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

#sanders sides #anaroceit #sanders sides fanfiction #janus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #ts roman #ts janus #ts virgil #sanders sides ships #sasi #fanfic #fanfiction

[deadn30n]

➢ art by Hip Ehrlich @ Goblin. please do not take or use, thank you.

↳ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: Eden Cielo ↳ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐍 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: Solstice Maltyr ( 'Maltyr' given after their marriage to Argun Maltyr, reincarnation of Genesis ) ↳ 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒: REVELATIONS: The World Ender, The World Eater, Clockwork Justice, God's Hand, Clockwork Judgement ↳ 𝐀𝐆𝐄: Infintismal. ↳ 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: ??? ↳ 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 7'8 ↳ 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘: Oct. 31st ↳ 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: Married ( not applicable here on tumblr, however, as their husband's writer does not roleplay on tumblr. canonically though, they are married ). ↳ 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐒: half-machine, half-angel. composed of cosmic dust, circuitry, and dark matter. think biblically accurate angel. ↳ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑: Dark purple + light purple highlights ↳ 𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑: Electric purple

*please note that the rabbit ears are not present in the actual novel, but are instead replaced by normal human ears. outwardly they look like any ordinary human ( minus their freakishly tall stature ), the ears are only present because i made a very rough outline of what they might look like w/ ffxiv character creator. I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN ANY FFXIV ASSETS. THEY BELONG TO SQUARE ENIX.

EDEN HAS THEIR OWN FFXIV CARRD RIGHT HERE.

Further information below the cut ↴

To avoid revealing any spoiling content for the story of DEAD N30N itself, I will only be disclosing a very basic outline of their background and who they are + how they operate. Little bits of lore may further be revealed through roleplay, but for the most part this blog will remain spoiler free of the storyline. Now, onto the information! Providing it in a bulleted list so it's easier to digest.

Eden is the byproduct of God's second attempt at manufacturing the body of an angel with the hardwiring of a computer. It was his way of experimenting with technology long before humans would ever get their hands on such a thing. Nour Cielo, is the first successful attempt. However, he is both unstable and unpredictable, so God used Eden as a way to refine that work.

Originally after Eden's conception they were to become a judge in God's Golden Court, a place where angels who sinned while in heaven were put to trial. Depending on the nature of their crimes and the evidence present would determine what fate Solstice would assign them. This is what earned them the title Clockwork Justice. Solstice was also given this role as God himself was unable to pass that judgement ( his role as an all seeing, all loving god ) making that task difficult to perform.

Eden was installed with a highly advanced cosmic-driven Artificial Intelligence program, allowing them to adapt and learn from their surroundings. In this program contained a special code that linked Eden's mind to God's, allowing him to observe and study whatever experiences Eden encountered. This was later utilized in their descent unto the city of Hellix when they begged to be allowed to walk among humans and learn how to be like them. This gave God the opportunity to spy on humans and determine whether humanity should continue, or encounter the END OF DAYS: REVELATIONS. These are the reasons Eden has the titles God's Hand and REVELATIONS.

At this point in time Eden is simply on a hunt to gather as much intel as possible about humanity so they can develop and evolve to be more like them. They love humanity wholly and truly, and long to be their equal. They don't see themselves as above humans, but as an entity that walks beside them. Their personality and behaviour evolves according to who they're interacting with.

Internally Eden is filled with dozens of gears and clocks, very much resembling something along the lines of steampunk. If you get close enough to them, they can actually hear a clock ticking ever so faintly, but only if your press your ear against their chest. Otherwise, the sound is indistinguishable from the rest of the regular sounds of life.

Because Eden is part angel, they carry the ability to mold and change their outward appearance at will. They carry no discernable gender, and do not believe in gender norms / roles / etc. As these things do not exist in heaven, neither does Eden follow them. As they so delicately put it; gender is a social construct created by humans to oppress one another. Eden has given themselves the pronouns; they them & it/it's.

