#i have a curse when it comes to shiny hunting I think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yanderenightmare · 8 months

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more gojo with curse!darling please! i lobe this concept<3

Gojo Satoru

P1 & P3

TW: abduction and captivity, mild condescension, mild coercion, NSFW hints, some descriptions of darling, but nothing too specific, a joke dissing people with blue eyes and pale skin

gn reader - fem labels (drama queen) & fem accessories (jewelry: various)

He kept you like one would a stray cat. Leaving you be as you found places of comfort around his apartment, hiding when you wanted to be left alone – which was almost always.

You hadn’t warmed up to him yet. Understandably so.

He’d set out food for you, locking the door with seals when leaving – scoffing out a laugh after coming home only to find the dish still on the table. He keeps forgetting you don’t eat.

You may look it, but you’re not exactly human.

But you are getting thinner, unfortunately. Suppose his apartment isn’t ideal hunting ground for a curse. And as you’ve gotten weaker, you’ve become wilder – primitive in a way – hissing at him when he gets too close – feeling vulnerable.

You’re very cute.

But, cute or not, he doesn’t want to starve you. He isn’t cruel. So he walks and wonders what it is that you would find appetizing.

Watching your behavior – how you sneak around his apartment looting – like a crow – collecting shiny objects to deck yourself in. Stealing all his rings, chains, watches, belt buckles, manchets, any gold or silver-rimmed glasses, and anything else you can use as jewelry – old coins, can tabs, all the silverware – along with everything else you deem pretty – fabrics, flowers, decorations, all his silk shirts.

You rob anything and everything of value, making a nest of it all in the tub.

His theory is that the bathroom is the shiniest place in the house and, therefore, where you feel you most belong. You sleep there despite him having given you a room – coveting all your findings.

He’s never really thought about how a curse can have such behaviorism. It’s not too odd to keep tamed ones as pets, but still, he’s never thought about why one would aside from utilizing them in combat. But you weren’t made for such intents and purposes. You were… just fascinating to have. Not far off from being an exotic pet.

But even for a curse, you’re unusual.

It’s not fear or death you thrive on. It’s… something a lot more innocent, actually – which is probably why you have no malicious instincts to hurt him – not that you could if you tried. But he can tell… you don’t want to be a curse, do you? In fact, those few times he has nicknamed you curse, you’ve scowled at him a little more than usual.

No, what you desire is devotion – to be worshipped.

What you want is to be a god.

Quite like him, actually. You like having your ego stroked.

It’s your pride that needs feeding, and he can only asses that it feasts on people’s mad desire for you – of which he has plenty to give.

But you reject it.

“I won’t rely on the pity of a filthy jujutsu sorcerer. I’d rather starve.” You tell him with a sneer, curling yourself up with folded arms upon your chest – pouting with eyes closed, drowned in your treasure bath as though everything wasn’t nicking your skin, trying to ignore him.

He slants his head to the side, crouched down beside you with his arms resting on the tub, a smirk on his face – playing cute as he reaches a slim finger out to touch your cheek.

“Won’t you let a filthy jujutsu sorcerer worship you a bit? Trust me, a curse has never made me feel so weak before. Don’t you think I’d make for the best beggar?”

You grimace, brows deepening into a vexed frown without opening your eyes, but you don’t flinch away. “I won’t be patronized. You keep playing with me like I’m your toy.”

“Maybe a little,” He chuckles softly. You’re such an honest and expressive little curse. “But I do think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen~”

“Naturally.” You reply simply, the furrow in your brow softening, but you don’t offer much more.

“Come on, pretty curse.” He drawls. “Let me help you before you waste away.”

You scoff. “Tch- foolish, selfish human… you really are such an ugly thing to behold.” The furl returns, but still, you keep your eyes closed. “Do you honestly think that your rancid touch is going to save me?” Then you laugh – harshly and mockingly. “Please, don’t flatter yourself. A god requires offerings left at their shrine, not the filthy touch of the peasants that leave them.” Your nose scrunches suggestively. “You should consider it a blessing to even be allowed to look at me.”

Vain and stubborn, he thinks. You are the curse of beauty. But still, he's never experienced rejection before.

Suppose he has to try a little harder…

He soon finds himself courting you. Trying to make you comfortable.

He starts giving you gifts – first, silver silk bedsheets that lure you into sleeping in your bed instead of the bathtub, along with other changes that make your room more appealing – ornate wallpaper, canopy drapes surrounding the bed, and a smaller chandelier for the ceiling. Happy to see you abandon your former treasure in the tub in favor of your new dwelling.

Then he gifts you other pretty articles – clothes and such that actually fit you – patterned silks and lace. He attempts to give you clothes you can use to cover up more of yourself, but you seem partial to wearing less – most comfortable in just an elegant kimono you can easily discard on the floor.

You’re confusing like that – walking around his apartment half-naked but hissing and scowling at him when he stares.

It’s more the jewelry you enjoy wearing – crowns, earrings, necklaces, body chains, rings for your fingers and toes, bracelets for your wrists and ankles – everything in abundance. Jingling when you step about.

You seem healthier after receiving his presents. Also, a bit less skeptical – now engaging in conversation with him – although often about what his next gifts will be and if he can buy you diamonds and rubies for you to bead your hair.

“Sorry, but the banks closed. I’m not giving you a single dime, your highness.” He laughs one day, eyes bright and smiling, watching the puzzlement befall your face before the spread of horror that soon followed after hearing his next words. “In fact, I’m gonna start taking things away.”

“You wouldn’t-” Your voice had dropped into something so weak it was adorable, no longer having that strident overconfidence you’d built up.

It makes him feel almost bad watching your face drain and become so distressed like a spoiled little brat who’d just been told no for the first time.

“Oh- I would.” He grinned like it was all only a cruel joke to him – something just for shits and giggles. “Satoru Gojo giveth and Satoru Gojo taketh away.”

“But-” Your lip wobbles, and he can spot the tears brimming in your eyes already.

He doesn’t let it bother him. Or at least he doesn’t let it show.

“I think I’ll start with all your jewelry- how about that necklace you’re wearing right now?” He threatens, pale hand reaching towards your neck to pull your pearls off – but you shrink into a ball on the floor before he has the chance to.

“No, no, no, don’t-” You start sobbing, and he thinks it’s the first time he’s seen a curse be so sad and desperate.

Not to mistake those countless curses he’d made cry and plead for their life, but that wasn’t what you were doing. You were grieving.

You’re really such a simple thing, aren’t you?

His smile softens into something not so cruel. Crouching down to your level, placing his hand atop your head where you’re bowed and bawling, petting you soothingly. “Okay then, drama queen. Stop your crying. I’ll let you keep it.”

You raise your head, hopeful. Looking at him with terribly puffy eyes - cheeks streaked with teardrops hanging off your lashes. Looking so pained and vulnerable, it made his heart ache at the sight.

You don’t say anything but he can tell there’s a question on your lips you’re unable to voice.

“Under one condition.” He answers.

You flinch when his hand slides from your hair to cup your cheek, holding your chin as he rolls on his feet and places a kiss on your salty lips.

You gasp and allow it for a second but then abruptly push him off – falling back on your butt. “No- you’ll make me filthy.” You rush out. “Beauty is meant to be admired, not reaped. It’s not right. You can’t-”

He watches you blush and stutter and thinks it’s silly how he hasn’t thought about it before. But now it’s become clear. Curses spawn from human fears, after all. It’s not strange that they’re so similar. But still… he’d never think a curse would be afraid of losing their virginity.

“It’s okay,” He coos, setting his knees down softly – crawling forward to where you sit, hiding your face behind small hands decked in too many rings. “I’m not gonna stain you…” He promises, his breath warm on your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel like the most desired diety in the world.”

Your breath shivers as he takes your hands and uncovers your face – eyes wide looking at him.

“And after I’m done admiring you, I’ll get you more diamonds and rubies than you can count.”

You swallow – eyes skittering from one of his blue ones to the other.

“Really?” It’s below a whisper.

“You bet.” He answers with a smile, flashing you a smirk. “I’ll get you enough to swim in.”

Your nose does a little twitch like it usually does, but this time, it’s not to express disgust. “Do you promise?” You bite your lip – staring at him.

“Let’s make it a binding vow.”

And that’s the arrangement.

You let him admire you in ways you’ve never let anyone else before, but only if he fulfills all your greedy heart’s desires.

He doesn’t mind. It’s nice to have something to spend money on that’s worth it.

You’ll lie next to him and he’ll get to study you up close – finding things that betray you – model details that aren’t in line with human imperfections. Missing bone structure, flawless symmetry, hairless skin devoid of any and all accent of mark or spot – just smooth milky texture without a single fault.

He says it’s sad – that the standard for beauty isn’t even achievable, to which you reply that it’s only fair everyone should be subject to the same disappointment, never to achieve perfection like you.

He asks if you think he’s really that ugly. And you say yes.

“Liar.” He accuses. Head propped on his hand, his hair a tousled mess lying in the bed beside you.

You’re looking up at the ceiling but close your eyes insouciantly at his comment. You tip your chin a bit as you speak – lips pouty and proud. “Lies are an ugly trade- in which I don’t partake.”

“Oh, really?” He rolls on top of you and you give a whine. Looking up into his sparkling blues and how his pearly hair falls loose and wispy. “Then look me in my eyes and tell me I’m ugly.” He dares.

“Puh-” You scoff, folding your arms above your puffed chest, looking off to the side, still with eyes closed as though to dismiss him like you so often do. “Men with beady bright blue eyes and pink skin look like pigs.”

You sneak a peek with one eye when he doesn’t answer. He’s still looking down at you – still daring you.

And you continue. Raising a finger to nudge his nose up. “Say oink-oink, piggy.”

He brushes your finger away as he leans in closer. Now with his nose rubbing yours.

“Tell me I’m ugly.” He repeats – his voice dipping low into that serious tone that makes your breath tight and your stomach flurry.

“You’re-” You try but it ends up swallowed, stifled beneath those big worldly blues. “You’re…” You try again but it’s worse than the first time, making you bite your lip. He’s not budging.

You look away. Feeling defeated and mopey because of it.

“You’re not as pretty as me.” You finally sulk.

So cutely grumpy with your pursed lips and vexed brow, he just has to laugh. “Tch- now that we can both agree on.”

And then he forces you to laugh too – beginning to snort like a boar into your ear, placing sloppy kisses to your neck while you scream out that it tickles.

P1 & P3

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denwritesandcries · 3 months

Text

The Wilderness Wants Us To (Kiss) – YJS

Pairing: poly!yellowjackets x fem!reader

Summary: Have you ever experienced all kinds of weirdness since the plane crashed months ago, so why the weirdest thing so far is it seems like all the girls are suddenly courting you?

Or, a series of kisses between you and your dear football team.

Word count: 4,6k.

Content: cursing, kisses, fluff, suggestive, angst if you blink, slightly dark, intoxication, the doomcoming, the wilderness but nobody has been eaten (yet).

A/N: They’re all weirdos in a romantic, toxic and codependent way.

English is not my first language.

Your life has stagnated into a familiar routine since the plane crash. To clean. Hunt. Eat. Exist. Survive. Doing the same chores in the cabin, the usual hunting trip, seeing the same faces every day, not dying of hunger. Not dying of boredom.

Nothing really seems to change other than the cultish trends that your friends seem to be slowly embracing, so if something different happens, you notice it immediately.

Once is an incidence.

Two, it could be a coincidence, but there are no coincidences in the wilderness.

Three is a pattern. That exists in the wilderness.

And the fourth is proof that there is definitely something weird going on – if you even have a sense of what is normal or not –, something that you have no idea what it is, but you know it’s there.

There's something wrong with your teammates. I mean, there's something wrong with all of you, but that's different even for them.

The thing is that you, thinking that maybe it was just in your head, only realized that you weren't imagining anything after the fifth time it happened and now that you know you can't stop thinking about it. Events keep coming back to you from times when this has happened before and you never connected the pieces.

You didn't notice at first, of course you didn't. Physical affection was becoming more common and normal between all of you every day and also because it was Jackie, the captain of your team, and physical affection on Jackie's part was already completely normal even before the plane crashed. She liked to pat you on the shoulder and hug you goodbye after classes and parties – as if she hadn't spent the day barking orders at everyone during practice, but it's Jackie and you really like her a lot, so it's okay –, you could always see her clinging to Shauna's arm, if not hers, then whoever was closest to replace her for a few minutes. Jackie likes to touch and you know it.

Receiving affection from her is like second nature, so you don't even blink when, on yet another boring and lazy afternoon, you give Jackie her old walkman, now repaired and working, and get a kiss as a thank you.

