#games as a service stinks

[sjbattleangel]

Lisa Simpson's sideshow presentation: "Video games as online-only live services are destroying every ounce of fun and creativity this medium is capable of."

#video games #gaming #games as a service stinks #anti-games as a service #games as a service is ruining games #lisa simpson #lisa simpson presentation #the simpsons #simpsons #simpsons meme #anti-gaas #anti capitalism #capitalism is a scam #capitalism ruins everything #late stage capitalism

[ash-the-cryptid]

my fallout76 account got perma-banned and I'm actually pretty distraught about it

#for using third party company services or whatever #i haven't used anything like that but #here's to hoping i can get it back #if not idk #i had 300 hours into it since december and this is incredibly disheartening #i really enjoyed playing that and this is just #idk #it really really stinks #it's just a game but i don't get way into online games like that really #fallout 76 #my post #i'll request money back if that can't be fixed

[spamgyu]

BACKBURNER // PART 3

DESCRIPTION: She had grown tired of being on his back burner, the person that he had kept warm until he gotten the girl he has had his eyes set on for years... And with a little help from her friend, maybe... just maybe she'll finally be the first choice. PAIRING: Seungcheol x Reader | Mingyu x Reader GENRE: Angst & Fluff PART 2 | SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

She wasn't in deep slumber, but she wasn't awake either.

Y/n had allowed the soft sounds of the waves crashing on the shore and indistinct conversations around her lull her into a light sleep – only to be awoken by the sudden lack of warmth that kissed her skin and droplets of water hitting her bare stomach.

Squinting her eyes open, she was greeted by a drenched Mingyu standing above her – a smile on his face. "Hey Stink, wanna get lunch?" He sat on her towel, feeling his soaked swim trunks cool her thigh.

It has been a while since she had eaten and the thought a bowl ahi poke did sound nice. "Sure." She sat up, stretching her hands above her head.

Y/n took a glance around her and noticed that the group she had originally had been lounging around with were gone; some cooling off in the water and others playing a game of volleyball.

Except Seungcheol and Sunhee, who had his head on her lap while she had her nose deep in the book she had brought down from their hotel room.

Sickening.

"You have fun out there?" She asked rhetorically as he shook his head to get the remaining water out of his ears.

"Come out there with me later, yeah?" Mingyu reached up to fix his hair, slicking it back away from his face.

It was going to take a while for her to get used to this new tone of voice he used around her. She wasn't used to the deep octave he used, mixed with some sweetness in his tone – something she had heard only when he was around the women he was dating.

It sent her chills down her spine, thinking how cringy it was for him to use all his tricks he had done to make all those other girls fall at his feet with her.

"Maybe." Y/n leaned over to move a strand that he had missed.

She too used a tone that he hadn't heard of.

Not directed to him at least.

Their customer service voices.

"You guys are cute when you aren't fighting." Sunhee's voice caught their attention.

...And Seungcheol's, who let out a puff of air as a laugh.

Up until now, Mingyu and y/n had thought he was asleep – his sunglasses hiding his eyes.

"Give it until tomorrow, they'll be fighting again." Seungcheol sat up, pushing his sunglasses up to rest on his head.

Y/n chose to ignore his comment, standing up from where she had been sitting – reaching for her shorts and pulling it up to cover her bottom half. "Can you guys watch our stuff? We'll bring back poke in exchange."

"No."

"Don't listen to him." Sunhee waved him off. "Have fun!"

"Thanks, Sunhee." Mingyu smiled, reaching down to hold y/n hand – allowing her to guide him towards the main road.

"He's irked." He leaned down to mumble in her ears

The walk to the market was a short one, the two not bothering to let go of each other's hands as she once again allowed him to talk her ear off – babbling about tomorrow's trip to the North Shore.

He went on and on about how excited he was to try the shrimp truck he had seen many youtubers rave about; spending hours on end watching vlogs to prep him for the trip.

"Do you talk this much when you're with your girls?" She was genuinely curious, in shock with how he seemed to never run out of subjects to talk about. It was as if he was on a mission to reach a word certain count by the end of the day.

"No, just you." He shook his head, bringing his arm around her shoulders; pulling her closer to his body.

Weirdly enough, she preferred this more than holding his hand – it was more comfortable this way.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"So when did this happen?" Jeonghan motioned to the space between the two, catching y/n's attention from across the table.

After a long day of spending their time at the beach, they had decided their first night all together called for a group dinner at the hotel's restaurant – all at the expense of the best man's card.

Seungcheol.

Sunhee nearly choked on the cocktail she was sipping on, quickly shaking her head. "Oh we're not– no." She laughed.

They could have fooled anyone... just as well as Y/n and Mingyu had been.

They had spent the dinner picking off each other's plates – even showing up in coordinating outfits that Sunhee had sworn was not planned. Y/n had to fight the her brain from making a face when Sunhee had profusely declined the groups teasing when they first took their seats.

"Oh." Jeonghan blinked. "I just figured–"

"We're not." Seungcheol shutting him down, instantly silencing Jeonghan who then turned his body to the direction of y/n and Mingyu.

She had been thankful for the various conversations taking place around the table, allowing her to pretend that she hadn't been listening in to the short interaction happening a few feet from her.

"What about you two?" Jeonghan nodded at them, stopping Mingyu mid-setence while he conversed with Minghao about tomorrow's plans.

"What about us?" He asked, confused with the question being asked.

"When did this happen?" Jeonghan repeated.

"Valentines day." Mingyu replied without a second thought, almost as if he had the story ready for anyone who would ask.

He was quick at his feet, able to muster up a lie with a heartbeat.

She made a mental note to thank him later.

"I think I just realized that I always had feelings for her and I wanted to see if what I was thinking was real, or just– I don't know. Minghao convinced me to go over to her place and just let it all out." He continued, shrugging off the story as if it was the most casual thing that left his lips.

If she wasn't a part of the lie, she would have bought it.

Like Jeonghan, Y/n looked over to Minghao who had nodded in confirmation as he swirled the wine in his hand.

They were great liars.

"Didn't know you had a soft spot, Mingyu." Soonyoung whistled.

"Me neither." Y/n whispered only for the two of them to hear, earning a poke on her side from him – causing a small laugh to escape from her lips.

"Oh my god, they're actually in love." Chan gagged, catching the small interaction that had just unfolded before him.

"You guys should see what I have to put up with at home." Minghao grumbled into his wine glass before taking a long sip.

The teasing? The bickering over which show to watch? The hour long debate over a movies plot? The impromptu karaoke sessions in their living room? Yeah, Minghao did have to put up through a lot.

"I guess the next to walk down the aisle will be Y/n and Mingyu." Jeonghan joked.

"Mingyu? Yeah right." Seungcheol chuckled.

Thankfully the rest of the group had managed to drop the topic and redirected the conversation back to Jeonghan – catching up on all the events that has been happening in his life.

Y/n took the opportunity to excuse herself to the restroom as the energy died down, looking down at her feet as she made her way to the back of the restaurant – she had one too many Mai Tai's and did not want to accidentally trip over air.

"Y/n!"

Turning her head to the voice at the end of the hall, she was once again cornered by Seungcheol – with no place to run.

"Can we talk?" He stopped within a foot of her, his voice much softer than the snarky voice he had been using every time he would make a snide comment earlier in the day. "Please?"

Y/n stared at him, unable to come up with an excuse to avoid him.

"Five minutes." She swallowed.

Seungcheol nodded, motioning him to follow her through the doors that lead to the beach – wanting to converse in a much quieter atmosphere.

Once they were at an enough distance from the restaurant, away from the eyeline of the others, Seungcheol came to a stop turning to the girl.

"You guys may be fooling everyone but you're not fooling me." He spoke slowly.

They were caught.

"Did you just bring me out here to pick a fight?" She hugged her arms around her, feeling the cool breeze hit her bare arms.

"Y/n, drop the act. Do you really think that I'd believe you're dating, of all the people in the world, Mingyu? You guys are best friends, yeah I get that- but please, I know you guys don't love each other–"

"Not like how you and Sunhee love each other right?" Y/n snapped back.

Seungcheol licked his lips, shaking his head.

If he wasn't letting up, neither was she.

"You guys have always been at each other's throat, you really think I believe that one day you guys just decided to stop?"

"He knows me better than anyone, Cheol. He knows what makes me happy, what makes me tick. He has wiped every tear that you have caused. He picked me up whenever you left me stranded. He has always been there, more importantly when you weren't."

She wasn't lying.

Behind all the small fights and teasing, the two had always leaned in each other for emotional support.

Just as Mingyu had done for her, she has also always been the one person he called when he was having a tough time – remembering the time that she brought food over to his dorm for a week straight because he had refused to eat after his first girlfriend had broken up with him.

They had their moments, but at the end of the day, she genuinely did love Mingyu.

They have been together through all the season of their lives and she couldn't imagine going through any heartbreak or failed job interviews without having him by her side.

They were each other's person.

"So yeah, sue me if I realized I may have been in love with my best friend too." Y/n continued. "Mingyu has always been there and it's nice being taken care of someone who actually knows me."

"I know you." He defended. "Your favorite color is green, you hate that you're in the medical field because but you chose to go through with it because you didn't want to disappoint your parents, you hate the sound of utensils rubbing together. I know you, Y/n."

"Those are shallow facts." Y/n countered. "Minghao knows those things about me too."

"I know that you had never once thought of Mingyu the way you thought of me." He continued, taking a step closer to her. "What you and I had– have, that's never going to measure up to what you think you're trying to pull off with Mingyu."

"So what? Is this your way of saying you chose me all along?"

"There's no need to choose, y/n." He raised his voice, growing frustrated with her question. "I care about you, and you should know that!"

"How? Huh? You have some crazy way of showing you care." She exhasperated.

"Just because I don't show it the way your little golden boy shows it, doesn't mean I don't care. It doesn't mean I don't want you."

"So do it then, pick."

"I'm not picking." He shook his head. "Just please, just drop the act and–"

"Is everything alright out here?" Mingyu's voice boomed from the steps of the restaurant, jogging over to where they stood.

"Yeah, we just finished talking." Seungcheol brushed past Mingyu, his shoulder hitting him as he bounded back to the well lit building – a stark contrast to the darkness that enveloped them.

She could hear her ears begin to ring as she let out deep breath she didn't realize she was holding in.

"You okay?" Mingyu asked in genuine concern, scanning her face to see if there were any tears that fell from her eyes. He noticed that she was gone for far too long, instantly putting two and two together once he realized Seungcheol was missing from the table. Mingyu had quickly excused himself from the group, not wanting whatever Seungcheol had in mind to ruin not only y/n's night but everyone elses.

Y/n nodded, taking a step closer to him – silently asking for his arms to wrap around her. Both for consolation and to shield from the wind.

"I don't want to go back in there."

"Then we won't." He replied, resting his chin on her head.

"He knows we're just pretending." Her cheek pressed against his chest, her voice in pure defeat.

"Should we take some acting classes?"

Looking up to meet his eyes, she couldn't help but let a small laugh escape her lips. "Should we call it off?"

"I mean, everyone else already bought it." He shrugged. "Why don't we just pretend until the end of the trip. We wouldn't want a break up and a wedding all in one trip."

"Jeonghan would kill us for stealing the attention from him if we announced a break up." Y/n agreed. "Just, chill out on the fake sexual tension okay? It gives me the creeps."

"Whatever you want, stink."

The two stood in silence, Mingyu patiently waiting for Y/n to calm down from the high emotions. She had always hated confrontations, avoiding it as much as possible.

And when it can't be helped, she needed to take a few minutes as a breather to ground herself back to reality – after she had finally processed what had finally happened.

She tended to allow her emotions take full control whenever she was forced to confront a problem; in this case Seungcheol. It wasn't until moments after when she is able fully grasp what had truly happened.

Almost as if she had an out of body experience, watching the scene unfold from afar.

"Do we fight a lot?" She asked, taking a step back from him.

"Just an enough amount of times, why do you ask?" He chuckled.

"That's why he's not buying it. Because we fight a lot."

Mingyu licked his lips, thinking of all the times that they would openly bicker and argue in front of their group. It wasn't in any intentions to hurt each other, it was all out of pure fun. It was just who they were.

"I mean, what if I tease you because I like you." He reasoned.

"What are we, teenagers?"

He shrugged. "Don't let him get in your head. If he doesn't buy it then he doesn't. Let's just enjoy the trip."

She nodded. "One more."

"What?"

"What's my favorite color?"

"What?" He tilted his head in confusion.

"Answer it."

"Well, for clothes; black and white. For little trinkets, green. For other things, pink. For men, red." He listed, a smug smile appearing on his face when he said red.

Laughing, she gave him a playful shove. "Let's go."

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"Shit." Mingyu quickly sat up in his bed, looking over to the other side of the room where she was buried deep under the covers on her own bed. "Y/n wake up!"

"Mm..." She grumbled, pulling a pillow over her head.

"We woke up late, everyone's headed up to the North Shore already." Mingyu scrambled around the room, gathering all his belongings needed for the one hour trip up to the northern point of the island.

"Fuck!" Y/n shot up, grabbing her phone to check the time.

7:42 am.

They had all agreed on leaving the hotel by 6am, a few of the boys wanting to catch the morning surf before the waves died down. They had been so tired from the day before and had forgotten to set an alarm before bed.

The group chat had been actively making jokes just an hour ago about how the two most likely have forgotten because they were far too busy doing..... other things the night before, deciding to head up without them.

"I'll text them that we're leaving soon." Y/n typed away as Mingyu slipped into the bathroom to change and wash up.

