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problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

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NSFW Alphabet- Joe Toye

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Ok, so here’s the 411- Joe gives it his all when y’all are fucking. He’s flipping you around into different positions, he’s gripping whatever part of your body he can get his hands so he can reach deeper faster harder better, Joe is fully prepared to do all the work.

That being said, the boy’s EXHAUSTED by the time he’s done with you. You’re lucky if he doesn’t collapse on you in a sweaty, sleepy mess. But after he’s had a second to regroup and rally- he’s totally down for some pillow talk.

WARNING: it’s going to be in that sexy husky voice of his, which means round two is imminent.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ok, so our Joe’s hot. Like, really hot. He is fully aware of how good he looks- sometimes to the point of arrogance. If he had to pick just one part of himself, it’d probably be his arms. He likes knowing that he can always fight his way out of a sticky situation, but what he really likes is how your hands feel when they clutch at his biceps while getting sexy. (He also really gets soft when you run your fingers up and down his arms/forearms while sitting around and talking with the guys shh shh shh)

On you? Your hands- this boy never thought of hands being sexy until he watched yours dance across a map while discussing plans of action. His eyes followed their motions like a moth follows a flame- and when they touched HIS HAND for the first time? Boner city. Population: this guy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

MESSY BOY. OH MY GOD.

He’s BIG into marking you, and if you gave him the ok (he always checks first) he’d gladly paint you in it (he gets very caveman when it comes to marking you as his ffs what a horndog).

But if you aren’t into that? Not a problem. Simply seeing his cum on your hands (which we’ve established he’s super into) is enough for him. Inside of you works too, FYI. He’s very accommodating.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He once secretly got off in class while watching you disassemble and reassemble your rifle. Your fingers moved so fast and confidently that he couldn’t help but wonder what ~other~ confident things they could do (his mind instantly pictured you fingering yourself and he’s only a little bit sorry about how depraved he is). He’d kneaded the heel of his hand against his cock under the table and to this day he has no idea how he wasn’t caught.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Experienced is a good way to describe Joe, bc in cruder company he’d be called a fuckboy. He’s had more partners than the average Joe (lol sorry) but not nearly as many as someone like Tab or Nix or Liebgott have had. He just lived a full-ass life and, due to him being a stud, he’s never been wanting for company.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything with him on top is his comfort zone. He likes feeling in control, and he really likes being able to see how good he’s making you feel.

Bonus points if he can grip your neck a lil bit.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Joe is goofy in the sense that he likes to tease you, maybe antagonize you a lil. He knows that you get off on it- that you like when he points out how good he’s making you feel, or lightly chastising you for how quickly you’re going to cum. He doesn’t mean it, and if you were ever to tell him to back off he’d be totally down.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dark, curly, trimmed but not ~groomed~, you know?

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Personally, He seeks to establish intimacy during the afterglow, curling around you once the sweat has cooled and your breathing has evened out. Face touches, greedy but sweet kisses? Joe Toye’s your guy.

HOWEVER!: If he thinks you could use some during the act, he’s game. If you ask for it? HE’S WHATEVER MORE THAN BEING GAME IS. Get over here, hot stuff.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it whenever he feels the urge. It’s not a huge deal for him.

He’d prefer sex with you obviously, but if you’re not feeling it or it’s not a good time then he’ll take care of himself. In a perfect world, you could both do some mutual masturbation. He absolutely thinks of you while he does it, tho.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Choking kink. Wow wow wow. Nothing extreme- he doesn’t feel comfortable cutting off your airflow or anything, but a hand around the throat certainly adds a nice primitiveness to the experience.

If you choke him, however: different story.

Joe finds that EXTREMELY hot. Oh my God. It plays into his weird obsession with your hands/touch. It reminds him that you’re just as into him as he is with you, and he is a big fan of you getting a lil rough with him now and again.

Pin him down by his throat as you ride him? He’s done for.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Any time, anywhere- as long as he can be sure that you won’t be interrupted. There are exceptions to this (see Risk).

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Little touches from you can really get him going. Lacing your fingers with his as you both ride in a truck from location to location. Your eyes finding his as you talk business with someone else. The gentle scratch of your fingernails through the shorter hairs at the base of his skull. You also get a certain look in your eyes when you’re feeling frisky, and the moment he sees that, sexy with you is all that he can think about.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doing anything to you that leaves more than a bruise. Hickeys? Awesome. Speckles of bruises on your hips from where his fingertips dug into your skin a bit too hard? Hot.

Deep shadows around your throat left behind from him holding you a little too hard? NO NO NOPE THAT’S NOT OKAY.

It reminds him too much of violence, of someone trying to escape the touch of another and being denied freedom. Once, a German soldier had tried to choke you out so you wouldn’t alert anyone of his presence and Joe. Fucking. Lost it. His brass knuckles were nearly fused to his skin by the time Joe was done with them.

Tl;dr- deep marks on his girl? He’ll kick someone's ass. He’ll kick my ass. He’ll kick his own ass

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a fan of both! When he’s going down on you, he’s all about results- what will get you off the quickest and hardest. Overstimulation King (but in a good way).

When you go down on him and make a point to draw the process out as long as you possibly can, he just about cries with need. He’ll beg you to give him more so he can finally cum, but secretly he’s hoping that you’ll keep edging him bc dear god you’re so beautiful and evil and wow your nails scratching down his stomach feels good.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

FAST. Like I said before, he’s all for getting you off quick and hard. He likes the feeling of his muscles trembling with exhaustion as he pistons into you with ruthless speed, likes the way it makes your body shake and bounce and sheen with sweat. He really likes being able to just fall asleep with you afterwards, so his goal is to tire out the both of you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Ok, so here’s the thing- before you, most of his sexual history could be considered quickies. He didn’t like the idea of lingering too long after doing the do, so a quick fuck in the closet of a bar was his bread and butter. Remember: the quicker the better.

But since you, he’s decided that he’s good with both quickies and...slowies(?). If he’s feeling frisky while you both are out or just about to go out or in any sort of time crunch, he lets you know by coming up to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso, gently pulling you back until you can feel his hardening cock against your backside.

If you rest one of your hands on his forearm and squeeze it- then you’re not feeling it rn and he backs off (or excuses himself to take care of it bc he’s practical like that). If you lean back into him or turn your head to the side so he can kiss your cheek- it’s go time. Meet him in the bathroom, bc someone’s about to get their world rocked.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

JOe is fine with public sex as long as he knows/can predict who or what could possibly figure out what the two of you are doing. And even then, it’s going to be sneaky. You sitting on his lap with his dick in your pussy? Nice. pretending to lean over and whisper something to you while sitting at a booth (but actually fingering you? Dope.

He’ll basically go as far as you let him, but his big thing is not letting the two of you get caught by someone who will hold it over your ehad. Do’t fuck with his girl.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Two and a half rounds- he always starts with getting you off with his hands, thigh, tongue (that’s the half round), then he cranks out the next two fast and unwaveringly. Ideally, the outcome for him is two orgasms for him and three for you. Bonus points if he can wring four out of you, but he’s not going to push it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Probably didn’t own any of his own, but if you have a vibrator or something he’ll definitely use it on you. Would probably consider letting you use it on him, but only once he’s used it on you a couple times.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not very much in terms of edging teasing, but verbally he can be very antagonistic.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud and proud, but tries to keep the sounds in for as long as he can. You can always tell when he’s close by how vocal he’ll become. Huge whiner whenever you suck his cock or give him a handjob, bc you are so perfect and wicked that it literally overwhelms him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has at least one copy of the Kama Sutra. Bill gave it to him as a joke gift but Joe absolutely uses it for inspiration.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Average length but girthy. He’s pretty proud of it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high, but something he can control. He knows it’s unrealistic to be able to fuck you whenever he wants (bc otherwise, you’d never leave his bed), so he’s able to channel that desire into anticipation for the next time he gets the chance to fuck you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

SO FAST, OH MY GOD. But he doesn’t sleep long- it’s more like a power nap and then he wakes up and helps you clean up/cleans you up himself and then gets cuddly. Then he sleeps again. What a nerd.

~ ~ ~

taglist: @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @now-im-a-belieber @tvserie-s-world @holdingforgeneralhugs @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #joe toye x reader #joe toye imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

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highqueenofelfhame · 3 years

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An: I’ll add tags later, i just wanted to get this posted because I’m like pretty happy with it, it’s alright. So i hope you guys enjoy! I’ll also attach links and stuff later, I’m posting this from my iPad and i just am too lazy for the tagging process. Me wants to sleep. This is part of the Disney au! Shoutout to @tangledraysofsunshine and @punkassbookjockey26 for the help on this one! This is mostly fluff (i know, how wild) but don’t worry i’m working on some angst for you soon. Fafs update soon too! I’ve already started on it and I’m going to keep working on it as the week goes. Thankfully it’s an easy chapter for me to write bc i have plenty of OG stuff to pull from. Okay, anyway! Enjoy!!

With every second that ticked by, it was getting harder and harder not to rummage through his belongings like she lived there. Even worse was that Rowan was sneaking glances at her with a smirk on his lips like he knew she wanted to. It made her scowl, a frown line appearing between her eyebrows as she glared into his back.

“I’m making you dinner, and you’re still finding a reason to be unhappy with me?” He asked her, putting down the spatula and turning to lean against his counter. The man looked criminally good in an ivory cable-knit sweater and dark jeans, an outfit combination that Aelin had never seen him in before. Thinking back on it, she was positive that when he wasn’t in a costume at work, she had only ever seen him in jeans and a t-shirt. There was also the single flannel he’d worn on Halloween, but all of that was simply incomparable to how he looked now.

“You said dinner would be ready ages ago.”

“I said it would be ready in half an hour when you got here, which was twenty minutes ago. I still have ten minutes before you get to hound me about lying.”

“Maybe if you’d prepared an appetizer…” she teased, hoping with every cell in her body that he knew she was kidding. When Rowan had said he wanted to cook her dinner, she’d been floored. The only meal that she could successfully make was breakfast, and the options were limited. Additionally, she couldn’t remember the last time a romantic interest had cooked for her at all. Probably Sam several years earlier, and it had been so bad they’d relented and settled on drive-thru burgers instead.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed at her, and she knew she’d missed the mark with her joke. The date had been going well so far; not much could have been ruined. He’d kissed her hello once, or four times, then told her to make herself at home. Rowan even had a beautiful arrangement of kingsflame at the table in the dining area. Their banter had ensued as it always did, casual teasing comments. Until she went too far. Obviously.

He turned his back, and Aelin tensed, moving across the kitchen to get to him. Just before she touched him, he turned back around, eyes widening almost comically when his elbow nearly hit her temple. Without her boots, her footsteps had been near-silent on his hardwood floors.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, fingers brushing her temple where his sweater had grazed her face. “Hi.”

“Hi.” With their dinner sizzling in the background, she was sure that he could hardly hear the soft whisper of her voice. That didn’t seem to matter because Rowan leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, short and sweet and leaving her wanting more. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Rowan’s brows knit together, green eyes tracing over every feature of her face before settling to meet her gaze.

“Being… me? Teasing? I don’t know. This is a date, and you’re so nice to be making dinner, and I shouldn’t be--”

“Aelin,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t busting my balls for something. I don’t think we would be us.” At the mention of them as an item, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth to ward off the embarrassingly large grin that was threatening to take over her face.

“That doesn’t mean I can be rude,” she grumbled, earning another smile from the man in front of her.

“You aren’t.” Rowan turned away from her for a brief moment. When he faced her again he held half of a cookie in his hand. “You just get hangry.”

She stared at the small offering in his hand before accepting it with a smile. Not only was he making her dinner, but it seemed he had also baked her double chocolate chip cookies. It made her heart squeeze in an almost painful way, but she took the cookie and nibbled on the corner. Whatever recipe he had used was perfect. It only made the rumbling in her belly worse, but she was determined to finish it without chocolate smeared all over her mouth.

“I’m almost done with dinner. Go snoop. I know you’re dying to.” Aelin wrinkled her nose, and Rowan was quick to kiss the tip of it, despite her failed attempt to swerve. Not that she wanted him to miss, really. Aelin wanted to beg him to kiss her until she was physically sick and couldn’t stand to feel his mouth on her body ever again.

The apartment was simple. It had one bedroom and an open living and kitchen area. Rowan had a small table that could seat four between the two rooms. It was sparsely decorated but had a few personal touches here and there that provided a glimpse into Rowan’s life. She walked around the living room, noting the pile of books stacked neatly next to the TV contained some of her favorites. She hadn’t pegged Rowan as an avid reader, but she realized that despite working with the man for the past two years, there was still so much she didn’t know about him.

And she realized, more than anything, that she wanted to know everything.

Furthermore, she’d been right about the books stacked on the coffee table. They were travel books, some of them with tabs and post-it notes sticking out of the sides. With a sly glance to the kitchen, she perched on the edge of the couch and pulled the biggest of them with the most annotations toward her, flipping through the pages to see what all he had bookmarked.

One of the first pages was a map marking all the parks and their major attractions. It seemed Rowan had a key for himself, little stars, triangles and squares marking various locations.

“The stars are my favorite places I’ve been,” Rowan said, pulling her gaze from pages of mountains and canyons and over to his green eyes.

“Is this what you do when you aren’t working?” Aelin closed the books and restacked them neatly on the table. Rowan was carrying two plates of stir-fry over to the table. In a few steps she joined him, sliding into the seat beside his.

“When I can, yes.” She was so hungry that she merely nodded, taking a too-large bite of food and meaning at the taste. Rowan’s eyebrow quirked while he took a bite of his own, and to avoid speaking with a mouthful she gave him a thumbs up.

“So good,” she reiterated after she swallowed, clearing her throat.

“I’m glad you like it. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“It’s food. I like food. And you baked cookies,” Aelin reminded him, popping another bite in her mouth. The tickle she seemed to be developing in her throat worsened, forcing her to clear her throat again after she swallowed. Actually, the tickle was becoming an insatiable itch that she tried to chase away with water. She had no luck. “Is your um— is your throat itchy?”

“No…?” Aelin tugged on the collar of her shirt, nodding her head instead of responding. Rowan leaned over to brush his fingers along her cheek, worry settling in the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Gods, my mouth is itchy,” she mumbled, mostly to herself, while she downed the rest of her water so quickly a drop slipped down the side of her chin.

“Aelin. What are you allergic to?”

“I’m not allergic to anything,” she insisted, despite the way her tongue felt undeniably too big for her mouth. Rowan had already left the table, though, disappearing through a door off the living room and coming back with a small white bottle. His phone was also now in his hand and the numbers his thumb was pressing looked a lot like 9-1-1 from her vantage point.

“Take these,” he said softly, holding two pills to her lips that she opened her mouth for and downed with Rowan’s full glass of water.

“That’s dramatic.” She nodded at his phone. “I can breathe fine. My mouth is just itchy. And my tongue is a little too big.” To prove a point, she stuck her tongue out. Rowan’s eyes were saucers and he was ready to hit the call button.

“Your tongue is twice the size it usually is!”

“Did you do this on purpose? Is this getting me back for the syrup?” Aelin was kidding. Half-kidding, maybe, but kidding all the same. When she spoke, drool dribbled down her chin that she wiped at with the collar of her shirt. The whimper that sounded in the back of her throat wasn’t voluntary. It was their first date and she managed to drool on herself in front of him. Aelin Galathynius was the epitome of cool.

“This is not getting you back for the syrup.” Rowan’s voice was sharp, if still soft around the edges while he watched her carefully. His thumb was still dancing over the call button, but Aelin refused to be carted out of his apartment on a stretcher. She took his phone, locked it, and held it hostage in her lap while he fussed and mumbled about how big her tongue was. “What are you allergic to?”

“I didn’t know I was allergic to anything,” she swore again, grabbing his water for another long drink.

It went on like this for several minutes: Rowan listing the ingredients for the stir-fry that she may not have had before, or maybe she’d not had it in such a long time she forgot she had a mild allergy to it. MSG, soy, celery, sesame, carrots, on and on. He ran through everything twice before Aelin asked him to please stop, she had no idea and listing them over and over wasn’t going to spark a memory or knowledge she didn’t have.

The signature frown he wore most of the time was all the more prominent the droopier her eyes got; the effects of Benadryl were hitting her harder than she cared to admit, but her throat wasn’t as itchy and her tongue was feeling closer to normal. Rowan held both of her hands and guided her to his bedroom. Aelin wanted to make a joke about how this wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but she was too sleepy to find the words.

Rowan undressed her, pulling her jeans off before guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. The duvet was softer, fluffier than she’d anticipated him to sleep on, and she wanted to burrow down into it as he replaced her shirt with one of his own. When he pulled back the blanket, she crawled under and didn’t settle until he laid down with her. His sweater was soft beneath her cheek and she felt like she was cuddling with him on a cloud. Gods, his bed was so comfortable she wanted to sleep in it forever.

“I’m sorry for ruining our date,” she mumbled, tilting her head back to look at him beneath heavy lashes and heavier lids.

“I’m sorry for accidentally almost killing you.” Despite the way his lips were turned down, there was amusement hidden in his words. Aelin smiled and tilted her head back enough for him to take the hint: she wanted to be kissed. A half smile spread across his lips and he kissed her gently, fingers brushing loose strands of her hair behind her ear.

“This isn’t how I imagined our date ending,” she grumbled, ducking her face down into his sweater. Rowan chuckled and Aelin knew that it wasn’t what he had in mind, either. “I thought I would end up in your bed but not to sleep. I mean, maybe after you fucked me senseless, but I didn’t think we would be skipping that part altogether.”

“I didn’t think I would make something that had flare up an obscure allergy you didn’t know you had, either. So I guess we’re both surprised.” Aelin snorted, sitting up enough to tug on the side of his sweater. Rowan took the hint, sitting up to pull the sweater and his shirt over his head. While in the process of undressing, he stood and pulled his jeans off, too, tossing them over the back of a desk chair in the corner of the room. Aelin swallowed, eyes dipping over the expanse of golden skin he’d exposed.

Her eyes caught on a scar on his lower abdomen, zeroed-in on the trail of hair that disappeared into his briefs. It dawned on her then that she hadn’t seen him completely naked. At work, they saw each other in various stages of undress while changing costumes, but the only time they’d had sex had been a quickie in Lorcan’s bathroom. They’d both been mostly clothed for that. She was making it a goal to see him entirely naked in the next twenty-four hours, because he looked so good like this it was unfair.

“Maybe I’ll feel better when I wake up,” she said, breathlessly. Rowan grinned, a dimple appearing in his cheek that she didn’t see often enough.

“I’m counting on it.”