It was a silly treat to make her smile, just because she seemed so sad lately that it made you sad too. She squeals loudly and excitedly, before wrapping her arms around your neck and placing a kiss on your cheek.

She immediately runs off somewhere saying she was going to test it and show it to Shauna, completely abandoning the task of pretending to chop wood so you can complete it.

You only process what just happened when you hear a giggling coming from nearby, because of course Jackie would kiss you in front of your younger colleagues. One of them points at your cheek provocatively and you lift a hand to your face to feel the texture of pink and shiny lipstick marking your skin. Of course, silly you not to assume that Jackie Taylor wouldn't stop wearing makeup just because of some plane crash.

Whatever, you thought, not bothering to clean the mark. Jackie is sweet. She does things like that all the time, obviously you wouldn't think there's anything weird about it. It wasn't even the first time she kissed you. Kisses on the cheek were a thing long before you left civilization.

You only wipe the stain from your face, in a short and hasty gesture, when you return to the cabin and Mari makes one of her smart comments about it, because there really was no big deal, but the provocation still makes you a little nervous.

(Jackie wears lipstick a lot more often after that, even though she's quickly running out of the only one she has left, but you don't say anything. It would be really weird to imply that you noticed her lips that much. Which you didn't do, no way.)

The second time it happens shouldn't have left you as perplexed as it did, after all everyone knew that Shauna Shipman was never far behind Jackie in the things she did, but it didn't pass through your head that she would kiss you. It was Shauna. Even though she was never rude, you weren't really close and it was embarrassing to admit that you found her a little intimidating. She had a tendency to stare in silence for a long time, which made you avoid conversations whenever you could.

Well, it wasn't a kiss-kiss since it wasn't actually on the mouth, but seeing as you weren't expecting it at all, it could have been. You're learning that reading Shauna is much more complicated than it seems, making it difficult to know if what awaits you is a punch, a bite, or – the most recent discovery – a kiss.

It happened because of the thing that seemed to drive your little society: meat. Because the food was almost running out and no matter what you and Natalie brought, it seemed like there would never be enough. And Shauna was hungry. Painfully hungry.

She always seemed to get hungry more quickly than the others, craving meat with an almost drunken need and you didn't quite understand why, even though you had noticed this detail some time ago. So when you and Nat are seen arriving back at the cabin carrying a deer, a big deer, Shauna practically runs up to the two of you, basically ripping the antler out of the blonde's hands and making you stumble to follow her back to the meat house.

You offer to help her just out of politeness and how rushed she seems, without expecting a positive response since it was common knowledge that Shauna preferred to work alone.

However, she nods her head enthusiastically as she hands you a knife and you swear you've never seen someone look so happy to slit an animal's throat alongside someone else.

When the task is done, you end up at the door with a full tray ready to be prepared for dinner back and Shauna is right behind you, with that same enthusiasm and silent yearning. It's a little unnerving, but at least she's not staring at the back of your head like she's trying to burn you like she usually does. You guessed any progress was welcome.

You just didn't expect it to progress to Shauna pulling you by the elbow to face her and tilting your face towards hers. You're so startled by the sudden touch that you only feel your face heat up as hot, wet lips meet the corner of your mouth when Shauna pulls away, taking the tray from your hands as if it weighed nothing and continuing on her way, muttering a quiet and embarrassed “thank you” over her shoulder.

You stood there like an idiot, feeling your bottom lip and part of your cheek tingle where she touched you just a moment before.

So Shauna kissed you. Okay. Nice. Maybe she was just very grateful and very hungry. Twice, coincidence. Nothing more than that.

Right?

(Shauna looks away from you when she's caught staring at that night, which never had happened, but you attribute her red face to the fact that you're sitting by the fire.)

The third time is the one that makes you go “okay, maybe that's a thing now,” because apparently the kisses have nothing to do with Jackie-Shauna or simply gratitude – at least not entirely – and much more to do with the fact that it's you.

Which actually doesn't make much sense. Van and Taissa are together, why would either of them feel the need to kiss someone else? Why would they both feel? And why you? It's true they haven't told anyone yet, but you know. It's a little hard not to notice when they both disappear at the same time into the forest or behind the cabin so often, but still. You don't kiss other people when you're committed. It's a principle, damn it.

Anyway, it's starting to get cold, you think there's just over two months left until winter arrives, maybe less, which makes tasks much more complicated and annoying to do. Especially when it comes to washing clothes.

Luck – Mari's damn shuffle – decided that you, Tai and Van would be the ones to do the laundry this time and the three of you dragged yourselfs grumbling and complaining to the lake, carrying piles of clothes in your arms.

Now, of all the things you have to do around the cabin, scrubbing clothes in cold running water is probably the one you hate the most. Cold, wrinkled hands, chills running down your spine, ew. The fact that Van and Tai went with you makes things at least a little less boring, with the redhead happily filling the silence, her silly jokes making the task almost bearable to accomplish. Almost.

“Ugh,” You groan for what feels like the thousandth time in the last hour, “We’re gonna end up catching a cold like this.”

“You definitely will, if you keep annoying me like this,” Tai replies, swinging her arm towards you, cold water splashing in your arms, “I'm gonna push your dramatic ass into the river, I'm warning you.”

The drops make another chill run through your body, so just for the audacity, you straighten up and let your body fall against hers with the most done expression you can muster in a few seconds.

Tai screams your name indignantly when a wet t-shirt slips out of her hands and falls straight to the ground, but you don't pay much attention when lets out a loud and exaggeratedly long sigh, hearing Van’s laugh as she watches the scene.

And Van, wonderful, too sweet for her own good, Van, decides to finally take pity on your little show – maybe you really were spending too much time with Jackie – and finish what you had left of your part of the pile and you would definitely have jumped in her arms and kissed her for it, if you weren't, you know, in front of her girlfriend.

It turns out that blinking your eyes and sighing doesn't work as well for you as it does for Jackie, because as soon as you get ready to go back, bending down to pick up the heavy basket full of clothes, a familiar hand pushes your chest.

“Shit, Taissa!”

“I said I would do it, didn’t I?” She stands in front of you, hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised as she watches your form lying, shaking and soaking wet at the river's edge.

Van's laugh doesn't bring you that rush of happiness from moments before, since now you're sure that she only decided to help you because she knew what Tai was going to do anyway. That little shit.

You walk past them with the basket in your hands, a trail of water in your wake and a frown on your face.

The way back is completely silent, except for the sound of your fast breathing in your rush to get there and warm up and the girls' requests for you not to get upset over a silly joke. Whatever. You won't say a word to them no matter what they do.

“Oh, come on,” Van wraps an arm around your neck, “We didn’t want to make you so upset, right Tai?”

Tai moves closer, her shoulder brushing against yours, but you remain quiet regardless, even if your willpower to remain upset wanes a little.

“Right” she agrees, sounding very unconvincing, “What can we do to make it up to you?”

“We are so sorry,” Van reiterates, blinking innocently.

Your only response is a noise from your throat that sounds a lot like a petulant mumble and you feel the look they exchange over your shoulder.

And then Van's arm brings you closer and there are lips on either side of your neck. You freeze, breath hitches.

It's not fast like the other ones, but long and drawn out as if it's trying to prove you. A shiver runs down your spine and the baby hairs on the back of your neck stand up, even though you swear it's just because your skin is still damp from the fall. You can feel Van's hair tickling your face and Tai's breath is warm against your chin.

You blink and Van is walking away with a wolfish smile on her lips, whistling absentmindedly and Taissa has the basket you were carrying in her own arms.

“Aren’t you coming?” Van turns when she notices you still standing and Tai arches an eyebrow, as if to say 'so?' and you stumble after them.

“...Sure, whatever!” You stutter, face as red as your goalie’s hair, “But if I get sick, that’s on you!”

“You won’t!”

You return to the cabin with your head down, but for a completely different reason this time. You feel weird, embarrassed, even with your friends walking calmly beside you. It feels weird to just call them friends too.

(Three times – or was it four? It's a pattern. Definitely a pattern.)

You do, in fact, get sick and the fifth time feels more like a fever dream than anything.

Seriously. You survive a plane crash without any serious injuries, but a flu is what knocks you out. You end up in the attic, with a heavy chest, incessant sneezing and a high fever that won't let you sleep.

And of course, Misty Quigley hovering over you like a hawk.

In fact, all your friends seem to be hovering over you in an overprotective way these days, which might not be strange considering the situation, but other people in the group have gotten sick before, including the younger ones, and none of them have reacted like this.

Van and Tai spent the entire time staring like kicked puppies from across the room until Misty kicked them both downstairs so you could try to get some sleep. It wasn't doing much good, but the momentary tranquility was really aporeciated.

Misty has been with you the whole time since your fever started and you let her ramble happily while she plays nurse, putting damp cloths on your forehead and helping you drink hot tea, even though you insist you're well enough to do so. She seems very happy to be helpful, so you let her spoil you as much as she wants.

You turn over on the cold floor, wrapping the blankets tighter around you as you sneeze again and Misty sits next to you, but there's nothing she can do at the moment to make you better, so she stays still, looking nervous and pushing her glasses on the tip of the nose with her fingers.

You think about how she seemed to have looked with longing and something that might have been envy when Jackie ran her hand through your hair in the morning before going outside with Shauna after leaving you another blanket. She looked the same when Lottie rubbed your shoulder gently and spent time by your side throughout the afternoon, leaving what appeared to be a half-cut crystal near where your head rested. It's just like she wanted something, but didn't know what or if she could do it. You don't know exactly what too.

Your ears ring and you think about your teammates, your friends and kisses. Four kisses on three occasions. Things that didn't happen before, but apparently happen now and that follow a strange pattern. You wonder who will be next to follow it.

You do what you do next in the fog of sleep and fever, because you'll never be able to actually sleep if you don't have a proper place to rest your head. It has nothing to do with the possibility opened in your last thought.

Her legs are soft under the blue and yellow shorts she wears when you crawl around and rest your head on them and it's certainly much more comfortable than the floor.

“Talk,” You mumble, clearing your throat at the hoarse voice.

“What?” She squeaks and you can tell it caught her in surprise by the way her eyes roam over your form, unsure of what she just heard and what's going on.

Misty is clearly alarmed, arms raised above her body as if she's afraid to touch you, her glasses falling onto the tip of her nose again as she looks down to face you, blonde curls falling across her face.

“What– What are you doing?” She asks.

“Weren’t you saying something about Plato?” You hold back a yawn as you fix yourself on her lap, ignoring her question completely, “Come on, keep going.”

She seems to ponder for a second, jaw dropped in confusion, but you don't move, so she picks up where you assume she left off. After a few minutes listening with your eyes closed, you feel her soft hand rest hesitantly on your back, running her fingers up and down when you don't protest.

You let out a sigh when you finally manage to relax, her voice calming the ringing in your ears a little and when you squint your eyes, Misty seems perfectly satisfied.

That's it, you think, that's what she wanted then.

Your body still has sporadic chills, but you feel like falling asleep, having lost track of how much time has passed with Misty talking to the walls about whoever the philosopher of the moment is. Your head feels heavy, you can barely keep your eyes open. It's good not to be alone when you're like this.

You're not sure whether or not you imagine the cold lips against your warm forehead when you sleep, but it counts as success for your little test. Five.

(You only wake up the next morning, feeling much better and more energetic, even without remembering a single word you said to Misty, just having fallen asleep on her lap for a while. The way she blushes and laughs after that, staring and following you around whenever she can, says that she remembers it very well. Coach Ben gives you a look full of sympathy when he sees her clinging to your arm, which you don't quite understand.)

The sixth time happens in the middle of the forest. It's windy, sun almost down, with Natalie walking beside you. It's the most peaceful moment you've had in your life in weeks, and it's also the moment you realize that maybe there's something wrong with you as much as the rest of the team.

Nat is talking, complaining about how Travis – the closest thing she'll have to a boyfriend in this place – is mad at her. He won't hunt or talk to her, much less touch her.

That's why you're following her, actually, the hunting part. You don't have much sense of your place in the group compared to the others, doing a little bit of everything when necessary, but Natalie seems to enjoy your company on these occasions, even if your aim with the rifle isn't as good as hers.

You spend so much time listening to her complain about mundane things like condoms and the flask of old booze she found in dead-mummified-guy's stuff that you feel the absurd urge to laugh. It's so strangely normal – except for the mummy part, but still.

Maybe that was what made you open your mouth after minutes of silence and broken snorts:

“So he can't get it up once and now he's mad at you? Damn Nat, if you need someone to make out that badly then I could help you with that.”

It comes out half as a mockery, half as truth, because that's what you do. Help people, fix things. But it's sarcastic, because it's just a stupid idea for Natalie to even consider.

Except she suddenly goes quiet and when you turn your head, she's looking at you. Eyes half-closed, mouth open, wanting.