She was sitting on the bed waiting for her turn when a knock on the door pulled her out of her trance. She wasn't a morning person and it took her some time to finally wake her body up.

To her surprise, Seungcheol was behind the door. "I woke up late too." He grumbled.

"Morning." Mingyu nodded, walking out of the bathroom "Stink, bathroom's all yours."

"I'll wait for you guys in the lobby." He turned his heel.

Just what she needed. An hour ride with Mingyu and Seungcheol.

Fun.

The were in the car in no time, neither one of them uttering a single word to another as Mingyu cruised along highway.

There wasn't much to talk about, and she was more than happy to take in the views of the lush greenery that surrounded them – pulling her film camera out every once and a while to capture the beauty.

"Can we listen to more calmer music, the bass on this thing is making me car sick." Y/n groaned, reaching over to grab Mingyu's phone out of the cupholder – unlocking the device with ease.

He had been using the same passcode for nearly ten years and had yet to change it. Claiming that he'd just forget it.

"Here." Seungcheol's hand stretched out from the backseat, his palm opened with a single candy resting. "It's ginger candy. Helps with motion sickness. Figured you– we would need it."

Y/n hesitantly grabbed it from his hand. "Thanks."

Popping the hard candy in to her mouth, she went back to scrolling through Mingyu's endless playlists – unable to find the right one to match the current mood.

A particular one had caught her eye, letting out a laugh. "Is this– oh my god." She flashed the screen to him, earning a laugh from him as well. "Why do you have my getting ready playlist saved?"

"It has good songs!" He defended. "I listen to it when I work out."

This sent her into more fits of laughter, clutching her stomach as she imagined him bench pressing while the City Girls blared loudly through his headphones. "You're so dumb."

"Maneater keeps my reps on pace."

"Stop– oh my god stop my stomach hurts. Don't talk." She wiped the moisture from her eyes, using another free hand to hit his shoulder.

"If you're not going to pick a playlist, can I have the AUX?" Seungcheol wasn't entertained.

In fact, he didn't find a single part of the interaction funny.

Y/n sat back up, clearing her throat once she had finally calmed down – passing the wire that was once connected to Mingyu's phone over to him.

Within seconds the voice of her favorite artist played loudly in the car.

Supercut by Lorde.

This was also her playlist.

The one she had shared to him months before.

She knew he was staring at her.

She could feel his eyes.

As the beat began to pick up, she felt Mingyu's hand rest on her knee – his fingers drumming along to the song.

"In your car, the radio up. We keep tryin' to talk about us. I'm someone, you may be my love." He nodded, looking over at her – waiting for her to join in.

He also knew this was her favorite song – the two having their fair share of blaring this loudly in his car back home, singing at the top of their lungs as they sped through the road.

"I'll be your quiet afternoon crush. Be your violent overnight rush. Make you crazy over my touch." A small smile crept on her lips as she followed his movements, swaying their bodies to the side.

Moments like this was when she appreciated how well he was able to pick up on her body language and silent thoughts – easily distracting her from any thoughts that could cause her to feel uneasy.

"I should have stayed back." Seungcheol shook his head as he watched the two make fools of themselves – his fingers hovering over the skip button.

He didn't skip it. He allowed for the queue'd music to play on, opting to look down at his phone as they went on singing every single word of the song.

"I'm hungry." Y/n sighed, as the next song played.

"They're gonna meet us at the Sunrise Shack, can you hold off for a thirty-five more minutes?" Mingyu asked, glancing at the navigation.

"I packed some spam musubi's from last night." Seungcheol offered, digging into his backpack to pull out a small tightly wrapped rice and ham combo.

Shaking her head. "I don't like–"

"Y/n doesn't like cold warm food." Mingyu replied at the same time.

"What he said."

Maybe he really didn't know her.

And maybe, they weren't acting.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Y/n watched from her towel as the boys caught one wave after another, laughing whenever one of them lost their footing – sending them tumbling in to the water.

She was beginning to grow bored of sitting in the same spot, but considering the only other option was to walk around the stores a few miles down with Sunhee and Eunji, Jeonghan's fiance, she decided to stay back. She was in no mood to pretend to be close to the girl.

Not after last night.

In the moment of silence, the girl began to replay her and Seungcheol's conversation in her head.

She couldn't believe she was stupid enough to allow Mingyu to talk her into pretending to date him.

Even stupider to believe it would even work.

He was right. He did know her.

He knew when she was lying.

He knew that she wouldn't have dared considered seeing Mingyu in the same romantic light she had seen him.

But that was as far as it went.

He only knew her the same way the rest of their friends did.

Y/n began to think that maybe, if she would have waited it out longer instead of making him choose – things would have been different.

She would have gotten what she wanted.

"You okay?" Jeonghan's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Digging his board down into the sand, he took a seat next to her – looking out into the distance where the rest of the guys were slowly paddling back in.

"Yeah, just thinking." Y/n pulled her lips into a tight smile.

"You made the right choice, you know." He spoke.

"What?" She turned to face him.

"Picking Mingyu." He continued. "He's always had some weird soft spot for you. And I know I don't know much about what you and Seungcheol went through– but– You deserve someone who's willing to drop anything to make sure you're happy. You're Mingyu's Sunhee"

She felt guilty.

Aside from Minghao, Jeonghan was someone who she had grown close to within the group. She found many nights confiding all her secrets to him during their late study sessions at the library.

He was easy to open up to and it broke her heart when he had decided to take a job offer across the country – losing that one person she was able to make a genuine connection with.

She wanted to tell him that it was all a lie, that they were pretending just so she could get a rise out of Seungcheol in hopes that he would realize what he was missing.

But she couldn't.

She was embarrassed.

"Snorkle time!" Mingyu cheered with Seokmin, placing their boards right next Jeonghan's.

"Hi." Mingyu smiled down at her, leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek; just missing her lips by a few centimeters.

Taking both of them by surprise, their eyes wide once he had straightened out – luckily for them, no one had seemed to catch on to this.

"Can we slow down on the itinerary, I'm exhausted." Minghao whined, dragging his board behind him – dropping down on to the sand.

"I second that." Jeonghan sighed, laying down. "I want to nap."

"No none of that." Mingyu shook his head, grabbing either one of their arms to pull them up. "Come on let's go go go go!"

"Please tell your him to shut up." Minghao groaned, plopping back down once Mingyu had let go.

"Bug, chill." She laughed as she watch Minghao curl into a ball – groaning about how his body will be feeling sore until next month.

"Boooooo!" He gave her a thumbs down. "Boooooo!"

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"You almost kissed me earlier."

"My bad." He yawned, keeping his eyes on the road.

After a long day of water activities and going around the shops of the North Shore, they were finally making their way back to the hotel. Y/n couldn't be more glad at the thought of being able to wash the salt water and sand off her skin and laying down on the soft mattress.

She was also grateful that Seungcheol didn't need to ride back with them – hopping into the Jeonghan's rental after they had finished off eating at the local shave ice stand.

"I was shocked too, I was too hyper at the time." Mingyu continued, fiddling with the nobs of the A/C unit when he noticed her shiver from the corner of his eyes. "Better?"

Y/n nodded. "No kissing okay? It's weird."

"You're a bad kisser, huh?" He teased.

"I don't know. Ask Seungcheol."

"Gross." He stuck his tongue out.

"Besides, pretty sure you have rabies."

Playing along with her joke, Mingyu rolling up his sleeve to flash her his bicep. "I got my shots up to date."

"Stupid." She snorted, going back to scrolling on her instagram – liking all the posts her friends have uploaded from today's activities.

Y/n felt warmth bubbling in her heart as she saw each and every carousel containing some sort of group pictures. She had missed this – when their group was complete, with no care in the world.

It brought her back to the time when they were all blissfully unaware of the real world; making the most of their college experience.

Before jobs, feelings, and schedules complicated their lives.

"Wanna hear something funny?" She asked, keeping her eyes trained on her screen.

She was looking at Sunhee's post – holding a bowl of shave ice nearly the size of her head with Seungcheol smiling widely in the back.

"Don't I ever?" Mingyu replied sarcastically.

"Jeonghan said I was your Sunhee."

Mingyu remained silent.

"Isn't that hilarious?" She turned her head to face his profile. "You would never put someone through what Seungcheol put me through because of me, right?"

"I'm afraid of commitment but I'm not an asshole, y/n." He glanced at her.

"I'm not Sunhee then... right?"

"I mean, in a way–"

"What do you mean in a way? We're nowhere near like them."

Their dynamic was a stark contrast to Seungcheol and Sunhee's.

Sure, they were very close – knowing each other better than they know themselves. But they knew boundaries.

They knew when to draw the line when it came to friendship, refusing to tread into dangerous waters because that's all they were.

Friends.

Two people, of the opposite gender, can be friends.

"Look, you're my best friend. We have our moments, but yeah- if you being my Sunhee means I'd do anything for you, then maybe?"

"You wouldn't do anything for me."

"Yeah I would." He defended.

"Mingyu, let's be real here." Y/n pressed.

The thing was, she didn't want to be Sunhee. She would never want to be the reason why her best friend's significant other felt insecure – the reason why they would come second best.

She would never wish her position on anyone.

Especially not someone who Mingyu loved.

"I am!" He chuckled. "Maybe I won't cancel on my date last minute for you for a little headache, but if it came down to making sure you're okay, yeah– I'll do anything for you."

He was being serious.

His tone matching his words.

"But I'm not Sunhee." She pressed.

She had her mind set on not wanting to be Sunhee.

She was y/n. She knew Jeonghan was simply making an analogy earlier, but the girl didn't want to be her. Not to Seungcheol, and defenitely not to Mingyu.

"No, you're right. You're y/n. My best friend" He sent her a warm smile, reaching over to give her knee a squeeze. "We're, as you would say, for lifers."

What the girl in the passenger seat didn't know was that she was his Sunhee.

She was the girl that he had fallen in love with.

The girl that he searched for in every other person he tried to date.

If she was his Sunhee then he was her Seungcheol.

taglist:

@thepoopdokyeomtouched/ @scuzmunkie / @yunjin0 / @morkswatermelonnnn / @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan / @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken / @naturelvrgfstealer / @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter / @musingsofananxiouspotato / @f4iryjjosh / @gatorgirl007 / @girlwithimaginarybiaslist / @daisawa / @ttragiquee / @luchiet / @loveforred /@vannabanana1995 / @uniq-tastic / @porridgesblog / @haolistic / @bbl32 / @calumsfringe / @alsktudy / @chansbaybygirl / @alwaysalmostthere / @listxn / @soupbinlily

(tag list closed)

there are some who asked to be tagged but tumblr is being weird and not allowing me to so i am so so sorry!

#i know i said a few days i lied im sorry #this part was ready and i wanted to upload it closer to part 4 but part 4 is giving me a headache rn so heh here u go happy early holidays #thank u guys sm for the replies and notes omg i fr love reading all of them #also backburner by niki gr8 song #ok dont kill me bye #mingyu fic #mingyu x oc #seventeen fic #seventeen #mingyu angst #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #seventeen imagines #mingyu #kmg fic #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seventeen seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seventeen scenarios #seungcheol x oc #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fic #svt fic #scoups x reader #scoups fic #spamgyu backburner

[blackopals-world]

What's the NRC staff's experience at ♨️!Yuu's bath house? I don't believe you've ever written about it in detail; only mentioning it on ♨️!Yuu's initial post. Then again I may have missed it since Tumblr is being rude right now. Feel free to gloss over this one if it doesn't seem like something you want to answer.

I haven't written about this yet.

The staff are in the unique position of having free access to the Onsen and its service. In exchange, it gets to operate without an alcohol license.

Yuu has promised that all the drinks are watered-down to the legal requirements and no one is getting drunk (which is only half true.) Keeping the faculty in the loop keeps Yuu out of trouble.

The Onsen has a private spring designated for VIPs and faculty. It has unlimited food and bottle service.

The main reason the adults use it is because it's the only place to relax away from students. Say what you want but standing all day, and being surrounded by unruly brats is exhausting. The onsen is perfect for getting away.

Everyone has a reason to go and it differs for everyone.

Trein

He's old he needs a good soak in the mineral baths. He usually drinks a strong soju and talks to Yuu about his younger days. Grandpa has a lot of wild stories before he became a teacher. He also goes on and on about his wife and how they fell in love.

He treats Yuu like a grandkid and goes to the onsen mostly for the atmosphere.

Crewel

He completely changes when he's relaxed. Yeah, he is worried about Yuu but when he is tired he needs to cut loose. He will literally let his hair down for one thing. He smokes even if Yuu gives him the stink eyes and tells him to take it outside.

He usually let's Yuu mix him a cocktail or a house wine of their choosing.

He uses the spa services the most. Facials, manicures, pedicures, and hair treatments.

Behind all that, if you get him in at the same time as Sam he's a college student again. Roughhousing, drinking, and telling vulgar jokes. If Yuu isn't there to see it.

Sam

The only reason he's still allowed is because he supplies the Spa and bar. He doesn't ask questions either.

He orders hard liquor, dark. Whiskey, vermouth, and Adictivo Doble Reposado (a favorite in my family) He once tried to get away with ordering absinthe and was poured a glass of water.

He enjoys the steam room says it feels like a hot summer Louisiana day by the bayou. (Trust me you with that was true. Louisiana summers can be amazing but the swamp is no joke)

Sam likes to goad the others into drinking more before challenging them to a few rounds of cards. He doesn't play any of the workers because Yuu trains them on how to win or lose games on purpose. Those girls could whoop your butt.