#Disney au #Disney #rowaelin Disney au #throne of glass #tog #iwsiil #i won’t say I’m in love #rowaelin #Aelin galathynius #Rowan whitethorn #writing #my writing

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

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Priyotomo (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: The Last Day at Amazon and Ethan's first day back at Boston from Ethan and Pooja's POV

Priyotom(o/a): (Bengali) Dearest, Most Beloved

A/N: Time for another hopeless attempt at poetry!! Anyway, this is my take on Dr Ethan Ramsey running to the Amazons. I really hope that this is not absolute crap and makes so sense🧡

Thank you so much to Simone for Pre-reading! Love you Gurl🧡

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🤎

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 1.8K

Rating: General

Category: Angst

Warnings: (Very Brief) Mentions of blood, fainting and drinking

Title Inspo: Priyotomo Hai - Rabindra Sangeet (Rabindranath Tagore's composition)

OTHER WORKS

Pooja

16 years.

The date was displayed with vivid eloquence by the woody beige cubes that adorned the desk, posing a match with the minimalism of the room.

It was a preposterous fact.

Glassy ambers switched perspective in a progressive motion, and they interpreted the solitary shine of the table lamp on the transparent surface.

Four glowing smiles, two tiny toddlers sat on their parents' lap.

It does not feel surreal. Neither a tale of a bygone era.

It was not her past. It was her present, her life's gears were turned by this very photograph.

Her bracelet adorned hand held it close to her heart, which beat in a meteoric rhythm.

The cacophonous tunes from the fiesta painfully pierced through her reverie, cajoling her to close the mahogany doors that lead to her cocoon.

The flamboyant kantha stitched lehenga proved to be burdensome to carry.

With ponderous steps, Pooja settled down on the couch, pulling her feet to herself.

She wanted to be ten again. Not eleven.

Terminate the time when she could be that blithe girl, rolling dices with her mother.

But there was a specific reason why the reminisces came back stronger than any usual day.

Somewhere in the remote land, in a cholera-stricken district, a summery blue-eyed man spent his days in seclusion.

And occupied the chambers of her cerebral hemispheres.

What was the pain of being left alone with only emotions as a companion without as much as a message?

She wiped her cheek, only to discover the black of her eyeliner now adorning her fingers.

She had been crying.

When? She could not feel the tears that left smokey meanders on the map of her face.

The heartbreak and the circumstances had numbed her feelings. All she wanted was an embrace.

Why did his peach lips mark her as his if this was the end in sight?

She refused to accept it. The end.

She placed her foot down, not feeling the pierce of a pin fallen down against her skin.

Drops of scarlet marked her track as she retouched the smear of her face.

Time to go and socialize.

Ethan

Of everything to look at in the shiny cellular, his eyes now traced the pristine form of the lady who now inhabited every one of his senses.

The comely picture made her look ravishing and the adamant neurons started pulling out manila folders with her memories kept in them.

No. He cannot.

The fiery golden liquid disappeared faster than it had been poured.

He had found himself on the crossroad of whether to type out the words that played in a loop in his mind or not.

I miss you!

He always chose the latter.

He had already given her a false hope.

Of a future of them.

He did not want to do it again.

Only now he realizes that it was a hope he had given himself as well when he first took that sacred form of hers into his arms.

And that he ran away. Like a coward.

Ethan Ramsey the coward.

Who could not fight for them.

Who could not fight for her.

Who could not fight for Lo-

No.

He did not let the word complete. The very thought was dangerous.

Throwing the classy cylinder he had been holding with a deathly grip, he poured the last bit of that glass bottle in him.

And walked over hurriedly, the tiny glass pieces stabbing him, to again begin the reset.

One which would never complete.

Next Day

Pooja

The ethereal moon spread out the beams of serenity all over the ceremonious night.

It was a lively affair. Merrymaking and cultural programs went on, as she stood amidst the cheery atmosphere with a sombre expression.

In front of Pooja, was the masterfully sculpted idol of the Mother Goddess, standing majestically as the centrepiece of the celebration. She was the epitome of power, the Mahisasura Mardini.

The recollections of an unforgettable past come as paper-planes drifting in a gentle air, carrying the playfulness, a child's happy smiles. A time when her mother would take Pooja to the mythological lands through her words, and they would get lost like flying butterflies in fairytale land.

The tunes of Bengali music float in the gentle air, and she hums along. The first song her mom had taught her, also for a Durga Puja function. Her mom was deeply rooted in all of them, the culture of Bengal kept alive by her. She was the reason why Pooja could become a part of a community she takes pride in.

Even now, so many years later, things don't change. They hold on to these roots like they are holding onto their life, not letting them disappear.

It feels like holding onto her, keeping her alive.

Recreating a small piece of her favourite Kolkata in Bhopal.

But the aura of calm hid like the clouds covering the sun's shine. The piercing pain of heartbreak came back, the wound untreated.

The soft sand of her life's hourglass prickles, solitary grains floating to join their siblings. The wish of them defying gravity and going back to bring the 10th year of her life had never been so strong as it was now.

The heavy jewellery tugged at her ears, letting her know their presence and the styled hair gave her a throbbing headache.

Her tiredness and exhaustion, now fuelling back in her veins refusing to let her bring back that sense of peace she experienced moments ago.

Around her people wore phoney smiles. All they cared about was unimportant Tommy rot. Not a single one of them stepped back from criticizing the others behind their backs.

It was a saga of inflated egos, of constant competition, to make the next person look inferior.

She was tired.

Of people running away, Of abandonment, Of hopes getting dashed.

Why did his thoughts keep coming back? After all, he did make it clear, didn't he?

But did he really succeed? Did his efforts head? Did his heart finally give in to his relentless demand?

Did he really forget her?

All the messages that lay not replied, unheard voicemails, she was sure he had.

But that colour of his he left on her?

The piece of his heart that was protected by her?

Would he be able to forget them?

An earthen lamp flickered in front of her, bud she did no rush to save it.

If it goes out, then let it.

Just like the never-ending load shedding of her life.

But it didn't.

It was a wish, a hope that kept it alive.

The sweet nothings he had whispered to her, the gentle kisses he lined on her forehead.

They had promised her forever.

His being enveloped her, she doubted if it would ever break.

The hope of him & her flickers every now and then, just like the earthen lamp.

But did it go off?

It couldn't.

Because there was no wind strong enough to extinguish it.

The possibility of him and her.

The realization and a blackness hit her at the same time.

And as she fell, her mind held on to only it.

The possibility of him and her.

Ethan

If the Great Thinkers from BCs before were asked if going to a beer garden after spending 2 months in another continent and a 13hr long flight was a sensible thing to do, they would have watched the questioner in bewilderment.

And he agreed. He was not being sensible, not even 1%.

The urge to see her, to gaze at her moonly face, to know that she okay.

It had never been so strong. He felt his mind would give up on him if he could not locate her today.

Not that he had stopped the forgetting process, absolutely not.

It was just a solace, a bandage to the scars he had given himself.

That she would be okay even if he was not there with her.

Focus fixed on keeping his gaze as unhurried as possible, he looked around, putting the well-trained ears and eyes to work.

And then he saw them.

All her friends clustered at a table, merrily clinking beer bottles and sharing happy glances. His eyes pierced into the scene, but he could not locate her.

A step or two brought him close, the desperateness making his heart go crazy.

But the conclusion shattered every bit of sense and calm, dissipated the hope of getting to see here.

She was not here.

His face fell like someone who had lost the thing they hold the closest to their heart.

She, really, was not here.

He really wanted to ask the residents sitting at the table in question, to get some, any, news on her.

But his rational mind still existed, and it was the only thing that stopped him from going haywire.

She was not here.

He took out the notorious cuboid chiming in his pocket, full of satirical typed phrases his cerebrum refused to decrypt.

But it was adamant to get his attention.

A scoff escaped like a habit.

As if anyone could be powerful enough to take his attention away from her.

He was caught in a maze of her memories, his time in the continent thousands of kilometres away and the ghoul of feelings chasing him deeper into it, making him yearn for her solace, the moistness of a forlorn kiss on his forehead, the gentle swipe of a thumb to take his tears away.

His way was lost in there, every turn making him end up more challenged. But even if he did not want to, he had to find the way out.

His soul was like a thorn who could only hurt the tender flower that she was.

What he did not realize was that she was a rose, her being was amidst thorns.

She had the power to beautify them.

The click of the turn-on sound, brought him back to the piece of work his fingers were creating on the light emanating screen.

And in seconds that passed too fast, he saw his heart's treasure,

She was here.

Not in footsteps & whispers.

She was here.

Not in touches and kisses.

She was here.

Not in muscle and bone.

But in labyrinths of his heart, in filmstrips of his memory, in sensations that made him go wild,

She was here.

(With him forever, she was not the one to leave his side)

PS: I HC the end of 1st year of their residency being in Sept-Oct, which is the time of Durga Puja in India. And since Poo is half Bengali, and she never misses any tradition involving her mom's side of the fam, so she would not have been at Boston then. (Or take it as an excuse to increase angst potential) Anyway, Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🧡.

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you I feel like my brain has short-circuited and I forgot someone):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @helloayz

Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010

Ethan x Pooja (fics): @aleynareads @stygianflood @choicesaddict5 @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years

Text

Sub Rosa [55]

x. die all, die merrily

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: I mean, the title says it all, people die, there is fighting and violence. also some light smut, a lil touch of kidnapping, and some language to finish it all up.

Summary: the final conclave begins, and 13 clans fight for the ultimate prize: surviving the apocalypse.

a/n: I AM NERVOUS TO POST THIS BC APPARENTLY THIS IS A LOT OF YALLS FAVORITE EPISODE EVER SO I HOPE I DID IT JUSTICE! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 27th, 2150; Polis

You wake to the sounds of yelling outside.

Your eyes pull open slowly, blinking against the bright light of the sun that streams into the room from the balcony. You roll over, coming face to face with Bellamy, who is looking down at you and smiling. You give him a sleepy smile in return. “How long have you been up?”

He glances towards the balcony, before his eyes fall on you again. “An hour or so. Sounds like they’re prepping for the conclave.”

You hum in agreement. “Didn't Clarke say it starts tomorrow? I’m sure there’s a lot to be done and not much time to do it in.”

“Does that mean we have to help too?”

You laugh at the grimace on his face, clearly not excited about this prospect. “Probably.”

He sighs and starts to stand from the bed, but you grab his hand and pull him back down towards you. He looks at you in surprise as you give him a mischievous look, pulling him down even closer, until his face is inches from yours. “We can have some fun first though, don’t you think?”

He catches onto your line of thinking easily, and he gives you a look full of fire and passion. He answers your question with a searing kiss, your previous separation making you savor the kiss more than you usually do. His hands come to land on either side of your face, holding you in place as he kisses you like his life depends on it. Like he’s a drowning man and you’re a tank of oxygen sent to save him. His hands slide from your face, down to your body, sliding all over you, the feeling of his skin on yours electric.

He pulls you closer to his body, tugging until you move to straddle him, the fur blanket sliding off of you as you do. You run your hands down his already naked chest, his shirt on you, your favorite thing to sleep in, and he smiles up at you. You tug the shirt off and toss it to the side, and his eyes roam your body with appreciation, taking you in. You have to resist the urge to cover up, knowing how much he likes to look at you, but still, you whisper, “You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring. I’m drawing a detailed image of you in my brain for later, and I want to make sure I don’t miss anything.”

His fingers trace over a few of your scars, the one on your shoulder from the arrow, the one on your leg from Roan, and the one on your side from the assassin, and you can see his eyes mapping their location on your body. You copy the motion with him, carefully tracing the scar on his side, the one you stitched up. He glances down at it, the small, jagged little scar, shaped like an uneven lightning bolt. “It is crooked. Sorry about that.”

“Don't be, I like it. It reminds me of you.”

“It looks like lightning. The perfect scar for my stormy boyfriend.”

He gives you a peculiar look. “You think I'm stormy?”

You lean down and kiss him, chasing away the insecurity that seems to creep up. “Not in a bad way. Storms are powerful, forces to be reckoned with. Sometimes they rage and crackle, but they cleanse too, and help the Earth grow.”

He smiles up at you, his face softening and his earlier insecurity now gone. “And you are radiant. Breathtaking. Beautiful.”

He kisses you in between each compliment, lingering on the last one, making it long and slow. You open your mouth, granting his tongue access, and they dance and move together in a perfect symphony. As he kisses you, you both slide out of any remaining undergarments, both of you naked and warm against each other. The usual vulnerability, and fear, that comes with being naked around another person is lost on you, because Bellamy is careful to radiate nothing but love and adoration, wanting you to feel safe and secure.

He breaks the kiss to watch you as you sink onto him, both of you moaning with pleasure. He rolls you both, situating your body beneath his, his arms supporting his weight next to your head, caging you between them. Your eyes lock as you move together, finding your rhythm, and his other hand slips between your bodies to bring you closer to the edge. You fall first, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back in pleasure, and the sight of you sends Bellamy over right after.

He kisses you again as you come down from your high, the kiss lazy and sloppy, both of you feeling like jelly as your pleasure rolls through you. Bellamy eventually rolls off you, laying down at your side, turning to watch you. You turn to face him, smiling up at his freckled face and messy curls, “Tell me about the gods.”

He smiles, always ready to oblige, before launching into his story. “Persephone, better known as the goddess of the dead and Underworld, wasn’t always known that way…”

March 28th, 2150; Polis

Bellamy’s hand is held tight in your own, slick with sweat from nerves as he leads you down the hall, towards Octavia’s room. The tradition of the Final Conclave has now begun, and in mere minutes, Octavia will walk onto the stage in front of everyone, and accept the sigil of her clan, your clan, and fight until the death for Skaikru.

When Bellamy reaches the door, he turns and looks at you, nervous, and you nod your head, reassuring him. He lifts his hand and knocks, and Octavia looks his way, quickly looking away again when she realizes who it is. “You here to give me a pep talk?”

He drops your hand and steps into the room, settling onto the couch beside her. You linger in the doorway, here for emotional support more than anything, watching Bellamy make his last attempt to save his sister. “You don't have to do this. We can find someone else to fight. “

“If I die, I die. At least I go down fighting.”

“O-”

She cuts him off immediately, shutting down his argument. “Don't. This is my decision, Bell. I know what the odds are, I don't need you pointing them out.”

You hear footsteps from down the hall, and you peek behind you, watching as your twin approaches you. Her face is set in a grim expression, not optimistic at all, and as soon as she looks up and meets your eyes, she calls out, “It's time.”

You nod, turning to pass the message along to Octavia, but she must have heard because she is already standing and walking your way. You get a good look at her make up as she approaches, the dark war paint painted over each of her eyes in the shape of an upside down “L”. You realize immediately what her inspiration is, and as she stops in front of you, you whisper, “Lincoln’s tattoo.”

She nods once, confirming your suspicion, and you see a quick pass of nerves cross her features. You reach out and squeeze her shoulder, offering her comfort. “He’s always with you, especially now, and I know he's proud of you.”

She gives you a small smile before walking past you and out the door, walking down the long hallway to the stage. You and Bellamy follow her path until you meet up with Clarke, who leads you out a side door and into the crowd, just in time to watch Gaia, Indra’s daughter, announce, “Octavia kom Skaikru, step forward.”

Octavia steps up onto the stage and ducks her head, allowing Gaia to attach a necklace around her neck. “Accept the sigil of your clan and fight with honor as their champion.”

She walks across the stage and comes to a stop beside Roan, and you and Bellamy exchange a look as Gaia begins her final speech. “Soon will begin the Final Conclave, a battle to the death within the walls of Polis. These warriors will fight until only one remains. When that warrior collects all of the sigils from the fallen and delivers them to me, they will be declared the victor. This final champion alone will tell us which clan is meant to survive in the crypt of Bekka Pramheda, and which clans are meant to perish in Praimfaya. Osir koma op daun bilaik slip daun kom bleirona, ba mafta op Won bilaik hef em op mou beda.”

Kane translates for you and Bellamy, able to understand the words faster than both of you can. “We honor those who fall by the sword, but follow the One who wields it best.”

Somewhere behind you in the crowd, someone yells, “Daun bilaik ai!”

That would be me. You all turn and watch in shock as Luna stalks through the crowd, shoving people out of her way to get to the front, and you can sense trouble brewing as soon as you see her face. “Shit.”

Bellamy looks at you, not understanding what you mean, not aware of just how bad things got for Luna on Becca’s Island. She stalks onto the stage and comes to a stop in front of Gaia. “I'm Luna kom Floukru, and I'm the last of my clan.”

“We know who you are...The Natblida who ran from her conclave.”

“I'm not running from this one.”

Gaia turns and grabs the last necklace from the bowl, turning to face the angry Nightblood. “Accept this sigil, Luna kom Floukru. But with your clan gone, who will you fight for?”

“I fight for no one. I fight for death.” She snatches the necklace from Gaia’s hands and turns and holds it up for the crowd. “When I win, no one will be saved.”

Her words immediately send a wave of murmurs through the crowd, and Gaia quickly solves the problem by dispersing the crowd and sending the warriors down into the weapons room to arm up and prepare for the battle. You, Kane, Bellamy, Clarke, and Jaha all cluster in a circle, quietly discussing Luna's arrival when Gaia comes over to your group, voice full of authority. “Skaikru! Three advisors to the worgeda. The rest of you, report to your designated safe zone. Now.”

Kane gestures to you and Bellamy, “Come on. We have to get her ready.”

Jaha reaches out and grabs Kane’s arm, stopping him from leaving. “This conversation isn't over. The death wave will be here within three days, and here we are, risking the fate of our people on a blood sport?”

Clarke corrects him, “The fate of all people, You heard Luna.”

“She's just one of 13.”

You wince, remembering when you walked in a room to save Luna from at least 6 men, only to find that she had already saved herself. And that was after being repeatedly tortured. “You're wrong. She's a Nightblood novitiate, which means she trained in combat exactly like this.”

Bellamy looks at you, misunderstanding you. “You want us to cheat?”

“No.” You look at him, shaking your head. “I only mean that Luna is the walking definition of killer warrior, and that scares me.”

Kane adds, “Besides, you know the rules. If we break them, we lose, and if we lose, we die.”

“The rules are not the problem, Marcus. The game is. Even if we stop Luna, even if Octavia finds a way to win, does anyone truly believe that the Grounders will accept Skaikru as the lone survivors?”

“Yes. The conclave is sacred, they'll honor the winner. Like it or not, we're all Grounders now.” The words tug at a memory, Bellamy standing in the middle of a circle of delinquents, convincing all of you to fight the Grounders coming your way. But Kane pulls you from that memory when he looks at Jaha, and says, “You get our people to the safe zone, we'll have Octavia ready for the fight. The rest is up to her.”