When she kisses you, you're already waiting, longing for it, arms wrapping around you and pressing your body against the nearest tree. You think about how she was the only one who had the courage to chase your lips, to take what she really wanted.

The only thing you can feel is the weight of Nat's hands – cold, always so cold, even though winter is still a while away – on your hips, one sliding up your back to grasp the hair at the back of your neck, lips parting and tongue finding yours almost desperately and then you can't think about anything else but her. Natalie, who is much stronger than she looks and who also holds her own to stay sane in this place much better than anyone could imagine. Natalie, the bane of your existence and also your best friend. Natalie, who kisses like she hunts: with all the confidence her reputation demands.

If you close your eyes tightly and try hard, you can almost pretend you're at one of Lottie or Jeff's parties, listening to your friend complain about a stupid boyfriend, getting euphoric because she likes you better than the said stupid boyfriend.

And then she's pulling away, mouth swollen and hair completely messed up from where your hands had been placed. The moment ends and you come back to reality, picking up the rifle from where it was lying on the grass and looking around uncertainly. You guys didn't catch anything today. Food is running out.

You return to the cabin in complete silence.

(You don't see Natalie trying to talk to Travis after this, nor him with her, but you don't think she cares.)

You stopped counting after that, kisses and touches becoming a blur in your mind as the days pass and your worry increases. Whatever this is seems less important than what's happening at the moment: little food, few coats, winter approaching, a fucking baby coming.

However, it all comes back to them anyway, when you finally realize that you were right all along, that there really was something wrong with all of you and everything goes south quickly when someone decides to put mushrooms in the food.

It was an unspoken knowledge between you that the Yellowjackets would never be able to have a proper homecoming, so when the idea of a doomcoming came up in the conversation, even as a bad joke, you were one of the first to agree to it. A bittersweet goodbye sounded better than nothing.

You just didn't expect everyone to end up on drugs and acting like they were in some kind of cult. What did you miss that got you all to this point?

There is someone howling in the forest. Someone, not an animal. Or maybe they really were animals, given the way they're all chasing you now.

Just a moment ago you were genuinely enjoying the night, dancing with Ravi to Lottie's humming music and drinking fermented punch for who knows how long, even with a small feeling of being watched sent shivers down your spine at times. Then there was no sign of Ravi or Travis – nor Coach Ben, but he escaped somewhere in the woods with Natalie's canteen in his hand the second Misty's back was turned – and things started to get... confusing after everyone helped themselves to some stew.

Now there's someone howling in the forest and your head is spinning, hurried footsteps sound behind you as you end up back in front of the cabin after running in circles, a rabbit cornered by an entire pack.

Leaves are stuck in your hair, the hem of your dress is torn and covered in dirt, and you're sure you scraped one of your knees while running. There are also a bunch of dilated pupils focused on you.

Shauna is the first to approach, which surprises you so much that it gives the others time to do the same, big, sad, hazy brown eyes seeming to see deep into your soul.

“Why do you keep running away from us?” she asks, a pout that you can't tell if it's fake or not formed on her face, sliding a hand gently up your arm to your waist pulling you close and keeping her grip tight.

Jackie has her head cocked to the side and a smile painted red rather than pale pink like the first. She looks a little more composed than you'd expect, standing next to Shauna and bouncing in her step expectantly.

That was all it took to realize that you couldn't pull away even if you wanted to, melting against the scalding skin as if you had no problem getting burned.

“I'm not. I just… I don’t know what’s going on.”

The words came out slow and slurred on your tongue as if you didn't know exactly what you were referring to. This whole crazy night? Absolutely, but there are also so many other moments not recognized before.

You find yourself guided back to the cabin when you hear Lottie's voice in the background and Misty taking your hand to guide you. It all ends up there anyway.

You're unsure when you're placed in the pile of blankets and sheets on the floor, the lit fireplace warms the room like never before and there seem to be hands everywhere when Natalie enters your field of vision.

“I think you're a little too high right now, hun,” Nat scoffs, as if she's amused by your slowness.

You feel a laugh grow in your chest though you don't mean to, “You– you think so?”

“Yep,” she clicks her tongue, “The mushrooms hit hard.”

“Mushrooms!?” You let out a squeak of surprise when you're suddenly pulled back against someone's front, recognizing Taissa's nails scratching your back through your dress.

“Sorry,” Misty mutters disjointedly, tracing the lines of your palm like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

“What–”

You stop mid-sentence when you make a sound in the back of your throat as you feel Van's teeth graze the junction of your shoulder and neck, bright green eyes and a wolfish smile on her recently healed face. You knew right away who the hell was howling.

“Oh, come on,” Van echoes with the same provocation from the day in the lake, “Don't tell me you're afraid of It.”

“It?” Your breath hitches when a hand guides your head up and there she is.

Lottie Matthews looking down at you, an antler crown on her head that makes you slack-jawed and hazy looking, looking completely divine and you hesitate when you realize that the entire team has gathered around you, as if they were waiting for something. What the fuck is going on?

Lottie leans down to your level, face dangerously close to you, and you swallow hard when your eyes settle on her lips. She never kissed you, not like the others, something that always left a doubt in your head; an almost embarrassing curiosity to know what it would be like.

She meets your eyes with a malicious gleam, like she knows exactly what you're thinking and leans in a little more and just as you close your eyes to meet hers, hunger lips stray to your jaw.

“Lottie–” you squirm and the hands on your hips hold you tighter.

Nat silences you, running her fingers through your face provocatively while Lottie trails kisses down your neck, working her way down. Everything seems too stuffy, like you're melting at their touch.

“It's okay,” she reassures, cold, chapped lips finding your chest, teeth scraping the skin, “It wants us to, can't you feel It?”

You can't feel it, not really, you never understood this strange connection everyone seemed to feel with the wilderness that you didn't, but there are gentle hands caressing you, making you sink deeper and deeper and Lottie is finally kissing you, just like you wanted; lips stopping right over your heart, as if she wanted to devour it.

“Yeah,” you say, “I feel it.”

You're sure the cabin is on fire, but you're the only one who's burning.

#yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #van palmer x reader #taissa turner x reader #misty quigley x reader #shauna shipman x reader #jackie taylor x reader #nat scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets show #denwrites

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l0tt1emy · 3 months

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🦌 || That doesn't justify

LottieMatthews x F!reader

Summary: Lottie really wants you

Warnings: SMUT, Dom?Lottie, oral(R receiving)overstimulation

A/n: HI BABYS, I'm back with this obscenity, I promise I'll improve the plots more...😍 If I disappear again they can hunt me

lottie knows that she was always the most responsible in your relationship, always pulling you when you started a fight, or when you were going to do something that would consequently affect you a lot in the future.

but now she can't think of anything else in her stupid little mind, she knows you're right, and there's something wrong because you're being more mature than she thought, she didn't know she needed so much just to fuck you or feel you on her fingers, but she knew that the shit of her responsibility was going to force her to take drastic measures

she did everything she could, when you were in the cabin looking for a bikini to take a bath in the lake with talassa she was watching you and predictably impossible you saw her and cursed her with words that didn't matter much to her if she could see her pink nipples

She is mentally cursing herself for being stupid and having ruined ALL her chances of having something with you when she was bitten by a small, more powerful insect that made her cough a lot and not want to eat...at least food

She tried to grope your breasts or blatantly kiss your neck and you let her, but when her hand went down to your pants you immediately stopped, and that was frustrating. but now she took the best chance of her life, you couldn't be cruel to her, so when she asked you with her puppy dog eyes to sleep with her you accepted, not knowing what was coming

when all the girls were sleeping including you she knew it was time, she slowly got up and knelt in front of you, when she looked at your face, red from the intense cold and then at your small body in front of her he was so sleepy, just moving through his breathing, the longer she looked the more she noticed, how hard his nipples were even without her doing anything "bitch". that's what lottie thinks

She slowly climbs on top of you, whimpering when she makes contact with one of your thighs, then puts her face on your neck and kisses him. One hand goes under your shirt, making you shiver because her hands were cold.

You whimper and move in your sleep as you feel kisses going to the other side of your body, Lottie drops her hands down to your pants, and finally you're not a stupid bitch and let her reach down to find your clit after years Even though she knew you couldn't, that was the best thought, Lottie reaches your pussy and surprisingly you are wetter than she thought, She takes her index finger and passes it through her entrance and then goes up, rubbing her small and already swollen clitoris while her face reaches your breasts, she wastes no time and her warm, welcoming mouth goes towards one of your sensitive nipples, making you scream in your dream, Lottie sucks him, and pays attention to him while she continues to rub your clitoris, with the other hand she reaches for your other breast and takes one of the nipples between her fingers and twists it until she feels you twitch and murmur, almost waking up.

then she moves away from her nipple and reaches back until she reaches her pants, she gently pulls it back making her skin burn with cold and she is more surprised, her panties are absolutely wet

" you're a bitch...I didn't even do anything...and...you're already like this... " Lottie gives a cocky smile and pulls out her pussy, a thick thread of arousal connecting from her pussy to her panties, lottie screams mentally when she sees how shiny your pussy is, she kneels and licks a stripe up to your clit, making you shudder, she ends up losing herself and puts her lips on your clit desperate for attention she sucks him and inserts two fingers at once into her pussy and inserts them at a fast speed while alternating between sucking her clit and her entrance

lottie feels your clit throb and swell against her lips and sucks harder, until she feels your walls tightening, squeezing your fingers, and feels you rubbing against her face as you whimper, still sleeping

"uh..l-lottie.. what i-...what are you...uhg..." you without thinking pull her face impossibly deeper into your desperate pussy "oh..shit...im.."

" Are you going to cum?..you're a whore..you didn't even know who you were but you're just enjoying this" lottie says muffled by her pussy and puts another finger in her pussy,

with a few more quick thrusts and lottie feels her juices on her lips taking everything with her tongue and sucking it clean, but then he goes up to her clit and sucks more

" It's too much...too much for me lottie" you say as you try to pull her head away from your poor red, overstimulated pussy from the old orgasm.

" Accept it like the bitch you are" lottie says roughly as she sucks your clit harder and raises a hand to your mouth as your moans increase the closer you get to your 2nd orgasm

"lottie...cum..Im coming.." you drawl and quickly while in another moment your back is arched and a silenced scream passes your lips

you are breathing heavily when you feel the hot mouth leave happily close to your poor pussy as you close your eyes and sigh unable to speak, but you feel a weight and a robust and tall body lay down next to you

"why did you do that?"..you ask breathlessly and the question hangs in the air as you only feel Lottie's hands now on your stomach "shh..." lottie silences you and puts her head on your neck" you need to put get your clothes back before anyone wakes up.."

#lottie yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #shauna shipman #shauna yellowjackets #shauna shipman x reader #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #natalie x reader #lottie mathews #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews smut #lottie mathews x reader

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rosie-zia · 9 months

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Luxiem Drabbles

Scenario: Luxiem's significant other turned into Luxiem’s own fan mascots. Word Count: 3.3k+ all in all Genre: Fluff, comedy, & comfort. Note: I apologize in advance if the Luxiem boys are a bit OOC. I tried my best, and I hope you enjoy!

Vox Akuma:

Around the palace of the voice demon, you wandered the great long corridors, admiring every single detail and structure of the castle. As you walked in the halls, you would check each of the rooms to see if everything was in order before Vox Akuma returns home.

By the end of the hall was a door that you have never seen before. Curiosity has drawn you into the room. When you opened the door, it was an isolated room. You only saw some things that might have belonged to Vox. An album, a samurai sword, and other trinkets that you could possibly find. You felt like you were crossing Vox's privacy, so you tried to leave the room quickly.

However, you heard a small voice enter your mind. You turned around and no one was there. You looked around again just to make sure no one is in the same room as you, but you noticed red mist surrounding you. You looked for the source of this mysterious smoke, and the mist comes from the shiny Oni mask displayed on the left side of the room. Inhaling the smoke made you draw closer to the mask. There was no holding back anymore as you touched the mask before you fell unconscious.

A few moments later, you wake up in a random room and see Vox's trusted assistant, Oni Giri, trying to wake you up. Oni Giri explained about what happened to you, and how you passed out all of the sudden from the curse of the mask. Now, you turned into a biblically accurate fallen angel with eight dark wings, a huge eye, a pair of black horns with horizontal golden lines, white hair, and extra two white wings. Your new transformation made you look like one of his Kindreds. At first, you weren't able to process it properly, but when it did, it hit like a truck and made you panic. You worry about Vox's reaction.

It didn't take long before Vox arrived hurriedly in the scene, as it was right for you to worry because he tries to hold you like a plushie and examines you for any wounds.

"Darling, who did this to you? I swore if I ever find this person, I would absolutely hunt them down!"