The body you see Eden wearing is not their true form. On the contrary, their actual form is so horrifyingly grotesque that it was necessary to construct a human-like vessel in order to allow them to walk amongst humans. Heaven and even God himself, are more closely akin to biblically accurate angels, and are more of a horror story than a good dream.

Eden later chooses the name Solstice as a way to better blend with humanity. While Eden is very much a normal name for humans, for Eden it carries a heavenly burden with it and reminds them of all the angels they've put to death in the past. By having a 'human name', it helps them feel more... well. Human. Like they long to be. They chose 'Solstice' because they fell in love with the Summer Solstice one year.

That's it for now. I think this gives a basic and rough outline of who Eden is and how they function. Like I said, further development through rp will happen and obviously as I continue to write the book :] Cheers, and thanks for reading

#CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY: Eden Cielo. #as you can see #i can literally Never Shut Up about my OC #i love them so much.... #CHARACTER ANALYSIS: Eden Cielo.

[fvriva]

*gets real close to the mic* Yeah can I get the uhhhhhh

Ida?

(Exordium specifically)

for you, sir, it's on the house.

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Ida Sicari's name is derived from the Latin name for a type of recluse spider, Sicariidae. Fitting for a rogue/assassin-type themed after a spider.

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

It's hard to say because I haven't totally nailed down elven aging yet, but she's young, Thrandy's age. He's 13, so let's call Ida 14.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

She's got a little crush on the royal she's charged with protecting, Elthrandor Sessamine. Her crush on them WILL cause problems in the future with her family.

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

Tough one because I haven't decided on the cuisine in Exordium yet. Post-curse, she develops all kinds of allergies to things she used to love eating, so she's not really vibing regardless. However, the food she misses the most is a very garlicky, vinegary, roast chicken with chili paste and honey.

💼 - What do they do for a living?

She's currently a royal bodyguard in a shambling kingdom. She's facing a lot of pressure from her crime family to betray her charge currently. In a modern au, Ida would probably find herself in a businesslike setting doing something unassuming, like accountant work.

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

She likes racy literature, secretly. She can't read (it's a very rare skill in Musaphia) but she's got a secret stash of smutty audiobooks. She does lots of knife tricks and acrobatics to stay sharp. She also enjoys collecting musical lamaellograms and instruments (these she keeps in her room in the palace mostly), though she doesn't know how to play any of them.

🎯 -What do they do best?

Ida's observant, and possesses a healthy degree of skepticism. She's a competent fighter and very stealthy.

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

She hates having anything to do with her family. They're annoying, don't respect her boundaries, and are always trying to get her to do dangerous, illegal, and morally suspect things. She also rather dislikes being out in unknown territory and other places where she's on unsure footing. Ida genuinely loves being near Thrandy and the other Sessamines, though, and wholeheartedly cares for them.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Uhh. Well, I feel like it probably would be something with Thrandy. Maybe she was in Thrandy's room listening to her play something on an instrument, giggling and laughing and eating snacks.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

I haven't fully fleshed it out yet, but I can imagine something akin to the nightmare she's given when she touches the cursed dagger of her brother, Goliath, morphing into some manner of monstrous creature as he tightened his grip on her. Shortly before U'tlunt'a was trapped by the Creature in the time loop, she was probably threatened by him in a similar way.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

Ida's very first design was in an rp between @the-goblin-cat as Elthrandor and myself as a vampire version of Ida, wearing a very frilly school uniform. She still has the mask, mutated mouth, hair, and overall demeanor, but she's been dressed in clothing better for Musaphia and has a deeper purple skintone now.

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

My single biggest inspiration was Rayne from the Webtoon Homesick, but this is pure vibes. There's also a particular brand of body horror I'm trying to tap into with her involving an unassuming girlish frame and a monstrous face for contrast. I can't think of any specific entries of it just now.