You and Clarke nod at each other, knowing you’ll see each other again soon, after the Conclave. Either as the sole clan to survive Praimfaya, or as one of 13 clans left outside to perish. Bellamy walks close to you as you follow Kane into the weapons area, leading you over to Octavia. As you walk towards her, you eye the competition, taking notes on their weapons, their fighting, anything you can gather that might help her. Kane seems to have the same idea because as soon as he stops in front of her and you and Bellamy stop beside him, he starts, “All right, listen to me. The Blue Cliff Warrior, she has two corvo blades. I just saw her practicing. She's left handed, you go for her weak hand.”

“Okay.”

You add to his point, “Plains Rider and the warrior from Shallow Valley, they're strong, but slow. You can avoid them, not to mention the black rain, which could fall at any moment, so stay close to cover.”

Beside you, Bellamy fidgets in place, turning and looking away, which does not go unnoticed by you or Octavia. She snaps, “What, Bellamy? If you've got something to say, just say it.”

“You don't need any of this. When the starting horn blows, just stay out of sight and let the others thin out the competition.”

“You want me to hide?”

“You don't need to go up against the strongest warrior from every clan.”

“I came here to fight.”

Bellamy bends down a little, matching their heights, his voice almost pleading, “You were the girl under the floor. Use that, just like Mom taught us.”

Kane nods, “Bellamy's right. You don't have to kill all 12 warriors.”

“I just have to kill the last one.”

All of you exchange a nod, now on the same page in terms of strategy. Behind you, one of the Flamekeeper scouts announces, “Ambassadors and advisors, to the tower. Champions, to your flags.”

Kane and Octavia hug, quick and fierce, before she turns to Bellamy. They hover near each other, unsure whether they should hug, and eventually Octavia settles on, “May we meet again.”

“Damn right we will.”

Bellamy’s voice is sad, and he looks like he wants to hug her, but he’s so worried about upsetting her before the battle that he doesn’t. He just turns and starts to walk away, leaving you and Octavia alone. You don't hesitate to hug her, reaching out and grabbing her, squeezing her tight and passing along as much love and strength as you can through the hug. She hugs you back tight, almost desperate, and when you pull away, both of you have tears in your eyes, aware this might be your last goodbye. You smile through your tears, “You were my first friend on the ground, and the first person to see me as someone other than the Invisible Twin. Now you’re my people, my family, my sister. I am so incredibly proud of you.”

She smiles at you and you see her fighting back her tears, not wanting anyone to see her crying. She squeezes your arm and whispers, “I love you. Bellamy too.”

You nod, already aware, because you knew the siblings couldn't stay upset with each other long. Lincoln's death left a mark on their relationship, but that doesn't mean their relationship was irreparable. You start to answer when one of the Flamekeepers grabs your arms and pulls you away, pushing you towards the door to the tower. You turn and wave one last goodbye to Octavia, eyes watching the small girl melt into the crowd of warriors who have been fighting longer than she’s been alive. You meet Bellamy at the elevator, and his face is fallen, completely upset. You slip your hand in his and he looks over at you in surprise, so lost in his own head that he didn't even hear your approach. “What did she say?”

“She said she loves you.”

Surprise takes over his expression, then regret, and he immediately drops your hands and turns away, “I have to tell her I love her.”

But the Flamekeeper who pushed you out of the room blocks his path, pushing him back towards the elevator, not allowing him to leave. You can tell Bellamy wants to fight it and fight him, but you reach out and grab his hand again, pulling him towards the now waiting elevator. “She’s going to win, Bellamy. You can tell her afterwards.”

He nods and you ride the elevator to the top, meeting up with Kane in the throne room, just as the horn sounds, signaling the beginning of the conclave. You can hear the sounds of fighting immediately, and the tensions inside the room are high as you hear the clang of swords and the thud of fallen bodies. Minutes later, Gaia comes into the room and announces, “The first two champions have fallen.”

Everyone turns towards her, absolutely terrified that she will say the name of the warrior from their clan, and you, Kane, and Bellamy are no exception.

“Gael kom Ingranronakru, yu gonplei ste odon.”

One of the Flamekeepers walks over to the candle that represents the Plains Riders and puts the flame out, ending their battle for the bunker. You all watch the Flamekeeper turn away from the snuffed candle and walk towards the next one, and your heart drops as every step he takes brings him closer and closer to the Skaikru candle. Bellamy whispers, “Please don't be her.”

Luckily, but still heartbreaking, the Flamekeeper stops just shy, in front of the Trikru candle, as Gaia announces, “Fio kom Trikru, yu gonplei ste odon.”

Relieved, you turn to Bellamy. “Octavia's still out there.”

Bellamy’s eyes turn towards you, full of tears, his expression breaking your heart. “I couldn't tell her I loved her, even with the world ending.”

You squeeze his hand, still held tight in yours. “Trust me, Bellamy, she knows.”

He nods and his eyes drop to the floor, lost in his head again, and you and Kane share a look. With nothing else to do now, except wait, you and Bellamy head out to the balcony with your binoculars, watching the fights alongside Gaia. Kane comes out onto the balcony as you watch the Blue Cliff warrior kill the Sangedakru warrior, and Bellamy lets out a small gasp at the sight of the death. When you turn to look at him in confusion, he nods towards Kane, and you follow him as he leads you over to the Chancellor. Bellamy’s voice is low when he mutters, “We just saw the Blue Cliff warrior kill the Sangedakru warrior with a bow.”

“So?”

Bellamy looks at you, and you remember your pre fight conversation with Octavia. You tell Kane, “So, we saw her before the fight. She didn't have a bow, she had two swords.”

“Yeah, the corvo blades.” He shrugs, not understanding your worry. “Well, she could have picked up a bow off the battlefield.”

You and Bellamy exchange a look, both of you aware that someone you know is exceptionally good with a bow, and exceptionally good at betrayal. You both step back inside the room, scanning for the Azgeda spy, shaking your head when you don't see her. Kane comes up beside you, looking between you in confusion. “What is it?”

“Echo's gone.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Bellamy stalks out of the room, looking like a man on a mission, and you and Kane look at each other in panic before running after him. “Bellamy, wait!”

He spins around to face the two of you, annoyed at the interruption. “My sister is down there. Echo is cheating, and I'm gonna stop her.”

Kane shakes his head, “Let one of Gaia's scouts find her, and then Ice Nation will be punished.”

“They'll never catch her. Echo's a spy, this is what she does.”

He tries to walk away again but you grab his arm to stop him. “Listen to me, Bellamy, I’m with you. But running out there in broad daylight is not the way to fix this.”

“So, you think I should just stay here and do nothing?”

You shake your head, and Kane vocalizes a plan you were already starting to form in your head. “No. You wait until dark so you don't get caught. And then the two of you get her out of the fight and get back here without being seen. Clear?”

“Clear.”

The wait until nightfall is agonizingly long, and all you can do is hope that Octavia makes it until then, safely away from Echo’s arrows. When darkness finally blankets the city, only five lit candles remain. Floukru, Azgeda, Podakru, Louwoda Kliron, and Skaikru.

Bellamy leads you through the streets of Polis, heading towards the building Echo is hiding in, careful to keep the both of you hidden from the view of any warriors or Flamekeepers. You’re close to the building when Bellamy abruptly stops and pulls you back behind a wall, disguised in the shadows. You know it’s too dangerous to ask why, but you don't need to, because a second later the Shallow Valley warrior comes into view. He seems to see something in the distance that you can’t see, because you watch him brace himself before a scream breaks free from the unseen force, and Luna comes running into view. She kills him quickly, easily, and just like that, five lit candles becomes four.

Luna stalks out of view again, and as soon as Bellamy is sure it’s clear, he takes off running again, leading you the last few steps to the building. The two of you creep up the stairs slowly, remembering that Echo is up high, and when you reach the door to her hiding spot, Bellamy gives you two hand signals: push the door open and then immediately get down. You nod your head, letting him you know you understand, and then he counts you down from three. As soon as he puts his last finger down, you swing the door open as quickly and quietly as you can, before you immediately duck, Echo’s arrow landing in the door right above your head.

Bellamy runs forward and tackles her to the ground, and the two of them fight back and forth until he gets the upper hand, wrapping his hands around her neck and choking her. She is seconds away from death when you feel a knife to your throat and you freeze in place, voice frantic when you call out, “Bellamy.”

He turns and his face drops when he sees you, his hands instantly releasing Echo’s throat, allowing her to breathe. He steps away from her and the person at your back shoves you towards Bellamy, who catches you with ease, and when you turn around you really aren't surprised to see Roan standing there, sword pointed at you and Bellamy as he glares at you. “I should've known you three couldn't stay away. I heard you all the way down the street, you're lucky I wasn't a scout.”

Bellamy nods towards the Ice Nation spy. “We came to stop her.”

“Explain yourself.”

“I was only trying to help save our people.”

Roan sneers at her, “I am not my mother. I'm not willing to cast aside honor for power.”

“No one has to know.”

“You misunderstand. I will not allow your dishonor to give Luna an advantage, and you will not shame our clan ever again. You are Azgeda no more.”

Shock takes over Echo’s face, and you have to resist the urge to smirk at her. “Sire, wait.”

“You're banished, Echo, and when I win this conclave, make no mistake, there will be no place for you inside that bunker. Now get out of my sight, and off this battlefield without being seen, or know that you are the cause of the death of our people.”

She swallows hard, fighting back tears, before turning and leaving the room, sneaking out and off the battlefield, despite having nowhere else to go. Once you and Bellamy are alone with Roan, the sword comes back towards the two of you again, everything about the king threatening. “I take it by your presence here that your sister's still alive.”

“That's right.”

“If I call for a scout, she'll be executed right now.” He lowers the sword, leaving enough room for you to eventually pass. “But what fun would that be? You really think she can win, don't you?”

Bellamy smiles, looking proud. “I wouldn't count her out if I were you. She's survived harder things than this.”

“Before she dies, I'll tell her she's lucky to have you as a brother.”

“I got a better idea. After she guts you and before you die, you tell her I was the lucky one.”

Roan smirks at him and you feel Bellamy's hand slip into your own, letting you know it’s time to go. You step away first, pulling Bellamy behind you, both of you keeping your eyes on the Ice Nation King until you’re out of the room and back on the street. You begin the careful retreat back to the tower, taking a different path than before, just in case. It takes longer this way, but this path is darker, and easier to stay hidden in, and after a few minutes, you’re just outside the tower again. You and Bellamy look at each other and smile a little, relieved to have made it back without getting caught, but that relief is short lived.

Just as the two of you start towards the door of the tower, two people jump out of the shadows, each one of them grabbing each of you, holding a rag over your mouth. The substance smells awful, and you know without a doubt that you shouldn't be smelling it, but you don't have much time to process that. You and Bellamy look at each other, both of your eyes wide in panic when you see the other in danger, and you fight against your captives. But by then, it's too late. The chemical has kicked in and you feel unconsciousness seize you rapidly, pulling you under at an alarmingly fast rate.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the heaviness in your head.

It feels like someone popped open your skull, stuffed it full of rocks, and closed it up again. You try to pry your eyes open, but they feel heavy, weighed down by anchors. You groan and try again, prying them open with all your strength, closing them back again when they are met with a bright light. But then you hear someone next to you groan, and a hand brushes against yours, familiar and warm.

Bellamy.

This time when you get your eyes open, you turn his way, both of you looking at each other in shock before you confirm that each other is real. You reach towards each other, silently checking the other out, making sure you're okay. And as soon as you realize you are, you both turn and look around the room, realizing you must be in the bunker. Your eyes land on Clarke, standing at the desk in the room near Jaha, both of them looking towards you. You look between them, at the clench of Clarke’s jaw, the extra weight on her shoulders, and your stomach sinks. “What the hell did you do?”

Jaha is the one to answer, sounding unashamed of what he has to say. “If only one clan could survive, it might as well be ours.”

Bellamy turns to your twin, not believing what he’s hearing. “Clarke, you agreed to this?”

“It was her idea.”

You and Bellamy share an incredulous look, before you turn it on Clarke, in disbelief of what she’s done. She sets her jaw, trying to convince herself, and the two of you, of what she’s done. “We did what we had to do.”

next chapter

#the 100 #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #the 100 rewrite #the 100 4x10

65 notes · View notes

becca-e-barnes · 3 years

Note

And you've no idea how many times a day I check your profile to see if you've replied to my ask. Usually when I find out you do, my heart does a little happy dance!🥰

And the plot thickens!!

He kept saying that he also stayed out because he saw a picture of my tits on my phone, and that he saw i sent it to jared. Uhm.. no you didn't? tf? I don't even take nudes? I hate taking nudes unless I'm sending them to someone I really like, which is barely ever. But you could have them if you'd like, yes, I said it!!

It pissed me off and I would punch my bf if I wasn't 5'0. Small as ever. I also feel like he made that up and said that bc he doesn't want to admit his faults. Cause he's honestly so childish sometimes it makes me frustrated. Often, he'll flip the blame on the other person. But anyways, he claimed that, and whenever I asked him about bree he would just turn it around and ask me about jared and what's up with that. Like you know that there's nothing up with that, so stop ignoring my question you fucking pillock. He was blatantly ignoring my question, so he def did something and I wanna know what the hell he did.

I checked his location on snap map like 10 mins after he went to work, and when I did, he was near bree's house and i only know her address bc she used to be less annoying so my bf and I went over there for parties. But then, she got too handsy so I stopped letting him go there. Not to mention the fact that he doesn't even work near bree's house at all.

Now im at my mums house and not talking to him after work because the snap map thing told me everything. Now I'm just sitting on the couch, watching my favorite movie (called But I'm A Cheerleader! It's great, I recommend), and thinking about you, my pretty princess. But he better get his shit together before I break up with him. My mum is telling me that I choose the worst arseholes in the world and he was good at first, but then I realised how everything went to shit after I had sex with him.

It made me think. Did I do something wrong with my body? Did I do this to myself by being a horrible gf? I cook him meals, make him lunch, take care of the pet, keep the apartment clean, try to please him as much as possible, and I feel like what I do is just not good enough.. Makes me feel like a shit person.

Sorry if that got dark!!

A few seconds later, I read what you said at the bottom of your answer to me and I feel much better!😩

Jesus it actually made my kitty flutter, and I actually fucking whimpered. I would probably be such a whore for you and moan your name so loudly. Oh god, I bet you could easily make me tremble, I'm not even gonna lie. I'd unravel under your touch and just let you pull me apart like cotton candy.🥴

-🎀

PS, you can fight him if I find out he's cheating.

oh my goodness, you’re so cute!! I bet your happy dance is just adorable! I think we’re in really opposite time zones? Bc usually you reply in the middle of the night, when I wake up at 4am your ask is usually in my inbox!

That’s so fucking random, he thinks you’re sending pics to your friend? This man really is doing everything he can to justify what he did 🙃

Not knowing would absolutely kill me but wait you’re 5’0?! Omfg 🥺 I would hate the fact he even still talks to Bree tbh, Id be so sus of that never mind anything else

But that’s good! Enjoy your time at your mum’s and take really good care of yourself! Watch some movies, eat some junk and let yourself forget about everything for a while, it’ll do you the world of good!

But angel, you did nothing wrong, it certainly isn’t your fault and I really don’t want you to blame yourself!! He sounds like he’s just an asshole who doesn’t realise he’s got something great with you! Plus I would always refuse to do wifey shit as a girlfriend. I’ll make sure my contribution is equal to my bf’s but I’m the one who works! I wouldn’t be busting my ass to cook and clean for him if I can’t expect the same back! You’re not a horrible gf, in fact, you sound like a saint!! Please don’t blame yourself in the slightest 💗

Oh angel, that’s so cute, you thought you’d be the one edging me? That’s not how it looks anymore, is it? You went all soft and sweet and submissive so quickly. So adorable that you’re whimpering for me already and I haven’t even touched you. Sounds like you really need to be taken care of, sweetheart. Love how keen you are for me, hardly have to say anything to turn you into a sweet little mess

And brb, in my way to fight him if he did cheat. I don’t condone violence but I’ll make an exception

#asks answered <3 #🎀 anon #I’m maybe just like… sus of everyone 😂#all the time #like I always think everyone has a motive for everything they do #so I just see the worst in situations #so I’m never sure if I’m being too negative #but this time I don’t think I am #and I really hope you’re okay!!

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the-record · 3 years

Text

Love at First Sight (2)

Category: FLUFF ABSOLUTE FLUFF

Warnings: None (In this part.)

Spencer Reid x Fem! reader

A/N: Hey! This is a totally fluff slow burn. There will be multiple parts bc I suck that way. Enjoy!

Gif not mine

“Hey genius!” That had become your nickname for him, he didn’t seem to care that you called him that but never gave you one. “Pen invited us out for drinks, you coming?” He nodded and smiled a little.

“Sure.” You got all excited and pulled him towards the elevator, desperate to get to the bar. “But I’m not drinking.” You look at him disappointed and pouting.

“Spencer please?” He shook his head no.

“Someone has to make sure that you Garcia, and JJ don’t get too drunk. Or if you do, Derek can’t take all of you home. So, no drinks for me.” You threw your head back.

“Fine, but next time we can take a cab and I am getting you drunk!” He smiled and the two of you walked out together. Nothing more than friends.

***

“There are my two favorite angels! Y/N come with me to get us all drinks, we have been waiting for you.” Garcia says pulling you towards the bar, eager to get you away from the team. “So, Reid drove you here? Oooooh.”

“Are you sure you haven’t had anything to drink? You seem tipsy to me.” She shakes her head.

“Not even a sip.” She orders drinks for everyone, getting you an insanely alcoholic drink.

“I’m gonna get you back for this Pen, don’t forget it.” You push her shoulder and help her take over drinks, handing JJ hers.

“Oh thank you love, I need it desperately. I have not had more than a small glass of wine in months.” JJ says kissing you on the cheek. Se cared for you like a mom, making sure you were always ok and not hurt with the occasional teasing.

“Of course JJ. Please don’t let Garcia get more then 3 drinks in me, I am not in the mood for a hangover.” She smiles and nods but you knew that you would end up with more than 3 very strong drinks in you system by the end of the night.

***

“Y/N what drink number is that?” You smile at Spencer who was counting the glasses on your table knowing that at least a third of them were yours. “Ok, it’s time to get you girls home.” He went to get Derek is you started your next drink which was quickly pulled out of your hands.

“Hey baby girl. Come on let’s get you home. JJ, Hotch will take you home, good night pretty girl.” Derek says to you kissing your head, as Spencer tried to hold you up.

“Come one, my car is right outside.” You nod but can hold yourself up somehow making it to the car. “I am taking you to my apartment so you don’t do anything you regret in the morning.” He says buckling your seatbelt as you nod yourself to sleep. When you wake up again it’s because you could feel someone carrying you. You opened your eyes to see Spencer.

“Spencer...” He shushes you and tells you to go back to sleep and you do as he says.

***

When you wake up you feel like absolute shit. You know where you are, Spencer’s apartment, but his side of the bed is neat so you assume he slept on the couch.

“Good morning.” You roll your eyes at him as you make coffee for the two of you.