Before things could even get dirty, Oni Giri explained the whole situation which calmed him down, but still wary about how you are feeling at the moment. Once you two are alone, Vox holds you in the most gentle way possible.

"It's alright now, my beloved, I'm here now. Let me take care of you like how I take care of my other Kindreds."

Soon enough, he leads you to a room filled with lots of friendly Kindreds and also locks the cursed room to keep you safe from the curse hitting you again.

Kindreds take one of the unique form as they appear like biblically accurate fallen angels. Their form can spook or scare someone, but Kindreds are sweet creatures. Kindreds are known as one of the most loyal species to their owner as they were drawn to the demon's sophisticated and alluring voice. At first, Kindred thinks very highly of their owner due to his elegance and his royal-like demeanor. Now, they still look up to him but in a different way that they got to see his true self free from expectations. Also, Kindred would work hard in helping whatever they can to do to show their gratitude to Vox. Whether someone is a Kindred or not, no one can resist the demon's charms and wit, so they will always fly back into his arms.

Luca Kaneshiro:

In the four corners of the manor, you waited for your boyfriend and mafia boss to come home from an important mission. It was getting too lonely whenever he had an errand to take care of in the mafia, so you had to find new ways to entertain yourself for the time being when he's gone.

This time, you were drinking some tea in your bedroom with Luca's lion cub, Augustus, idling away and enjoying the peace you have to yourself. The tea you were drinking was a gift from Shu since you want to try and explore different tea blends. Halfway through drinking the tea, you were getting a bit dizzy, and Augustus noticed it. He kept nudging you, but you assured him that you were fine. You don't know if it's from the tea or just from the times you spent with so much passion with Luca on the bed, but you can't keep your eyes anymore that you ended up passing out on the bed.

You woke up feeling normal but still groggy, trying to recall what happened before you passed out. You looked at the time and it's five in the evening. You feel like it's still too early for Luca to come home, so you will be expecting him sooner or later. Augustus saw you were awake and kept licking your face.

"mmm... Augustus, you know I'm sleeping. You can wait for Luca to come home and play with you."

Usually, you would get up from the bathroom and wash up after your nap, but something doesn't feel right when everything in your vision looks a bit bigger. You didn't feel like going to the bathroom this time, so you reached out to your pocket mirror by your nightstand and saw you turned into a small lion cub like Augustus.

"Wait- Augustus, what happened?! Why am I small and I look like you?"

You examined your features before reaching out to your phone and contacting your boyfriend. Although you know he's on the mission, it won't hurt to call him in the middle of his work, right? Surprisingly, he picked it up immediately.

"Oh, hey, babe. What's up?"

"Sorry for bothering you, Luca, but can you come home a bit earlier?”

“Oh yeah, I’m already on my way home, Y/N. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Alright, see you soon.”

You hung up as you slouched on the bed. While waiting for Luca, you played with Augustus. After exactly ten minutes, Luca barged into your room feeling a bit upbeat.

“Baby, I’m home! You sounded like you were panicking through our phone call. Are you alright?”

He expected to meet his partner on the bed, but he was surprised to see that his lover, you, turned into a Lucub. The young mafia boss may look amused about your transformation, but don’t let his expressions fool you because he’s clenching his fist.

“Alright, who did this to you? I just want to talk-”

“NONONO, it’s alright, maybe it’s temporary.”

Before you could explain yourself, Luca was already calling his friend, Shu, to ask him what to do in this situation you are in. He eventually hung up after talking to the sorcerer.

“Shu said you’ll be back in your own physical form tomorrow. Don’t worry too much, okay? It’s not good for you.”

As much as you were worried about how you will turn back to your normal self, you can’t help but listen to Luca. All your thoughts disappeared as you felt your man’s hand petting you.

“You look so adorable, and you really are fit to be a Lucub.”

You laughed at what Luca said and his bright smile made your worries fade away.

“Well… I’m your biggest fan.”

“Haha, Pog!”

From there, you and Luca played games and talked all day together along with Augustus by your side. It’s always nice to be with your number one himbo.

Lucubs are similar to lion cubs and the spitting image of Augustus. Additionally, Lucubs took an oath to work as bodyguards under the Kaneshiro mafia. They tend to be very huggable and lovable towards their owner as they really cherish him to the point they would kill everyone in the room and then themselves. Their owner may describe himself as the “mean and evil” mafia boss, but they try to prove him wrong and call him a “himbo.” Whether one is a Lucub or not, one will always ask if they are now facing the sun due to how bright his smile and personality is.

Ike Eveland:

It was an ordinary day as you cleaned out your boyfriend’s streaming room. Ike was out for the day to buy some groceries for the two of you, so you wanted to return the favor by cleaning his room. You were simply dusting his novels when suddenly a book fell off the shelf. It was an odd-looking book with an ancient design. You decided to open it, and the book glowed which then blinded your sight of vision.

After a while, you opened your eyes, and everything around you turned big from your perspective. You looked into your reflection on the marble floor and suddenly, you turned into a huge white ball of fluff with a blue feather on top. You were panicking, but you even panicked more when you heard yourself only saying small squeals and soft noises. After a small breakdown, you decided to wait for Ike to return home.

A few moments later, Ike returned a bit frustrated from driving to your shared home; however, his road rage somehow disappeared when he saw a huge white ball of fluff with a huge blue feather sticking out on top of it. The novelist pauses on his tracks and tries to have a double take if he is seeing things correctly and not just being delusional. Knowing that you cannot explain things by words, you picked up a pen and a paper to describe what happened.

“So you’re saying that you turned like this by a book from my shelf?”

You nodded apologetically while Ike picked up the same ancient book that turned you into a Quilldren. He scanned the book and then placeed it back on the shelf.

“Ah, this must belong to Shu. It says here the spell will just last for the whole day. Tomorrow, you’ll return to your own self in no time. Don’t worry too much, okay?”

As much as you wanted to speak with words, you let out sad noises and looked down on the ground. Ike sensed how you felt bad for troubling him, but it’s no trouble for him at all. He wanted you to at least cheer up, so he sat on his gaming chair and patted his lap, inviting you.

“I’ll be having my Zatsu stream today. Would you like to sit on my lap, älskling?”

Hearing those words from him made you so happy that your feather perked up in excitement. You made your way to his lap, and it felt like heaven. Ike started streaming and talked with chat about his usual day and some random topics to throw at. From time to time, your boyfriend will give you head pats and head rubs to assure you he’s there to hold you secure and safe.

The highlight of Ike’s chatting stream was when chat starting to ask for “lap rights” and he gave in after some persuasion from you and other Quilldrens. When his stream ended, Ike laughed and patted you once more.

“You and the Quilldren are a feisty bunch aren’t you? Hehe, never change, my älskling"

Quilldren come in various sizes, but they appear like fluffy cotton balls with a blue feather on top. Mostly, Quilldren can convey their feelings through their feathers similarly to a dog’s tail. These cotton balls may be endearing and sweet but won’t hesitate to bite back to their owner. Despite their different behaviors, they will unite as one to demand “lap rights” from their owner until they get what they want.

Shu Yamino:

You and Shu live together in the comfort of your shared home just chilling in each other’s presence, and you two will always help out each other. One day, he asked for your help. You were planning to do something else, but you were persuaded by your boyfriend and had to bribe you with extra food which led you in helping him with his chores.

Currently, you two are sorting out his spell books that he keeps in the basement. Most of them are collecting dust for being there for too long, so you tried your best to clean them.

"Is it really safe to keep them here? How about you just keep these books in your room?"

"I think it's safe enough as long as I don't chant or activate any spells from the books, and I can't put my spell books in my room because it doesn't fit anymore in there."

Shu smiles while you roll your eyes at the sly sorcerer. You both then get back to work, and you've finished cleaning Shu's bookshelf of spells.

"Alright! We're finally done. Now, where's the food that you promised?"

"Yeah yeah, I'll order the food you want. Just tell me what you want, and I'll order it for you."

As you two left the basement, your foot hit something from the ground and it's a thick book.

"Hmm? I think we might have missed this one. Hold on, I'll just put this back on the shelf."

"WAIT, Y/N, DON'T-"

Before you could even react, there was a glowing and blinding light inside of the basement like your whole life was flashing in your very eyes. You close your eyes for a moment, and then open it. Everything was blurry at first, but it was all clear when you looked in the mirror and you became... a banana?

"AHHHH SHU, WHY DID I BECOME A BANANA?!"

Shu also opened his eyes and saw your sudden transformation. He was silent at first, trying to process the current events unfolding before laughing so hard.

"Eyyyyy, you're a Yaminion now!"

"SHUUU!"

"Don't worry, don't worry! The effects are just temporary, you'll be just fine."

Throughout the whole day, Shu tried to compensate for what happened with a lot of your favorite comfort foods and lots of pampering. Your boyfriend does tease you from time to time though, but you don't mind as long as he keeps paying you back with food.

Yaminions take the form of bananas with stick-like arms and legs, occasionally wearing sunglasses to represent their swag. Unlike Quilldren, Yaminions are on the cooler side of things like their owner. Though they are chill, they don't experience much "fanservice." They go through means in order for their owner to give them some crumbs of affection to go throughout their day. If ever their owner would give a once in a lifetime pick-up lines, who knows what would happen to the hearts of the Yaminions.

Mysta Rias

At present, you are in Mysta’s apartment because he called you to come over. When you arrived, you saw a small note and it was written by your boyfriend, saying he had to leave urgently because of a serious investigation. At the back of his note, he added something and asked a favor to you to look out for his pets “Mystakes.” You sighed, concerned how hard he’s working, but that’s one of the reasons why you fell for him. You opened the door to Mysta’s apartment with one of his spare keys that he gave you.

Once you entered in, all of his Mystakes pounced on you. You almost tripped, but you were able to balance yourself.

“Hey, guys! Hehe, it’s nice to see you all again! Did you miss me?”

The foxes nodded happily as they helped clean Mysta’s room. Looking around at his apartment, there were boxes and some luggage lying around. You were wondering why they were packing Mysta's stuff until you remembered he was moving out to another city. As you watch them pack his things, you can't help but notice how sad they look, so you try your best to cheer them up.

"Awww, don't be sad. It's going to be alright, guys. I know you will miss him, but he says how much he loves you all. Wherever he goes, he'll always carry his Mystakes in his heart."

Some of his foxes are crying while the others are happy for him, but they just want the best for him at the end of the day. You let them process their emotions first before speaking up to give your idea.

"There are still a few days left before Mysta moves out, so better make the most of it with him and just have a blast!"

The small foxes looked at each other before looking back at you mischievously, certainly planning something in mind. This made you a bit nervous when you saw how the Mystakes kept approaching you until they threw themselves and piled on top of you.

"h-huh? w-what are you doing, guys? HEY WAIT-"

Those were the last words you uttered before chaos struck because somehow, you are now in the same physical form as them.

"I'm a Mystake?! How is this possible? Please change me back!"

Mysta's sly pets looked at you feeling proud of their work. It seems that they don't have any plans in changing you back to your original form, so you texted Mysta to just come home ASAP without telling him any details.

This led your boyfriend to get frantic when he read your message. After a while, Mysta finally returns home with a concerned expression on his face. He thought something serious had happened to you, so he ran home as fast as he could. The detective barged in the room and kept screaming your name.

"*huff* *pant* *pant* BABE?! Where are you? I tried to come home as fast as I could after receiving your text. Answer me!"

Looking now at the events before him, his face turned into a blank expression as soon as he understood the situation.

"Ah! Mysta! Thank goodness you are here. I became one of your foxes. Help me change back!"

"Ayo, they changed you into a Mystake, huh? Not surprising though since they can really pull tricks out of their sleeves."

"Will I be like this for a long time?"

"Nah, It will just last for a day. You'll be fine, trust me. I was turned into one of them, and it's not that bad."

You give him a suspicious look before trusting him and letting your boyfriend take care of you. You two, along with the Mystakes, ended up playing some games, chilling, and enjoying each other's company. It was just a usual day for Mysta streaming, but the smallest and simplest things count as precious memories.

After a day of gaming, Mysta ended the livestream and helped you prepare for bed. Even being in a form of a fox right now, Mysta didn't mind snuggling into you for the night. You two then eventually fell asleep in each other's arms.

In the morning, Mysta opened his eyes as he felt the morning light hit his eyes. When his eyes were fully opened, he saw now how you finally turned into your original human form. As much as Mysta wants to wake you up to tell you that, he held himself back to look at your peaceful figure.

Your boyfriend brushed away any strands blocking your face while whispering the words he has been keeping to himself for a long time.

"You may be one of my Mystakes, but I never made a big mistake in loving you."