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

I think she could be at home in a horror story, or a horror-slice of life. She doesn't HAVE to be an elf as she wasn't one originally, but she's currently kind of living in a dark fantasy.

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Ida's a cis girl, and I don't know if she would know too much about her sexuality just yet because she's rather young, but Thrandy is genderfluid, so whatever that is, that's what she is.

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

Ida is the family baby. She has 7 siblings, all members of the a gang that peddles a drug made from concentrated moonblood resin. They're all named after members of the Sicarius family of spiders.

The oldest is her brother Goliath and he's the kingpin of the group and a real bully.

Then there's her brother Valletano, who is disabled, plays the violin, and helps cover for his siblings. Ida has a good relationship with him.

Next oldest is her only sister Fumoso, who manufactures the product. She's kinda fruity about it. Decrepit. Very mutated.

Her next oldest brother is Ornato, who does the finances.

Twin brothers Cariri and Yurensi are both dream magic enforcers. Cairiri is a talented dream mage where Yurensi trained Ida to be an assassin like him.

The youngest, Jeqi-Tenho is in charge of distribution. He's only 3 years older than Ida is.

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

Ida never met them. They died shortly after she was born in a convenient and very tragic accident. She was raised by her siblings, but understands that on reputation they were honorable guardsmen.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

I think she looks very cool. I also am excited to do more spider mutation stuff with her. Simple needs with regards to Ida, really.

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

Not super often, though last year I did write a story about her and Thrandy seeking shelter in an ancient lighthouse in the middle of a desert.

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

I could, but I don't really know what I'm doing long-term with Exordium just yet.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Well, it was spiders...

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

I don't have one yet, but she's intended to be a foil for Nymra, Ellie's love interest in the Wickrath plot. I don't think they'd fight or anything though. They're both too awkward for that.

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

Since 2021! 3 years now. Jeez.

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

I suppose I was 21. Right as I started going back to school again if I'm not mistaken.

send me a character + an emoji (or order the WHOLE HOG)

#answered ask #the-goblin-cat #chesca.oc #exordium

[mightymizora]

Breath and Rosewater

3562 words, Gale/Tav. Just some moments between a Deep Gnome Bard and Gale of Waterdeep. Some new, some reimagined from the game, more chapters likely to come. I'll mark spoilers, this is act 1 only.

She has always loved music for many reasons; the patterns that present themselves, and the sheer joy of playing. Working out the fingering, and bringing joy to others. The breath before the first note. The freedom that comes from following your heart and letting it soar.

He has always loved magic for every reason; the study of it, the power in it. The quiet contemplation of hours of learning, the thrill of application on the battlefield, and off of it. The understanding that comes from complete control of your craft.

Move it down a third; Alfira’s voice was much brighter than hers, delicate and youthful with a little warble like a song thrush. Change it from a lilting ripple to add a few more wide-plucked arpeggios. Add in some more ornaments; she was known for them back in Neverwinter. Her signature sound.

She has retreated back to the edges of the camp, to make the most of the darkness. It’s always been more comforting to work this way, away from the firelight. Light was for performance. Darkness was for work. The song is simple in its construction in some ways; some repetitive motifs, not too strenuous on the voice, but there are things within the rhythms that can be syncopated, manipulated, changed and adapted. She is pleased to have found these new things in it, unexplored possibilities for a different tone. Maybe a rousing crowd pleaser, or a softer, slower memorial. 

“I recognise that song.” He sounds pleased with himself, as if it had been more than mere hours since they were in the blaze of the grove, listening to the poor girl recount her tale of sorrow. He has changed into soft clothes in rich purples, and looks as though he is heading to an inn and not a rough bedroll. “Though it sounds different now.”

“I am poor with the lute,” she confesses, though she does not tell him that it is due to a struggle to find the placements in instruments built for bigger hands. There are few opportunities to find anything that fits her out here; the frontiers are big and broad and built for humans. “But it is a simple enough tune. Lovely sweeping melody, like a rolling tide. The Lyre suits it, even if it is a little crass to take it away from the instrument it was set to honour.”