“I told JJ no more than 3 drinks. 3 drinks. You’re in charge next time because obviously it’s not a good idea to trust a drunk JJ.” You see your phone on the counter and there are a couple of texts.

Garcia: Well well well, someone got into Spencer's arms last night!

Derek: Hey loser, make sure to drink some water and eat food. Soak up the alcohol in your system love you.

JJ: I’m not sorry about last night, someone got taken home by Spencer, thank me later.

You knew exactly what they were talking about with Spencer but it wasn’t like that. You were just friends. And besides, you were coworkers.

You bring him his coffee and sugar as you sip yours.

“Thanks.” He says as you hand him the mug. He is sitting in an arm chair reading a book as he drinks it. You sit next to him on the arm of the chair.

“What book is that?” He looks up at you showing the cover. “Well well well, Sherlock Holmes. Very good series.” He smiles and you return.

“Thought I should re-read them considering how much you like them.” You can feel your cheeks go red.

“Uh, what d-do you have to eat here?” He points to his cabinet.

“There is some pancake mix in there. Pans and mixing bowls in the cabinet by the stove.” You head to the kitchen and whisk the mix before turning on a burner and pouring some on a greased pan. You flip it to reveal a perfect golden side.

You finish up the batter and put half on a plate for him and half on a plate for you. He is now sitting at his desk and you bring his plate over to him. He perfectly golden pancakes are cover with syrup and there are utensils next to him. Yours are the same.

“Didn’t know you could cook.” You laugh a little.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say I could cook. Pancakes were the go to breakfast food when we had time. Weekends, snow days, summer, sleepovers. Any time we could make them, we did. Got pretty good at knowing when to flip them so they were cooked but not burnt.” He smiles at this. He was totally gonna hold this above your head.

“Next time I want some pancakes, you have to make them for me considering I had to take you home very drunk last night.” You chuckle at this.

“Deal.” You hear your phone buzz on the counter and walk over to grab it. JJ is calling you. “Hey J what’s up?” You sigh and Spencer can already tell what’s coming. “Yeah yeah I will let him know. See you it 40.” You hang up.

“Case?” You nod.

“They said they can fill us in on the jet we just need to get ready to go.” He nods and you do your best to throw yourself together putting on yesterdays clothes since you had decided to start keeping pajamas at Spencer incase something like this, you getting sickly drunk, happens. Which did pretty often.

***

“Morning.” You say as you walk in, Spencer behind you.

“Late night?” Morgan laughs at the redness of your eyes and coffee in hand. Your second cup of the day.

“I will beat your ass Morgan. And yeah, since JJ, didn’t stop me at 3 drinks.” She shrugs with a smirk on her face. Hotch comes into view.

“I will discuss you two later,” looking at you and Spencer, “Now, Y/L/N and Spencer, grab your go bags let’s go.” You take a deep breath preparing for the teasing.

***

Hotch had finished briefing you guys and telling us what you would do when you landed. You felt sick, like you could throw up so you sat next to Spencer on the couch and tried to sleep but the motion just made it worse. Your head laid on his shoulder, a usual spot for you to sleep. He put his arm around you bringing you in close which shocked you.

“Hey love birds.” Morgan says as he sits in front of you two. You look at him.

“Morgan I swear to god I will kill you, go away.” He laughs.

“Alright alright, chill out. What’d you two do last night after he took you home?

“He took me over to his place, I slept is his bed he slept on the couch like normal. He woke up before me, I made us coffee and pancakes because I was hungry. Penelope called me to tell me there was a case, we got ready and left. Happy? Now please, I feel like shit so let me sleep. Leave me alone.” Derek’s smile disappears slightly.

“Fine. Get some rest, we need you at your best when we land.” You smile a little and lay on Spencer’s shoulder, falling asleep quickly.

***

It had been days since you had arrived. A serial killer was targeting families with 1 child and happily married parents. You were assigned to work on the geological profile with Spencer. It wasn’t your strong suit but the two of you put your heads together. You felt a phone buzz as you wrote something down. “Hey what’s up?”

“They found another victim.” You look at Spencer disappointed.

“Ok, send me the location. Oh and have Garcia find out some stuff about the victim, see if there are any connections now.” You hang up the phone.

“That was JJ. They found another victim. He is sending me the location now.” He nods. “Spencer, can you pass me a pen?” You hand was behind you as you stared at the map and when he handing it to you, you started to mark some points down. When you connected them they made a star with one missing point. It was a single family house. “Spencer, call me Hotch, now. I know who the next victim is.

“Hey love.” You called Garcia to get some information.

“How can I assist you my angel?” She responds.

“Hey I need some information on an address. 20973 Rockstone Lane. I need a phone number and to know who lives there.” You sigh. “They’re the next victims.” She immediately gets to work. You don’t hang up your phone and grab your gun and badge.

“Spencer, let’s go. We can meet them up there we are closer. Garcia is getting me a number, hopefully we can warn them.” He grabs your arm.

“Are you sure?” He looks concerned. This case was important to you. The killer had been shooting the parents and torturing the child. It was messing you up and everyone could see it.

“Spencer, grab your gun let’s go.” He nods and heads to the car.

“Hey beautiful I got a number. Sending it now.” She hung up and you dialed the number she sent you.

“Hello?” It was a woman, there was a T.V. on in the background.

“Hello. Ma’am I’m Agent Y/L/N with the FBI. I need you to listen very carefully. Get your husband and child and hide. My team is on my way and we will be there soon.”

“What? Why?” You heard screams and looked at Spencer nervously.

“Ma’am? Hello?” The phone hang up. “Spencer, step on it.” He turned on the sirens and went faster, something he had never done. You arrived and saw a van out front. “I’m going in Spence, we can’t wait any longer.”

“Y/N, wait! They will be here in like 2 seconds, you aren’t going in alone.” You heard guns shots and your mind took over. You jumped out of the car hearing your name being called. The door was closed but unlocked and in front of you were the parents, the child not in sight. Next to them was a man holding them at gun point. You knew him, you had interviewed him just days before.

“Jacob, you don’t have to do this.” You remembered everything about him. His parents had hurt him as a child and he wanted others to feel his pain. It all clicked as you saw him. “Jacob, one way or another you are getting out of here. You decide whether it’s dead or alive.” He pointed his gun at you.

“You don’t understand. These people don’t deserve their child. They aren’t good people.” You slowly set your gun down.

“Jacob, lower your gun.” He held his finger on the trigger about to pull it. “Jacob. Let them go. Think about what you are doing to their child? Leaving them without their caretakers, torturing them. Jacob you know what that’s like to not have people that care for you. Don’t do this.” He started to lower his gun but raised it again, pulling the trigger and hitting your arm as Derek tackled him.

You felt someone behind you. “Don’t worry about me. Go help the parents and find the kid.” Derek had put Jacob in cuffs and Spencer was helping the parents. Hotch came up to you. “I’m fine. Really. I can wait we have to go find the kid.” He shook his head.

“The medics are outside. Let’s go.” He grabbed your other arm so you had to walk with him to get checked out. Lucky for you the bullet had just grazed you arm, it still took some skin but nothing serious. As they finished bandaging you up Spencer came to sit next to you.

“I’m fine genius. Just grazed my skin.” He still looked concerned.

“Good job. I heard you talking there and uh, just wanted to say you were brave. I shouldn’t have tried to stop you and I’m sorry I was just-” You interrupt him.

“It’s fine. You were probably right but I don’t know. Something just, took over me. I didn’t even realize I was running off. Don’t worry.” He smiles and I squeeze his hand.

On the jet you sat in a chair towards the back where no one else was. You felt someone looking at you only to see Hotch. “Aaron please.” He sits in front of me. “You would have done the same thing. I heard the gun go off and we couldn’t risk waiting. He could have already killed them and gotten ready to do something to the kid. I couldn’t let that happen. I mean, what if he had already killed the kid when we had heard the gunshot? Aaron-” He stops your rambling.

“Good job today. You shouldn’t have gone in without back up, but you saved lives today. I’m more thinking about you and Spencer almost missing the flight. If you two are in a relationship I need to know.” I look at my hands.

“No, we are not in a relationship. We were late because I was hungover and had to get ready in 5 minutes so we could make it in time. I’m sorry it won’t happen again.” He nods and walks away. All you could think about was Spencer. He definitely didn’t like me like that. We are just friends. Right?

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guardianofjunmyeon · 4 years

Text

Finding Atlantis (part 6)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description: 20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt began.

A/N: I meant to update last week but my VPN wasn’t working! I couldn’t access tumblr bc it’s blocked here in china but i finally got it fixed lol. This one is long! WARNING(s): Smut + Character Death (??)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

After hours of discussion and blindly heading southeast, you all were finally able to somewhat crack the code of the rhyme and the map.

“Follow the sound of your soul, she’ll call out to you to bring you back to your shoal. That’s clearly about the Atlantis return song. It’s the most important part of all of this. If we don’t get a better handle of when it appears and when it doesn’t we won’t get through the rest of the trails.”

“Trials?”

“Yes, there are three different trials masked in the lyrics of the song. The way back isn’t easy. If you leave Atlantis, you have to prove that you truly want to return,” Yeri replies.

You squint at the map now covered in writing.

“She’ll fight you to prove that your heart is true, to crush you and build you back stronger in her darkest shade of blue,” Sehun reads. “It’s about a storm. A very big one by the sound of it.” He points to an area of the map with nothing but water. “You see this area? It’s known for its unruly currents and unnatural weather patterns. It ranges from snow to thunderstorms large enough to wipe out entire islands.”

Junmyeon grazes his fingers over the map, passing the spot Sehun mentioned and further southeast. “Beautiful songs will call out to confuse the path, to distract you, but remembering your heart will get you through…if we continue beyond the location of the storm we’ll be set to approach Isla de Sirena within a week.”

“Shit,” Baekhyun murmurs.

Yeri looks on in confusion. “Why shit?”

“Isla de Sirena is an island known for luring ships underwater. They crash ships among the rocks with song. They appear as the most beautiful creature that you can imagine; whatever you subconsciously find the most alluring. I don’t know how they do it. Different people can look at the same one and see different things; they trick you that way. Mermaids…sirens, whatever you want to call them. Freaky little bitches.”

“Baekhyun,” Junmyeon admonishes.

“What? They are!”

“So we’ve got to face…beautiful singing women? Oh no the horror,” you gasp jokingly.

Baekhyun pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are so horny, and so stupid all the fucking time.”

“You’re one to fucking talk-”

“Children!” Junmyeon scolds. “Can we please hold off on the flirting until this is over?”

“We aren’t flirting-”

“Anyway!” You and Baekhyun close your mouths in embarrassment. “We’ve gone near Isla de Sirena, once,” Sehun adds grimly, eyebrows pitching angrily. “If you’re able to ignore their voices then you can see them for they are. They’re the ugliest creatures I’ve ever seen in my life.” He shivers.

“So what’s the final trial?” Baekhyun asks, back to contributing to the conversation and not being a pain in your ass.

“She’ll finally take you in her arms again, cradled and safe where all life began…” Yeri reads. A sigh. “We aren’t completely sure. It’s something about a rebirth?”

You scratch your chin.

“Maybe it’s about being drowned.”

Everyone turns their eyes to you.

“What?” you ask; your wide eyes look back at everyone staring at you as if you said something crazy. You point to the map in the general area where you think you all may end up. “There’s no land anywhere near here, and the city is underwater. Born from water, taken away from water, and then reclaimed by the water. If you leave, you must be drowned and reborn into an Atlantian again right? Why else would you forget your memories and connection to the sea the longer you’re away?”

“You are reborn in the place where life began…” Baekhyun mumbles. “You might be right. The final trial is a drowning of some kind. There’s a reason only Atlantian’s are the only people who can reach the city.” Baekhyun smacks you on the shoulder. “You’re not completely useless!”

You frown and hold your shoulder.

Bastard.

~~~

Candles cover the deck of the ship as the sun sets on the horizon. You watch somberly as each member of your crew places an object that reminds them of Taemin, of Amber, of Kun, and of Jaehyun in each of the four caskets meant to sail them to the other side.

Their bodies are wrapped in cloth to save everyone the trauma of facing their decomposing faces. Flowers, candies, articles of clothes surround each body with the things that made them who they were in life.

And will hopefully comfort them in the land of death.

Your most artistically inclined deckhand, Ten, places a portrait of each of them in their respective boat. An image to match the body.

“Jaehyun was always smiling; he worked hard as a gunner. He’d hoped one day to be master gunner of the ship.” Mark stands over the casket. “He uh, he never said much but he had the most imaginative mind of any person I ever met,” he says with a sad smile. “When the cannon backfired and killed him, it was quick, so at least he didn’t suffer for long. Farewell friend. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Luna takes over where Mark left off, standing in front of Amber’s casket. “I’ve known Amber since we were kids. She was a strange one,” she laughs. “She was very head strong and opinionated even when she was wrong. We both knew that working in the artillery was going to be rough, that it would be dangerous, but I know that she loved this job more than anything. She had a family with us, and she died where she would have wanted, I think.” Tears fill her eyes as she sits back down in the circle of crewmen.

“Kun…was like an older brother to me. He would tell me that I was getting on his nerves, but he would always take care of me…uh…take care of all of us in the best way he could. Every meal he served, every wound he healed, was done with care. Unfortunately, sickness isn’t as kind. He tended to Taemin with his last breath, tried to heal with all he had until he had nothing else to give. I’m going to miss him and his cheesy magic tricks.” Ten takes in a deep breath to keep his voice from wavering. “I hope he’s taken care of with as much love as he gave us.”

You can hear people holding back their tears. Sniffles and soft sobs escaping into the air every few seconds.

This time you stand as the representative to send off Taemin. You avoid everyone’s eyes and focus your gaze on his wrapped body and the trinkets around him. “Taemin was one of my earliest crewmen. I may have owned the ship, but Taemin was the one who knew best how she moved. He piloted with a grace and confidence I have still yet to achieve. I don’t have a single doubt that he’ll be able to guide himself to the other side without issue. He had a natural skill for movement.” You focus on an object nestled snuggly at his side. “I just hope he doesn't lose any of the things we’re sending with him the way he always loses his money pouches.” You manage a smile.

A couple of people chuckle softly, sadly.

“As Captain of the Storm Chaser, I release the four of you from duty.” You raise your gun in the air. “I couldn’t have asked for braver, hardworking, and loyal men.” You fire a single shot into the air.

It rings through the night.

Everyone stands, begins to close the wooden coffins, and Junmyeon soaks them in gunpowder and oil.

You watch the coffins get lowered into the water one by one. As they begin to float away, you, Mark, Luna, and Ten line up along the edge of the ship.

“Ready,” you all cock your guns. “Aim.”

“Fire.”

The coffins alight with flames. Yixing lights a single firework and it shoots into the air and covers the sky in bright yellow sparks.

May these lights guide them on their future paths.

No one moves until the coffins are far out of sight, their flames no longer visible. Until nothing but darkness rests in the distance. With heavy eyes, and heavier hearts, you all pull away from the railing.

Those who were close to the ones sent away cry openly and you allow everyone the rest of the night to rest and mourn as they see fit. Crying, shaking, screaming.

People cope in different ways.

As everyone disperses below deck you see Yixing rubbing Jongin’s back as the two of them cry clinging tightly to the other.

You know that Yixing grew up with Taemin. Yixing had been the one to recommend him for the crew because of their shared history. Knowing now that Yixing knew Jongin at the same time, you realize that Jongin must have known Taemin closely as well.

Leaving them to console one another, you walk away.

The stories of their deaths, of their lives, makes your heart a bit less heavy. Knowing that they died doing what they wanted, and not because life was stolen from them in situations counter to their personality eases a bit of the pain.

Minutely.

It still hurts, but the anger is no longer there. Just sadness.

This is the life of pirates after all.

Junmyeon has hidden himself away somewhere on the ship, as he always does when he wants to cry without being found, so you make your way towards the food storage for a drink. You need it after today.

People cope in different ways.

The stairs creak as you descend. One of the lanterns is already on, bright near the liquor storage. It shouldn’t surprise you. You wouldn’t be the only person who wants to drink to numb a bit of the pain.

What does surprise you is who you find hunched over with his face in his hands.

“Baekhyun?”

His head lifts and you immediately take notice of the red in his visible eye and face in the dim lighting. He seems alarmed to have been caught. He looks away in shame.

You sit down in front of him.

The bottle of whiskey at his side is half empty; you reach for it and take a sip.

For your men.

Silence shrouds you both.

You feel the need to speak. To clear the air. Whether you are doing it for him or for yourself you aren’t sure. “No one blames you, you know,” you say so softly that it almost blends into the silence. You hope he doesn’t hear.

But of course he does.

He looks over with anger. “I never said it was my fault.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re down here drinking alone after a funeral. This screams ‘this is all my fault’ you emo fucker.”

He snatches the bottle from your hands.

“Look, okay. No one thinks it’s your fault. You heard the stories. Yeah, you guys shot my ship, but their deaths weren’t directly a result of that. Things went wrong; I will accept that it was just a shot to immobilize us. If any of us thought you a murderer, in this case, we would have hung you by your neck long ago.” You forcefully grab the bottle back with a frown. “There’s plenty of other shit for you to feel guilty over. Like the time you shot me…or stabbed me…or left me on that island for dead.”

“I swear to the Gods-”

“The point is…this one isn’t on you. You don’t need to carry this guilt. Not this time.” You take a quick drink. “If however,” you point your finger at him menacingly, “this was on purpose, then I take all that back and I will kill you right fucking here I swear to the Gods.”

The bottle is taken back. “It wasn’t,” he admits, softly, angry. A swig. “It wasn’t on purpose,” he says again tiredly.

His honesty takes you by surprise. Baekhyun has killed just as many people as you have in your life. If he had tried to kill them, well that would be expected. But for him to be this affected by the accidental deaths? That’s surprising.

“What are you doing down here anyway?” he asks.

“Do you really think you’re the only person on this ship who hides down here drinking? You’re talking to the master!” you boast. “And it’s my ship you ungrateful wrench.” You finish off what’s left of the whiskey and reach for a bottle of golden rum tucked securely on a shelf. Uncorking it with your teeth, you hold it in the air between you. “To Taemin, Kun, Amber, and Jaehyun!”

It burns like hell itself going down.

You hold it out for Baekhyun with an expectant eyebrow raise. You wait.

He grabs it gently. “To Taemin, Kun, Amber, and Jaehyun,” he repeats in a murmur. He makes a noise of pain as the alcohol burns its way down his throat. “What the fuck is this?”

You shiver as the alcohol settles uncomfortably in your stomach. “It's the bad rum I think.” You cough violently. “Oh fuck I think I’m going to die,” you say clutching your stomach.

His wild laugh echoes in the dark space. A bit of the gloom lifts.

You let your hands fall from your stomach while you take in the relaxed happiness on his candlelit face. His eye crinkled in a crescent, shining with mirth. You don’t think you’ve seen him laugh like that since the first time you met him.

He’s pretty. You’d have to be stupid not to admit it. From his soft and shiny hair, to his cheeks that bunch up when he smiles. From his big dumb ears to all of the little moles that dot his body.

The bottle goes back up to his ridiculously pink lips and he laughs as it hurts his throat just as bad as the first sip.

All it takes is a second of thoughtless, drunken courage for you to lean forward and quickly press your lips against his, cutting off his giggles.

When you pull pack, the happiness on his face has made way for shock and then once more to nothing.

“Don’t kiss me,” he says tonelessly. His voice is serious, but you see the spark of challenge in his eye.

Ignoring the part of you that always tells you that jumping headfirst into him is a bad idea, you lean in again, slower. You brace your hands on his thighs and feel them tense beneath your palms. He stares at your lips and you watch enrapt as his tongue pokes out to wet his bottom lip.

You can feel your skin vibrating from the proximity to him, and you freeze; a breath away from meeting skin with skin. Your eyes glance up to meet his and you can see the want, the restlessness, and something else you can’t quite place in the dark.

As if waiting any longer would be torturous, he leans forward impatiently to press his lips against yours. The bottle of rum falls to the ground and spills onto the floorboards of the storage room.

You don’t care.

You push harder; open your mouth to let his tongue slide against yours in a way that sends tingles through every nerve in your body. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the touch of sadness, but something feels different about this time.

You crawl onto his lap, driven purely by instinct and press every inch of your body against his. Heat seeps through your clothes and you pant longingly as he pulls you closer by your neck, his other hand grabbing you roughly by your ass. A wanton moan escapes your mouth and he pulls you closer, rougher. Breaths puff into each other’s mouths as you messily connect your lips over and over again. It’s uncoordinated. It’s wet. It’s exactly what you need.

You thread your fingers in his hair and yank his head back; diving to lick and suck along the column of his neck, to the sensitive spot behind his ear that you know drives him crazy. His grip on your body tightens as he releases a shaky groan and rolls his hips up against yours. Anticipation thrums through your body. To every noise, to every touch your body responds in earnest.

This is nothing but a distraction. For you. For the both of you, you don’t care. Neither of you have to think as clothes are removed. The sadness can be ignored as you claw against his skin and coax his tongue into your mouth. It’s all movement. All feeling. All lust.

People cope in different ways.

It always happens like this. You argue. You fight. You threaten each other. You fuck until you’re both exhausted and too tired to care about the years of hatred between you. For these few moments all you are, are bodies. Bodies moving in tandem, kissing the right places, touching the right spots, connecting at the right angle. Like this things are easy, wordless.

You each just understand how the other works.

Every movement is matched in urgency, in desperation. Touch for touch. Kiss for kiss. Sound for sound. Push for pull. Gasps, moans, whimpers are muted as best you can in the quiet of the storage. You don’t realize that you’re subconsciously avoiding aggravating the stitches that lie there, still fresh, in his side as your hands leave burning paths along his skin.

Just for now, you can allow yourselves to feel that maybe you don’t hate each other as much as you let on.