Mystakes are sly and mischievous foxes who tease and joke around their detective, but their behavior represents as a sign of affection towards their beloved owner. Foxes are known to form strong bonds with their owner or to their loved ones, and Mystakes show how loyal they can be to their owner. They don't hesitate to tell their owner how comfortable they are around him until his final moments. From the start until the beginning of the end, Mystakes stood up as strong ones, wanting for their owner to be happy and live his life to the fullest.

Fin.

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A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for reading my work and for your support >_< Sorry I took so long. This is dedicated to the boys of Luxiem, especially to our beloved detective Mysta Rias. He taught me to stay strong and keep smiling in times of hardships and difficulties. He became a part of my life that I will never forget. Mysta, wherever you are, I hope you are living the best life. I will always pray for you and your safety as you solve the next case. Good luck on your work, detective! Spread the love!

#luxiem fluff #luxiem x reader #nijisanji en #ike eveland x reader #shu yamino x reader #mysta rias x reader #vox akuma x reader #nijisanji x reader #luca kaneshiro x reader #luxiem headcanons #luxiem #ike eveland #shu yamino #luca kaneshiro #vox akuma #mysta rias

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parkermunson · 1 year

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Siren!Eddie Part 2

(Part 1)

summary: Lone siren Eddie has been on his own for a long time, without other sirens or human food. He's been told since birth to stay away from humans unless they're dead, but you change his nature. He just needs to figure out how to make contact. [2k words]

t/w: Eddie's a siren so mentions of blood/eating people. Lots of cute curiosity.

a/n: This isn't mythically accurate (maybe?). I love fish and know enough about them to base Eddie's mannerisms and thinking off how a fish would. They're sorta like golden retrievers in that they believe by doing one specific thing, it will always have the same reaction. And a siren that collects things? Adorable.

He had never seen a human up-close that wasn't fighting for their life. The moment anyone entered the water, his people were on them like a shark to fresh blood. Or... they were like that.

When humans stopped entering the water, his people left in search of a better hunting ground. Sirens need food to survive, and although they prefer humans, they can survive off the creatures of the water. He had never taken a human life, merely fed off the scraps of a kill brought in by another siren. It was said, the more a siren kills, the stronger they become, the more irresistible. For this reason, he never appeared to humans. He feared he would scare them before even getting close due to his lack of irresistibility. He could practically hear his people lecturing about the dangers of being seen by the wrong human. "They'll spear you, and scale you before you're even dead. Maybe put you in a glass bowl so they can point and stare. No humans unless they're food."

His tail bobbed in the shallow water, scales glittering in the soft, hazy sunrise. Each thrust of a wave against him felt like a beckoning to go back home, to go back to safety. Yet he felt you were different. You waited for him, didn't you? He watched while you looked through your reading, took in your gentle movements with each page flip.

The sandcastle stood tall on the beach still. The shell on top a shiny white. He had heard about the ways of humans raising a white cloth to signify peace, but he had no cloth and was forced to work with what he had. After all, the shell was pretty enough, despite its little size. Had he not seen you, he would have added it to his collection.

You made him a giver, not a taker, combatting his true nature. He had barely even smelled you, and you were already having such an effect on him. The moment you entered the waters, his waters, he knew he had to act. But humans look so different alive than they do when floating dead. He had no idea what to do other than gawk at you beneath the water. Your legs glided through the water flawlessly and you didn't even have fins! Your body heat charged the waves with electricity, giving the water a new life it yearned for after being empty for so long. He had to touch you just once. Reaching out a webbed hand toward your hip, where your tail would have started if you were born in his world, he pinched the skin. Immediately pulling away when you ran, but needing more. The electricity shocked him. You were so warm and soft, no slime or scales. Your energy was a magnet, or perhaps he was lonely after all this time.

The sun had reached over the water's horizon fully, but the sand was still empty, aside from the castle. With each passing moment without you, the castle felt like a taunting joke to him. A glimpse into the world he could never enter, cursed to the water to live in darkness, surrounded by dead things. Perhaps, you would come back if he brought more gifts. You came when he gave you the shell, what about more?

Swimming as fast as his tail could glide, he dove through the schools of fish on their daily route in search of food. The little ones ducking behind their elders as he dove around. At any other time, they would be food, but he was on a mission. The cove was a distance and he wasn't as fast as before. Fish weren't nearly as nutritious to a siren's system as humans, but he made do.

The rock formations wound in wide loops, openings peaking out every which place. It was perfect for him. Enough light streaming in from the distant surface to signify the time of day, deep enough to prevent any surface creatures from finding him during rest, and large enough for his collections. The shells clung to the floor in their dead state, lacking algae or sand. He was peculiar about his collections, making sure they were clean always. In a siren mate, this was respectable and sought after. Even with no one around to impress, he found it helped pass the time.

Did you prefer flat shells? Shiny? Shells with intricate designs? He had so many, he wanted to show them all. Grabbing a maroon-and-white scallop with deep ridges, and a pure white tulip shell with a shiny outer-edge, he set off back to the beach. The water was becoming crowded with the day fish, commencing their business as they did a few hours prior. Dodging his fellow water creatures was a task, and the shells slid around in his slimy hands. If he didn't get them to the beach, the possibility of you not coming back was likely, and it was something he couldn't risk.

The fish parted as he passed, letting the larger body through to prevent harm to their smaller frames. They were aware of him in these waters, swimming around carelessly with no tasks. Many had fallen prey to his hunger, but he didn't seem interested for now. No cause for concern.

The shallow edge of the water was approaching and his speed decreased with every inch. The doubt began setting in that he chose the wrong shells. Now you would never come back. When his tail began dragging along the floor and the crown of his head kissed the water's surface, he stopped. Sinking to the floor in a huff and staring daggers into the gifts in his webbed fingers. He barely noticed your foot dipping into the water's edge in front of him. But then he felt it, that electric charge. A human in the water. Your scent permeated his gills and nostrils. You were here!

How would one approach a human without intent to eat? This was never covered by his people, and his ancestors would surely scorn him for even thinking it. But then you were approaching and he was crawling back with intense fear. You were feet away, staring right at him. His hair floating around him in a crown on the surface being a dead giveaway.

"Hey, it's okay! I won't hurt you," you tried. He stopped moving at hearing your voice.

Slowly raising his head above water, he did his best to keep you from seeing the parts of him non-human. You stood tall above him, the water only coming up to your upper-thigh.

Your giggle was like a melody he would never stop replaying in his head. Were you a new form of siren? Was this why he was drawn to you so much?

"You can really hold your breath! How have I never seen you before?" Your inquisitive nature was unnerving. His human language skills were a little rusty from time. He could always just nod and smile wide, like he would do during lectures from his people. But his teeth! The sharp needles filling his mouth weren't human in the slightest. You would know. He clenched his jaw shut tightly, looking anywhere but you.

"Alright then. Secretive. I like it. Well, this beach is public, so you can use it whenever you like. I'm just happy it isn't only me out here!" Your arms are swinging everywhere while you talk, gesturing at the sand, the ocean, the sky, him. He wants to disappear beneath the water but then he remembers the gifts. You're about to turn around and head back to the beach when he shoves a shell into your hand and hides his webbed fingers beneath the water quickly. You look at him concerned, then to your hand. The shell is beautiful, full of rich browns, reds, and whites. It's a scallop, one of your favorite shells. You run your fingers over the ridges, taking in the texture from years of formation.

"Is this what you were doing down there? Searching for shells?" Your wide eyes draw him closer by a few inches. Should he speak? What if just talking causes you to fall under the siren spell? He nods awkwardly, not wanting to risk it.

"This is a good find! You deserve to keep it," you tried handing it back to him. He dipped his head lower under the water until the tip of his nose was beneath the surface. His head was searching for the gesture for 'no' but his brain was short-circuiting. This was overwhelming and beyond comprehension. He was trying to befriend a human! What would his people think if they were here? On second thought, if they were here, you'd be dead already. Your lifeless body leaving a crimson trail in the water, body chewed through like nothing.

His head was screaming to leave, but his body was drawn to you like a spell. You were so warm, and he was so cold. The water was cruel in temperature. It's why he liked swimming in the shallow edges, where the sand soaked up the sun's heat. He would lay there for hours, warming his body up for the cold nights.

Your hand pulled away at the lack of answer from him. The confusion wracked through you, but this town had its fair share of.. interesting people. And the tourists weren't any better. You closed your other hand over the shell, holding it to your chest. "Thank you." The only answer in return was him rising his chin against the surface again. You smiled and turned back to the beach. He wanted to follow you on your journey back to land but decided that would be unsafe. He'll have to take his time with this. You were worth it. Your voice, your body, your being. He wanted to drown in it.

It felt like hours you sat on the sand reading from your book while he pretended to search for more shells in the shallow water. He would lift his head up every few minutes, pretending to catch his breath. In reality, he was checking to make sure you were still there. The task of hiding his tail beneath the water was tremendously difficult. He had to practically sit on it to keep the fins from appearing. You were a distance away, and would probably say it was a wave anyway, but he didn't want to risk it.

After some time, he got tired of pretending to swim around. He wanted you near again. Without second guessing, he threw the second shell in your direction. The hollow shell bounced off the tip of your book and landed on your reclined chest with a little bounce. You closed the book and picked up the object to examine closely, admiring the shiny surface and bright color. Sitting up, you look at the stranger and smile. "It's beautiful! A tulip!" Covering your eyes from the sun, you spot him nodding from the water.

The sun's heat sizzles off the water, reflecting in a blinding light that hurts. You can barely see anything, can barely even see him. It was getting hotter by the second, and your body was suffering. Looking at your phone, you realize it's past noon. A good time for lunch.

"Hey, I think I'm gonna make something to eat." His throat lurched at the human, something he would usually see as food, say the word 'eat.' "You're welcome to join me! I live right over the dropoff." That awkward silence again. Not an answer, but enough to guess from. "Or you could keep looking," you trailed off with a frown. "It'll give you some alone time on the beach, I guess. But I'll be back in a bit, if that's okay?" He nodded from the water at a hurried pace. He didn't want you to leave, but it would give him enough time to grab more shells for this pretend game. You waved him off and headed over the dropoff, glancing over your shoulder once out of curiosity. He hadn't moved an inch.

When you were out of sight, he pushed his tail out from beneath him, finally flattening it out straight in a long stretch. He floated like that for a while, taking in the possibilities that could come from this breakthrough. Regardless of the outcomes, he had to make you see him. And for that, he needed more shells.

Tagging some cuties: @strangerthings1983fan @harrys-tittie @jobean12-blog @idkidknemore

Part 3

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #siren!eddie #siren!eddie munson #siren au #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #mandi writes #parkermunson

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orion4ever · 7 months

Note

Hello! This is my first time requesting something (like ever), so please forgive me if I did something wrong :)

Could I request a step 1 Qiu x MC where MC is super interested in ghosts/paranormal things/haunted dolls, and is considered offputting/scary because of it (when in reality they're a total sweetheart)? Scenario/prompt is up to you! If it's not too specific to add on, MC could be super shy/only really open to him and Tamarack.

Thank you, and have a good day/night! ♡

Author’s note: Hi, Thank you for requesting! The step 2 stuff is being delayed rn so It's good that I have a step 1 request rn! I don’t like keeping people waiting! This is a short scenario! Hope you like it!

Pairing: Step 1! Qiu Lin x Paranormal Fanatic MC

It was a week before Halloween, MC and Qiu were standing around Mrs. Murray’s room after school and talking about anything new, Qiu told MC about a sticker his dad bought for him and how he decided to put it on his bike helmet.

“It's super cool , it's a black cat with galaxy sunglasses!” he described, his finger drawing a cat shape in the air to further elaborate to his friend.

“That's nice of your dad to get it for you, You have to show it to me later.” MC replied, earnestly. Earning a bright smile from the young boy.

“I will , I can promise that!…What about you? Anything interesting you wanna show?” Qiu asked , curious.

Qiu and Tamarack were aware of MC’s interest in the scary and paranormal. With permission from both of them , MC had showed them lots of interesting little wonders that they had acquired: tiny bones you found in woods, ghost stories your mom bought etc.

MC showed some of their other classmates these trinkets sometimes too, but they would get scared and find the peculiar child off-putting or a little scary; wondering why you would even suggest playing Ouija board for indoor recess instead of coloring in a cute character or playing heads up seven up.

“Oh, uh! I do! Can I show you..?” MC asked , already slowly itching their little hand towards the zipper of her bag.

“Go ahead!”

MC dug both hands into their bag, using their knee to hold the bag high enough to retrieve this mystery item. The child pulled out a raggedy old doll, its once presumed brunette hair was tangled and covered in a mix of twigs and dirt, it had on an old style dress and a big bow on top of its head.