“I see.”

“It doesn’t matter really. Nobody will hear it from my lips, except here in this camp. That song belongs to her.”

“Then why take the time to learn it?”

“Well,” she replies, pausing for a moment as she fumbles across a new upwards sweep, “For the joy of unravelling it, I suppose.”

He smiles, a slight laugh on his breath. “For the joy of it. Quite so.”

***

“Have you heard songs about our resident hero, I wonder?” Gale asks as they pack to leave the next morning. “Are any Ballads of the Blade of Frontiers part of the repertoire of the Great Glimmergris?”

Wyll’s lips twitch at the mention of it, though he keeps his eyes on the horizon. He is the latest addition to their uneasy alliance, but he fits perfectly into it. A true hero, a champion of the little people, a man so earnest and endearing that he may have found him cloying, in different circumstances. The novelty of it is still strong; finally, an ally who has a tie to these lands, who may be able to find routes to a cure, once he has taken care of his current hunt. Gale is grateful for the presence of him, for his kindness and sincerity.

“A few,” Glim concedes. “Though I only know the melodies. I’m afraid I haven’t committed the words. I know there’s one about a minotaur, that one’s quite upbeat. Another about a goblin horde and a village. That one is a little slower.”

“Well, we shall have to find some kind of tavern out here!” he says brightly. “A wandering minstrel! We simply must hear the whole story.”

“I’ll be sure to ask around. Maybe the gnolls will know of a good watering-hole.”

“It’s a relief, truly,” says Wyll, smiling shyly. “That you remember so little. I’d rather meet you all as I am, not how you expect me to be.”

***

She finds their eyes on her unnerving. There is an instinct to hide, to withdraw, but somebody has to be the one to take the lead, and she finds the rest of them to be somewhat lacking. Wyll should be the obvious choice, but she has found herself time and time again having to stop him being so gods-damned earnest with people who do not deserve his kindness. Shadowheart and Astarion radiate superiority; even with their good looks, they rub some people up the wrong way. Lae’zel is best kept far from any people, and Gale simply cannot modulate. For an intelligent man, he has no sense of how to speak to people, how to bring down his language, how to bring commonfolk into a comfortable conversation. If they are to find a cure, they must be able to find allies beyond the grove.

That is the joy of being a musician, of being a good musician. You get a sense for the key of things by observing the other players, by seeing what their tempo is, what is the heart of their melody. You invite them to a duet, you try to keep pace, you try to come to a satisfying coda. Yes, it could be seen as manipulation, and sometimes it was, but more times it was simpler than that. A way to give people something satisfying. A way to keep safe, just the Svirfneblin did in the underdark.

“Your people have a reputation for being difficult,” says Shadowheart, looking down at her as they attempt to scale a particularly unyielding rockface. There is sweat in rivulets down her neck, and Glim knows she is picking for a fight.

“And your people have a reputation for being the best of humans and elves. I’ve yet to see it.”

She finds purchase and pulls herself up quickly, smiling back down and offering a hand. Shadowheart pouts, but she takes it all the same.

“There’s the crack in that charm.”

“Well. As you say. It’s my nature.”

“I don’t think you believe that.”

“I don’t think you do, either.”

She smiles, and Shadowheart smiles back. There is something in her, locked away that she can hear sometimes, a pulsing beat of a heart behind a thrice-locked door.

“I think,” she continues, looking to the rock for the next step, “That it’s easy to be seen as difficult when everybody makes life shit for you. That it’s easy not to trust when people prove themselves untrustworthy. Why wouldn’t my people want to stick together when everything in the Underdark wants to kill us, eat us, or use us?”

“That’s fair,” Shadowheart replies, before leaping past her effortlessly. She turns, her large eyes sparkling as she tilts her head. “But isn’t it true out here, as well? Everything wanting to kill you, use you?”