Vargas

He needs a good ice bath and massage after training. He views the onsen as an important part of taking care of your health. Taking time to relax the muscles and taking care of your body is key to a long life and healthy mind.

That being said he orders tons of beer and food. We can't all be perfect. He falls asleep sometimes and snores like a bear.

He likes to play ping-pong in the game room but he's really bad at it. No one tells him because he's so determined to win. It's doesn't matter because if everyone is drunk they all suck but think they are playing the best game of pong ever.

Crowley

Banned.

Fine. He's allowed. Begrudgingly.

He isn't treated badly but Yuu would rather he leave. But the onsen would be shut down he didn't agree to let it stay open.

He takes off the mask for once and scared Yuu.

"Who are you?!"

"What are you asking? It is me your dear headmage."

"You're lying! Where is the bird man?!"

Yeah, no object permanence here.

Crowley will get wasted off his ass and join in any chaos the others create. Children, the lot of them. He drinks just about anything. It's whatever suits his fancy that day.

He gets his hair done while he's there along with his nails. Yuu finds it weird that his hair creates a natural black oil like some species of bird and his nails are as hard as talons and just as sharp.

#onsen!yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #divus crewel #twst divus #mozus trein #twst trein #twst sam #vargas #twst vargas #coach vargas #twst dire crowley #twisted wonderland crowley #twst crowley

[alyswritings]

Softball Game

Request: Hii! If I could request something? I was wondering if u could do spencer reid x child reader (like 3 or 4) in the episode were spencer plays baseball (season 8, episode 6)?? Also I love Ur work, it's like I can't stop reading it Ur really talented 😊

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Summary: Y/N at the softball game (season 8, episode 6)

Warnings: none

a/n: thank you for the request! hope you all enjoy!

(gif not mine)

Spencer holds Y/N's hand as they walk up to the fence of the baseball field where the teams are warming up.

"Oh, get out of here." Derek says when he notices them. Spencer waves. "Hey, pretty boy." He runs over.

"Uncle Derek!" Y/N grins.

"Hey, baby genius." Derek waves at her.

"Hey." Spencer says.

"You made it." Derek says. "I like that. You bring your glove."

"Glove? I don't own shorts." Spencer says.

"Okay, don't even worry about it, kid. I got an extra one." Derek says. "Dice's wife?" Spencer nods. "Had her baby last night. So today is your day to play second base."

"Yay! Daddy play!" Y/N grins, shaking Spencer's hand around.

"Wait, what?" Spencer immediately panics.

"Uh-huh." Derek nods.

"I can't play second base."

"Oh, yes, you can, and yeah, you're gonna. No such thing as "can't," kid." Derek says.

"Go team!" They all turn at the cheering to see the rest of the team walking up.

"Oh-- what are you guys doing here?" Spencer asks.

"Oh, we were not gonna miss this for the world." JJ states.

"Great day for it." Hotch comments.

"Awesome." Spencer mutters.

"So the secret service, huh?" Blake asks.

"Yeah, yeah. We haven't beat these chumps in five years." Derek says.

"They've got nothing to do but practice." Rossi remarks.

"And party." Penelope adds, putting a baseball cap on Spencer's head, getting cheers and exclamations from the others.

- - -

Y/N is sitting between Penelope and Henry as Derek goes up to the plate. The pitcher throws the ball and Derek hits it, everybody cheering.

Spencer goes up to the plate as the team yells out encouragements.

"Go, daddy!" He hears Y/N shout. His heart warms at her encouragement, but his nerves spike knowing she'll have to watch her dad look like a loser.

The pitcher throws the ball, but Spencer misses it.

"Strike one!"

"Strike two!"

"Strike three!"

The team yell out encouragements.

"Daddy kind of stinks." Y/N says to Penelope.

"But we love and support him anyway. He'll get it." Penelope assures.

- - -

Derek hits the ball and runs off. Spencer goes up to the plate.

"Hey, this guy can't hit! Bring it in!" One of the guys from the secret service team yell out.

"Meanie!" Y/N screams, Penelope immediately covering her mouth.

"Time out, time out!" Derek calls. "Time out!" He runs over to Spencer. Derek talks to Spencer for a couple of minutes before running back to his previous position and Spencer gets ready.

"Go, daddy!" Y/N shouts as the team yell out other encouragements.

The pitcher throws the ball, Spencer missing.

"Strike one!"

"Strike two!"

"This guy's got nothing!" A secret service guy yells.

Y/N's mouth opens to call him a meanie, but Penelope covers her mouth.

"Time and place, sweetheart." Penelope says.

The pitcher throws the ball and Spencer hits it.

The team cheer and yell at him to run. Spencer takes off, running around the field.

"Go, daddy!" Y/N yells.

Spencer collides onto home base, Derek cheering him on. He helps Spencer up, hugging him. The team cheer as the softball team lifts Spencer up.

When they get off the field, Spencer and Derek go over to the team who congratulate them.

"Daddy!" Y/N cheers, grinning and holding her arms up.

"Hey!" Spencer picks her up.

"You did geat." Y/N states.

"Thank you." Spencer says, letting out a soft laugh and he kisses her on the cheek.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @itsmaneskinbitch @mrvlxgrl @star-wars-lover @champomiel @ironmaiden1313 @finleyyylovesyou

#spencer reid #spencer reid x daughter reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds reid #reid

[alicentsgf]

could you please elaborate more on the daemon loving/being interested in rhaenyra because she was the closest thing to viserys?

Yes I can 😌

Daemon suffers from the same debilitating disease as every other man in HOTD - an inability to see (high-born) women as anything other than extensions of their fathers or husbands. The way Viserys relates to Rhaenyra is all about his own selfish feelings, and he so easily accepts Alicent into an advisory role when shes only 15 probably because at least in part he's seeing Otto. Otto basically sees Alicent as an extra limb of his own body, and he likely sees Rhaenyra as an extension of Viserys - he probably ensured Alicent was made her companion for that reason. Daemon also sees Alicent as an extension of Otto and thats why he uses her to taunt Otto at the tourney - asking Alicent for her favour was Daemon all but mockingly asking for Otto's. And in every move Daemon made with Rhaenyra, not just the neck-grabbing scene, you could feel Viserys presence.

This man is obsessed with his brother. He spends pretty much Viserys' whole life desperately trying to get his brother's attention/force himself into a position of trust. He wants Viserys love and admiration so badly he will tear other people apart for it. His violent nature itself is his love for Viserys made manifest, as well as an outlet through which to vent his frustrations over Viserys dismissal. As a second son he stood to inherit nothing, but if he could be the finest warrior... perhaps he could convince Viserys he was worthy of a place at his side. He was the one rallying an army to fight for Viserys throne before the great council /for his brother/. If he kills and maims all the criminals in Kings Landing then (not only does it feel good) but to his mind he's doing a service /for his brother/. Then, when spurned, he fights a war to prove to himself he doesn't need Viserys... only to run right back when he wins in the hope of a pat on the head.

Where he respects Viserys, his relationship with Rhaenyra stinks of grooming and flippant disregard; She's a game. She's a distraction. She's a means to an end. He plays with her because, in her youth especially, she makes him feel powerful and desired, all the while reminding him of Viserys. But she's still not Viserys, and he happily leaves her vulnerable and alone in a dangerous situation on a whim. He gambles with her future for his own gain, and lets Viserys believe he took her virginity just for the chance of being Rhaenyra's consort… because if he's Rhaenyra's consort then Viserys can't send him away from court anymore, not without sending Rhaenyra away too. His place would be at Viserys' heir's side. Who cares if he ruins Rhaenyra's life, if it gets him one step closer to Viserys. And Viserys understood it wasn't (just) lust for Rhaenyra that drove Daemon to do such a thing, but it wasn't the throne he was after either - he only ever wanted to be Viserys' Hand. It's what he's always wanted. He tells Viserys this. He wants to be the person his brother relies on. But Viserys keeps removing him from the council and sending him away… so how is he supposed to prove himself worthy? 

I wonder… why did Daemon run from the brothel? I certainly believe he meant to go through with it, he'd let it go far enough, and there's no doubt he wanted Rhaenyra. It looked like guilt to me. Maybe a hint of confusion? (Maybe he'd just never experienced guilt before lmao). (Edit: Going off what someone just told me in the notes I had an ephiphany: In that moment hes only too aware of Rhaenyra's desire and the fact that she actually wants him. Here is this representation of Viserys in front of him Wanting him which he's never truly experienced and the lack of control over the situation and the guilt and desire and conflict is all just fucking with his mind to the point where he has to run away and drink himself into a stupor.)

Daemon is as Targaryen as they come. His parents and grandparents were siblings. He's grown up in this environment where friendships between siblings of the opposite gender are immediately sexualised. If Daemon had been born a girl, he would have no doubt been married off to Viserys. What does that knowledge do to a person? Especially when Daemon is (according to the cut scenes anway) canonically bisexual.

Whether he "desires" Viserys, or ever did, in any normal sense is kind of irrelevant, because this situation is not normal; we're literally talking about a man pursuing his niece because of a psychosexual fixation on his own brother. It's about the Targaryen sexualisation of sibling bonds. It's about the deeply rooted misogyny present in Daemon Targaryen. He can't fully invest in any partner he has; he's too misogynistic to see any woman as an entire person, and too Targaryen to emotionally invest in someone outside his own family. Not to mention the fact he finds power and having control too sexually alluring to consider what his own brother represents as King anything less than erotically enthralling.

Daemon has this sense that he was always meant for Viserys and he just can't shake it. On some level he knows that in another life he would have been Viserys' Queen, but in this life he can't have that. He tries to get as close to that reality as he can, but Viserys denies him. So he focuses on Rhaenyra; if his brother won't take him on as Hand or keep him as his heir then he can be Rhaenyra's consort, he can be Rhaenyra's Hand, he can give Rhaenyra heirs. He spends so much of his existence using Rhaenyra to desperately grasp at all the pieces of that other life with Viserys he might still be able to reach. Is it any wonder that when Rhaenyra reveals Viserys thought even less of Daemon than he believed, he lashes out at her - the person he's always seen as a substitute for the man he really wanted.

#ask #anon #hotd #daemon targaryen #viserys targaryen #the targaryen condition #anti targaryen #anti daemyra #anti daemon targaryen

[thedreamlessnights]

No Promises - Beltane

Geralt of Rivia x F!Reader (NSFW)

This is my fic for @witcherwheeloftheyear as today is Beltane! It's a little late (the fic just kept getting longer and longer) but, hey, it's very much still May 1st here. I wrote this with the game version of Geralt in mind!

Prompt: Aphrodisiac.

Warnings and tags: 18+ only, explicit sexual content, sex pollen/aphrodisiac, no use of Y/N, oral sex (female receiving), outdoor sex (sort of), multiple orgasms, and mentions of blood and corpses.

Word Count: 5.6k

Even from the very beginning, you know the contract is strange.

You must look half-crazed. It’s the middle of the night and you’re soaked, shivering in the rain as you viciously nail the paper onto the inn’s noticeboard. The board is sheltered enough from the weather that the words won’t fade - or, at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Deeper in your chest, there’s something else. Realism, perhaps. 

No one is ever going to answer this ridiculous thing, and you know it. There aren’t many witchers left these days, and even fewer who’ll do something like an escort service. Monsters are easy - predictable. Humans are much less so. Taking a chance like that could risk their lives.

But you have no choice. You have to try. Nailing this thing on is something to keep your hands busy, something to keep you sane a little longer. It’s the barest hint of hope that one day you’ll get out of this place, kept sacred like the jar of coins near your bedside that you’ve been slowly adding to for years now.

You need to get out of this town, and to do that, you need a witcher. No regular man will survive those monsters in the woods, much less keep you alive through it. No, you need a witcher, impossible as that is.

And, like a miracle personified, not one week later - there one is.

Out of any who could have come around this little town, it seems remarkably funny to you that it’s the most famous of them all who arrives. The White Wolf. You know the ballads by heart.

You first see him in the inn. 

Just as you’ve begun nursing a pint and mourning your current circumstances, Geralt of Rivia walks in and makes you almost drop your drink. At the sight of him, everyone in the room goes completely still, and you with them. It’s as if an icy wind has blown in and frozen you all to the bone. No one dares even to take a breath.

He’s just like they say. White-haired, covered in dirt and blood, stinking of corpses. He’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 

He takes a cautious step in, and everyone slowly seems to come back to life. Some ignore him as he passes by, pretending they hadn’t seen him at all. Some whisper furiously - hissing under their breath. 

“This is a respectable town,” one man says, rather loudly. Stefan, the farmer’s son. You’d recognize that reedy, whining voice anywhere. “No room for freaks like that,” he continues. “Bloody mutants. Emotionless, that lot.” 

You simply watch Geralt, entranced. The pint in your hand goes forgotten, and your heart starts thundering in your chest with a bruising pace. Don’t expect anything, you remind yourself, rather sensibly. Surely there are other contracts that are better than mine.

Still, your gaze lingers on him with pressing curiosity. There are deep slashes in his armor that concern you, but he doesn’t look pained, and he’s not favoring anything when he walks. Is that his blood on the front, or someone - something - else’s?

You study him in silence until he’s left again, presumably to go off to his room and bathe. Only then do you remember your drink, swallowing the rest of it down in one long swig. You’re buzzing with an electrifying sort of energy, and it stays as you journey home. It keeps you up all night and won’t you rest.

There it is again; that hope. It sits in your chest, and your coin jar, and the paper that, with any luck, is still on the notice board. The longer you lay staring up at the pitch-black of your room, the more that hope seems to bleed out of you into the floors. Hours pass, and hope spills through the room until you’re drowning in it. 