~~~

“Get your own fucking telescope!”

“Where am I going to get one? We’re in the middle of the god forsaken ocean; do you expect me to pull it out of my ass?”

“You should have brought yours with you if you wanted to use one so bad! That doesn’t give you permission to just take my shit whenever you feel like it. You aren’t Captain here.”

“Oh, bite me.”

“I’ll do worse than that. Seulgi, get me my pistol.”

“Captain I don’t think-”

“You think you’re going to shoot me? Chanyeol where’s my gun?!”

“I’m gonna shoot you right in your last fucking working eye you dirty fucking son of a-”

A hand covers your mouth before you can finish your curse. “Baekhyun, you’re needed in the kitchen. Kyungsoo is asking for you.” You and Baekhyun share one last deadly glare before he stalks off and you’re released.

“What the hell Minseok?” You turn on your gunner, anger from your argument with Baekhyun being projected instead onto him. It has to go somewhere.

He crosses his arms over his chest, unbothered.

“So you’re in love with him right? That's why you’re acting like this?”

Your eyes bulge out of your skull. “I’m sorry, what did you just ask me?”

He sighs, grabs you by your arm and drags you all the way to the infirmary. You’re forced to sit down stupefied as Minseok stares at you expectantly. “The two of you are exhausting to watch. If you weren’t two of our most capable men we would have tied you both up and put you in the brig until we found Atlantis days ago,” he says evenly.

You scoff, mouth agape.

“I would tell you to fuck and move on, but seeing as that seems to be what triggers a fresh round of arguments, I’m going to ask that you two refrain from ever having sex on the ship again in the future.”

You splutter embarrassed. Your skin heats at having been called out so boldly. “W-what?! How- Wh- How’d you find out?”

“Any time the two of you have sex, you spend the next month or so telling all of us how much you hate him, how you’re going to kill him, blah blah blah. After a while you stop being as vocal about it, but then we make port, usually at Arae, and he happens to be there, then BAM we're back where we started. You’re obsessed with each other.”

You flush. “We are not,” you try to deny. His face is unimpressed. “I don't know where you got the idea that either of us feel anything but pure hatred for the other. Okay yeah, we’ve had sex a couple of times. So what? It doesn’t mean anything. I’ve had sex with half of Arae.” You cross your arms defiantly.

“As soon as this is all over, we’ll part ways...in 6 months we’ll go to Arae for a bit, as we always do, you’ll have ‘angry hate sex’ yet again and then spend the next month being pissy over his existence. No one who genuinely hates someone spends so much time a) around them willingly and b) obsessing over them when they aren’t around,” Minseok says matter-of-factly. “I think you should both admit you’re in love with each other so we can all move on.”

“Minseok!”

“I agree,” Jongin’s head pops up from behind the singular bed in the room.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, heat again filling your cheeks at the extra witness to this interrogation.

“I work here?”

“I mean hiding behind the bed!”

“Oh…I uh tripped and then the door opened and you guys started talking and I was too afraid to get up and interrupt,” he says quickly.

You squint in judgment.

“This whole…” Minseok waves his hand around as he searches for the word, “…archenemies thing is getting old, Captain. If you really wanted to kill him, you would have done it already. And I’m sure the same goes for Byun. Right Jongin?” he turns to face the younger.

“Yeah,” Jongin agrees with a shrug.

You can’t believe your ears. “He just…hasn’t done anything worth actually killing him over yet. He’s useful sometimes…for information…” you murmur lamely. The excuse is weak even to you.

“You are both dumb and annoying…and also super transparent. Whenever you injure the other, it’s always in a place that won’t kill or do permanent damage. Don’t act like it’s just been luck that you’ve both managed to miss any kind of serious blow from the other. You’re both deadly fighters, you know how to kill someone if you want them dead.”

“He ditched me in cuffs on that island-”

“You had the key to the cuffs,” Jongin chimes in unhelpfully.

Minseok rolls his eyes at your words. “Yes, and again, in a survivable situation. Was there not food and shit on that island?”

You open and close your mouth pathetically.

“Exactly. It’s not like you’re an incompetent dumbass. You would be able to find your way off even if you hadn’t been found. He didn’t blow the ship to bits like he could have a month ago, you haven’t slit his throat like you could have many months ago. You both dance around injuring each other, making the other’s life difficult, and fucking. You’re in love, please just accept it. I don’t care if you’re into BDSM and blood play or whatever freaky shit gets you guys off, but I would at least appreciate it if you kept it in your bedroom.”

Jongin nods from the back. “I just think it’s obvious,” he adds simply.

“Pff…Psh…Tch…I’m-I am appalled that you would talk to your Captain like this.”

“I know, I know. You could have us hanged, shot, thrown in the ocean, whatever…but the fact of the matter is that you aren’t going to do any of that, and you know that we’re right. Now, I’m going to go make sure Chanyeol hasn’t shot any of my men with any of my valuable pistols, and I’ll leave you to your duties, Captain.” Minseok nods his head with finality and exits the room.

Mutineer…

You glare at Jongin for ganging up on you. He flushes timidly. “I’m uh…gonna go see if Kyungsoo needs any help…Captain.” With a nervous smile he dashes from the room.