“You forgot eating us up. At least up here, that seems to be less literal…”

She can’t resist it, when it’s just there. She stops, looking up at Shadowheart with a cocked head and ready smile. It’s a risk, but it does what it needs to; Shadowheart lets out a small laugh before she can help herself, and offers a hand.

***

“When did you start to play?”

They have finally taken the time to cook a real meal, not just picking rations from the bottom of their packs or eating whatever looked like it was fresh enough. Gale has taken the lead and proven himself an adequate if not quite talented chef, stirring together a light herby stew with some of the better meats salvaged from the ambushed caravan, and a sack of largely serviceable root vegetables. It’s pleasant, but she finds to her surprise that she is craving mushrooms, salt, food that sits so heavy on your stomach that you might not need to eat for a day afterwards. Still, it is good to have companions, even if Astarion is stirring his bowl as if it were poison and Lae’Zel sits away, guarding herself and stealing bites when she thinks nobody is looking.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you,” She says between mouthfuls of bread. “One day I found a flute, and after a while of trying I got a sound out of it, and that was that. Could have been any time in my childhood.”

“Come now, you of all people should be able to craft a better story for it than that!” says Wyll, pouring himself more ale. “Indulge us.”

“Fine. Let’s see…”

She licks her fingers and dusts the crumbs from her ragged jacket, and grabs the flute from her pack. It is a simple thing, far from the ornately carved instrument gathering dust in a chest back at her lodgings, but its tone is nice and deep, belaying a crafty maker. She warms it with a few breaths, and faces her audience.

“Lordlings and Commonfolk and Otherfolk alike, I present to you the tale of… well. Let’s call it the Deep Gnome and the Deep Pockets.”

It is mortifying to stand before them like this. It was easier when they were strangers, but now that they have travelled together some four nights the cool golden eyes of Lae’zel on her from the corners of the camp make her stomach leap to her throat. Yet she knows they are in need of something. A distraction.

“Once there was a tiny gnomish child, of a sweet disposition-”

A huff came from Astarion, a welcome reprieve that allowed for a moment of laughter. She was grateful for it, and feigned a look of affront.

“As I was saying, a sweet disposition. A real butter-cooler. Just the tiniest, sweetest creature that there ever was.”

“What’s changed then?”

“I’ll take my compliments in coin, thank you very much elf. Anyway, this little beast was always on the lookout for nice things. It was in her nature, her nurture, in everything she was taught. One day, while accompanying her folks on a journey into the underdark, she slipped away under the gentle caress of darkness, and started to look through the packs of the other speculators.”

“One, a tall human from Amn,” she continues, placing a hand on Wyll’s shoulder as she moves around the group, “carried only a whetstone and a fistfull of very boring love notes. Another, an elven wizard,” she says from behind Astarion,” had four bottles of vinegar-wine and a locked book that defied all attempts to prise open. And the last,” she concludes with a step around Shadowheart, “a stern-faced hammer-wielding dwarf, had a simple book of psalms, a silver locket of middling value, and a long stick with holes in it.”

She pulls up the flute from behind Gale with a soft flourish of light.

“The child had never seen anything like it. At first she thought it was a sword,” she says as she parries, “and then perhaps a wand, and a hundred other things that only children see with their innocence, until she tried with a huff and puff to get some sound from it…”

She has done this routine many times, for children mostly on the streets outside the taverns. Blowing empty air first, then teasing out a whisper of sound, tonging the notes to add a sharp staccato before sweeping the notes up into a bright flurry of sound and light. It was a cheap trick, but it brightens the faces of Wyll, Shadowheart and Gale, at least.

“It was love at first… blow.” A groan from the crowd. “And the child thought that life could not get better than this, for now she had the music of the very birds of the overworld in her possession forever. Nothing could take it away. Except…”

She makes a show of looking over her shoulder, conjuring the simple image of an ill-defined Dwarf. There is a flicker of light, and the image is dispelled, replaced with something more defined.