The first thing Qiu notes in his head is the singular shiny blue glass doll eye, the other eye is missing.

“I found this doll under a tree, I really hope it’s haunted” MC said with excitement , cradling the doll like if they shook it wrong it would curse their entire family for eternity.

“Pfft, why would you want it to be haunted?” Qiu asked with a bemused smile on his face, he didn’t ask to be judgemental; just curious.

MC shrugs. “I think it be cool.. , maybe the ghost could be somebody funl.” They answered with a small shy smile.

“Fair” Qiu replied. Qiu Lin wasn’t easily deterred and he enjoyed how passionate MC was about the paranormal and all the weird things that come with it,

“Hey! I have an idea, So there is this house up the hill, a few blocks away from Baxter’s house that is completely abandoned. It has families of spiders living in it!” He paused for a moment to gauge MC’s star-struck expression before continuing.

“Why don’t You, me, and Tamarack go and explore it? Show your new doll the house you know?”

MC answered. “Yeah, uhm maybe I can take my ghost-hunting kit and everything.”

“That would be smart, Never know when a ghost might decide they wanna eat us!” Qiu joked.

“…I don’t think ghosts can eat?”

#our life now and forever #fanfic #olnf qiu #olnf #gb patch #olnf mc #qiu lin #orion4ever #orion scenario #qiu lin x reader #qiu lin x mc #request are open

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mildlylesbian · 9 months

Note

nes if you give me links to the rtgames lore videos and reblog out of touuch rthursday another hundred times i will binge every single piece of the lore

OK SO, here's all the lore, references, and memes I could gather:

Out of Touch Thursday (the reason we're here)

I feel like it's only right to start with context for the out of touch thursday RTGame post, this isn't even a lore video (yet), but it was made using shots from this video and was submitted to be watched live on stream, WHICH IT WAS! So proud of bubblegum :)

Tumblr

There's no video for this, I just want you to know RTGame is scared of us. Rightfully so, we have rtcler and many other cursed AUs.

Cupcake

Cupcake has a story and a half, it all started with a stupid suggestion in this video, which he took seriously. This man spent 2 months hunting for a shiny wooloo on route 1 of Sword and Shield, he did not play further than that point until he got his shiny wooloo in this video. I feel the need to emphasize this, he spent 50 hours and 11 streams hunting wooloo, killing just shy of 3 500 non-shinies all while not touching the rest of the game, and then when he caught one he named it cupcake and proceeded to beat the entire game with her.

Also not to brag. but I was there live when he found Cupcake - I even commented on it because he broke my bloody ears when it happened

Ross Bob

I think Ross Bob died out as a character a while ago, but he was a big part of the sims series when Daniel played back in the day!

Poop Volcano

This is referenced every now and again in videos, but one time he made a poop volcano in city skylines

Paint Drying

At the time, his highest watch rate on Twitch for any single stream was of him watching paint dry. You may think this is an insult, but no. We are just committed to the bit.

Other References I don't Know The Exact Origin Of

Drift king - Back in college Daniel won a mario kart tournament and he hasn't shut up about it. I assume this first came up in a mario kart video, if I were to guess it would be this one, but I'm not completely sure. This is an ongoing joke though.

Harry Hill - A dead joke, Daniel just likes Harry Hill and he snuck his way into a lot of videos. I have no context.

Pizza - I do not know how or when this started, but Twitch chat really wanted Pizza. I do know how it ended - we made pizza.

Daisy - Daniel just hates Daisy, he is wrong

Baby Gilbert - I cannot for the life of me find the video this bitch comes from, I know which video it is I just can't find it. Anyway, this is the second video he appeared in :)

Not Running Jokes, I just Think You Should Watch These

He took us on a date, it was very romantic

He fell victim to the bath streams

Youtube age restricted most of his channel, he made youtube a curse word

He's an anime girl

He made Youtube change their policy

HE MADE AN ACE ATTORNEY FAN SONG????

A game company made him a custom controller which is just a baby in a blender, they promptly cut contact with him

I just like his Hollow Knight series, it's what got me into the game

This video made it to several news outlets

Toe

Thigh High Boots

I am missing so many references, if rtblr could fill in the stuff I missed that would be great!

#asks!#biterflies #rtgame #moots hijinks #rtblr #long post

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likeafairytale · 5 months

Note

"No... I don't want to do it, not again... Please don't let me..." - a crying Anastasia to Achilles the night she has to kill him

Achilles said nothing, he simply took the young girl's face between his hands, wiping the tears that were falling down her cheeks with his thumbs. For a few minutes, he looked at her, while she tried her best to stop weeping, which was hard for her. She shook her head, to make understand her displeasure over the situation, but Achilles was firm and motionless. Not that he did not care, not that he wasn't moved by his best friend's sadness, but because he knew that nothing could be done differently. It was a curse after all, and such thing could not be avoided.

❛It's alright, Nastya.❜ He said with such softness that you wouldn't believe he was talking about his death.

❛No, no it's not! Fight back.❜ Anastasia said, moving to get free of his hands. ❛Fight me this time. Make it harder, maybe if you do, I won't have to!❜

❛You know it does not work that way. The Gods we-❜

❛Fuck the Gods! Fuck them all!❜ As in answer to her words, they both heard thunder in the distance, but they decided to ignore it. ❛Please, don't let me do...❜

The young man was now heartbroken. He knew his fate, although it will be painful, won't be long. He'll die, as usual, and come back later. Achilles did not know when, but he will. As usual. Alone, for he will forever be an orphan, with no memories of all his past lives, until one day when memory will come back, little by little. Thanks to a word, or a scent, or a familiar face, he did not know how it worked to be honest, but he simply knew it will happen, like always. And as usual, the moment he will remember entirely, she will hunt him. Like one's hunt a wounded animal. Was he mad about it? No, not at all. Anastasia had no other choice after all, if his curse was to be amnesic and to die, over and over, hers was to change every full moon into a beast, and once time comes, to kill her best friend. For the Gods were merciless in their punishment. Sometimes, Achilles wondered if he wouldn't have preferred to have his liver eating by birds, instead of seeing the pain and suffering into Anastasia's eyes every time she had to kill him...

After a while, he looked up, which she did too. The dark sky was clear, and they could see the full moon shiny in the middle of the stars. The night was beautiful, what a perfect night to die, he thought, but he did not dare saying this out loud though, for he knew it will anger his friend any further. Coming closer, he kissed her forehead, keeping her face between his hands, a sad smile on his face.

❛You'll be alright, Nastya, and I will be too, I promise.❜ He whispered, as if he did not want the Gods to hear him.

❛I am so sorry, Ash...❜ She cried, and he shook his head.

❛I hold no grudge against you, and you know it.❜ Achilles finally let go of her, stepping back a little. ❛Now, just one favour, please.❜

❛Whatever you want.❜

❛Make it quick, please. I remember last time, and it took me half an hour to die, that wasn't really pleasant.❜

He tried humour, thinking, maybe for once, she'd laugh. She did. A small giggle, but it was enough to make him smile in return. The moon was at it's highest, meaning it was time for Anastasia to turn into the werewolf she was doomed to be each mouth. Achilles couldn't help but found her marvellous right now, for never he saw such beautiful creature in his life, and yet, the man saw a lot of creatures. Saying that he wasn't scared was a lie. Of course, in front of Anastasia, he kept face, he did not want her to worry about him, but Achilles was afraid now, knowing what was about to befall him. Closing his eyes, for he did not want to see the massacre, he felt the werewolf's claws on his throat. He held his neck, as to prevent the bleeding, before falling on the ground, next to Anastasia, who, still under her werewolf form, was looking at him, and he swore he could see sadness in them. He tried to breathe, to move, but he couldn't. Achilles was cold now. He stopped moving, stop resisting, and suddenly, he felt at peace. Death wasn't this scary, after all. Not when you're used to it.

#achilles petrova #achilles x anastasia #achilles writing prompt #writing prompt #i love him already #their story is so damn sad #i so wanted to start writing for him #it's short but i'm still figuring out his personality #icanbeyourgenie

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pigeonwit · 5 months

Note

hey i mean… for the wip game. javid game of thrones au, if you please 🤲🏼 -@jack-kellys

jave of thrones my sweet boy... he's mostly just a bunch of random scenes that have not yet been tied together but i love him so

the plot's easy, davey gets separated from the night's watch while beyond the wall hunting wildling's who came too close. he had an easy opportunity to kill a wildling (jack) but refused to take it, meaning he broke his vows and therefore can't go back to the watch - so when he finds jack again, he takes him hostage and hopes maybe he can trade jack for the supplies he'd need to cross the wall and get back home (if you're not a game of thrones fan, crossing the wall is impossible and everyone knows this. unfortunately god has cursed davey for his hubris and he will not stop until he's dead). it's basically an enemies to lovers roadtrip with more stab wounds.

and as for the snippet - this got LONG and it's very patched-together but listen it's important ok it's important-

(tw for descriptions of blood and dying in childbirth)

“My mother named me after a jackdaw.”

The words float through the cave so softly, Davey wonders if he might’ve dreamed them. There’s no reason for Jack to say them. He can’t be trying to escape – he might’ve worked some kind of Wildling magic on the hole in Davey’s abdomen, but it’s not as if he’s been cured. Just standing up is a pain he’s never experienced before, a burning agony along his side. It can’t be a trick. Or it could be. Another trick Davey’s been too stupid to notice.

“Was a fuckin’ bloodbath, when I was born,” Jack continues; when Davey glances over his shoulder, Jack’s staring at the cave roof, unblinking, as if the shards of quartz might spell out an answer for him. “She was screamin’, the healers were shoutin’, everyone was tryna get me the fuck outta her. She was more butchered up by the end than a cow in a smokehouse, but she held me anyways. And when it was quiet, she said she heard a jackdaw singin’ outside. An’ she just knew it was for me.”

There’s a wet gasp that Davey refuses to look at, the swipe of fabric over skin and a shuddering, steeling breath that Davey’s all too familiar with.

“They found her in the snow the next day. All stained red like a rose petal around her.”

He makes a hollow chuckle, a mirthless noise that rattles through his teeth.

“Sometimes I wonder if she was tryna get away from me. If she couldn’t bear livin’ with the little monster that wrung her halfway dead.”

[…]

“My mother named me after a king.”

The cave’s silent for a moment – Davey can feel Jack’s stare lying heavy on his back. The silence stretches, and Davey wonders if he should just screw his eyes shut and pretend he was sleep-talking, when through the cave hovers a tentative, “King?”

Davey frowns, twisting himself in Jack’s direction. It’s jarring, seeing his wolfish eyes glinting across the cave – like when you’re walking home in winter on a too-dark path, and all the shiny stones and loose pennies on the road become strange faerie eyes, watching you like they’ve always been watching you, and you only just noticed.

“You-” Davey hesitates, chewing his lip. “You do know what a king is… Don’t you?”

Jack blinks and turns his head to the side, looking almost - bashful.

“I kinda figured they was the same as your Crowlords.”

If this were only a week ago, when Davey still had Oscar’s knife burning a hole in his stomach, he might’ve rolled his eyes. Might’ve cursed out this ridiculous wildling and his failure to know all the intricacies of Davey’s life for him, just to spare himself the trouble of having to think too hard about them. But now, all he sees are Jack’s raised hackles, the stubborn set of his jaw. He’s embarrassed. He’s embarrassed, and he’s preparing himself for it. For being laughed at.

A warmth shoots right through Davey’s chest, a clean shot between his ribs. He knows that feeling.

“Come here,” he says, leaning upright and giving up any possible pretence of sleep. Jack tilts his head at him, brows raised and shoulders still set to his jaw, and stalks forward slowly, preparing for a blow. Davey swallows. He knows that feeling. He knows.

Once Jack settles on his knees, still drawn up tighter than a wild cat, Davey leans forward and draws a circle in the dusty stone of the cave floor.

“It's like this," he says. "Me and the Night’s Watch-”

“The Crows.” Jack says curtly.

“Exactly." Davey nods. "We're the crows. And the crows,” he draws a smaller circle within the first, “protect the mice.”

Jack scrunches his nose in protest.

“Crows don’t do that. They don’t even eat mice, they just-”

“It’s a metaphor, Jack.” Davey says with a levelling look. “Now – look, pay attention, alright? We protect the mice, but the mice don’t answer to us. They answer…” He draws a larger circle now, engulfing the two. “To the foxes. Who answer to the wolves. Who answer to the bears. Who answer to the lions…” He draws circle after circle, each larger than the last – and finally, draws a large, thick line that circles around all of them, again and again, spiralling and spiralling until Davey’s arm whines in protest. “Who answer to the dragon.”

Jack’s eyes widen, brows furrowing and hackles raising like a hare about to sprint.