This is mutiny…

~~~

The ship sails southeast for days before anything alerts you all of the impeding first trial. The weather is normal, the water is normal, and then all of a sudden, the winds become violent.

“Captain, I think we’re getting close to whatever the first test is…” Yixing says tremulously.

The wind whips around you and the sails of the ship flap violently. There’s no way to tell which way the wind is blowing from as it whips from what feels like every side simultaneously. The ship tilts dangerously to one side.

“Junmyeon…that song telling you anything right about now?” You ask anxiously.

Your first mate looks out on the horizon with worried eyes. “We’re going the right way…” is all he says.

“Helpful,” Yixing murmurs sarcastically.

There is no visible sign of a storm; nothing seems out of the ordinary outside of the unnatural winds. The crew is already reefing your regular sails and raising the storm jib and trysail. If the winds get any stronger, which they will, they’ll catch your regular sails and capsize your ship before the waves even begin to hit.

“Who can man the helm? Who’s the best pilot on board right now?” you ask Yixing.

Yixing looks around a bit panicked. “I don’t know… I don’t know Captain.” The ship lurches to the side.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you scan the ship. Most of the men are working on preparing the proper sails, securing any moving parts, and making sure the wind alone won’t turn the ship on her side. You see Baekhyun working with Wendy on securing lose lines. You haven’t talked to him since your lecture from Minseok all those days ago. “Junmyeon, go check to make sure we have enough ballast in the hold. We’re going to be rocking and we need to pray that we have enough weight to keep us as stable as possible.”

He rushes away; you try to think of what else you can do to prepare. There’s no way to tell how long this storm is going to last, how bad it’s going to be, and you would rather prepare for the worst.

A sea anchor.

“Johnny!” The boatswain is immediately at your side. “Take whoever you need and deploy the sea anchor. We should have one somewhere in the hold. I need you to work fast, but be thorough.”

The ship is going to have to sail against the wind and against the waves. The wind will push the ship off course, but to survive a storm like this the ship needs to keep its bow to the waves. If a wave catches the ship on her side or back, there’s no chance for survival. You’ll have to use your sea anchor and just pray that the Gods are feeling merciful.

“Baekhyun!” you shout. He turns immediately at the sound of your voice. “How good are you at the wheel?”

“I’m decent.”

“How’s your tracking? Your jibbing? Can you keep the ship from capsizing in this storm?”

He looks up in the sky when the sound of thunder shakes the floorboards. “My jibbing isn't the best, but I think I can keep her afloat,” he promises.

The feeling of static fills the air. The hair on your body rises to attention. Another rumble of thunder rolls across the ocean, louder than before. The sky is darker than it was 5 minutes ago.

There isn’t much longer until the storm hits.

“I need you at the wheel. I’m trusting my ship to you. Don’t let me down.” With a determined nod, Baekhyun is off. You see your first strike of lighting. Bright blue and not far off.

Chanyeol runs up to you to assure you that all of the cannons, ammunition, and artillery are properly secured. “Tell Minseok to get all his men below deck in the storm rooms. Secure any hatch and pray to the Gods that we make it through this,” you instruct. He nods and runs off.

When a storm hits, it hurts more than it helps to have people above deck. Three people would do the job just as well as all 20. Half of weathering a storm is the training and skill of the crew; and the other half is just pure luck.

The beginning patters of rain begin to pelt the ship. You run back up to the helm where Baekhyun has stationed himself.

The ocean gets choppy, picks up ferocity. The ship leans starboard. Baekhyun has never steered your ship, and truthfully, you have no idea whether or not he can actually steer through a storm. You’ve never seen him at the wheel of any ship in all the years you’ve known him.

“Do you think we’ll make it through this?” you ask.

“Honestly…I don’t know,” he admits. “We have enough sea room; we won’t crash into anything this far out. I just hope we can pick up enough speed before the waves start to grow.”

Junmyeon reappears, with Kyungsoo at his side, both out of breath. “We’ve prepared all that we can. The sea anchor is deployed, we’ve got a decent amount of ballast, the jib is ready to be backwinded, and the crew is all prepared for the rocking. What’s the plan?”

“Heaving to,” Baekhyun says simply. He swipes at his bangs, heavy with water and clinging to this forehead. “We keep the bow to the waves, keep close to the wind, and then lock the helm in place.”

“Won’t we broadside?!”

“No, if we were to lie ahull, we would broadside,” Kyungsoo supplies, blocking his eyes from the rain picking up in ferocity. “By heaving to, we can keep the ship from going parallel to the waves and capsizing. We’ll have to stay above deck to correct it if the wind or waves suddenly change. Since you’ve got a sea anchor we’ve got more chance of keeping the ship sailing straight into the waves rather than along them.”

“If heaving to doesn’t work, we try to run off downwind. As the wind increases we’ll have to slow down the ship as much as we can so that we don’t dive straight into the wave in front of us.” A bolt of lightning hits the waves. The rain gets harder.

“We would die…” You say unhelpfully. Lighting blasts in front of you and the waves crash angrily against the ship’s sides.

“Exactly. So if we run off, we’re going to need more than the four of us to throw whatever heavy lines you have off the stern,” Baekhyun’s voice rises to be heard over the increasingly loud winds and waves.

“As a last result, we’ll lie ahull and just fucking pray that when we capsize the ship holds for long enough to keep all of us alive,” Kyungsoo shouts.

You exhale shakily as another three bolts of lightning flash across the sky.

Poseidon be kind to us all.

You leave Baekhyun with the job of steering the ship against the waves that grow in size and power by the second.

At Kyungsoo’s instruction, Junmyeon is in charge of keeping the jib backwinded, and you reef the trysail as soon as it becomes clear that it’s going to be a hindrance in the grand scheme of things. Kyungsoo stands at Baekhyun’s side correcting course when he gets thrown off balance. Baekhyun does the same as Kyungsoo is knocked to the side in turn.

The waves become brutal, rocking the ship so hard that it’s nearly impossible to keep on your feet for more than 10 seconds at a time.

The wind finally sets in a single direction, fiercer than anything you’ve faced, and the general direction of the waves becomes apparent. The ship rocks violently from side to side and then immediately forward and back. You’re thrown into the foremast by the unexpected direction change with enough force to knock the wind out of your body. You gasp in pain. You get up on wobbling legs and try to breathe even as the water falls so fast and heavy around you that it feels equivalent to drowning.

You can’t see more than two feet ahead of yourself.

Think. Think.

There is rope at your feet, secured to the mainmast of the ship. You untie it with cold, wet fingers and hold it tight as you walk to the helm. The ship crashes into another large wave and you fall to your knees as water washes over the bow of the hull, covers the deck in freezing water and pitches the ship forwards. You stand up, shivering but determined. You tie the rope around your own waist to help you keep note of where you’ve come from.

Getting to the helm is a challenge, but you make it. Junmyeon is helping Baekhyun and Kyungsoo lock it in place.

“We should head below deck!” You shout as loud as you can. Thunder and lightning work in tandem to drown out your voice. To remind you of who is louder. Who has more power. You’re soaked to the bone.

Each man above deck is in a similar state. “We’re going below deck!” Junmyeon shouts. “We think heaving to may work.” The ship lurches dangerously to the right.

“Quick! Let’s go,” Kyungsoo screams, hair clinging to his forehead in inky black tendrils.

You use the rope to guide you. It feels as though you’re swimming through the air with the amount of resistance the winds and rain are putting up. Kyungsoo makes it to the hatch that leads below first. You follow behind, climbing down the ladder with shaking limbs. Water leaks through the boards, but it’s a welcome change from the brutality of facing Mother Nature directly.

You gasp for breath, finally able to breathe without also inhaling water, and look around the space for the ship’s emergency supplies. The ship dips, your stomach lurches.

Freezing water streams into the room from the open hatch above. You realize belatedly that there are only two of you in the compartment. Baekhyun and Junmyeon haven’t made it down.

You’re thrown to the ground when the ship dips without warning.

Clattering catches your attention as Junmyeon is swept into the room with a fresh rush of water. “Baekhyun fell overboard!” Junmyeon screams. He crashes against the ground. The sky screams.

What?

Kyungsoo turns away from opening the hatch down to a lower level of the ship to gape at Junmyeon’s words in horror.

Gasping, soaked, Junmyeon looks around the compartment frantically.

You’re moving before you have a chance to think.

You vaguely hear your name being called out from behind, but you don’t turn around. Rope still secured around your waist, you run, slip, stumble, over to the closest life boat. As fast as your shaking hands can work, you cut yourself free of the mainmast and tie the end of the rope not tied to your body to the dinghy.

You slice through the thick ropes holding the dinghy to the side of the ship with an urgency you’ve never felt. Water hits you head on, chilling you to the bone.

The final rope snaps and you and the dighy fall into the water with the force of landing on cement. Something is broken, but your adrenaline is pumping so violently that you can’t feel the pain. It doesn’t register.

Doesn’t matter.

You look around frenzied. The water is pitch black and moving too fast. The rain pelts your skin. It stings, burns, blurs your vision.

The waves are too big for him to survive out here on his own.

They’re too big for you to survive in your search for him.

The sky roars.

The waves crash, flip your boat once, twice.

You settle upright for the second time when, by the grace of the Gods, you see his white shirt illuminated against the dark water by a strike of lightning. You row frantically as a wave begins to swell. You nearly scream in relief when you reach him, but the sound dies as your heart sinks.

He’s not moving.

And he’s face down.

With all the energy you can muster, you pull him into your little boat. You take a few seconds you catch your breath, then you realize the height at which the wave has lifted you. It begins to cascade down; instinctively, you wrap your arms around Baekhyun’s unmoving form and brace yourself for the crash.

It’s dizzying.

It hurts.

It’s terrifying.

You hold your breath, close your eyes, hold onto the man in your arms with all you have, and wait for the water to stop jostling you around so violently. The water seems to calm slightly, so you open your eyes.

The water is dark, and then bright. Black, and then illuminated by lighting.

Your chest tightens as your need for oxygen reaches desperation. You maneuver yourself beneath the water enough to hold Baekhyun with one arm and swim to the top with the other.

You break the surface and gasp for air desperately.

You pull your rope and the boat appears at your side, thankfully upright. You lift Baekhyun aboard first, and then with heavy limbs, you topple on top of him. You don’t give yourself a chance to catch your breath before you’re leaning over him checking for signs of life.

You lower your ear to his chest. You can’t tell if he’s breathing. If his heart is beating.

“Come on Byun. Don’t die on me like this,” you beg. You repeatedly push against his chest, the way you were taught to restart a heart. After a few beats you press your ear to his chest again to listen for a change.

Nothing.

“Fuck. Come on…come on,” you pant.

You pinch his nose and lean down to cover his mouth with yours, filling his lungs with the air that he’s unable to take in on his own. His chest rises each time you exhale into his mouth. You go back to pumping your locked hands against his chest. A wave knocks you on your side. The boat stays upright.

You exhale into his mouth again, once, twice. You beg the rain to let up. You beg the waves to grow smaller.

You beg his heart to start beating.

He jerks and water spurts from his mouth. Relief hits you so hard that all the energy left in your body is expelled and you sag forward and land directly onto his chest.

You can finally hear the dull thumping of his heart. You can feel the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

At last, you can take a second to just breathe.

The small boat continues to jerk around, but it’s clear that the worst of the storm has passed. The waves now are shallow and choppy. The rain has lessened to nothing but a drizzle. The thunder rumbles farther and farther in the distance.

And Baekhyun’s heartbeat gets stronger.

You close your eyes, and let exhaustion overcome you, lulled into sleep by the beat of his heart and the rocking of the boat.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfics #exo imagine #exo pirate au #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fanfics #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun smut #exo stories #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun stories #baekhyun pirate au

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nami-writes · 3 years

Text

Bittersweet Reunion - Watch Dogs: Legion [WIP]

(can you tell i had no clue what to name this)

so i wrote this after i played wdl and finished the finding bagley mission bc i loved that there was a canon mlm pairing and i thought the whole meeting bradley thing was Incredibly unsatisfying so i did this and originally i was gonna have bagley and arthur get back together but then it started writing itself and bagley wouldnt date arthur bc that’d go against his morals and i was like shit thats not what i planned but also i realized it was in character so this is that disaster lmao

“I’m ready for the rest of my life, Arthur. And I want you to be a part of it.”

The sixth audio file ended with what sounded like a kiss, and Lindsey had to pause to take it in. Bagley had really had a life— a lover. A lover he had to leave behind.

“Arthur… I should remember more about him. But I don’t.”

It sounded so rushed, so nonchalant, that Lindsey knew better than to believe his tone and even Bagley himself knew it. Because, truth was, he was processing the same things Lindsey was and more. He really was damned to eternity, being a human turned AI and all, because now he was experiencing quite a lot of thoughts and certainly not enjoying it. Where was Arthur now? Did he still remember him? Did he miss him? Why was Bagley even wondering if his not-boyfriend still missed him?

Some part of his human half wondered if it’s possible to find Arthur again, meet the person his past self was so deeply in love with that now he found himself longing for him too.

“Sir—”

“Don’t touch me!”

Bagley was pulled out of the thoughts growing less and less artificial by the second as the next audio file began, already far more emotionally charged than the ones prior.

“These people are here to help you, Bags—”

“Don’t call me that!”

He’s snappish and frustrated and angry and current Bagley could almost feel it too. There’s more struggling as Bagley— past Bagley— seemed to be fighting someone off.

“She did this! Someone stop her!”

‘She’ must’ve been Skye Larsen, who else could it have been? He wanted to hope Natalie would listen— just listen, goddammit, this was all Skye’s fault, don’t you know what she’s done?— but he knew it was no use. They didn’t know. Natalie didn’t know. Not a fucking soul knew what she did to him.

“Don’t hurt him! He’s not usually like this!”

“Get out of my head! Get o—”

His voice died out as more noise played, then an unfamiliar voice called for an ambulance.

“Bags. Bagley. Bra—”

And it ended there.

“I’m assuming that ‘she’ was Skye Larsen,” he said to Lindsey. “Seems like the usual suspect where brain fuckery is concerned.” As controlled as he usually was, not even he could keep the slightest bit of anger out of his voice by the end of his sentence.

The next audio file began with a man explaining that Bagley had early on-set dementia, which intrigued him because it didn’t explain when exactly Skye got her hands on him. Then the sister from prior audio files spoke with that same strangely familiar voice, just as demanding as before. “You listen to me. I don’t care what it takes. No brother of mine is going to waste away in some hospital.”

Something was wrong. There was a piece missing somewhere between those memories and he had an idea of where it could be found.

Skygarden.

“Why do I have a feeling we’re not up here to reminisce?” The audio began as Lindsey snapped the last photo.

“Right. I’ve been thinking a lot about your epilepsy.” The sister. Of course. He still couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but she sounded awfully familiar, but not in a good way. In a this-person-has-the-same-name-as-my-primary-school-bully way.

“That’s nice. My doctors stopped thinking about it years ago. I had to give up so much because of it. Rowing, my mates, my…” A sigh followed after he trailed off and he had a feeling that that sigh replaced the word ‘boyfriend.’

“I’m sorry, Bradley.” Bradley. That name sounded familiar. Come to think of it, that must’ve been what Natalie called him in the seventh audio file just before it cut off. He supposed it sounded familiar because, well, it is— was— his name, but there was something more to it. He just couldn’t figure out what. He ran a quick search for Bradleys in London, but of course that left him with thousands of Bradleys and not a single clue as to how to filter out the useless ones.

“Wow. Look at you using my real name for once. I must be truly fucked.” Fucked was an understatement. How did he go from a human to nothing more than an AI? It wasn’t that he was unhappy as an AI, especially considering he worked for DedSec and they were wonderful, they really were, but to think he was once human…

“What if I told you I had something that could work?”

Something deep inside of him that vaguely resembled a computerized heart dropped at those words. He had a bad, bad feeling about this.

“Ha. Never knew you were funny.”

But Skye Larsen created him, didn’t she?

“I’m not. It’s a tech we’re developing. It’s early stages, but… have you ever heard of neural mapping?”

“No.” No, it couldn’t be.

“Here. Let’s go to my lab. I’ll show you.”

Who was this sister?

“Lead the way, Skye.”

And the audio ended.

“I was Skye Larsen’s brother.” It was strange to say out loud. “I’m Bradley. Bradley Larsen.” That was why she sounded so familiar. That was why Skye Larsen was his creator. Fuck. “Bradley Larsen…” He returned to his search for Bradleys and narrowed it down to one Bradley Larsen, brother of Skye Larsen, son of Sinead and Kevin Larsen. “I’ve found a room pre-paid through to April 4, 2040 under the name of Bradley Larsen— paid for by S. Larsen.” Skye.

“So you might still be alive,” Lindsey said. “Where’s the room?”

He checked his databases. “St. Pancras Hotel.”

And when she arrived, it was no less than what he expected, if less than what he wanted.

He left not quite satisfied.

But what else could he do? His father was gone and his mother and sister were dead. He checked his deep profiler and found Natalie through Bradley, but it seemed she was dead as well. And then— Arthur Jenkins, former spouse.

“I think I’ve found Arthur from the sixth audio file,” he said. “Mind getting him for me?”

“Say the word, Bags,” Lindsey said.

He found his schedule and looked for his soonest outing. “He’ll be at Crosier & Cherry Tree at 8 PM.” There was a tinge of sadness in his voice at the location that they both decided to ignore.

He checked the rest of Arthur’s profile, too curious to resist. His photo was attached. To his surprise, Arthur was a curly-haired ginger. Apparently Bradley had known more people with no souls than just Skye Larsen. Age 29, worked as a bartender at Crosier & Cherry— that was why he’d be there. Associated with Melissa Phillips, friend; Natalie Walker, deceased friend; and Bradley Larsen, former spouse. Metadata… looking through it could’ve broken his heart if he had one.

He had countless searches involving dementia up until he was 28 and had hundreds of recorded visits to St. Pancras Hotel, Bradley’s room. Hundreds of visits that, when he accessed the records, seemed to just… stop. Daily-to-weekly visits simply vanished into none. Numerous phone calls to Skye Larsen that Bagley could only assume were angry and accusational because he was charged for harassment due to a complaint from Skye on the same day he stopped visiting.

He tried. He really tried, and then Skye fucked it all up like she always does.

“Bagley, I’ve found him.” He turned his attention to Lindsey’s Optik and, sure enough, he could see the ginger in the photo through the glass window. “Want me to bring him back to the Hackerspace?”

He considered it, but bringing him back would’ve meant involving the others. This was just a one-time thing. “No, just— could you get him somewhere I could talk privately with him?”

“Sure thing.” He watched as she entered the pub and approached Arthur at the counter.

“‘Ello, mate, what can I get for you?” he asked, uncannily cheery with a smile on his face. Something told Bagley this should’ve made him feel… something, but he felt not even a twinge of recognition from anywhere other than the photo on his digital profile.

“I’m here to talk to you, actually,” Lindsey said.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow and took a second to look her over a second time, his customer service smile fading into skepticism. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I know someone you do. Mind if we talk somewhere else?”

He shrugged. “S’pose not. Better get it on with, then, I’ve got to get back to work.”

Shit. Time was running out and they were already heading to a back room and Bagley hadn’t a fucking clue what to say so when he was cast onto the nearest unwatched telly before Lindsey left, all he could think to say was “Hello, Arthur.”

And then there was a silence where Bagley was internally cursing himself for being such a bloody idiot and Arthur looked like either he was about to drop to his knees in awe or he had shit himself. And then he broke the silence.

“Bradley?” His eyes were lit up with hope, hope Bagley knew he’d have to destroy because he wasn’t Bradley, not really. But he’d worry about that later.

“Oh, Gods, that’s going to be my version of Bradley’s stupid nickname, isn’t it? Though, if you ask me, Bagley is a perfectly good name,” he remarked. He had no idea how to properly handle a situation in which he was meeting the lover he had in a past life, so, naturally, he reverted to his usual self. Arthur was in love with him before, he can put up with him again.

Arthur chuckled, cracking a smile. “Now I know you aren’t Bradley. He hated that nickname.” He took another moment to comprehend what just happened. “But, really, how? How are you— what are you? What is” —he gestured vaguely at the TV screen— “this?”

“That’s a funny story, actually, see—”

“Bradley,” Arthur interrupted him, his smile turning solemn. “I’m serious. Last time I saw you, you were in a bloody wheelchair! What happened to you?”

There was another silence where Bagley tried to think of something ‘serious’ to say, but his actual response felt much more natural to him.

“Don’t call me that,” he said, a feigned grumble but unseen smile in his voice, “that’s not my name.”

And at that, not even Arthur could keep a straight face, but his smile didn’t last long. “Bags. Please. I need answers. I was so sure it was that bitch Skye— sorry, I know she’s your sister and all, but— I spent so long searching for ways to help you and trying to get her to fucking stop— you only ended up in the bloody hospital after she got involved and then she wouldn’t let me keep seeing you and I couldn’t—” His voice broke then and he had to pause, clear his throat and collect himself. “I’m sorry, I tried, I didn’t want to stop visiting. I really didn’t. I’m sorry.”

Bagley didn’t know how to tell him it was all in vain; Skye won in the end, she always did, and he didn’t even remember being Bradley or knowing Arthur at all. As far as he remembered, he’d only known Arthur for five minutes.

“Bagley?”

“It doesn’t matter.” There was no use in prolonging it.

“...What?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated. “I’m not Bradley.”

“Are you mad? Of course you’re Bradley.’

“No, I’m not. Bradley is still in St. Pancras. I’m Bagley.”

Arthur gave a confused chuckle and crossed his arms. “What are you talking about?”

“It was Skye,” he finally said. “It’s a long story, really, but in simpler terms, she tried to fix Bradley’s epilepsy through a process called neural mapping. It essentially separated his consciousness from his body, which gave him dementia and took my human body. I’m his consciousness, but I’m not him.”

Arthur didn’t respond. He seemed to still be processing what he’d just heard.

“And I’m sorry to say, but my memory was wiped not long after my creation. I don’t… remember anything about being Bradley.” He paused. Arthur knew what that meant, and he knew that his next sentence was going to confirm it. “I don’t remember anything about you.”

Arthur took far longer to respond than Bagley would’ve liked. “So you’re—” He stopped. “So Bradley’s really gone.”

“Unfortunately so.”

More silence. “Then why are you here?”

That was a good question, actually. Why was he here?

“I suppose I came to say goodbye,” Bagley said. “Give you some closure on Bradley, so you know what happened. I know you two were quite close.”