“Honestly, I thought the Svirfneblin to be master illusionists,” piped up Gale, a residual trace of the casting lighting up his hand.

“We bow to the true masters in their towers, of course,” she replies, bowing deep and letting the condescension drip from her tone. When she looks up, she meets his gaze. He likes it. Of course he does.

She disguises her voice to make it lower. It sounds strangely metallic; she has fallen out of practice, but she can still throw it to the illusion, which, she admits to herself with annoyance, is significantly more detailed than what she tried to bring forth. “Who dares to steal from Garrak the Golden!” she growls, hiding her mouth behind a pantomime of fear. “Out with it child! Return what you have taken!”

With a practised slight of hand, just enough to hide the trick, but enough to draw the eye, she slips the flute down her sleeve and into her jacket, causing it to disappear.

“The Dwarf searched high and low, but could not find it,” she continued, moving the flute from sleeve to sleeve, leg to leg, “And with that, the Deep Gnome found her first great love.”

She bows low, to a smattering of applause.

“That poor man!” said Wyll, filling up her glass. “It’s hardly a heroic tale.”

“Gnomes like our tales to be about tricksters, in the main. If it helps, the man he’s based on? He was a real piece of work. Ended up making off with the takings from an unplanned raid and getting shot down by Drow. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.”

“Well, it’s worth a coin at least.”

Save the coin, but I’ll take the crust end of your bread if you won’t eat it, Astarion. Too mealy for you?”

“You know me so well, darling.”

“Tsk. Wasteful folly.”

Lae’zel’s voice is a bitter whisper, a hard crack against the softness. “We are idling our time as if it is infinite. You know as I do that the tadpole grows stronger. Our time is near.”

And there it was. It had been a fine distraction, but she had felt it, they had all felt it. There had been a shift in the parasite. It was burrowing deeper. It was finding purchase in the soft flesh. At any point, this could be the end of it. The reality bore down on all of them, and she did not know what to say.

“If this is our last night,” Wyll says with a faraway look in his eyes. “Then I am glad to have spent it in such fine society.”

“It’s hardly society,” pipes up Astarion, “But at least we’re now attempting to be civilised.”

“To you all.”

Wyll raises his glass. Everybody, even Lae’Zel, joins him.

***

“I thought you might be thirsty,” she offers, pouring from the bottle into the cup he keeps by his camp. It is the least dented of the discarded odds and ends they have managed to scrape together, and Gale has been guarding it like a dog. “We have precious little left, but it’s not the worst of the bunch.”

He has not realised how late the hour was. The moon is high, and his candle has all but burned away. “Many thanks. Honestly, I had lost track of the night.”

She finds a seat by him, taking a sip from the bottle. “Can I ask what you’re working on?”

“You may ask,” he replies, rolling up a short piece of parchment and setting it to one side. “Though I wish it were more exciting.”

His hands move quickly, in a practised motion, as he summons a flame into his hand. A simple gesture, a mere parlour trick. “The tadpole’s influence has somewhat scuppered my sensitivities. I don’t know if it is the same for you. All the things that seemed to be ingrained, to be second nature, all feel like they are locked away behind a door. Albeit,” he adds with a flourish as he snaps the flame away, “A door which is still relatively easy to knock through.”

“At least that’s something to celebrate.”

“True, though who knows how simple it will remain. Things become more complex, less instinctive. And, as I’m sure you are also both acutely aware of and sympathetic to, my mind sometimes feels less like itself.”

“Well, we’ve not turned yet.”

“Indeed. Another thing to celebrate.”

He raises his glass to her and takes a drink. She stills with the bottle in her hand. “Though it is curious-”

“It is curious!” 

He does not mean to cut her off, but theorising has been driving him to madness for days. In between the boring muddling-through of pulling spells back into place, he has thought of little else. “Ceremorphosis should be in full swing by now. But no greying of the skin. No raising of blood pressure. No bloody orifices, as far as I’m concerned, at least.”