You should be sensible. Guard yourself from the very real, very painful possibility of disappointment. But, if you’re honest, that doesn’t even feel like an option anymore. Until he flat out rejects you, that hope will remain.

Geralt is here and real, and he might take your contract. You might finally get out of this horrid place. He’ll already know the state of the woods - he’d come through them to get here, after all. You can pay decently for what you’re asking, and you’ll even provide food for the journey.

By the time dawn comes around, bringing rosy orange skies, you haven’t gotten an ounce of sleep. Your thoughts have been far too animated for that. Still, despite your lingering exhaustion, you get yourself up and dress quickly as anxious energy starts to flow through you. It works itself out through precise motions, the mundane routine of life. Busy hands make for a calm brain, that’s what you’ve always told yourself.

It still tugs at your chest, though. It won’t be fully pushed away.

Not long after you’ve made breakfast, there’s a knock at your door. Your heart instantly leaps to your throat at the sound. Could it be him? But then you remember that Elise told you she’d be over for some of your spare flour, and your heart sinks back down to its home between your ribs.

With more than a little disappointment, you swallow hard, trying briefly to brush the wrinkles from your clothes, then open the door.

But it isn’t Elise. It’s Geralt. 

He looks a little different than he had last night. For one - he’s been scrubbed clean from the blood and dirt, handsome and rugged as he stands in front of you. His armor is also different from yesterday’s, and he doesn’t smell at all like corpses anymore. 

What does he smell like? You can’t quite pinpoint it.

At the sight of you, Geralt politely bows his head. “Greetings,” he says. “Read your contract. Mind if I come in?”

Warmth, you finally realize. That’s what he smells like. Heat.

“No,” you say breathlessly. “No, I don’t mind at all - come in, please.”

You step back to let him in, and he follows in after you, briefly glancing around at the surroundings.

He should be intimidating. He had been, just last night, even though you hadn’t been scared away in the least. But he’s not at all scary now. Instead, he has an uncertainty about him that’s almost awkward. It’s as if he somehow has the lesser ground in this conversation, and that - combined with the soft hesitance of his voice - makes it impossible for you to be afraid of him.

“Are you hungry?” you ask impulsively. “I’ve just made breakfast.” 

He looks genuinely surprised at your offer. His brows rise, and he shifts from one foot to the other. “Already ate,” he says. “Appreciate the offer, though.”

“Then I’m guessing you’d like to discuss the contract.”

He nods. “Yeah. Don’t usually do escorts. Was hoping I could learn a little more before I agree to anything.”

“Of course,” you reply quickly, nervously brushing down your clothes again. “I’ll be honest, I know it’s not typical for witchers to do things like this, but…” Your words trail off and sit thickly in the air. You’re not sure what to say. You desperately want to convince him.

Geralt raises a brow. “Don’t feel like traipsing around the forest alone?” he asks.

Mirroring his facetious tone, you shrug and tilt your head. “I’m afraid I don’t have a death wish.” 

He smiles a little at that, his eyes crinkling just the slightest at the edges. Your gaze lingers on them, golden and warm and beautiful. With the slitted pupils, they really do look like a cat’s. 

“Smart of you to ask for an escort,” he says. “Just came through those woods. Crawling with monsters. Bandits, too.”

You frown, suddenly remembering the shredded armor you’d seen last night. “I’ve heard as much. It’s the only reason I’m still here.”

He studies you for a moment, gaze piercing. Then he speaks. “I’d need half the pay first. Other half comes when we arrive.”

“Done,” you say.

This really seems to take him aback. Do people often argue with him? It only makes sense for him to get half the pay now. 

“Huh,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Alright. Gotta be honest, you seem smart enough to know this already, but there are some rules I’d need you to follow. I go out there with you, it’s both our lives on the line. Need you to do anything I say, when I say it. Don’t want any risks.”

“Of course,” you breathe, relief flooding you. “Like I said, I don’t have a death wish. I completely trust your opinions on how to get us through safely.”

He seems to relax a little at that. His expression softens, and he nods. “Got a few things to take care of today, so it’ll have to wait. Guessing tomorrow works for you?”

The wall of hesitance you’ve been holding in shatters. “Tomorrow?” you exclaim, perhaps a bit too loud. You have to physically stop yourself from throwing yourself in his arms. “I mean - yes! Yes, tomorrow is perfect, thank you.”

There’s a beautiful flash of a smile again before he bows his head once more and takes his leave, and you start trembling with some euphoric type of adrenaline. 

You’ve had this planned out for months now - years, even. You’d had to wait until you could afford it, and you’ve always told yourself to be practical about it, to wait until you had the best chance of leaving this place and staying away. 

You don’t have much to pack. The woods require you to travel light, so you only grab the necessities. Everything else is left behind. You don’t have many belongings anyhow.

Your employer doesn’t seem to believe you when you tell him you’re leaving, but he accepts your resignation nonetheless. He probably thinks you’ll end up back here like the rest of them. Deep in your bones, you know that won’t happen. Not if you can help it.

Keeping your hands busy, you cook up some food for the journey - things that will last, store well on your back. Then you purchase a few much-needed supplies, and sew up a tear that’s needed mending. When the sky finally starts to get dark again, you start trying to wear yourself out.

The overwhelming elation you feel in every inch of your body is keeping you wide awake, and you’ll need your sleep if you’re going through the forest. More sleep means you’re more alert, and you can’t risk putting Geralt in any further danger.

Eventually, your pacing around in the chilled night air begins to work - your body becomes soft and sleepy, and you crawl into bed knowing that everything is ready. 

Finally.

Over the next week, you learn a great number of things about the woods.

For instance, you learn what nekkers look like, and how to breathe when you’re hiding. It becomes natural - slow, shallow breaths so nothing will hear you. Soon, you learn how to make your footsteps almost silent, and how to identify when Geralt is hearing something dangerous in the distance. The days become a fluid rhythm of understanding. Three days in, and you don’t even need him to tell you to hide. You just know.

From what you can tell, the two of you are lucky. A few monsters and some wolves really aren’t the worst things you could be dealing with. Most of the time, the two of you are undisturbed - but that might just be his heightened sense of hearing steering the two of you away from danger.

You also come to learn that Geralt isn’t much of a talker. His answers to your questions are often brief, but not at all rude. Laconic, rather. It’s as if he’s itching to get the conversation off of him. Which leaves the burden on you. 

He doesn’t seem to mind your near-constant chatter in the least. Sometimes you’ll get a smile out of him, and rarely you’ll even earn a laugh. Other times he’s silent, lost in thought.

What’s the most frustrating of all is that the less he speaks, the more you want to know. Your head is full of things you want to ask, but you refuse to press him. Not when he’s been nothing but polite, keeping the two of you safe.

A week stretches on in scant conversation, but you feel safe and utterly relieved to be leaving that town, so you can’t exactly complain. Geralt starts your fires in the cold nights and always takes the first watch. You take the second, and wake him at any signs of danger.

And the two of you continue on.

When the two of you are forced to lumber over a log to push on, he puts his hands on your waist and hoists you up like you weigh absolutely nothing. His hands are warm and his grip is gentle but firm, and you spend the rest of the evening dizzily thinking about his touch.

His presence feels like a slowly-growing pressure in your chest, a dam about to burst. It swells with every touch, every conversation. If the two of you don’t arrive soon, one of these days your sense might crumble. For now, it holds. 

When there are only a few days left in your journey, Geralt finally initiates the conversation. He asks why you’re leaving - why you’d wanted to get away from that place so badly. 

You readily tell him. 

You tell him about long days spent in the sun, work that never paid as much as it should, hands worn down to the bone and skin constantly cracking. You had skills to share with the world, but they were no good in the middle of nowhere.

Then you tell him of the bitter chill of winter, the sweltering heat of the summer, the seasons that never had any kind of balance.

You hadn’t fit in with the townsfolk, who were nothing but shallow, cruel, and unfeeling. You laugh to yourself a little when you remember Stefan’s words - calling Geralt emotionless. In truth, it’s clear that Geralt feels more than he ever could.

As you speak, Geralt drinks in your words - as if they’re a heady wine he can’t get enough of. His eyes stay on your face the entire time you talk, and he smiles at your jokes. You can’t remember anyone else ever looking at you like that, not even the men you’ve bedded.

When you go off to bed, he offers a hand to help you up, and wishes you good night.

Your sleep that night is feverish. 

You dream of him, nothing but him - callused hands trailing over your skin, his thumb tracing along your jaw, warm lips coaxing yours open. 

When you wake with a start, you find great relief in the fact that Geralt hasn’t seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary, and that you hadn’t talked in your sleep.

In fact, Geralt isn’t even looking your way - his eyes are focused on something you can’t see, studying a dark shadow in the distance. 

You sit next to him, pretending that you hadn’t just dreamed of… what you’d dreamed. “More wolves?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “Endregas.”

The word isn’t familiar to you. “Monsters?” 

He huffs. “Yeah. Big. Shoot poison quills.”

You shudder a little at the thought, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Have you fought them before?”

“Yeah,” he replies, eyes still trained on the distant endregas. “Lots. Usually don’t have someone else to worry about, though. Prefer not to fight them if I don’t have to.”

“In that case, I can take watch,” you offer. “I’ll wake you if they get any closer.”

But he shakes his head. “Don’t want to risk it. I’ll sleep later.”

You want to argue. The circles under his eyes are dark and he looks exhausted. But you don’t, because you know that he won’t budge.

While you wait, you have to fight to keep your eyes on the forest. You want to study him, want to know what he’s thinking and feeling and where he’s just come from, why he was in town. Instead, you keep your eyes trained on the forest, thinking about things you can never have. 

The endregas move on in an hour or two, and the two of you set off when they’re gone. The air is sweet and cool amid the morning dew, but it quickly gives way to the burning sun.

Geralt seems more alert than usual - there must be something he’s hearing, but it isn’t enough for him to want you to hide, not yet. You ready yourself for the possibility, but as the day stretches on you relax more and more.

Then, when the sun is orange and low in the sky, Geralt stops. 

You tense, getting ready to hide, but he doesn’t give you the usual signals. His brows pinch and his jaw clenches, but he doesn’t turn to look at you.

“Endregas?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “Boars, I think.”

“Boars?” You hadn’t even known they were in the area. “Are they dangerous?”

Geralt’s expression goes grim. “Think I’d prefer the endregas,” he says. He listens for a moment longer. “Shit. Gotta move.”

You fight the urge to laugh at the mental image of him battling a pack of wild boars, then follow closely behind him.

Out of nowhere, it begins to pour. 

It’s the painful kind of rain, thick, heavy droplets that soak you in an instant. You’re not sure who starts running first, but the two of you end up sprinting to a nearby cave, and you’re laughing and praying that the boars aren’t following you.

With the weather, the cave is so dark that you can’t see. You rush in and come to a halt, gasping for breath - Geralt is effortlessly fast and extremely difficult to keep up with, and you’re sure he hadn’t even been running at full speed.

Then the smell hits you.

It’s earthy and peppery - stinging your nose as you inhale. The feeling travels down your airway, and your limbs start to feel… well, you don’t know what they’re feeling. It’s uncomfortable, though.

You know something is wrong even before Geralt lights a torch, but the look on his face just confirms it. That’s not all, either. The two of you are both covered in the substance you’ve been breathing in, and… and it looks like spores. 

You’re standing right over the source - a mossy sort of plant under your feet, and the glimmering orange flecks in the air are all over you, but Geralt is coated with them, too.

You start brushing them off as fast as you can. Geralt stays frozen, looking extremely pained.

“Well?” you ask. “I’m guessing you know what this is.”

Your words seem to wake him from his trance. He blinks hard and gazes at you before finally speaking. “I… Yeah. Got some bad news.”

Great, you think to yourself. It’s poison. That must be why Geralt is looking at you so mournfully. It’s poison and you’re going to die, and his witcher mutations are going to save him from the toxins.

But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything, in fact. He gently grips your arm and leads you to a nearby pond that you hadn’t seen in the torch’s dim light. Then sets down the torch, wets a loose cloth and starts wiping the substance off your skin. It feels nice - even though you’re already drenched, this cave is feeling incredibly hot.

You swallow hard, trying to process what’s happening. If he’s doing this, maybe you won’t die. Maybe it’s just… painful.

The flecks are still on him - you reach up to dust some of them out of his hair, and he inhales heavily.

“How bad is it?” you finally ask.

He takes a moment before he answers. “Depends, I guess. You aren’t dying.”

Pain, then.

His hands are shaking as he continues to wipe you off, and something about that scares you. Your body feels hot, so hot, and it feels so nice when he touches you, but at the same time you’re so afraid that you can barely breathe.

“Geralt!”

He sighs, finally relenting. “Really rare plant,” he starts off. “Never actually seen it before, only read about it. Pretty easy to recognize, though.”

“And it’s painful.” You’ve had enough of him dancing around the subject.  

His brows pinch. “It’s an aphrodisiac,” he says gently. “Pretty powerful one.”

Aphrodisiac. It takes you a moment to place the word. Then you do.

The realization must show on your face, because Geralt stops wiping you down and leans back on his heels. “Yeah,” he says softly.

The heat you’re feeling - that’s what this is? Oh, gods. It’s all over the two of you, and… and it’s… oh, gods.

“Got most of it off you,” he continues. “Thing is, it’ll still be in your system for a while.”

“What about you?”

He shrugs. “Might affect me less. Might be the same. Not really sure.”