“So the king…”

“Is the dragon.” Davey nods. “Everyone answers to him, and so he has to answer to all of them. He has to make sure his lands are secure, that his people are fed, and warm, and safe.”

Jack snorts harshly through his nose.

“Dragons don’t protect,” he mutters acidly. “They burn the world and rule the ashes.”

Davey bites his lip.

“Maybe dragons weren’t the best metaphor…” He murmurs. “There are dragons for kings, I suppose… People who’d rule the ashes if it meant ruling without protest. But a good king…” He chuckles mirthlessly. “A good king is tired. A good king is miserable. He carries the weight of his kingdom on his shoulders until he can’t anymore, and it kills him…” He traces a finger along that spiral until the dirt below him thrums like his own veins. “But he’ll let it, if it means his kingdom survives.”

There’s silence – and when he looks up, Jack is staring at him the way he did across the campfire, the way he did when Davey held the knife to his throat and, like a coward, threw it away.

“That’s a lot to put into a name.” He says quietly, brushing a fingertip over the back of Davey’s hand. “’Specially for a kid.”

[…]

“The way you folks talked about it, I always thought it’d be better,” he hears Jack say to the darkness, “to be a king instead of a jackdaw.”

“Maybe for some,” Davey says to the cave wall in front of him, ignoring the prickling feeling against the back of his neck. “But I always thought it’d be less burdensome, to be a jackdaw instead of a king.”

Jack’s quiet for a moment.

“You’d think, wouldn’t you?”

#newsies #pigeon scribbles #ask #jack-kellys #javid #javey #davey jacobs #david jacobs #jack kelly #game of thrones au

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bigdvmnhero · 2 years

Text

summary:

Donnie follows his new friends down NYC's rabbit hole. Makes them shiny things that go BLAM, fast things that go VROOM. Sometimes lethal things that make no sound. His friends cheer. His friends push pretty drinks into his hand. His friends call him The Man. It's in his blood, to give so completely.

The Hamato Clan, four generations apart, the same old song.

word count: 2.7k words

sequela, n. /sēˈkwelə/ a condition which is the consequence of a previous disease or injury.

Yanked by the scruff into the past by the only father he knows, Casey thinks under the panic: sure, I guess!

Deep down, he felt it coming. This is how every story starts. How all Hamato are made: in unmakings so absolute. The body a blade too bloodied to turn over. Casey doesn't have to hear the stories to know; he's lived through most of them.

On the other side of the timegate is a world skewed to the side, smothered in smog and strange lights. Miles and miles of it, rending the breath out of him. He feels flat-footed and wrong. He has a hurting in his chest with no exit wound, and no one to blame. And every time he looks at Leo—sixteen and several shades off—he wants to run.

So he does.

(This too is a Hamato specialty.)

Casey doesn't know how to live outside a war yet, and at this point he's too afraid to ask. I wanna see what's out there, he lies, walks away. Leo doesn't stop him. Casey looks back to check anyway.

Funny kid; he thinks his pain is unique. If only he looked a little further down the family tree, peered a while into its dark alleys, he'd find his answer.

To find his answer Donnie stumbles down the dark alley and skins his human knee. This whole night is the sequela of one terrible question: what would it feel like, to be loved by someone not of your kind?

All Hamato are born foragers, and Donnie is no different. He leaves the lair to hunt down the origin of his hurt. Topside scintillates like a motherboard, and maybe if he can just slot himself into its circuitry—and why not, when he talked like them, dressed like them, danced their funny Tiktok dances better than anyone had any right to?

So he wears the cloaking brooch into the city.

Then he lets the city wear him.

It's in his blood, to give so completely.

He was so ready to be under-appreciated in his time, but maybe this is the way out—how he breaks the family curse.

When April finds him puking in the alley, he throws her finger guns and pushes her hand away. April wouldn't understand. April doesn't have three brothers and a distant father who never call him The Man.

Donnie thinks his loneliness is novel, but if only he pressed his ear against the bottom of the vodka bottle, he'd hear it: the way home, whistling.

Yoshi's head whistles when the white man's fist cracks against his skull. Then he grins, like someone who just figured it all out.

This is what it means to be accepted into this city: the rough and tumble way you hold your guns, your girls, your liquor. The beet-red glow of his cheeks is impossible to hide, but Yoshi is starting to realize he was never meant to disappear. Sorry, Grandpa Sho, not sorry. Yoshi is many things, but he is not like his mother; he will not fold himself into tiny wishful cranes.

A flash of momentary genius—yelling HOT SOUP! loud enough to startle two executive producers at the booth—and Hamato Yoshi hurricanes through his very first New York bar fight and fails. Lou Jitsu walks out, busted nose up, a brand new gash of a man.

Now he's fast food and quotable, the pulp of all-American superhero flicks, nothing too fussy. He learns to shapeshift, because he is Hamato still, and all Hamato must make it through the winter. When he fights, he fights completely. When he loves, it's to the point of blindness.

Alone and battered in the Battle Nexus cage, Yoshi unfolds a photo of his mother from his pocket and shrinks. His cell smells like piss and day-old gore. Sorry, Grandpa Sho; maybe he was meant to fade into nothing, after all; just like his mother, and the mother before her—an endless queue of martyrs living inside each other like frozen-smile Matryoshka dolls. Yoshi checks himself for a pulse.

He prays for forgiveness, but who would understand betrayal like this? Made gladiator-slash-slave by the love of your life, who actually turned out to be a six-eyed enterprising spider-beast in disguise?

(Admittedly, this is... new territory for the clan.)

But if only he looked past the bars, followed the gentle wrist of light the hallway offered—how it persisted in the deepest hollows—he'd remember his training.

Karai watches her own father die in a starburst of ancient light and forgets all her training. The armor's work is absolute; it twists him into something vile and blood-starved. She flees into the forest when it lurches four-legged after her.

She has no weapons. No shields. No time to bury her own mother and sisters. Cold bites into the deep gashes on her back where the beast clawed into her, leaving a bloody trail in the snow. Daughter, the Shredder singsongs, where are you going? No matter how fast she runs the forest is a wet grave pulling her down, down, down—

Please, she prays, I cannot do this alone. And the seed unlocks and greens inside her.

All Hamato are born harvesters; now is time to reap. Karai is several seasons early for this task, but she will not carry it alone.

Beneath her, the grave spits out a spade as white as bone.

Karai stops running. She turns to face the demon. Up close the armor's illusion is clear; beneath the smokescreen of fury it is still her father, kind and soft-spoken, his hands the very same that sheltered her as they traveled through the snow-chromed world; their twin laughter tangling.

I love you, she thinks with a smile. Grounds her feet. They cannot bury it.

Widening her stance, Karai thanks her family for the gift. Then she fashions the spade into a long, crackling spear that flies straight into the future and never stops.

Lou flies into the wall and the hits never stop. His arm is broken in two places and his spirit too, in more ways than he can count. The jeers hail down on all sides. Officially, this might be his newest low: ex-action superstar, now laughing stock of all yokai-kind, and he's not even getting any dental for it.

On his 178th match, he finally makes peace with dying. That's when the voice lances through him. All the hairs on his arms stand on end.

This is not your grave. Get up.

And a second voice, gentler under the tone: no, you are not meant to disappear.

Lou's heart snags around it, never lets go.

Without looking he blocks the strike meant for his jugular and bends the yokai's palm back onto itself. Holds it for three, until the satisfying CRACK! Now for the last, honorable blow. The crowd howls. That was child's play; all in the fingers. His mom taught him that trick. Lou can't believe he'd forgotten; all his best moves come from her.

Across the arena, Big Mama stares at her crowned champion and feels something akin to remorse.

This man does not yet have the four great loves that will animate him in his second life, but for a moment the future and past bleed into the present—it's her old Lou, grinning unabashed, invincible in the sun of his love. She averts her eyes with a grimace.

The Champion considers his options: Lou Jitsu feels too much like a dizzying skyscraper view. Yoshi a sleepy town, too small to keep living in. So he renames himself Splinter—to honor the mangling of all his past selves, as he folds them together into one proud paper crane.

All that's left now is to lift his wings; he flies out of that story and into a new one.

Donnie yelps as he's flung out of a window and into a new one. The holographic armor he wants to build won't hold. His mind's stuck in a morass. And newly escaped from its government cell, Kraang Two is loose in the city to lay its judgment.

While Donnie was nursing his broken pride, building stupid playthings in the city, his brothers were warding her off. Now his mystic power is failing, and he needs his anger now. It's the key to his power. That's what Draxum said at least.

The first time he'd grazed the ceiling of his potential, they were taking Leo away into the prison dimension, and Donnie was so furious it shut down his heart and all coherent thought. So Donnie gets angry, because anger is easy. Simple, one-line code.

He imagines: his brothers, broken; his tech, a dead man's error; his hands, a mistake. He hates and hates and hates. Kraang Two tears through a billboard like it's paper. He needs the drill, now. The biggest it can ever be.

The shape forms in the air once. Then it scatters in a blitz of purple.

No, no, no. He pulls at the hurt in his chest. The one with no exit wound, the thorny half-seed, half-bullet that he suspects someone planted in his brothers too, only no one ever talks about it. Why don't they ever talk about it? He needs his rage but only grief comes out. He wishes he had more of him to give. He wishes he had more time to tell his brothers, regretful sigh; guess I was the dum dum after all?

He's about to give in to exhaustion when, like lightning, a bolt of energy plows through him. The voice almost sounds like a laugh:

No, your power has never come from anger.

On the next mid-rise building, April is climbing up the rungs of the emergency exit to throw a bat at the approaching Kraang. It glances uselessly against its exosuit. One blistering eye turns.

April shrieks, "Run, I'll cover you!"

"Have you lost all your marbles," is what Donnie wants to say but doesn't, because his chest is finally flowering with his answer. Nodes glow. Separate systems connect. Donnie counts: one stupid sister, one rat-father, three dum dum brothers—and all the pieces click into place.

Oh, I love you, he thinks. How could he ever think he would bear this distance? It's in his blood, to love so completely.

Above Donnie's head, a massive cannon powers up its barrel, its mouth brimming with ultraviolet. Something greens in Donnie's chest; he'll need to invent the word for it. Anger dies in this new garden.

Donnie folds his hand into a gun and lifts the length of his arm. He mouths, blam.

—and the Kraang shrieks as its side detonates. A containing net swallows her whole and lists off the building's ledge.

As the smog clears, April finds him on the roof. April always finds him, especially when he doesn't want to. She holds her hand out, says, "So... you done being stupid or what?"

"I make no such promises," Donnie replies. But he takes her hand and never lets go.

When the Purple Dragons hold out their hand, Casey can't let go. Joining a street gang wasn't in the plan, but it's the Hamato in him, to seek out belonging; whatever takes to make it through the winter.

The gang artist flicks his tattoo gun. "All settled?" he says, and around Casey his members leer, imagining all the terror they'll take into town with this crazy-eyed new kid in tow. Casey shrugs. He rolls up his left sleeve.

Then something soft knocks against his chest and plants a seed there. They cannot bury it, the voice says. Remember? And Casey jolts in his chair, gasping.

"I have to go," he tells them. He's better than this. He throws on his coat and pushes past the pissed-off Dragons who spit at his shadow. He runs out into the streets, through the confounding cacophony of street activity, between stalls of chicken halal rice and piping-hot samosas, leaping through rails streaked with pigeon shit, until his heart stops pounding, until night whittles away into the early morning chill and Casey thinks he's found what he's looking for.

Leo is dangling his legs down the edge of a condominium down central. He's dressed in a black hoodie, no gloves. There's a shadow in his face, draped over all of his sixteen years, but Casey would know him anywhere.

For a beat, Casey considers leaving again. But then he imagines Leo's hands hurting in the cold, and suddenly he wants to cry.

After a month of absence Casey Jones Jr. appears on the roof, bearing cup ramen. Leo is surprised but makes no show of it.

They exchange greetings. Leo fidgets, while Casey loosens the noodles with wooden chopsticks and stirs. Leo watches him for a while, eyes wide. And then, voice tempered as if not to spook him, as if any wrong move will scatter Casey back into the streets, he says, "Dude, I love this flavor."

"I know. It's your favorite." Casey smiles, then wavers. "Was. Um. Here."

Leo curls his hands around the cup and drinks in the steam greedily. "Aw, yeees. Wanna help me out here though? It's a big boy."

"Sure, just leave me the last bite or something."

"You mean the best part? With all the tiny noodle bits and soupy sodium goodness swirling at the bottom? Oh, I see your strategy." Leo takes a sip. "Respect."

"Uh, I wouldn't say strategy. I've only had two cup ramen in my life. The first time, Master Michelangelo crunched up the noodles, sprinkled the packet in, and voila. Ate the stuff—"

"—with your hands, yeah! Yeah. Like finger food."