He scoffed. “Close is an understatement.” His voice softened. “We were going to get married,” he said. “At least, I think we were. If Skye hadn’t gotten involved— if I’d only had the time— I was going to propose. Had a ring in mind and everything. I’m fairly sure Bradley knew, too. I just wanted us to have that one thing before… before it was too late.”

Bagley had to take a second to let it sink in. In a past life, he’d almost gotten married. How much had he missed out on as a human because of Skye? His voice was solemn as he spoke, a first for him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Arthur offered no elaboration before something else seemed to cloud his mind. Silence seemed to be something both of them were good at. Bagley considered directly asking what was on his mind, but Arthur spoke before he could decide. “Can I ask something of you?”

“Ask away. I’ve only got the rest of my non-life.”

“...Could we try it again?” he asked, hesitation in his words. At Bagley’s confused silence, he uncrossed his arms, a willing show of vulnerability. “I mean, could we try… us, again? I know you don’t remember anything about me or Bradley and you’re not Bradley, I know that, but— maybe something good could come out of it. Maybe— maybe we could still have something.”

“You want us to…” He trailed off, thinking it over. By ‘something,’ he meant a relationship, but— could he be in a relationship? He was still an AI. He wasn’t Bradley. He wasn’t even attracted to Arthur. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could feel attraction, if that was built into his operating system. Everything in him wanted to say no, it would never work out. An AI taking part in human affairs was a recipe for disaster.

“We could start from the beginning,” Arthur added, as if he knew what Bagley was thinking before he even said it. “I know you don’t really know me so we can start out just friends, nothing more. We can take it as slow as you want and if you decide there’ll never be anything more, we can just stay as friends if that’s what you’re comfortable with. But if you think there can be more, we can try that.”

It was tempting, but… Arthur was still human. And Bagley was not. “Arthur, I’m not sure I was made for this.”

“Then let’s find out,” he said. “I’m okay with anything you are.”

“No, I mean I’m not sure I was made to feel attraction. I believe that’s a fairly important part of relationships,” Bagley said with a hint of humor in the last sentence, though it disappeared by the next. “I’ve never felt that way toward anyone and I’m not sure you’ll be an exception.”

He sighed. “Bags. It doesn’t matter to me whether you like me as a friend or as a boyfriend. What matters is whether or not you’re comfortable with me. I didn’t fall in love with your attraction. I fell in love with you.”

“You fell in love with Bradley,” he corrected. “Not me.”

Regardless of how tempting the offer was and how curious he was to see the extent of his human capabilities, it’d only be an experiment. A trial run of a relationship with someone who was only willing because he was still attached to the person Bagley no longer was. It would be cruel to take advantage of Arthur’s hope for his own curiosity— no different from what Skye did to Bradley. He might’ve had his human body stripped from him, but he still had his humanity.

“Arthur, I’m not Bradley,” he said. “And I know it’s hard to accept, but I can’t be the person you want me to be.”

#wdl #wdl fanfic #unfinished writing #writing #fanfic #wdl bagley

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im-the-punk-who · 4 years

Note

I'm going to be a little shit and say soft Gunnbones bc yeah ❤

SAMMMMMMMMM YOU LITTLE - listen i take no responsibility for this.

Also I am 90% sure these sound nothing like them but in my defense I have literally never paid attention to Ben Gunn in my life and Billy doesn’t even know what Billy sounds like. (Also on AO3!)

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

“The task I am giving to you is of the utmost importance. Deliver Flint, then find the cache and return with it.”

The words echo in Ben’s head and he feels fear grip him again. The threat in Silver’s voice - with it or not at all - sends him further into the forest. It’s even more eerie than it had been the first time he’d seen it. Now, there is no battle, no war. No one to run from. Just him, alone - in a forest filled with an increasing number of ghosts - and a nearly impossible task.

He’s been here a week already with no sign of even a shovel mark. He’s had to remember the trapping his father taught him - snares and watching for game tracks and how to make a spear from a knife.

Those memories had served him well when he’d attempted to escape the maroons, and he’d been thankful for them.

Now he wishes he hadn’t ever told the crew of the Walrus about his ability to survive.

He knows he’s never going to be able to find the cache. He knows that, at least. There are too many places Flint could have hidden it and as good as he is at surviving, hunting has never been his forte.

He just hopes that maybe he can stay here long enough that John Silver will forget about him, as he wants the world to forget about Flint.

“And I’ve got a long fucking memory-”

The snap of a twig too heavy to be a deer makes him spin - and he almost loses his footing when he gets tangled in the foliage that snakes the ground.

When he looks up, at first, Ben thinks he must be done for. Surely -

“Ben?” Billy Bones lowers the knife.

“What are you doing here?”

It’s an all too familiar feeling - his life in Billy’s hands. Ben remembers the last time, being so sure he was dead in that water that smelled like burning powder and blood, only to somehow come out alive.

- Or not at all -

“Mr. Silver sent me here to find the cache.” Billy’s mouth hardens and Ben wonders again if he’s about to meet his end at the hands of - well.

“Sent you here to die, more like it.”

As punishment.

“What do you mean?”

“Flint’s the only one who know where it is, isn’t he?” Billy seems like he wants to say more, but instead he just shakes his head. “Nevermind. Come on. Might as well stick together.”

Ben wants to ask why. Why didn’t you shoot me? But he follows silently. He knows when not to tempt fate. Unsurprisingly, Billy has more than enough food to share. Ben had taught him when they were on Nassau and living between the town and the plantations how to trap. It had been hell trying to hide and not get caught and feed everyone and still somehow fight a fight he didn’t understand - but somehow it had felt less like hell than when he was alone in the cage, back on the maroon’s island.

He still has nightmares about that.

But right now, as they sit around the small fire Billy has started and wait for the rabbit to cook, it’s not that near death experience that’s weighing on his mind.

“Why didn’t you shoot me?”

His voice is soft - in truth the words barely come out. Billy looks up from the spit.

“What?”

“In the water. When the Walrus sunk. Why didn’t you shoot me, too?”

Billy stares at him, and then back at the fire. Ben knows it isn’t, but it feels like an eternity before he speaks.

“Out of all of them. Every one of those men that I fought and bled alongside, not one of them would disobey him to help me. I propped him up, tried to help him get rid of Flint - what we all wanted - and in the end he betrayed me and took everyone with him. Except you.”

The intensity of Billy’s gaze has always scared Ben, a little. He usually feels small and insignificant in the face of that intensity at the best of times but now, it feels different. Now he feels like the center of it and he feels almost too big for his own skin.

“You were the only one who cared if I lived when the Spanish raided Nassau. That meant something to me.”

“It just wasn’t right.”

It feels like an excuse for the real reason he hadn’t been able to stand the thought of Billy dying tied and beaten. The real reason he had - for possibly the first time in his life - stood up against something he thought was wrong.

Now when he thinks about all that Silver has done to see his own ending be the one that gets told, he’s more terrified than ever of John Silver - even though he knows the truth and not the story.

Even though he knows the truth he’s still terrified of the man who managed to weave such a convincing lie it stopped what had seemed like an unstoppable war, dead. Cold. That kind of power reminded him too much of the unshakeable and unquestionable authority the queen of the maroons had used to kill his shipmates - that his captain before that had used to keep them all in line. The kind of power he’s been subject to all his life.

Ben has been running from power for so long but in that moment he had defied John Silver in freeing Billy. And somehow Silver had known and sent him here in a fruitless search for what it had cost him.

That Ben would do it again if it meant saving Billy Bones’ life - that didn’t feel like powerlessness.

“It just wasn’t right.” He repeats.

Billy exhales, tilting his head in agreement. “Well.” Ben waits, but there isn’t more to the thought. The rabbit is done; cooked until the skin has just started to burn on the outside, and Ben’s mouth waters at the thought of food. When Billy pulls out a soggy but mostly intact chunk of cheese to slather over the meat, it seems almost an impossibly decadent feast.

As they eat, Ben can see Billy thinking. Finally, “What happened?”

He looks up, confused.

“After they defeated Rogers. I assume if you’re here looking for the cache, Flint isn’t giving up the location to Silver.”

It hits Ben, then - that Billy doesn’t know. Doesn’t know the truth or the lie and it’s in Ben’s hands, which he learns. He thinks back, to trust. To sparing Billy, and Billy sparing him in return. To powerlessness and power over a story. In another small act of defiance against John Silver, he tells Billy Bones the truth.

“The war’s over. Mr. Silver sent Flint to a plantation in Georgia. He’s there, I assume for good from what it sounded like.” Except he’s got - well...

Ben thinks about that too. Seeing the man he had come to fear second only to John Silver himself weeping openly, kissing the blond man who’d been in the field, there. Thomas Hamilton.

“You make sure that Flint sees Thomas Hamilton.”

Ben hadn’t understood that part of the instructions. Why this Hamilton was so important his presence would stop Flint from fleeing, in Silver’s mind. But then he thinks about what he had seen in that field, and about how John Silver is still on the island with the Maroons. With his Madi.

And Ben looks across the fire to Billy.

“You’re telling me that Silver expects Flint to stay put - after he betrayed him and sold the Flint’s war out from under him, just because an old lover is there?”

Ben shrugs. He hadn’t known Flint long enough to know, either way.

“He seemed certain of it. Told me to make sure Flint saw that Hamilton fellow and then come back here, for the treasure.”

“Without a map.”

“I did ask.” He’d asked only once - just before they’d reached Georgia. Asked Flint if he’d give up the location now that he was being given what he’d been promised. His end of the bargain.

Flint’s answer had been a puzzle Ben is still trying to figure out.

“Already?.”

It had seemed both cruel and sad, somehow, but Ben hadn’t gotten a chance to ask for clarification before Flint’s attention had been drawn completely elsewhere.

“He’ll be back for it.” Billy’s voice interrupts his memory.

“Huh?”

“Flint would never let something like this go.”

“Silver said he wouldn’t - couldn’t - be seen again. That he’d stay where Thomas Hamilton was.”

“Flint’s never cared about anyone enough to give up this war before. He’s addicted to getting something from it.”

Billy seems so certain, but again the image of Flint - looking so wholly different than Ben had ever seen him, leaning against Thomas Hamilton - enters his mind.

“Well either way I’ll be here for years - trying to find the cache without a map.”

Billy looks over at him again, seems to be measuring something. What, Ben isn’t sure.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t look for it. You’re safe here. Silver won’t come back, not if he hasn’t already. Don’t look for it till I bring you the map.”

#DOES THIS MAKE SENSE?#NO. NO IT DOESNT.#DID I TRY? MARGINALLY.#black sails #billy bones #ben gunn #gunnbones #milo writes #yall i dont know what to tell you billy is still off his rocker okay #like it's only been a week and now ben's there being all pathetic #give the guy a break no one knows what he's going to do next #least of all him #black sails fanfiction #fanfiction #i really dont know what to say about this sam i want you to know i tried so hard.#gayrackham

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fmdtaeyongarchive · 4 years

Text

↬ come back to me again.

date: october 2019 to september 2020.

location: unspecified.

word count: 1,810 words, not including lyrics.

summary: man briefly considers writing about self-love before throwing that shit idea out the window and deciding to write about his love life angst instead.

triggers n/a.

notes: creative claims verification. this took me an hour to write and it’s not edited and you can tell both of those things... it’s not my best... anyway, it’s my last verification for ash’s album and that’s all i care about! mentions of youngjoo.

the song takes him a year to write, though he has no expectation of such a long time frame when he begins.

the first notes of what will one day become a full song are put down the morning after he and youngjoo sleep together again for the first time since they’d broken up. he’s still trying to process what had happened, head spinning with a mix of doubt and affection. he’s fresh off of a break-up. he’s been single for two months after the most serious relationship of his life, and he’s fallen back into bed with his ex. not any ex, but the one he’d once thought would be his second to last lover. and the one he’d also once thought would be his last lover, but who was keeping count of his romantic delusions at this point?

when they’d had their talk that spring, ash had never considered it might end like this. they’d talked and cleared the air and he’d been happy they might be able to become friends again. genuinely, with no ulterior motives. after all, he’d been happy as only her friend once and, at the time, he hadn’t had eyes for anyone else but the man whose ring he wore on his finger or on a chain he tucked under the neckline of his shirt.

but being with her again. it had come so easily, so naturally, like their bodies and hearts had been made for one another.

that’s an awfully dangerous thought to have. it’s sex, not a reignition of their relationship, he reminds himself.

he doesn’t think he’s writing about youngjoo after she leaves that morning, but when he looks back on it, he recognizes it sounds like her. a year later, he isn’t so sure where his own identity ends and his feelings for her begin, though, so he could be wrong.

it’s the insistent but mellow melody of the guitar that later on reminds him of the piece he writes for her for her birthday, one of the happier nights they spend together. the happy nights pose an unexpected problem. he falls deeper when there’s no space between them for anything but shy smiles and fond words. the nights he blocks her out are easier, even when they send him into week-long spirals and drinking binges he hates himself for only because he doesn’t want the unseen eyes of nature to judge them as her fault.

that’s why he sees youngjoo in the song. at times, the piece he’d written pushes forward with unrestrained urgency, but at other points, it slows to a icy hesitance. in the softness, there’s also a coldness.

so maybe it’s not that it reminds him of her, but that it reminds him of them. they’re terribly complicated, and the track is more simple, but conflicted emotions tangle within its notes even without words present.

it’s closed-in, almost claustrophobic at times but at other times, he feels like he’s standing in the middle of a field listening to the work he’s created. isn’t that a lot like intimacy?

and when he thinks of intimacy, his mind races back to that night in october with youngjoo. there had been more breaths exchanged between them than words, but it’d been so loud.

relearning someone. that’s new, but ash has become a master in it over the past year. it hasn’t been a mission only of relearning each other’s bodies as it should have been. he’s re-mapped youngjoo’s heart and her mind (the parts she’ll show him — he’s silently accepted that there’s parts of her hidden in darkness his prying searchlights haven’t been able to reach yet, and that’s why he feels so lost in her presence at times).

there are also parts of it that eschew the wonder of her or the unmitigated confusion of them.

what is there left for those parts to be but him?

he decides those are the most hollow parts of the song. ash doesn’t know if he himself is hollow. as much as there are mornings he wakes up with nothing inside of him, there are times he works to find a balance only to end his day trying to fall asleep amid the flood of everything spilling out on the sheets around him.

working on the song on and off over the course of a year, it’s become a pet project. when nothing else is going right, he opens the song up and adds one thing or takes one thing away or changes something that he’s decided isn’t meant to be the way he’d originally put it, and then he moves on, content with the fact he’s done something.

it’d be easy for it to become crowded this way, but it’s instead one of the more threadbare instrumentals he has with a last saved date within the year. it’s almost more akin to the simple production he’d opted for in the beginning of his days as a solo artist. back then, he’d been an amateur producer and his ideas had often been tossed aside in favor of what bc’s more experienced producers decided would be best for the words and music he had been more entrusted with creating, but he hadn’t had any objections back then to a more naked production angle, either.

now he’s a fan of bold percussion (and there’s some of that in this song, too, as the track grows late into its own night and that’s also where the ghost of an emotional climax of words he hasn’t yet written lays) and layers of vocals on top of strings and samples on top of more vocals, but just listening to this homemade quilt of a track reminds ash of the boy he’d once been, long before that october a whole year ago.

it reminds ash of a boy who saw a future for himself as a poet on stage with a guitar, happy with no more than a small audience to hear songs that he’d created to support his lyrics instead of as a marketing package for selling others’ goods.

that ash had been inexperienced as a songwriter in comparison to the ash of today, but his love for what he wrote had been so unbelievably pure.

such purity is something that’s escaped ash ever since he’d had it stolen from him with fatalism, when one moment of success had turned bc entertainment’s greed up a hundred notches and money and marketing had won out over the charming singer-songwriter niche ash, taeyong, had once occupied.

love for music isn’t the name of the game of the idol industry and it’d only taken a year or two in the midst of it for ash to realize, but seven years into his career had been the first time he’d felt his own love slipping away from him.

it’d been losing grip on the only rope he had keeping him from falling all the way down to the bottom of the canyon under the cliff he’d fallen off of.

this song isn’t his lifeline. it’s an experiment. a recycling bin. but listening to it days before he’s supposed to turn his final demos in for his album, ash hangs every stray emotion on it he has left and makes a last minute decision that this song is a puzzle piece he needs if he wants an honest album.

putting lyrics to it poses a new problem entirely. there are too many memories tied to each ascending and descending note, and it doesn’t seem like there’s a way to bring all of the themes together without making a messy, overloaded concoction out of a piece that’s already been stitched together from discarded pieces of musical fabric.

ash searches his mind for the common thread between everything he’s placed on hooks around the song’s center and only one thing sticks out: longing for something that’s slipped away. one line imprints itself on his mind from that thought, and he scribbles it down in barely legible font on a notepad and then pulls off the sticky note to hang on the edge of the computer screen so there’s no way it can slip his mind.

come back to me again.

that’s the heart of the song. it’s where he’s been for the past year, in an endless battle to bring back to him the things he’d once had and had lost. passion, control, self-acceptance, stability, love. love. love for his music, for his life, for youngjoo. for himself.

he writes a rough draft of lyrics about each lost love he wants back, and they come to him with varying shades of ease and resistance. music is the easiest to write about, but the lyrics don’t fit the other songs he’s submitting, so he sets that draft aside and moves onto his next idea. writing about love of life is foreign for him, and it shows in the way he doesn’t feel that he even has the vocabulary to grasp the undefinable emotions that tie themselves around the concept like a cocoon meant to keep it safe in his head until it’s ready to fly out into the world.

he gives up on that one early, only to move on to the concept of self-love, which gets abandoned even faster. he’s getting a headache at this point and his patience for the idea of writing a song about himself in such a way grows so short that he tears up the paper half a verse into trying to write it.

that leaves him with youngjoo.

he’s written so many songs about her already. thinking about another makes him shift in his seat nervously. each song with youngjoo woven into it that makes it onto his album is another admission of how deep he’s gotten into this mess with her, but writing comes so much easier when it’s about her than almost anything else.

it’d be fitting if that’s how it ends up, though. a song begun in what he’d thought to be a disconnected stroke of inspiration at the beginning of all this, turned into yet another self-lead pen and paper therapy session.

so he lets himself.

it bleeds into two scenes overlapping on top of each other. the soft oranges and yellows and reds of that night together last october and the five million shades of grey of the now. they shape a world existing both in the past and the present, a world confused by its own duality, and then eating its own tail, creating a triplicity with the blues of three years ago.

it doesn’t exist in one dimension, instead pushing itself to the limits of depth and time outside of ash’s conscious control. from verse to verse, the feelings switch time periods, and yet, when they all come together, they easily slide into one story — a never-ending tale he’s written himself into.

#fmdverification #i wrote 22993 words of verification for this album . i would not suggest that to anyone ever btw .#i really did not think i'd get these done in time yall... god.#you will not be hearing from me for a month now #&& when you're screaming but they only hear you whisper | self para

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pastelninjaimagines · 4 years

Note

hi hi!!! how do you feel about road trip with sasuke headcanons or imagine? feel free to add anyone you'd like ofc!! i just absolutely love your take on sasuke, one of the few that actually feel right to me haha. have a nice day!!!!! ♡

Road trip HCs

Since you were cool with me picking some other characters to do such a cute ask for, I picked some faves that i thought would be 10/10 for a road trip…also i’m glad you like my sasuke hot takes lmao…also also these were so fun and enjoyable to write that if y'all want actual imagines with these (or other characters) pls hmu - mod tina

Sasuke

It’s either his way or the highway..so be prepared. Has a map with pre picked locations circled on there for you guys to hit, but he’ll leave the route that you take a little looser. He wants structure, but’ll go with the flow to an extent. Not every single second has to be planned, but he wants direction for the trip.

The car is pretty lightly packed, he doesn’t wanna fuss with carrying too much unnecessary junk. If either of you need anything along the way, he’d rather just buy things as needed. For him, carrying too many things is constricting, and he’d rather feel uninhibited by baggage. He’s also weird about the music. He prefers the radio, but hates commercials so he’ll channel surf until he finds something he likes. Why he doesn’t just make a cd (or aux his phone) you don’t know but he refuses to do so. He’ll say “trying to get the local flavor” and yet settle on the station that’s playing whatever’s popular at the time bc he can’t find anything else with a clear signal

Would definitely rather stick to seeing cities and landmarks for your stops along the way. He really doesn’t wanna get sidetracked with seeing smaller tourist trap attractions or going somewhere that’s way off the beaten path. Reason being is he’s made a sort of imaginary time table for you trip and even though he’s not stated that aloud, he wants to stick to his schedule

Deidara

He’d be a literal blast to go on a road trip with (pun slightly intended). Deidara is full of energy and excitement and is super enthusiastic about having a good time. He’s a little bit all over the place, one minute wanting to drive all day, but then pulling off to see something either on the roadside, or off on an exit bc he saw a sign that piqued his interest.

Definitely wants to hit more of the trendy/artsy spots on the road trip, picking a lot of big cities to get inspiration for his art, and just a genuine interest in seeing the sights. Though, he doesn’t wanna rush to get anywhere, he wants to take his time and go with the flow. Spontaneity is his middle name. so whatever you wanna do on the trip is cool with him too.