You think of his shaking hands as he’d wiped you off, and heat instantly pools between your legs. You press your knees together, and his gaze follows the action and lingers.

Shit.

“Might… might have a book with the antidote recipe,” he mumbles distractedly, eyes still fixed on your thighs.

Taking in a sharp breath, he stands abruptly and begins sorting through his things. You want to stop him. You want to stop him, because what was uncomfortable and hot is now very much pleasant, euphoric even, and the only thing you can think of anymore is having him touch you again.

“Geralt,” you breathe.

His hand tightens on the book he’s just grabbed, but he doesn’t respond. He simply starts sorting through the pages with clumsy fingers. 

You’ve never seen him clumsy before.

Your thoughts seem to have fogged over with some sort of lustful haze, and you can barely keep yourself still. It’s almost painful, when he’s so close and you’ve been wanting him and you know how nice his touch feels.

Geralt sits down a few feet away to read, but you can tell he’s not getting anywhere. His eyes trace over the page again and again and he keeps shaking his head, as if he’s trying to shake himself into concentrating. You watch him in increasing discomfort, shifting and balling your hands into the fabric of your clothes, trying to be patient.

After a minute or so of this, Geralt snaps the book shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck,” he says softly.

You know he must want you. You can see it in the heat of his gaze when he turns to look at you, even though he’s been trying not to. You know he can hear how fast your heart is beating, and that he can smell you, you can see the way his hands have balled into fists and how his jaw clenches. You see the way eyes trail over your chest, taking in how your clothes are sticking to you from the rain. 

His gaze darkens with interest as he stares at you, and you’re staring at him, and his eyes finally meet yours. 

In a flash, you’re on your feet - and he’s somehow there, somehow already next to you. You want him so badly that when he takes your face in his hands, you let out a sob of relief.

Then he kisses you.

The kiss is hot and hungry and desperate and you’ve never known anything better, never want it to stop. His hand is on the back of your neck, needlessly coaxing you closer to him as his chest presses against you, free hand roaming down to grip your waist. 

Trying to steady yourself in his grip, you rest a hand on his shoulder. Your other one goes up into his soft, silky hair, and he groans into your mouth as you tangle your fingers into it.

Desire pulses through you at the sound - you start feverishly clawing at his armor, wanting it gone, wanting to touch him. He steps back a little and yanks it off impatiently, dropping the pieces carelessly to the floor. When it’s finally off, he kisses you harder, guiding you backwards. He wants you against the cave wall, you realize. You hit it hard. There’s no pain.

Now that he’s shirtless, you can see that his torso is just as scarred and beautiful as the rest of him, and you only want more. He presses a leg between your knees and starts to kiss down your neck, and you let out a whimper, fighting the urge to grind against him.

When he gets down to your top, his hands fumble with the lacing for a moment before he gives up and rips it. You feel the stitching tear before it falls away, and - gods, you might die here. Geralt of Rivia might kill you.

You don’t wonder about what the hell you’re going to wear after this. You barely even care. All you can think of is him, his hands, sliding down your ribs, his lips, pressing kisses to your clavicle. To hell with the clothes. To hell with anything else but him.

The way you ache for him is painful - his touch is both burning and soothing and it riles you up into a state of frenzy as you try to get him closer. Your heart is pounding in your chest with such force that it’s a wonder that it doesn’t give out, and everything Geralt is doing is making you less and less coherent  - his tongue tracing down your chest, his mouth hot against your skin. 

You let out a soft whine as his fingers find your right breast, thumb circling around your nipple before he takes it into his mouth. With his free hand, he mirrors his actions on the other side, and you start squirming and whimpering, wanting him to keep going but wanting him inside you. 

His fight against his impatience is evident. The grip of his hand on your waist is bruising, but his mouth is gentle. The longer he goes on, the tighter that grip gets. You want him to squeeze you even harder. You want him to take you, take you hard enough that you’ll feel him with every step tomorrow. 

“Geralt,” you pant. “Please.” 

You’re not even sure exactly what you’re asking for. Don’t stop, you think. Don’t stop touching me, don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop—

Geralt growls in response to your words, a low, feral sound that rumbles up from his chest as he kisses further and further down. You can feel the vibration of it against your ribs, and your hips instinctively rock toward him.

That action seems to wipe away any patience he’d had. His lip curls and he steps back, ripping the rest of your clothes off of you. You think he’s going to take you right then, but he doesn’t. 

He drops to his knees.

Any thoughts you’d had left die as his warm mouth finds your clit. Your mind instantly goes blank and fuzzes over with pleasure, legs shaking as you resist grinding down into his mouth, and your hand fixes tightly in his hair.

The gasp you’d been letting out quickly fades into a moan, and Geralt hums against you in response, gripping your thigh and hoisting it over his shoulder. You lean back against the wall for support, nearly mindless with pleasure, letting out soft noises you barely recognize.

Heat starts building between your legs, electrifying and so ridiculously good that you’re not even sure you’ll be able to stay upright. Your knees start shaking even more and your vision blurs and he’s licking you as if he can’t get enough, can’t stop, and he feels so fucking good, better than anything you’ve ever felt, and–

Pleasure is suddenly blinding you. Geralt’s grip tightens where he’s holding you - practically holding you up, and your ears start ringing. You shake and gasp and hold onto his shoulder for dear life.

When you finally start coming down again, you realize that the heat is still there - still as intense, and you can only think about one thing.

“Fuck me.” It’s a plea, more than anything, half a sob. 

He must either be moved by it or desperate himself, because he presses a soft kiss to your thigh before gently removing your leg from his shoulder, wiping his mouth as he gazes up at you. There’s still so much want in his eyes.

Legs still shaking, you sink down onto your knees and kiss him. His arms wrap around you, warm and strong, and his hand goes back to your neck, and you crawl on top of him until you’re practically straddling him. 

He’s painfully hard in his trousers, and he sighs in relief when you unlace them, breath tickling against your cheek. He still smells like heat, a woodsy, heady sort of heat, and he’s thick and hot when you take him into your hand. He drags in a strained breath as you stroke him, fingers tightening on the nape of your neck.

“Ah,” he gasps. “Fuck.”

That does it - you can’t fucking wait any longer. You shuffle further up his lap, line yourself up with him, and sink down on his cock.

The hand that’s not on your neck moves to your back, and his brows pinch in pleasure. He feels - he feels so fucking good, and he’s beautiful, and gods, gods. You’re shuddering around him already, clenching hard.

“Fuck,” he groans. Then he puts both hands on your hips and starts fucking you. 

Your hands end up pressed against his chest, and all you can do is moan and let him take you and watch his beautiful face as it contorts with ecstasy, completely entranced by him. His cock feels so fucking good, blissful friction that builds deep inside you, friction that’s getting him close too, and he’s squeezing your hips harder, and you’re already tensing with another climax.

His thrusts are deep and hard and, gods, you don’t even know if you can believe this is real, any of this. How is he real, so tall and gentle and strong, how is this real, how is he taking you away from that awful town, keeping you safe, fucking you like this, fuck, fuck, fuck—

You come around him and he shudders and groans and kisses you, thrusting into you even harder, fucking into you until you’re panting and clinging to his shoulders as you clench around his cock. Then the two of you go boneless and he lays back against the ground, bringing you down with him, smoothing a hand down your spine as the two of you lay there.

The heat is back. It’s a little less this time, but it’s back. Geralt is still inside you, still hard, and he grunts as you rock your hips down. Then, to your distress, he places his hands on your ribs as if to hold you still and pulls out of you, shifting out from under you and leaving you sitting on the cold floor.

You watch shamelessly as he stands and gathers something from his pack, and your heart skips a beat when you see that he’s pulled out a blanket. He lays it out, smoothes it down, then looks at you expectantly and pats the center. “C’mere,” he says.

You quickly scramble over, and he kisses you harder this time and lays you down, coaxing your legs apart as he thrusts into you again. It’s slower this time, less desperate, more intimate. That heat is still there and the two of you are still drunk on it, but it’s not so demanding, not so aching.

You stare at him like he’s come from the heavens and listen to the gradually increasing strain of his breath, and he kisses you and licks into your mouth, and his thrusts slowly get faster, and - gods, it feels so good you can barely think or breathe, and, don’t stop, you think. Please don’t ever stop. 

When he arrives at his peak, he brings you right there with him - gasping and digging your nails into his back, shivering with pleasure, and he groans and presses his cheek to yours and keeps thrusting until he’s finished and you’re both panting.

He rests his forehead against yours for a moment before kissing you again, and you wince a little as he pulls out of you. The heat is still there and, honestly, you’ll probably ending up fucking again, but for now you’re content to just lay there. 

To your shock, Geralt sits up and reaches for your ruined top, using it to clean up the mess he’s made of you.

“Geralt!” you exclaim. 

“What?” he says, smirking a little. “Ruined it already.”

You begin to laugh hysterically, and Geralt chuckles, finishing his clean up before he lays down next to you.

“Hope you have other clothes,” he says.

“Dirty ones,” you reply. “If I stink, it’ll be your fault.”

“Mm. Sorry about that,” he says, not sounding particularly sorry at all. “Make it up to you.”

“Is that so?” you ask. “How are you going to do that?”

His hand wraps around your waist, and you let out a yelp as he pulls you closer.

“Got some ideas,” he says, nipping sharply at your ear.

Ignoring the heat building in your gut again, you lightly slap his arm. “You owe me a new outfit,” you tell him.

“Sure,” he says. “Buy you a new one when we get into town.”

“Will you, now?”

“Uh-huh,” he says distractedly, kissing down your neck. “Just gotta let me take it off you, too.”

You smile to yourself at the thought. “Don’t rip it and we have a deal.”

He laughs, nuzzling his nose against your neck.

“No promises.”

#witcherwheeloftheyear #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x you #mywriting

[fool-errant]

Company

Oops my hand slipped.

This is hot off the keyboard. No beta - we die like gnomes. Just felt like getting this out. As much as Astarion needs a hug and cuddles I imagine getting him to understand or accept the concept would be hard. Which is how we ended up here. Halla is my current PC - she's an actual DnD tabletop character of mine I dumped into the game. She's a lot better with words when she's doing her usual conniving shit. In this case - she's trying to be genuine. Which is new for everyone. They are both bad at this which is why I feel they work. Halla is a half elf bard - whose very meh with elven shit. And this takes place in the front half of Act 2. No spoilers in it just set dressing.

Astarion wasn’t sure why he’d assumed the nightmares wouldn’t reach him Here. Out in the middle of this godsdamned land covered in shadows. The land was brutal enough he’d thought he would be too tired for Cazador -even a memory of him -to reach. The worm was clearly eating the intelligent part of his brain.

As his mind cleared he found himself sitting up clutching his knees. His racing thoughts started dying down as he made his eyes focus on the campfire in front of him. The glow warding off the darkness of the curse and now his own dreams. A delicate cough attracted his attention from the fire. He found himself meeting a familiar pair of gold eyes. “Darling,” he said quietly with a forced smile. The woman wordlessly sat next to him. Close enough for him to feel her warmth but not touching him. Ever since their talk about their, whatever they were doing, she seemed more careful to not touch him. An odd amount of care that gnawed on him, being treated so delicately. Like he was made of glass. Him. It’d be funny if it wasn’t a relief. “Dreams again.” It was a question that wasn’t. She gave him a look he was unable to read. Concern?  Exasperation? Exhaustion? It was late, and the days had not been kind to anyone. “It was noth-” he tried to shrug it off with a laugh. A lie. But the bard’s face changed to a more readable expression. Skepticism. He trailed off awkwardly. They had talked about being more…upfront. “It was Him.” he finally spat out. “Cazador.” The name hung in the air - sullying the aura of the campfire. Halla held out her hand. After a moment of hesitation he accepted it and found himself clinging to it like it and soon her whole arm like it was a rock in a raging river. Leaning slightly he found her bony shoulder under his cheek. Pushing himself closer, the woman offered no resistance, just a small hum in response. He breathed the scent of her, warm skin, her blood, her sweat, leather oil and the pine rosin she was always using on her violin. “Sorry about the stink, I need to do the washing,” she sighed. “It’s been hard to get the laundry service out here. Turns out they all run the other way when they hear “shadow curse.” He smiled weakly. It was a poor stab at humor, but it was still funnier than his lingering dreams. He briefly wondered about telling her he didn’t mind. That the earthy smells were better than the stale old decay and rot of his nightmares. That probably was something best left to himself. “I hope I didn't wake you. Did I?" nightmares were embarrassing. Nightmares where you were so loud you woke others were mortifying.

“Nah” she shook her head, her brown hair glinting gold in the firelight. “It’s my turn to keep watch. I drew the short straw tonight.” she offered with a shrug. The short straw was usually the darkest/latest shift in the night watch rotation. But in this place, there was little difference from the brightest to the darkest parts. Or even a night or day. Exactly how long they had been here was hard to calculate. Days flew by without any indicators but new injuries and horrors. It reminded him of the days in Cazador’s kennels, hours and weeks swept by like a stranger with no notice or regard. That might have been what brought the nightmares plaguing him tonight. The monotonous misery.

“Do you mind giving me my arm back?” Halla’s voice cut into his thoughts.  Oh. He was dragged back to the here and now, the campfire. Clinging to this woman like he was a child with a security blanket. Fool. He let go of her arm like it was burning. “Karlach’s shift’s coming up.” she said getting to her feet. Straightening up Astarion nodded and gestured for her to go on. 