“I feel fine. And that leaves me-”

“Concerned?”

“Perplexed. And concerned. But there must be a reason.”

He cannot help but be slightly thrilled by the opportunity to talk to somebody frankly about this. Yes, it is frightening. Yes, it is both perplexing and concerning, but it is also a riddle. A puzzle. Something to be solved.

“Indeed. By now we should be seeing the more alarming elements. Liquified organs and the like. So there must be some reason.”

“Ill-bred tadpoles?”

“It seems unlikely that we would all be at the same stage if that were so. Maybe the illithid powers seek something else from us. But what?”

“From what I know, they don’t like to wait around. A curse?”

“Maybe.”

“Or divine intervention, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” he says. Perhaps, he fancies, Mystra is watching. Perhaps she sees the power of the orb and the devastation it could reap in the hands - well, the chest - of such an abomination. Perhaps finally, his great mistake might be worth something, with new stakes to play his hand upon. His mouth dries at the idea. Could she be keeping him alive? Could she be the one extending her hand, and guarding him by stopping his companions from turning? If he reaches out to her once more, could it be different this time?

“Well, whatever it is,” she says, pulling him away from his thoughts as she stands to leave. “I’ll take whatever help we can get. And in the meanwhile, I’ll try to keep our supplies of wine well stocked.”

“Thank you,” he finds himself saying. “For the wine, and the company. And thank you for earlier. The others might have said otherwise, but I think it does us all good to feel a bit more human again. Well. You know what I mean.”

“Lae’zel is not wrong. It is a distraction.”

“Well, I welcomed a moment to be distracted.”

She looks up at him and smiles, and it is unlike her usual wide grin. There is a softness in her eyes - her eyes that he realises, as the fire lights them a warmer tone, are not grey as he assumed, but a dark blue.

“You have a rare talent,” he says, trying to fill the silence. “It’s truly lovely to hear you play.”

“It’s as much craft as talent, truly,” she laughs. “You’ve seen me fumbling through. It takes patience and practice.”

“And talent, surely. I couldn’t do what you do.”

A look crosses over her, and she is on her feet. He realises from her gait that she must be ever so slightly drunk, which surprises him. He did not have her pegged as somebody willing to have her guard down with strangers. Though, perhaps, they were not such strangers anymore. What bonded them was real, and quick to take root. An unexpected boon, perhaps.

She returns on a light foot with the flute from before in her hands, and holds it out in front of him.

“Try.”

It takes him a moment to catch her meaning. He shakes his head softly. “I can’t.”

“Humour me. Go on.”

She offers it again, and he knows he will not hear the end of it if he doesn’t, so he puts the flute to his lips and blows. Nothing. Not even the rough-edged sound she made earlier, just the absence of anything at all. She pulls the instrument away from his lips.

“There’s a trick to it,” she says, standing in front of him as she, without a hesitation, presses her thumb against the centre of his lower lip. “A placement of the lips, just so.”

The feeling of it jolts through him as he realises that it is the first time he has been touched by another person in over a year. A year of enforced solitude, of misery and anger and isolation. A year away from even the lightest brush of a hand, or squeeze of the arm, or anything that has brought him back into his body, into this plane again. It is both elating and devastating, intoxicating and nauseating, to feel the orb in his chest and, in his stomach, the stirring of something else, something more human.

He wonders if she can feel the momentous nature of this, if the bond of their minds has betrayed him, but her eyes are  fixed on his lip with the concentration of a watchmaker fixing a mechanism. She is completely and utterly in her own moment, and it is something beautiful to her, which, in turn, brings out a beauty he had not expected. 

“Try again," she says, raising the flute to his lips once more. He inhales, then exhales, his breath stuttering into a fluttering, gentle note. 

“See,” she says through a grin. “Is that not magic, only in itself?”

#bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale/tav