80’s rock will be blasting the entire time. So I hope you like his collection of cds bc he’s not listening to the radio. He might let you play a few of your cds if he’s feeling generous. The car’s a mess with things. He wasn’t too organized with packing so he has to buy a lot of things on the way, and what he brought he slowly realizes he didn’t even need. Why he brought snow boots and ski pants for a summer road trip he doesn’t know. Can’t recall what he’d been thinking when he made that call. Also his art supplies literally take up the entire trunk so you better compartmentalize your belongings. Occasionally he’ll get in moods where he’s gotta clear out all the junk (aka all the food wrappers and take out bags) but that impulse is as sporadic as all his other ones. Deidara’s a lot of fun on a road trip but he’s pretty messy and very sporadic so if you’re cool with those things then he’s the partner for you. (Plus he goes on art rants - you’ve been warned)

Dabi

Dabi just wants to get lost. You pick a direction, he drives. Literally doesn’t care where you guys go. You wanna hit all 50 states? Go coast to coast? Never come back? Aight he’s got you fam. Though he insists that you pick where you guys go, he’s got amazing intuition. If you don’t prompt him, he’ll find the most amazing spots. Absolutely down to go off-road and end up in some beautiful and breathtaking part of nature. And he’s down to get out of the car and go exploring.

Likes to pull off to the side of the road at night, get on the roof of the car with you (if the night’s warm and clear) and just gaze up at the stars. Being in the middle of nowhere means you’ve got an amazing view of them.

Dabi, like Sasuke, barely packs anything for the trip. He’s already very spartan with his belongings, so this isn’t a surprise to you that he says if he needs anything he’ll pick it up along the way. You guys happen to go thrifting and antiquing a lot on your various spots so this is where he gets most of his extra clothes and things. Sometimes, he’ll even get kitschy nicknacks from small town souvenir stores that give you both a good laugh.

On the road, he’s quiet most of the time, he’ll leave the talking up to you while he’s driving. He’ll occasionally sing to the music he plays which is a combination of rap and classic rock. He’s not a radio hog and let’s you play your favorites as long as you both know to take turns. On a few occasions you’ve caught him singing along to your more pop-y selections. Dabi’s much more talkative when you guys pull off (either at one of your talked about destination spots or some random spontaneous stops) and loves cracking his famed dry sarcastic comments at everything. At night you guys’ll sometimes talk about deeper things, but the only time he’ll really open up is if you guys stop and drink (or grab a bottle and bring it back to the car/the room if you’re staying at a motel). Other than that, he’s pretty quiet, only speaking when he deems necessary

Mista

Mista is the perfect combination of fun and chill for a road trip. Anywhere you wanna go, he’ll take you, as long as you’re good with the stops he picks out too. You’re the navigator though, you gotta tell him where to go otherwise he might end up getting you guys lost, but if he does, you’ll have an amazing time in a place you’d never thought you’d be because he knows how to make anything a good time. He’ll be talking your ear off with his random facts, commentary and constant cracking of jokes that happen to pop in his head. If he’s not blabbering his mouth, you’re both singing to the music that’s on blast and shaking the car. Mista made the world’s longest mixtape that combined both his faves and your faves so everyone’s happy and singing along (peeping Mista sing his head off to Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac while speeding down the empty highway - it’s a real image)

Loves the idea of taking polaroid pictures at each place you stop at. The glove compartment is littered with the polaroids you take. If it’s not one of “official stop pictures” it’s a bunch of candids, the ridiculous faces you guys make or of pretty scenery. Mista’s actually got quite a photographer’s finesse in him so the pictures he takes are actually really good and you’d almost consider them artsy. Like Dabi, this boy be buying all the small town souvenirs and be decked out in t-shirts, wrist bands, caps from all the little towns that no one’s ever heard of. He be reping that merch like the tackily fashionable mf he is and still makes it all look good

He’s a creature of comfort so he prefers pulling up to a motel to rest at night instead of sleeping in the cramped car, but sometimes, if you guys are just dead tired he’ll throw everything in the trunk so you can both make a nice comfortable nest with the back seats down and curl up.

#sasuke #sasuke uchiha #deidara #dabi #guido mista #naruto #naruto shippuden #bnha #vento aureo #jjba part 5 #akatsuki

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drkstrangeson · 5 years

Text

Sleeping Together

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: Questionable fluff??? One bad word ;))) (This is written after Pepper said that she would leave Tony, but Tony let Pepper leave.)

Summary: You and Tony Stark were sent on a mission together, but since S.H.I.E.L.D. forgot to provide accommodations, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Authors Note: This is a writing challenge by @buckyismymainman in celebration for their 1k followers! My prompt was; “There was one bed!! *gasp*” This is my first-time writing fanfiction, and I know that my writing is terrible. But I did it for fun anyways and I did have fun writing it. (Although I was SO stressed out bc I’m gonna be judged on my skills) Congrats on getting 1k followers!!! Keep doing what you do and be happy doing it!!!! 💕💕

Also, special thanks to @superbanananinja234 for being my first reader and my personal hype man or else idk if i would’ve posted this. I love you 3k ;)))

Word Count: 2k

Nick Fury had decided to assign you and Tony Stark on the same mission, something about needing twice the amount of brains for the mission. Nick had also assigned Natasha and Clint on another mission, and since it was on the way to their mission location, both of you decided to take the same Quinjet as Natasha and Clint, so that you would be able to joke around with Natasha and get closer to Clint before the four of you went on your different ways.

The moment you found out that you were going on a mission with Tony, you were ecstatic. You always sneaked glances at Tony, whenever he was working out, tinkering around, or taking charge of Stark Industries. Thanks to your training, you were able to escape under his radar for a long time, until you had to spend time alongside him. Sure, he made it hard, because he pretended to not care about anyone, but you knew that he was the most caring person to everyone that he cared about.

Now, Tony Stark had everything he could ever want in the world, and if he didn’t have it, all he had to do was ask for it. Whatever he had was understandably luxurious, as is befitting of someone with a billionaire status. However, since young, he had learnt to close himself off to everyone, and misdirect everyone if he ever needed to do something sneaky, so if he cared about someone, he cared about them. He remembered everything everyone said, just to keep himself safe from imminent danger.

After Natasha and Clint had dropped you and Tony off, you both slowly come to the realisation that S.H.I.E.L.D. decided to not provide suitable enough lodging (according to Tony, at least), both of you went to find the nearest hotel. Except for the fact that this was in a weird part of Earth, and there weren’t any hotels at all, let alone five-star ones.

“Why don’t we just go to a nearby motel or whatever instead? It’s only one night.” You ran after Tony as he took off stomping. “Look, I’ll get a Google maps to the nearest motel up and running quick.” As quickly as you said that, he turned around and pushed a finger square into the middle of your chest, staring into your [E/C]. You stared back, and batted your eyelashes, albeit playfully. “Yes, Tony?”

Tony opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a notification sound came from your phone. “Hey! There’s a motel nearby! Let’s go! You need to charge your suit anyway, right?” You grabbed his arm and pulled him along. He shut up immediately and threw his free arm up in disapproval before trudging after you silently and unwillingly.

“[Y/N], you know I don’t like to sleep in foreign areas.” He eventually spoke up, but not before you both reach the motel.

“It’ll be fine, TonyTones--”

“Do not call me that, [Y/N].”

“Besides, we’re already here, so let's just get a room with two beds, in case you do fall asleep.”

“I will not fall asleep. I’ve got things to do before we continue with the mission tomorrow.”

You shrugged, and headed towards the receptionist, asking if they had a room with two beds.

“Yes, we do, actually. Room 204. Just turn right and head forward. For how many nights?”

“Just this one, than--”

“Make it two.” Tony spoke up from behind you and handed the receptionist his credit card with a wink. The receptionist blushed hard and coughed while inputting some details. They then handed Tony the keys, who in turn, smirked at the receptionist, and gave them a silent ‘thank you’ before turning around and ushering you towards the rooms.

“Tony, why are we staying another night?” You inquired as you both walked towards the room, Tony playing with the key in his hand.

“Well, with me being the best Avenger and everything, I decided to be thoughtful and thought that you would need another day to rest before heading back to the HQ. Totally not because I have something else to do here the next night…” Tony mumbled the last part and attempted to insert the key into the keyhole. You tapped your foot lightly to an invisible song while waiting for him.

“TonyTones, are you not done with the door? I thought you were a genius engineer, what happened?” You laughed lightly at your own joke.

“[Y/N], I told you not to call me that, and the fucking key doesn’t fit the keyhole.” Tony revealed, and you took the key out of his hands.

“Language.” You opened the locked door effortlessly, and scoffed at him. Tony rolled his eyes, muttering something about ‘still being smarter than you’, and you laughed. You walked in, not before stopping at the doorway.

“Oh Jesu— Hey, Ms ‘I-Think-I’m-Smarter-Than-Tony-Stark’, don’t just stop in the middle of the hallway!” You stumbled forward, your back hurting a little.

“Tony, there’s only one bed.” You gasped out, and Tony shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter, I have things to do tonight before the mission tomorrow, remember? I’m pretty sure I told you that I wasn’t going to be sleeping.” He pushed past you and immediately set his suit up to charge. You proceeded to lie down on the bed and sighed.

“And I’m pretty sure I told you that sleep is good for you, oh like, at least a million times now, Tony.” You retorted, but Tony being Tony, he just shrugged. Lack of sleep seemed to do Tony well, but not so much for yourself. Damn you, unfair genetics.

After a nice shower, you sat down beside Tony, who was tinkering with his suit. You never knew what he was doing, going on about transistors and capacitors. Tony had changed into his tanktop, which, in his defence, was ‘the single most comfortable thing to wear, second of which is my suit’. You thought it looked stupid until he busted out his sunglasses. He looked even stupider, and you cracked up laughing.

But, god. Tony looked so good in everything he wore, but somehow, he looked even better in a tanktop. His muscles bulged as he tightened some bolts in his suit. You had to physically turn yourself away so that the weird fantasies in your head will stop. “I’m gonna be sleeping now, Tones, good night!” You said loudly, and pulled the blanket over yourself.

“Good night kid, good job today. You did great. Get some rest.” Tony said softly, not breaking eye contact with whatever he was soldering. He rewired some parts of his suit, and tested out his blaster, without letting the blast loose, in case you woke up from that. After that, he flipped through the files about the mission that was about to happen the next day, before looking over at the bed. He was functioning off of one cup of coffee, and two cups of whiskey. Both of which he took before you both left Stark Tower for the current mission. Which was at least a good twelve hours before this.

Tony could feel himself crashing, but he didn’t want to intrude on your peaceful sleep. Therefore, he grabbed a couple of pillows and put it between both of you, before falling asleep on the bed the moment he laid down.

You woke up in the middle of the night, tangled in someone else’s arms and legs. Trying to pull your arm out, Tony pulled you into a tight hug instead. Looking up to a sleeping Tony, you tried to wriggle free, but his grip was hard.

“Jarvis, you there?” You spoke to the suit, as much as you could possible, being tangled in the arms of Tony.

“Yes, [Y/N]. Do you need help waking up Mr Stark? I’m sure he will let you go the moment he wakes up.”

“It’s fine, just tell him the next time he wants to hug me, he can just do it awake.” Jarvis made a sound of confirmation. Your nose itched, so you sniffed. God, what kind of aftershave did he use, because he smelled SO good. You decided that it wasn’t that bad, and fell asleep soon enough again, feeling safe and secure in his arms.

Eventually, Tony woke up to an alarm, with a sore arm. He groaned, and found one arm below you, with the other on you, as if he was hugging you. Wait, he is hugging you. You were hugging him a little, too, with your legs tangled underneath his. It’s been awhile since he had gotten a good night’s sleep, but he’d never have thought that the reason for his good night’s sleep would’ve been you. You snored softly under him, and he smiled. He tightened his hug, and snuggled against you.

You soon woke to the same alarm, as Tony was snuggling against you. Thinking that it was a dream, you closed your eyes again and leaned closer, before snapping up immediately. You looked around for your phone, while Tony groaned loudly, a verbal way of expressing his dismay at you leaving his arms.

“Tones! We’re late! C’mon wake up!” You flew out of the bed, and hurried to get dressed properly. When Tony did not move from the bed, you gave him a few light slaps on his abdomen. “TonyTones!!! Get up! I’m not about to disappoint Fury!”

“The next time you call me TonyTones, or Tones, I will make you shut up.” Tony sat up on the bed and pointed a finger at you. You stared back at him and retorted.

“And, Mr. TonyTonyTones, how would you do that?” You cocked your head, a genuine question. You started to think. “Put a finger against my lips? Physically shush me until I keep quiet? Oh! Or would you just cup your hand in front of my mouth instead? Because you and I both know I would very likely lick your hand if you di—"

“I’m... gonna kiss you.” Tony said, with a very ‘as a matter of fact’ tone, without breaking his eye contact with you. “I will kiss you to keep you quiet, and I dare to say this, because I know you like me. I know the way you look at me sometimes, [Y/N].” You were about to say something, but he shoved his index finger against your lips. You looked down at his finger, and he chuckled, then removed his finger.

“So, lemme get this straight. If I call you “TonyTones” again, you’re gonna kiss me? Is that right? What if I called you “LooneyTones”? You know, like “LooneyTun—"

All you saw was that Tony took one step forward, and suddenly his lips were against yours. You tensed up, but slowly started to lean into it after you realised how calm, and yet, demanding, his kiss was. You could feel how soft his tongue was, exploring and gently probing around your mouth, desperate to claim you for his.

You closed your eyes, and took your time exploring every nook and cranny of his mouth. Your hands made its way up to Tony’s shoulders, and tenderly touched his cheek. He slid his arms around your waist, pulling you closer towards him. Moaning softly, he leaned in more, before you broke apart from him.

“Hey Tones, no wait, don’t kiss me.” Tony looked at you, amused, and you carried on. “I mean you can, next time, just not now. Remember we have a mission to do?” You mumbled, while looking at him. He put his hands up in defeat, and went over to his suit, unplugging it from the socket. You’ve learnt that hard way once, when he forgot to unplug his suit and had called it during a mission, it ripped out the wires in the walls.

“Let’s go then, as much as you don’t want to disappoint Fury, I don’t want to disappoint you tonight.” Tony smirked and winked, grabbed the keys from the table, and headed out. You smoothed out your clothes, attempted to calm yourself down, and headed out after him.

#Emmas 1K Writing Challenge #BuckyIsMyMainMan #tony stark x reader #mcu #tony stark x you #tony stark #tony stark imagine #drkstrangeson #AAAAAAAAAAA this is my first fic #and im so afraid #but i did it!#and im proud #special thanks to my dear friend hannah for hyping me up!!!!!!!!#superbanananinja234

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solitaria-fantasma · 4 years

Text

((Session #5 highlights, GO!))

Our DM admitted to me the night before that this session was going to be “plot and C H A O S” and honestly I am sO excited.

We start off with Matthias telling the party that he’d gone back to the bazaar and stolen a forged ledger. We’re uncovering organized crime today.

Recap: We still need to return Von Trikona’s books, as well as investigate/avenge the death of Clarissa Rose.

There are two new country names on the map - Croyden and Iandow!

New non-country locations listed include: Red Hawk, Caister, Alenwik, Aynor, Leeside, Dewsbary, Peinrith, Farenfros, Veritas, and Westwend.

Also ‘Fwee’ is actually spelled ‘Phwie’ and I need to adjust my notes.

We stumbled across a hungover wizard being harassed by a goblin. I immediately tried to scare it away, and rolled REALLY high intimidation.

“The goblin is intimidated af, and fucks off into the wilds.”

The wizard - Renaldo Ladboy - admitted that he’d ‘partied too hard’ the night before, and didn’t remember WHY he’d pitched his camp out in the woods.

Renaldo perks up when he hears that we are travelers, and heading in the same direction he is. He offers to take us there, but since a teleport spell has a limit on how many it can carry, and we are five people + five horses, he basically wants to put us in a Bag of Holding.

I imagined Renaldo pulling Udaji out by her horns and burst out laughing bc she’s sEVEN FEET TALL IT’D BE LIKE THE ENDLESS HANDKERCHIEF TRICK BUT WITH A BARD-

“Get in the fucking bag, Mountain!”

“What was the price of your freedom?”/”A Pringle.”

The interior of a Bag of Holding is - in the DM’s words - ‘a dumpster fire’. There’s everything from random treasure to books to laundry just thrown about in piles....and also there’s another person.

This is Helena (played by the DM’s mom), and she has been in here for a long time, apparently.

There is also Theo, a mysterious voice hidden in the laundry. They warn us to be wary of ‘skittering sounds’, and to hide when we hear them.

I think we were tricked.

Matthias knelt down specifically to slap Claus, who had rolled the highest on the insight check and found nothing suspicious.

Theo came out of hiding to once more warn us to be careful what we touched, and be wary of ‘the Guardians’.

Theo has been in here too long, though, and has a very small reservoir of spoons, so after this final warning, he disappeared back into hiding.

It is DEAFENINGLY quiet inside the Bag of Holding.

Udaji nervously strummed her lute, and the echo took a long time to come back…..and then we heard a flutter.

While Matthias tried to loot some potions and Mountain tried to take a nap, I strummed again to try and recreate the flutter….and I heard more fluttering. It was loud enough to actually wake up Mountain.

Udaji immediately ran off to investigate one of the sources of the fluttering, and then the fluttering turned into skittering. Oh no.

“Udaji, roll for initiative.”

I roared into the darkness and managed to intimidate away one of the gargoyles that were stalking me.

I also apparently terrified Theo with my ‘I Am A Mighty Dragon’ roar. Whoops.

I shouted back to the party “I FOUND THE SKITTERING THINGS!” and retreated one square, but Udaji is simultaneously too stubborn to completely run away and too afraid to run off into the darkness (again).

I TOOK “ZONE OF TRUTH” AS A SPELL LAST LEVEL UP I COULD HAVE CAST IT ON RENALDO-

Helena temporarily lit up our little corner of Hell, and I cast Heroism on Mountain because I have no ranged weaponry/spells.

Mountain could gain a max of 40 temporary hp from this spell if A) he doesn’t get hit and B) I don’t get hit and lose concentration.

Aaaaand one gargoyle promptly flew 60 feet and bit me, shattering my concentration. Heck.

Mountain tried to do a trick shot with his bow and accidentally shot Matthias.

Gargoyle #1 tried to bite Claus, but missed because Claus was too short for it to hit.

I desperately want to test out my Earth Tremor spell but my teammates are tOO CLOSE-

Honestly sessions with the DM’s mom are always a little bit awkward bc it sometimes becomes the mom and three sisters arguing and me just sitting there in awkward silence but I know she means well.

Theo ran up and hit behind the Dragonborn for safety when a THIRD gargoyle came out of hiding. This may prove to be a mistake

Gargoyle #1 hit Claus and I’m starting to wish I’d made Udaji a barbarian bECAUSE I’M READY TO RAGE-

All anger aside I’m actually having a very hard time not envisioning these gargoyles as THE Gargoyles from the Disney show, and I feel bad every time I stab them.

THEO KNOWS DIVINE SMITE?!

“It’s a very, very high pile of laundry, so we’re going to classify it as difficult terrain.”

I lost almost half my hit points in one turn and then got healed half of THAT back in the next what a roller coaster.

I FINALLY GOT TO USE EARTH TREMOR AND KNOCKED GARGOYLE #1 PRONE!

Two gargoyles down, one to go!

Helena coming in with the killing blow on gargoyle #1!

With the battle over, Helena picked up some of the gold off the ground.

Poor Theo was being harassed by those three gargoyles for at least a month, maybe more (it’s hard to keep track of time in a dark, sunless void).

Theo admits that he got tricked into entering the bag after getting injured fighting ghouls, and the wizard came along and offered to carry him to safety.

Renaldo has now kidnapped seven people with his Bag of Holding, and has four people lined up to punch him (the other three advocate for murder).

Theo gives us a much clearer warning now about ‘the Guardians’ - two suits of armor that guard Renaldo’s stuff, and attack people who try to steal it.

Matthias immediately disappears to try and steal things.

Udaji sat down and started filling the silence with lute music because she is realizing that she does NOT like this kind of heavy silence.

Astrid stole a few potions, and Mountain realized we could switch out our suspicious, fake gold for real gold.

Theo watched us in visible confusion as we poured gold out onto the ground, only to then pick up equal amounts of seemingly identical gold.

“This man has kidnapped seven people! Seven people and presumably five horses!”

Astrid has a crush on Mountain, and tries to snuggle up to him, but Matthias literally flung himself between them in protest, so Astrid snuggled up with Udaji instead.

We took a long rest, and at the end of it, Renaldo actually remembered to pull us all out.

The only reason he remembered was because he’d teleported with our party’s horses, and landed surrounded by equines.

Theo punched him square in the nose.

“Claus is old enough to drink, but Udaji is not. Do not let the Dragonborn order beer.”

We hadn’t eaten in two and a half days, so we all ordered double meals and chowed down.

While eating on the mostly empty inn floor, we overhear two women whispering across the floor.

Eventually, one of the women raises her voice and says “We are not having this discussion! You are marrying Hassan, and that’s final!”

Marrying the Lord who was supposedly betrothed to the young Lady Rose? So soon? How scandalous…

Matthias sidled up to try and talk to them, and finds out that they are, in fact, talking about the same Lord Hassan who was betrothed to Clarissa Rose.

The older woman demanded to know how we knew of this supposed ‘other prospect’, and Matthias lied - saying that we had been hired by Clarissa’s mother to retrieve her daughter’s body.

This, predictably, did not endear him to the two women, so Astrid had to saunter over and try to assist.

The women are Amelia (younger) and Charlotte (older) Ulsten.

They asked when this previous engagement had been made, and we said that it had been a month. Charlotte got very pale and very still, and Amelia immediately told her “I told you something was wrong!��

Charlotte tells us that they had received the marriage proposal around the same time.

Matthias asked if they had heard the rumors of ‘accidents’ and stolen dowries. They said no.

The two women were traveling from Westwend, in Croyden.

“Charlotte sort of blubbers, like a Karen who’s been confronted by a manager and isn’t getting her free Frostie from Wendy’s.”

I traded places with Matthias to try and smooth things over, and Amelia - who has never seen a Dragonborn before - can’t stop staring.

Charlotte unbristled, and explained that they hadn’t heard of Lord Hassan before the proposal, so they’d hired a private investigator to look into him.

Their PI found that Lord Hassan WAS a legitimate bachelor and Lord in Kenkilly, but they hadn’t heard of this potential scam.

“But we DO have guards!”/”So did Miss Rose…”

Amelia begs her mother not to make her see this through, and Charlotte agrees that this scenario is too weird for her, and that they will seek a marriage prospect elsewhere.

Matthias speed-ate all his cake purely to avoid sharing with anyone.

Astrid gave her father puppy eyes, and he eventually caved, and bought her a slice of cake.

Amelia was still staring at Udaji as everyone settled back down to finish eating.

Claus and Astrid may or may not be leaving the party for a time bc the DM doesn’t want to end up playing too many NPCs, and while I understand that, I am going to dearly miss my best halfling friend and only female companion.

#OOC #Quarantine D&D

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