Standing up with a stretch he turned to walk into his tent. Try to salvage the night - get some rest before they marched back into the cursed dark and shadows. If the shadows would leave him alone. He was about to duck into his tent when he heard a familiar voice behind him. “Erm.” Turning over his shoulder was Halla. She was probably here to chide him for being scared of nightmares, tell him it was nothing to worry about. “You uh…” she faltered, “want to come to my tent?” So that’s what this was. He’d assumed she was too tired for this. Shadowlands were hardly known for their, erotic qualities. Maybe this was payment. Get a shoulder to cry on, give some pleasure. He’d wondered how much of his words she had heard, how much she had meant of him making his own choices. Or how little she cared for sex. He had hoped. But he was a fool.  “If that’s what you want.” he said trying to hide his exhausted resignation. She bristled, “Not like that.” she replied. “I meant.” her hands wringing, “I mean. Not for that.” She was usually so good at words it would have been amusing to watch her flounder if it weren’t his nerves she was playing like a bow string. “Want to sl-” she stopped gnawing on her lower lip before finally she spat out something that it took him a moment to realize was elven true tongue.   The words for a night's rest and meditation. “Rest with me?” Her tone and language so formal and stiff it was impossible to sound lewd. “What?” he found himself staring at her in bewilderment. “If that was a proposition you have no right to critique mine.” The woman was of some elven blood so it wasn’t a surprise she knew the tongue. She had just never spoken it before. Her face was turning red, a performance he’d never seen her do before. “Do you want to rest with me?” she repeated again in Common her tone quiet. “Just rest. Just sleep. Nothing else. You don’t have to, you can say no if you want to. I just thought you could use the company.” Being alone he was used to. Even in a crowded room, or stacked like kindling with his “siblings” in their bunks. But did he want to be? Now? In this endless night and shadow. “I think” he swallowed. “I think I would like that.” He let her take him by the hand, as she led him to her tent. Karlach settling down by the fire, sharpening her axe, glanced up and smiled like she was going to say something but was silenced with a glare from Halla. The tiefling made a gesture like she was locking her mouth and went back to her business. He ducked to get through the door of the bard’s tent. She drew the drape over the entrance as they came in. They’d made love under the stars, fucked in his bedroll, but he had never gone into her tent. It had felt wrong to do that while he was toying with her, using her. Even with the new found freedom of the parasite it felt wrong to cross the threshold. Violate what odd trust she had given to him. But now he was being led in. It felt strange to be invited so warmly. Reminded him of all the other times he’d been trusted and shouldn’t have been. This was going to end badly. “One moment.” she said and tapped a lantern. The gray darkness of the tent was illuminated into a warm glow. The floor was a beaten battered carpet stolen in their wanderings. Its original design, now worn and faded, still provided some color and degree of separation from the dirt. A few books and scrolls were scattered about. Her boots and hat were carefully placed next to a stool where her armor rested. Ready at a moment's notice. Removing her sandals - the woman began arranging her bedroll and blankets. “You can make yourself comfortable.” Glancing around he tried to find a place to sit, but the only spare cushion that wasn’t part of her bedroll was providing a resting place for her violin. Touching that would be more of an invasion than entering her tent. Gesturing around the room he looked at her quizzically. 

“Oh don’t be so dramatic. You can move that and sit there, if you prefer to meditate sitting up” she gestured at the musical instrument. “Or you can join me. If you like.” “I thought you said-” “I said sleep. And I mean sleep.” she said with more patience than he felt he deserved. Getting to her feet - she stooped, though less than he had to and gently placed her hands on his face. Lightly. Giving him space to move away if he wanted. He didn’t move from her touch. “We can share a bedroll,  blanket, or pillows or whatever you like.” she said gently. She kneeled back down onto the bedroom and started to stretch out, pulling blankets over her. Leaving some for him, he noticed. A sweet gesture even if he didn’t need it. Carefully he laid down next to her, not touching her at all. When was the last time he’d shared a bed with someone? He wondered. Just for sleep. Not post cloitally. Surely he must have at some point when he was young. Alive. Those days were a blur to him. A blur of sunshine and comfort that swam away when he tried to focus on it. As Halla began to shift her pillow around he was pulled from his musings by a glint of metal. He reached under her pillow and his hand found a stiletto knife. “I never expected you to be the sort to use blades in the bedroom.” “That’s not for you.” she said rolling her eyes, taking the blade from him. “Old habit.” With that she tucked it back under her pillow. She wasn’t asking him if he cared or was concerned about it. He decided not to press her hospitality any further. An odd mix of naivete and steel. Sweet enough to invite a vampire to lay next to her but savvy enough to keep a knife close. He could respect that. “You can turn off the lamp if you want.” she murmured her voice half muffled by her pillow. She sounded like she was halfway off to dreaming. He hoped hers were more pleasant than his had been.

The light was better than shadows, real or imagined he decided. Leaving the lamp lit he closed his own eyes and tried to get himself to rest as well. At least for the moment he wasn't alone in the dark.

#fanfic #bg3 #astarion

[softguarnere]

Fic Writer Interview

Thank you for the tag @mercurygray!

How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 6, but hopefully that number will go up over spring break

What's your total AO3 word count?

119,136

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Like A Girl (Like A Man) - Band of Brothers

Just A Kid - The Outsiders

Bear The Burden Alone - The Chronicles of Narnia

For Whatever We Lose - Band of Brothers

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, absolutely! I share my writing because it allows me to connect with people who share my interests. If I'm not posting replies, it feels more like a one sided conversation, imo. Also, it seems the polite thing to do

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

It's about to be Like A Girl (Like A Man)! You'll see why soon >:)

What the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

On AO3, it's probably Bear The Burden Alone, but I try to keep the fics that I post here on Tumblr kinda upbeat with hopeful -- albeit open-ended -- endings.

Do you write crossovers?

Yeah! For Whatever We Lose is actually a crossover with The Pacific, and I'd love to do more crossovers in the future

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yep! I've deleted the comments, but some people were VERY ANGRY about the background Babe/Roe content in LAGLAM -- you know, despite the fact that the plot of the fic is driven by a queer woman's decision to cross-dress. Guess they had to draw the line somewhere, but the hypocrisy of it all makes me chuckle

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Kinda? I deleted most of it from the original LAGLAM drafts and instead just alluded to it, but things are going to be different in FWWL. Get ready for crappy ocean metaphors and religious imagery, babes!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not :( That would stink

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I think it would be fun!

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Everlark! (said while frothing at the mouth because they make me go insane) I've been obsessed with them since I first read The Hunger Games at age 9. I could write you a whole novel about why I think they're perfect together, but I'll spare you the ramble (unless anyone wants it?)

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Tears in my eyes when I tell you that it's probably the requests in my inbox. I keep telling myself that I'll get to them, but I've just felt unmotivated with all the stuff I've had going on in my personal life/at school. I really really do hope to get to them someday, though, because some of them will be really fun to write

What are your writing strengths?

I have no clue, lol. I tend to get compliments about how I describe settings, so I'm gonna say that!

What are your writing weaknesses?

My abuse of commas and italics.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Personally, I love doing it. Especially in a fic like LAGLAM, where even though most people don't speak the language I'm using (Cherokee), I feel like they can still see the importance to the characters and to the story. And I like tricking people into caring about Indigenous language preservation. My teachers told me that anything can be a vessel for carrying language on, and by God, I took that to heart

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Oh boy. I was in the fifth grade. I had won many writing competitions. Two classmates approached me and told me that they wished The Hunger Games had more post-Mockingjay Everlark content, and that since I was a good writer, they wanted me to write it. I was traded many cosmic brownies and other such snacks throughout the year for my services in providing my classmates with Everlark fics on pages of notebook paper that are probably crumpled up in a landfill by now. At the time, I had no idea I was writing fanfiction, but it was the start of my favorite hobby. Look at me now, baby!

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I've always wanted to write for TURN: Washington's Spies but have never had the courage haha

What's your favorite fic you've written?

I have a couple of one-shots that I'm pretty pleased with, but currently I'm going to say LAGLAM because it's been so special to me <3

Tagging (but no pressure!): @almost-a-class-act @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd @liebgotts-lovergirl

#thank you for tagging me :) #ask game #about the author

[chicademartinica]

Do you ever feel that following actors on social media or knowing so much about how they interact "off screen" distracts from their acting performance? While watching Only Friends I can't help but be taken out of it because I keep thinking about interviews and tweets and what fans speculate about the actors. And that stinks because their acting is really good and I want to enjoy the performance for what it is. Or it's just a me problem?

ABSOLUTELY. It is not a you problem fam. It’s the now of things. If we are talking about the Thai entertainment industry specifically, they make good business with fan service and a very special brand of parasocial relationships with artists. I’m not a promo material girl, I don’t follow actors, I don’t watch streams, games or reality tv. I try to dodge it as much as I can. I’m not on twitter ! (I know!) I thirst a good photoshoot at best. I do follow crew (writer,filmmaker, cinematographer etc.) because I’m passionate about the work and even this can go on mute if need be.(for exemple hearing Jojo say he had to edit the show to protect the actors was kinda painful to hear)

I have the privilege of speaking a lil Mandarin (Chinese tik tok knows everything) and knowing some Thai fans to keep me away from trash and give a lil tea ON SHOWS.

But I totally understand you and I know that my way of things is hard to do. I’m old and Aaliyah’s death kinda vaccinated me against “parasociality” you feel me. But I feel you deep deep deep.

#only friends #parasocial relationships #promo material #thai bl #entertainment industry

[sugolara]

𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚

ft. Tomura Shigaraki x fem! reader

series m.list || next

The light blue-haired male grumbled as he paced around his room. His hands scanned every shelf in search of a game that he remembered he owned and wished to play it once again. His hands knocked down a few trinkets and magazines which annoyed the male as it landed harshly on his foot.

His red eyes watched as a marbled rolled underneath his bed. Sighing and groaning in annoyance, Shigaraki crouched down and reached his hand underneath the bed. His fingers fidgeted as they searched for the marble but instead touched a box.

He was bewildered at what a box was doing underneath in his bed and so he pulled the box out, forgetting about the marble. Sitting on the floor with his back leaning onto the bed, he wiped the dusty box and his eyes were met with a big black bold X.

His eyes then widened a bit as he remembered what was inside the box. He wiped his hands onto his jeans and opened the brown dusty box.

He didn't grab anything yet, instead his eyes lingered on the objects, taking in all the memories that came along. A feeling of regret and longing ached in his heart.

Had he known what was going to happen next, he would have done something to prevent it.

✧˖*°࿐

Today was hot and Shigaraki knew better to take off his hoodie, but seeing as there is a mall cop after him and the younger teen wanting to mess around and annoy the cop he had decided to not take off his hoodie. He'd do it later.

Surfing through crowds, Shigaraki peered back onto to see that there were now two mall cops after him and they seemed to be faster. He grumbled and ran at a faster pace but unfortunately as he turned back in front he bumped into someone making them both land onto the pavement.

Shigaraki gripped his head letting out a few cursed words as the other unknown figure hissed in pain.

"Get back here you little shit!"

Before Shigaraki could get on his feet, his hoodie was yanked as someone began to pull him into the crowd. Regaining his senses, he and the other unknown figure were pulled behind a clothing store.

The two both puffed out air as they tried to catch their breaths.

"Dude, I totally thought we were going to get caught. I thought you were gonna get me caught!" She chuckled as she dropped a purse.

Shigaraki leaned onto his knees and eyed the girl, "Do I know you?"

"Yeah." The girl nodded with a grin, "We're friends seeing as I helped you before those fake cops busted your ass. You're welcome."

Shigaraki huffed and fixed his hoodie, "As if I'd be friends with you. Who the hell even are you?"

"F/n L/n at your service." She said as she extended her hand to shake the male but when he didn't she pulled it back, "Ah, germaphobe."

"Do I look like a damn germaphobe?" Shigaraki glared at her as she chuckled into her fist. He then continued with a stink eye, "Tomura Shigaraki."

"Cool, cool." F/n eyed his appearance, "Ain't it a bit too hot to be wearing a black hoodie."

"Ain't it a bit too much for you to give a damn." Shigaraki huffed out as he began to walk away. He heard a snicker coming from F/n and the sound of ruching footsteps coming towards him.

"What are you doing tonight?" She said as she stuffed her hands into her pockets, "I ain't doing much and I thought we'd go check out this party on the rich side. Heard a band is coming and lots of booze."

Shigaraki continued to walk, "I don't do parties. In case you haven't noticed."

"Yeah, no shit. You look gloomy and depressed and like you hate the world." F/n smiled when Shigaraki glared at her. She then continued, "Anyways, I don't do parties either, but think of all the shit we could steal! If this dude is having a band coming to play at some half ass party, he's gotta be loaded."

Shigaraki cursed himself for giving the girl attention as she rambled on about a party. Maybe he should've killed her and saved him the trouble from hearing this girl talk. But, yet again, causing chaos with someone doesn't sound too bad.

Fine, he'll indulge into her shenanigans.

"'Kay," Shigaraki let out an annoyed sigh, "Where do you want to meet?"

Grinning, F/n took out her phone, "What's your phone number? I'll text you the address."

Reluctantly, Shigaraki gave his number and in return she gave hers. Once that was settled, F/n looked ahead before peering back to Shigaraki, "Alright, I got to go but I'll text you and please don't ignore me. It's so hard making friends."

The male rolled his eyes and walked away, "Whatever, I'll see you later."

As he walked further, he could tell that F/n was smiling and grinning. The whole way home, he thought what a strange girl she was and would she stick around longer if she knew who he really was. Who knows? Maybe she'll be his first recruit. 

#tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x you #tomura x y/n #tomura x you

[blazehedgehog]

Interested in that new Suicide Squad game?

Not even a little, no. It's got the stink of a live service game all over it, it's been delayed to hell and back, none of the previews I saw sounded even a little bit positive...

It's as bad or possibly even worse than that Marvel's Avengers game, where it's the world's most bland game jam packed full of free-to-play mobile game junk. Except now they're asking $70 for it.

I'm getting really tired of every game having a loot system, or RPG mechanics where they don't belong, or whatever. All these little things to puff up play time, to fake the appearance of depth, and make it easier for them to sell you gacha packs.

It's like every game is Pokemon now: gotta collect everything, gotta raise everything up to max level, gotta grind against a million different numbers, because oh man, you think Harley Quinn's Mythic Clown Warhammer is good now? Wait until it's level 99.

And then next year, when they raise the level cap? Holy crap, dude.

Think of all the time you spent doing that stuff. Chasing stats. Pretending that grinding is automatically a substitute for depth. People love number go up. And I'm not even immune to that! In a good game I like to play, having an excuse to keep playing it is nice!

But more and more and more games are putting the cart before the horse. It's like they build a shopping mall and then fill it full of vendors that only sell old onions and manure. "It'll pay for itself," they say. "A lot of people need onions and manure." Not taking into account they're right next door to more useful stores people already go to.

And every game is a job now. I play Fortnite for about 90 minutes every night, something I've been doing for the last four or five years. The thought of playing any other live service game on top of Fortnite makes my bones creak like an old man.

Like, a specific friend is the one who enabled me to play Fortnite. He bought me a Founder's Pass for Save the World back in 2019, which means I get free v-bucks currency as long as I complete at least one mission per day. Depending on how luck falls, there have been days where I get upwards of 200vb per day, for free. Over the course of a month, that adds up pretty significantly.

We've both joked that the only reason we're still playing Fortnite after all this time is we always have currency for the shop because we get it for free. A Fortnite estimator website once said my account is worth multiple thousands of dollars, but I've actually spent maybe $100 total in real money over the last five years on it (about $20 per year).

Anyway, that same friend recently tried to drag me into playing Disney Speedstorm, because he loves that game. In the three or four months since he's been trying to lure me over, I have booted the game up maybe five times total. It is fun, but it's also a "this game is your job now" live service product. And my bones creak.

The stench of that coming off of Suicide Squad is too pungent to ignore.

#questions #Anonymous #suicide squad #warner bros. #rocksteady games #live service #fortnite #disney #speedstorm

[maepop]

Maepop your art is wonderful and everything you did the commission service were amazing!

I'm an artist myself and experiencing depression & extreme burnout really stinks, especially the weather makes us hard to do outdoor activities. Most of the artists felt this way and you're not alone.

If i may suggest, do you have hobbies (sewing, gardening, games, exercise etc.), chat your friends to talk, or small chores (taking a bath, cleaning the room)? That might be you'll feel something more worth living than hanging out in the bed?

Remember, these activities were rewarding the more to try getting up even the smallest achievements. Don't feel obligated and pressure to work, do the empty head and be part of your art to live with it; have fun and ur OCs were the best thing you'll done for the years.

sincerly yours,

anon lurker fanboy in the tumblr.

ps: shoutout to Murasaki shes the queen and ur also the queen too

thank you so much for taking the time to write such a kind message TwT i'm slowly trying to regain my bearings and get back into the groove of things but yes i have been taking a bit of an extended break, but it is hard to get back into the full swing of drawing and just annoying to not have it "come back" to me on command, but i suppose its better not to force it out and just let it come to you.

and thank you for enjoying my art and my OCs ;^) !

#mae.txt

[unofficial-sean]

Every time my dad visits, I struggle to understand him. I struggle to assess our common understandings. I struggle to interact with him in a meaningful way.

I used to be a car person. I used to dream up the cars I'd own and what mods I would have on them. I'd try them out in Forza, and this is what drove me to get my GED and become a mechanic. I was obsessed. This worked well with my dad because I'd reckon most white guys are car people, too, to some degree. I was enriched with tools for gifts and our time spent talking was almost always about cars and motorcycles.

But that was before. Now, I'm focused on a deeply personal mission to make my community's HVAC system as efficient as possible; arrived at by personally seeking knowledge over years and years, and also running breathlessly into the world of cars and being knocked on my ass by the intolerance of the people in that world.

I got swept up in the mystical world of radios, which paired well with my dad, as well, who got his technician license shortly after I did, because wireless communication appealed to his sense of independence.

Instead of running face-first into hyper-masculinity, I ran into a door too small to squeeze into. Being a radio technician was not to be.

So, I moved onto biology. Also something my dad is interested in. He likes trees and has plenty of urban wildlife stories. But he is over 50, and a few months ago, I taught him that trees actually consume oxygen at night as part of cellular respiration; it was news to him. Biology wasn't to be, either; I was overwhelmed by the workload placed on my by college and I burnt out.

So here I am, now. I've tried on many costumes. I've learned a little in a lot of places. I've sought out a role for myself to fill. I lost interest in cars and motorcycles. I'm always fascinated by life, but I can't focus on it anymore. Radios are always cool, but there's no one to talk to; or any reason to. I'm terrified of diving.

So I have HVAC, now. It's the current costume I'm wearing. I have a moral mission informed by my experiences roasting in the summer and by my ever-increasing knowledge of the climate crisis. It's all I can do. In my free time, I care for my frogs, I play single-player video games, I prepare for D&D with my club. I dream a lot, too. I don't have any partners, in part because I don't know where to meet my people, and in part because I've lost interest in others, but if I did. . . I just know my family would be weird about it at best.

I don't know how to fit either of my parents into my life, if I'm honest. There's no place for them. There's nothing they can do to enrich it. When I'm around them, I feel tense. I don't want to say the wrong thing. I don't want to hear how far apart we are.

My dad took my brother and I to a car museum. I loathe cars, now. I drive one, sure. But I don't care for them. I learned that there's a completely different way of living, and I desire it dearly; why would there be any ounce of love left for them? But I go anyways, because on some level, I have to. The museum stinks of oily rags. It is a familiar smell, but one that now gives me a headache. I do a circuit, then head outside to breathe in the somewhat-fresh air. I say somewhat because the museum is next to I-5, and the tire noise erases anything sweeter that may have once been in its place.

I walk around the side to look at the building's massive outdoor units; two big, 6-comrpessor, 460v AC + boiler units. I am amazed that the compressors have a locked-rotor amp rating of 125. Can you imagine? I spied a mini-split system, too. A Mitsubishi. It uses R-410A and has a base refrigerant weight of 6oz. For every additional 25 feet of line, though, you must add 0.6 oz of refrigerant to it. There is a spot on the label for the installer to record the total weight of refrigerant in the system after install. It is left blank. Poor practice. Anyone servicing it, now, must estimate it by measuring the lines, if they can access them.

I'm supposed to be spending time with my dad, but instead I'm outside, alone. I don't wanna look at old cars who spewed lead into the atmosphere and probably killed their drivers just as often as they killed bystanders. I don't want to see the machines that my world was built around.

The museum has a section on fossil fuels and climate change. I half-expected to see some denial or distortion of history. No doubt there was some, but it's the solution to these issues that annoyed me the most. In essence, the plaques and exhibits said "let's make use of biofuels, hybrids, and electric cars to minimize emissions; and lets use renewable energy sources to reduce the carbon footprint of automobile manufacturing." fucking what. You wanna keep making cars? Unbelievable.

There was not a single mention of reducing car-dependency or electrified rail. My headache got worse. What did I expect? Car people are going to find a way to keep cars in their place.

What does this have to do with my dad? In a way, he's a barometer for sentiments on certain things. He still thinks I'm interested in internal combustion engines. I hate them. I hate their noises and their fumes. I know precisely how they work, and I could fix a broken one, but I despise what they represent and I just wish they would go away. I wish they weren't the topic of conversation anymore.

I'm tired of grave stakes and the horrors of the world. I want to feel hope again. I want to meet people who share my goals. I want to talk about a thriving future. But fuck, it is hard to do in Tacoma. I want to put a heat hump in every home. I want my tools to be part of a tool-sharing program. I want enough resources to contribute to mutual aid. I want electrified public transit so I can get rid of my car. I want bike infrastructure so I can use the damn thing to get around. I want empty parking lots torn up and replaced with green spaces.

I want to be part of it all and I want to talk with the people who already are. And instead I have my family and everyone else in this city. I'm too afraid to speak, lest I risk showing that I don't know enough. Too afraid to tell my dad I'm not interested in these things anymore because then we will have NOTHING. That will be very sad.

I'm tired. I put together a playlist of things to give me hope because I am trudging through a depression, again. Putting them on in the background while I click through Baldur's Gate 3 again because I can't sleep, but I don't have the brain power to write out my next session or do something bold and creative. I'm soulsapped.

Tomorrow will be the last time my niece celebrates her birthday in this state. She, her brother, and my sister are all moving to Illinois. We'll be at our grandparent's place. It is being referred to as the "last time we'll all be together." Grandpa's health is failing. He's about to be in hospice, if he isn't already. On one hand, I should be there just for the sake of it. I know I'd want as many people around if i was dying. Grandpa's always been cooler than his wife. She's the true reason I don't want to go. I don't like being around her.

I don't like all the "God Bless America" shit in her home. What is there to be proud of? I'm getting off track.

There's no point in raising my voice. I must be a neutral vessel everywhere I go. This is the only place I can ever express myself. Outside, I weight my guilt against my desire to push them all away. It is those days where I am compelled to spend time with family where I feel the most trapped.

[chronicallybloodless]

Heavy to Hold - Chapter 1

Blood in the Water

Pairing: Astarion x enby!tav Status: in progress Rating: Explicit (18+ only) Genre: angst/comfort | slow burn Alternating second-person POV Contains spoilers for the whole game basically TW: it's an astarion fic: descriptions of trauma, abuse, sexual violence, etc. | smut | full tag list on AO3 Read from the beginning: AO3 | Tumblr Listen to the Playlist

Tav, a nonbinary Drow bard, encounters Astarion late one night in Baldur's Gate. Their subsequent abduction by mind flayers brings them back together as they try to reckon with their pasts, their present, and their future as the world around them spirals toward oblivion.

“Are you alright?” His tone made it clear that he knew you were very much not alright, but there was a hint of genuine concern. “You uh……Well you’re bleeding, darling, and somehow I doubt that your attire is a purposeful fashion statement.”

!! This chapter contains descriptions of sexual violence / rape !!

Read on AO3

Read on Tumblr ↓

Tav's POV

It was another night like any other, at least as far as you could recall. You had just shown your most recent “guest” to the door of your room, quietly shutting the door behind them as you heard them talking to the madam about what an amazing time they just had and how sure they were to come back.

You scoffed to yourself at the thought. Every night was “amazing,” as you let these mediocre men (overwhelmingly so, much to your dismay and quite frankly boredom) play out their fantasy of being dominated by a matriarchal priestess of Lolth. Never mind the fact that you you hadn’t been anywhere near the Underdark in years, you hated spiders, and you had no particular affections for any gods, but especially not Lolth.

But, that isn’t what the people wanted, the madam had told you, and surely it was worth a little white lie to let people live out their fantasies?

You slowly trudged to the wash basin to clean yourself off and had begun tidying the room when you heard a knock on the door.

“Tav, deary, I know you just finished with a guest, but there is someone else here who is in need of your special touch,” the madam said, attempting to sound sympathetic, but you could hear her counting through a small bag of gold coins. This wasn’t a request you could refuse.

“Can one of the others handle it? I haven’t had time to reset the room.” You tried to appeal to her high standards of service in an attempt to get yourself some rest. Your arm ached from the “punishment” you gave the last guest and the stink of their anxious sweat still permeated the air around you.

“Oh Tav, you know that no one else here can do what you do,” The madam entered the room, paused briefly as the stench entered her nostrils, then began fervently spraying perfume as she continued talking. “It honestly isn’t that bad, and you know as well as I do that at this hour of the night the guests are more ale than anything else. It will be over in a flash and you’ll be off to take a nice bath with more coin in your pocket.”

Was it that late? There weren’t windows in this room, and the only means you had of telling when time had passed was when the madam or the other staff came to interrupt guests who had gone over time.

“Fine, send them up.”

The madam gave you a gentle but far too practiced touch on the shoulder on her way out the door, and moments later a lumbering man appeared in your doorway. He stank of stale wine and poor hygiene, likely a sailor who had spent most of the night at the Blushing Mermaid. Perhaps the madam was right and this would be a quick and easy interaction.

You squared your shoulders and stood tall, looking him up and down with a cutting gaze, mentally resetting and preparing for the role you had to play.

“What offering to you bring to this temple of Lolth?” You scoffed at the man dramatically, offering his cue to join in the fantasy.

Every night, the same script. Oh I bring nothing but myself, your humble servant, to offer what pleasure I can to the glorious priestess. You would then rebuke them for their indolence, or for your repeat customers, for the inadequacy of the gifts they did bring, and then you would begin meting out their “punishment.” When you started working at the Caress, you could scarcely believe that getting dominated by a Lolth Drow was such a common fantasy, but the madam certainly knows her customers.

Tonight, however, this customer wasn’t interested in that particular script.

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, demanding tribute,” the man slurred, but through his drunkenness there was a sharp edge of genuine anger. “You Drow cultists should go back to the Underdark where you belong.” The man had closed the door behind him and was now standing toe to toe with you, looking down at you with contempt. “Maybe I ought to show you the only thing your kind is good for.”

You were frozen, half exhaustion and half shock, trying to figure out what this man expected from you. Did he want you to chastise him and this was just part of the script? Before you could formulate a response, he had grabbed you by the throat.

“Filthy Drow whore,” he spat out as he threw you to the ground. You could scarcely let out a gasp as you fell, hitting your head on the edge of a heavy wooden wardrobe. You were still in a daze as you felt his hands on you, tearing your clothes to the side as he roughly entered you. Your head rammed the wardrobe as he moved, your attempts to push him away only resulting in him pinning your wrists together behind your back.

The growing ache in your head and your prone position lulled your body into a frozen state, while your mind ran anxiously between thoughts, wondering if this was really happening and what you should do about it. You willed yourself to move, to scream, to fight back, but your body refused.

The man grunted and swore under his breath. Your lack of movement had apparently displeased him. “I thought Drow were supposed to be tough,” he slurred through heavy breaths, “Turns out you are just as fucking worthless as I thought. Shouldn’t have let that cunt talk me into paying so much for you.”

His words snapped you back to the present and you found yourself back in control of your body. You let loose a blood-curdling scream as you pulled your hands free and rolled away from the wardrobe. The man froze for a moment as he realized you might give him the fight he had just asked for, and he responded by putting both of his sweaty hands around your throat.

“Shut the fuck up, whore,” He spat at you. Pure rage spread across his face. There was no hint of lust anywhere to be found, only blind hate. “I paid for my time and I intend to use it however I bloody well please,” He tightened his grip with one hand while the other reached behind his back.

You panicked, realizing he was reaching for a weapon. You weren’t sure if anyone had heard your scream—or worse, had heard it and assumed it was part of someone’s scene. Your heart pounded as you thought through the possibilities.

You felt his grip loosen ever so slightly, and you used the opportunity to kick him square in the chest. He stumbled backwards as the air left his lungs. You looked around frantically for anything you could use as a weapon, finding nothing within arms reach as he began to lunge back towards you.

His hands were almost back around your neck when the door to the room slammed open. The madam, the barkeep, and several of the other hosts were there, their mouths agape as they took in the scene. You were flat on your back, head bloodied and neck bruised, your clothes torn, as this man stood over you with a knife in his hands.

They descended on him like a pack of wild dogs. The barkeep pulled the knife from him as the others pulled him from the room. You sat, frozen again, trying to pull more air through your bruised throat as your head pounded. Some time passed, you couldn’t tell whether it was minutes or hours, and then you found the group circled around you as you lay in a heap on the floor.

“Oh poor Tav, I had no idea that brute was capable of something like this.” The madam cooed, but you couldn’t tell whether she was more interested in comforting you or herself. The guilt of having talked you into taking this customer was plain on her face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” One of the others said as they guided you to a chair. You winced as another dabbed at your head with a damp rag.

“I’m fine,” You muttered under your breath. “I think I just need some air.” You stumbled out of the bordello in a daze, ignoring their protests. Your torn clothes hung loosely around your body as you walked out into the night breeze, not quite sure where you were going. You just knew that you couldn’t bear to be in that place right now.

Your mind was reeling. Normally, you are in control in those situations. You write the script, the guest follows, and you just have to play your role. There were rules, boundaries—that was the deal. You had just received a painful lesson that you can’t trust everyone to follow your rules, and you have to be able to enforce them.

Tonight, that control had been stripped from you. The specialized, in-demand host, master of their game, was gone, leaving only the common whore. You felt a knot of disgust at your core as you sank into a feeling of powerlessness.

*****

Your aimless wandering had brought you to one of your favorite spots, one of the small beaches surrounding Wyrm’s Crossing. The sound of the waves filled your ears as your bare feet sank into the gritty sand. Faint lights dotted the horizon, blending seamlessly with the starlight overhead.

You found a seat on a nearby rock, letting the foamy waves wash over your feet. Gingerly, you felt your injured head, still slightly damp with blood. A faint sob tried to leave your throat, but the throbbing bruises made it sound like like a hoarse cough.

“Um…..pardon the interruption.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you turned toward the voice in the darkness. Standing not three feet away from you was a pale Elf with tousled white hair. The moonlight on his complexion made him seem like a ghost, as did the fact that he had gotten so close to you without you noticing his approach.

“Are you alright?” His tone made it clear that he knew you were very much not alright, but there was a hint of genuine concern. “You uh……Well you’re bleeding, darling, and somehow I doubt that your attire is a purposeful fashion statement.”

His words and the chilling ocean breeze spurred you to look down at yourself. The outfit you had decided on for this evening really was intended for indoor-use only, and that was before it had been torn. The man was staring straight ahead toward the horizon, only glancing at you peripherally. You appreciated his attempt to preserve what was left of your dignity as you realized how exposed you were.

“Oh gods….” you groaned, eliciting another cough. Your body ached and the exhaustion of the night was catching up to you.

Suddenly, there was a weight and warmth. The man had removed his coat and placed it around your shoulders.

“It wouldn’t do for one of the most beautiful Elves in Baldur’s Gate to catch a cold, now would it?” You could hear the smirk in his voice—after all, he appeared to be one of the most beautiful Elves in Baldur’s Gate himself—but there was a touch of earnestness hiding in his eyes. He had turned to look at you now, and the tricks of the moonlight seemed to make his eyes glow as he smiled gently at you. It was a welcome respite from the rest of the night, but then the implication of his words hit you. He thought you were a normal Elf—probably a High Elf at that.

“I’m….a Drow, actually……” You muttered quietly as your head sank between your shoulders. You prepared yourself for his reaction, for him to storm off or yell at you for “tricking” him, as so many had before.

“Well, what is a Drow but an Elf that needs a bit more time in the sunlight? Gods know I’m not one to talk when it comes to that.” He chuckled to himself softly. “But, I do stand corrected: It wouldn’t do for the most beautiful Drow in Baldur’s Gate to catch cold, would it?” His gaze was firmly fixed on you now, the faintest smile across his face. You couldn’t help but smile back, there was something about the way that he looked at you that made the rest of the world seem so far away.

“The most beautiful Drow?” You replied coyly. “Have you conducted a thorough survey to back up a claim like that?”

“Well…..” He leaned back, running a hand through his soft, curled locks. “Let’s just say that I have encountered quite a few beautiful people in this fine city, and among them all you are one of the most memorable.”

“Memorable is certainly a word for it.” You replied flatly with a sigh. “I assume most of the beautiful people you encounter are properly clothed and aren’t actively bleeding?”

“Depends on the night.” He chuckled.

“Remind me not to go to any of your parties.”

“Oh I’m not much for parties. I prefer my social engagements to be a bit more…..intimate.” You found yourself transfixed by his gaze now. Maybe it was the head trauma or the rush of adrenaline, but there was something intriguing about this man that made everything else around you seem to disappear.

He gently brushed your hair behind your ear, exposing your bruised neck.

“Gods, what brutish creature did this to you?” He whispered, a look of genuine concern on his face.

“Just a…uh…..work accident.” You replied shyly. Somehow, you felt that knowing about your line of work would change his mind about that “Most Beautiful Drow” award.

“Well, I just hope that whatever monster is responsible finds themself in a positively dreadful accident of their own.” He huffed indigently. He knows there is a story there, but he respects the boundary you’ve set by not offering more information. “Do you have somewhere to go tonight?”

“What?” The question takes you somewhat by surprise. “Oh I, yeah I have a place. I just…..” You trail off with a sigh. “I guess I just needed some space and air.”

“Am I intruding? I hate to interrupt a good brood.” He was staring out towards the ocean as he spoke, and you got the sense that this beach was one of his preferred brooding spots too.

“No, no.” As much as you wanted space before, it felt good having someone there, even if it was a stranger. “I appreciate the company.”

“Well I aim to please,” He turned toward you with a coy smile. “Please feel free to let me know if I’ve overstayed my welcome at any point.”

“Somehow I don’t see that happening.” You lean into him as he gently wraps his arm around your lower back, pulling you closer.

Your body ached, but you were desperate for a kind touch. You hoped the feeling of someone else could erase the painful memories of before.

“You know, I’ve just realized that I never asked your name. How dreadfully ungentlemanly of me.” He spoke slowly, more focused on gently caressing your head than he was the words.

“It’s Tav.” You replied quietly, not sure whether to focus on his piercing eyes or his soft lips as he spoke. The moment ended suddenly when he brushed against the sore spot on your head, causing you to yelp in response. Your hand shot instinctively to your scalp, bumping him out of the way.

“Gods, that is fresh. My apologies, Tav.” He gently grabbed your hand in his, bringing your bloodied fingers to his mouth. Your heart raced as he carefully sucked on your fingertips.

“No it’s alright, I was just startled,” You said between heavy breaths. He held your gaze, a mixture of lust and concern on his face. He guided you onto you back in the sand and knelt beside you. He placed a gentle kiss on your wounded head before straddling you, the moonlight shining ephemerally through his hair.

“You know, I never got your name either.” You ran your hand under his shirt, feeling the cold of the night that had sunk into his skin without the coat he had so generously offered to you.

“Astarion.” You could feel him harden against you as he leaned over you, gently running his hand along the side of your face.

You shivered, partially from anticipation and partially from the fact that your tattered clothes had left you practically undressed as you laid under him, your chest moving with rapid breaths. A moan escaped your lips as he pressed his soft lips to the base of your ear. Your hips bucked against him, eliciting a moan in response.

“So impatient,” He chided into you ear before giving your earlobe a gentle bite. You gasped and bucked your hips again, desperate for touch. He adjusted his stance, placing one of his legs between yours so you could grind against his thigh. You moaned your thanks.

“Gods, you sound beautiful.” His lips moved to your neck, placing gentle kisses on the tender bruises. You heard him take a long breath in. “You are making it painfully hard to control myself.”

“I don’t recall asking you to control yourself,” You pouted, prompting him to kiss your neck harder, eliciting equal parts pleasure and pain. You felt something sharp brush the tender skin, but it paled in comparison to the feelings of pleasure radiating through your body.

He suddenly pulled away. When you tried to whine your displeasure, he held a finger over your mouth.

“Something’s out there.” He muttered, his sharp eyes surveying the darkness.

Your breath caught in your throat. A terrified thought crossed your mind as you wondered if the brute from earlier had followed you, but all that surrounded the two of you was the sound of gentle waves and heavy breathing.

“Are you sure?” You whispered the question.

“My ears do not lie.” He said flatly, but you could see the alertness in his eyes. “Perhaps we should go elsewhere.”

“My room isn’t far from here,” You offered as he stood and pulled you to your feet. You had taken a few steps forward when you felt a presence behind you. You could feel his arm around you protectively as you both turned to see what was there.

“Fuck.” His eyes went wide as you were met with the menacing tentacles of a Mindflayer. He reached for the knife at his side, but it only took a split second for the creature to use its psionic powers to knock you both unconscious.

*****

When you awoke, you were locked in a strange pod, wearing tattered clothes and clutching a coat that wasn’t yours.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x oc #astarion x mc #astarion fanfic #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #astarion baldurs gate #astarion angst #astarion romance #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfiction #fic: heavy to hold

[bugznews]

Monday, March 25, 2024

Today I want to talk about a very serious topic. That topic is Trauma. We all have some form of it in our past. It might have been a girl that picked on you in school. Or like me, I was homeless more than once.

But for the longest time, I buried my past as deep as it would go. This didn't help me to move on from those memories. Instead, it kept stinking up my whole life.

For instance my romantic relationships. Guys could never handle it when I tried to explain it. Then they would dump me and walk away. After a while, I just gave up on dating altogether.

Plus, I realize that I like my freedom. I like to go to bed when I want to or spend the whole day playing video games if I feel like it. So until my attitude changes on that front I am completely happy being single.

Plus, my best friend is a cat named Nala. Most men wouldn't be able to deal with that. Another problem is that my mom and I are a package deal. We are the only family that we have left. So me not living in the same town as her isn't an option. Hamilton has been my home for many years. I don't plan on changing that for a long time.

As long as I can't get internet service here I am happy as can be. At the same time the fact that I went through the trauma of being homeless sucks but at the same time it made me the person that I am today.

For some reason, I was meant to have that experience. I wouldn't wish it on anyone not even my worst enemy. But I was supposed to learn from that experience. I think that if you can think of a bad experience in your life like that then you see what you can learn from it.

I know that you may not be at that point today. That is ok. Even if you can only do baby steps. I know that since I have been in therapy since I was a teenager I am still scratching the surface on some of my trauma. It is like peeling back the layers of an onion you just have to do one at a time.

Now you don't necessarily have to talk to a therapist. Instead, you could talk to anyone you trust to support you. There are people that I know when my therapist isn't available then they will talk with me as long as it takes. That is really what being a friend is all about.

Like, take my mom, for instance, sometimes she just has to vent about work. That is how stressful it gets for her. But the fact that I am the person she trusts is a great honor. Of course, I mainly forget what she says after we are done.

I am also one step closer to getting my podcast up and running. I have ordered a new tablet which will help me with the logistics. I still have not taken the class but I hope to soon. I might just have to get off my butt and teach myself how to do this. But thank you so much for hanging on this long.

I know that I have a lot to learn about being a blogger and podcaster. But I am trying my best with what I have. I know that I have given you a lot to think about today. But it is such an important topic to address when it comes to mental health. I wish that I had that cup of coffee this morning. But we got dumped on by the snow machine last night. It pretty well shut down the whole town. I couldn't even go get my glasses adjusted. Pretty much every other word I have to put them back on my nose. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Well, I guess that is all I have for today. Have a great day.

#mental health awareness