"Obviously," Casey says.

"Obviously!" Leo crows. "Trust Mikey to have good ideas. I've got plenty more ramen hacks, if you're curious. And you must be. My family are big devoted noodle fans, I'm sure my reputation has preceded me. Just stick around, Case, I'll show you how it's done. First, you wanna start with your foundational—"

"I missed you," Casey murmurs.

Leo's jaw closes so fast it makes an audible click. Casey drags his gaze from his scarred hands to Leo's face. "Thought it'd pass. But... Yeah." He exhales, sheepish. "Guess I'm still figuring this whole thing out."

The quiet collects. Traffic streams below their feet. After an eternity, Leo says, "One time, I put an egg in my cup noodle and thought I invented the thing. Raph didn't like that. We got into a whole fight, because he said he'd been doing it first." Leo laughs. "Turned out we were both wrong, and Dad's been doing the egg hack since we were itty-bitty green babies. Fried, poached, dropped in... you name it. Probably an unlocked core memory or something. And guess who taught him?"

Casey thinks about it. "Uh, Mikey?"

Leo's laugh is a bell. "No, dummy. His grandpa did. And who taught his grandpa? His mama. Anyway. What am I saying—yeesh, sorry, my point is—what was my point—?"

"I think I get it," Casey says, chest tight with remembering. He thinks of Leonardo, from the future that will never be, teaching him to throw a punch, the way uncle Raph did; just how grandpa Splinter taught him. How once Casey insisted on a solo mission, because he was young and foolish and needed to prove himself; how Master Leonardo never once faulted him for what happened next.

Take me with you, Leonardo said instead. And just like that: another way. I've gone down this path before.

"I get it," Casey repeats, and startles to see Leonardo's face in Leo's. And in Leo's face, his own. "Maybe we can figure things out together?"

"Maybe," Leo says, eyes wide. He's oddly quiet for a moment. Steam curls and curls around his face.

Casey follows his thousand-yard stare. He does one sweep around the empty roof. "You... good?"

"Huh?"

"You look like you saw a ghost."

Leo laughs, and does not tell Casey how, just for a moment, the floor was green with life, a whole coterie of people, watching over them. "Nah, I just," Leo says, "remembered something funny."

Casey lets that be that. They sit side by side, watching the city turn warm, happily haunted.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rottmnt movie #rottmnt fic #bigdamnher0 #the hamato clan and their generational trauma <3 #shakes them like maracas

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randomingoftherandomness · 8 months

Note

Hey lovely! I was wondering if you would be able to write a Shangjue and Yuanzhi fic ive been thinking about. I keep thinking about the scene where Yuanzhi is in the closet and bites his lip so Shangjue will find him with his blood and it won't leave my brain aha

I was thinking that if Yuanzhi is kidnapped he'd 100% use the same technique because he knows his gege is looking for him and won't stop until he's found

But side note, could you imagine having a period around Shangjue lmao he'd know before you do and that's wild lol

A/N: fam.

Rainbow kiss :>

I know you didn’t ask for this but, I’m pulling a Rule 63 for a female!Yuanzhi :> 🌶️🍋

Tags: Gong Shangjue x Gong Yuanzhi, Rule 63!Yuanzhi, Period Sex, LET BUSHES BE BUSHES, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex

—

They barely make it into Jue residence before Shangjue has her pressed up against the nearest pillar, pulling a gasp out of her before Gege bullies his way between her thighs.

Even without Shangjue gege’s preternatural ability to sniff out blood like a hunting hound, she can smell herself, feel herself growing sticky and wet where she is pressed up against Gege’s bulge.

“Ge…! Stop, I’ll stain your clothes…”

The only answer she gets is a rough tug of her hips and a groan that rips itself out of her chest at the zing of pleasure that starbursts up her spine.

Shangjue gege leans in to nip at the corner of her jaw, the tip of his button nose nuzzling up against the soft secret place behind her ear. “I could smell you,” Gege sighs into the heat of her skin. “The second I stepped foot into that abandoned temple, I could almost taste you on my tongue.”

An image of her gege following the trail of her scent like a hunting dog comes to mind not for the first time. Yuanzhi giggles a little at the thought. Somehow, she thinks it’s comforting to know that no matter where she goes in the world, her gege will always find her.

"Then do it."

Gege pauses. Yuanzhi tilts her head back, moving her fingers through her gege's hair. "Do it, gege," She breathes, rocking her hips. "Taste me."

The reverent kiss to the side of the neck is only the prelude to Shangjue carefully peeling them both back from the pillar, making a sure-footed path to his room.

“I thought I was going to go mad if I couldn’t find you." Shangjue admits. Laying her down on her back, he crawls to loom over her. "Gong Ziyu had to physically hold me down from running out the door the second they delivered their ransom demands.”

“How fortunate that I started bleeding.”

“How fortunate, indeed.” Shangjue gege smiles beatifically as if she'd just commented on a very nice deed he'd just promised he would get done. Stroking the back of his fingers down the side of her face, he moves back.

Yuanzhi giggles when Shangjue's fingernails scratch over her belly as he is stripping her of underpants. "Not even going to get me naked?" She teases, running her fingers over the shell of an ear. "Ge, you're so impatient."

He chuckles, making space between her thighs until he has them thrown over his shoulders with a small yelp from her lips.

Kissing the insides of her thighs, she meets his gaze full-on when he slowly brushes his lips onto the patch of skin between her thigh and groin. A rush of wetness escapes her at the first press of tongue to clit, smearing slick to his cheek, clinging onto her dark thatch of hair. It's like a lightning bolt to her senses.

"Ge, I won't last long if you do that." She warns.

"Who said I wanted you to?" Shangjue easily replies, lips smacking as she feels his fingers expose more of her flower. A curse escapes her, stuttering and weak as it carves itself into the night air. Surrendering, defeated by this expert manipulation of her body.

Yuanzhi throws an arm over her face, only for Shangjue to stop and reach up to pull it off.

"Don't hide. Not tonight."

Her heart skips a beat. The sight of her gege's full lips shiny with spit and blood has her quivering. Her chest grows warm when she catches the naked worry in his eyes. Pushing herself up by the elbows, she pulls him up by the collar, dragging him until she is close enough to slide their lips together, drawing in the taste of her musk and blood in his mouth.

"In me. Please."

"So polite," Gege huffs into the seam of her smile.

"Only for you," Yuanzhi quips, the sound petering into a giggle when she feels her gege reaching down to undo the ties of his inner pants.

"Yes, only for me."

Yuanzhi inhales at the first brush of Shangjue's cockhead against her hole, swallows down a broken moan at the second, blanks out on the third. It's a slow push into her and she can feel every stretch, every ridge, every bump as Shangjue gege reshapes her to fit him.

"Gege...!"

Shangjue wraps her in his arms, holding her tightly to him as he thrusts the last inch of his erection into her. Groaning, Yuanzhi's thighs shake at the overwhelming sensation of being filled so perfectly. Digging her nails into the back of gege's neck, she arches, body shivering and trembling through her orgasm.

She is unravelled. Unspooled and undone as Shangjue refuses to let her rest and immediately picks up the pace on fucking her into the mattress. She throws her hands above her head, a mad scramble to hold on to the headboard as Shangjue gege moans her name, jackrabbiting his hips.

Her mind trips on the edge of pleasure and pain. She thinks she sobs, not caring one bit when her belt is pulled loose, the front of her robes slipping open to reveal her chest.

The grip and weight of gege's hands on her waist pulls her back down when he thrusts back up into her. The air is a thick tang of blood and sweat, singing with the lewd symphony of flesh to flesh and pleasured groans.

"Yuanzhi..."

"Inside me, gege," Yuanzhi pants. "Be good, gege, and come inside me..."

Shangjue's breath hitches and he nods, obeying when his hips slows, one, two, and then stilling, pressed up in her as he fills her full.

Yuanzhi weakly pulls him back down on her, refusing to let him pull out even as he shivers through his own high. Peppering his face with lazy kisses, she groans when he shifts his hips, causing him to slip out.

Shangjue flops to her side, not letting her move even half an inch away by throwing an arm around her waist to haul her into his arms. Yuanzhi lets her gege pet at her hair, brushing back her bangs and carefully tugging her hair ornaments off with one hand.

"Don't...!" She tries to stop him when he tosses one of her hair bells onto the floor.

"I'll get you a new one." Shangjue gege says. "Just be good for me and let me take care of you now."

An absolute tyrant, Yuanzhi thinks sluggishly, content to relax back into his embrace. No wonder I love him.

#my journey to you #my journey to you fic #gong shangjue x gong yuanzhi #listen. i have no excuses #*goes and hides in a corner*#also hi kitty!!! thanks for the ask and I'm sorry I took in a direction you probably weren't even looking for

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heraldofcrow · 11 months

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Okay, since you decided to be a chicken and not answer my super haha funny asks about aldbitch, here is a normal one: what do you think Eileen is doing outside of nights of the hunt? I mean, the question applies to every other NPC except for Gasc (obviously he is busy having family) but let's focus on her. What are her hobbies? What is her lifestyle? And socialising with the citizens, if anything?

Lmao, I WILL get to talking about Aldbitch when I am mentally stable enough to comprehend that…cursed inanity 💀

—

BUT FINALLY AN EILEEN ASK YESSS!! Ok, here are some bullet-point headcanons to keep it simple.

🔪 Eileen keeps a low profile on quiet nights when no clear targets are roaming around. She always stays on the rooftops, watching and eavesdropping, getting a feel of the city’s state in the dark. She usually sleeps during the day, but if she is awake, she keeps to the shadows. Overcast days are when she feels more comfortable actually moving around the streets.

🔪 One of her favorite pass-times is chess. She plays herself to hone her wits, but sometimes she’ll play with Crow too. If she’s feeling social, she might come down from the rooftops to find a street urchin willing to challenge her for fun.

🔪 Eileen gets tired of the city sometimes. That’s when she starts hanging out in the graveyards near Hemwick or maybe in the woodlands on the outskirts of Yharnam. She spends her time there exploring, walking around the lakes, and foraging. She’s an excellent forager and loves to collect herbs, leaves, flowers, etc..

🔪 Eileen doesn’t really need money to survive. She finds her own food/water and she sleeps where she can. However, if she sees some new knife or trinket she wants, she’ll usually find something to trade for it.

🔪 Eileen is amazing at magic tricks, and can make coins, cards, blades, etc. disappear and reappear easily. She does in this her spare time just to get her hands moving. She loves holding out shiny coins to attract crows before making them disappear to see if the crows can figure it out.

🔪 Eileen loves throwing knives and knives of any kind, really. She finds time to make them herself or trade with Henryk for new ones. Building up her little collection is a favorite pass-time, and you don’t wanna know how many blades she has hidden in her coat.

🔪 Cooking is something Eileen can actually find peaceful enjoyment in because it doesn’t involve her leaving her nest or strategizing. She makes her traditional curry and soup dishes with plenty of spices and herbs. Oh and, she’s actually really good at it. It’s something she’s secretly quite passionate about. It reminds her of her home and the family life she could have had.

🔪 A bit of a random one, but she can sew and braid really well. She can stitch up her own wounds, sew her battered clothes back together, and braid her hair in incredibly ornate styles. This she does more out of necessity, but she does still enjoy it.

🔪 Eileen has a few little flutes from her native land that she can play. She likes to sit up way above the cityscape and serenade the crows with the songs she knows.

🔪 Eileen is religious and adheres to the traditions of her homeland quite faithfully. She likes to find quiet places for prayer and incense burning when she has time. She always prays for mercy for her targets before she hunts them down.

🔪 Animals are very important to Eileen. Not just crows, but all the birds in Yharnam, the stray cats and dogs, even the little scampering mice. She tries to save any that get caught in the daily carnage of the city. She feels very at home in wild nature and its critters, so she preserves whatever she can of its presence in Yharnam.

🔪 Overall, Eileen’s social life is limited to a few close people that she trusts and knows well, like her fellow crows, the Gascoigne family, a few other hunters, and whoever else manages to break down her emotional walls. She is kind but sharp-tongued. People like her when she sometimes lingers around a pub or workshop, but they are wary of her. She keeps her distance out of necessity. Some will gossip that she is a witch or assassin, but not many know what she truly does. They often settle on the idea she is a reticent hunter draped in feathers. She likes it this way.

—

Ok, I’ll stop there before I become unable to shut up about her. I’m quieter about Eileen sometimes because she herself is a quiet character. I like her mystery and her stoic, reclusive nature as a crow-hunter. I love the idea that she was feared as a strange, black-clad guardian on the edges of society in Yharnam, but in truth, she was just a very mild, gentle figure. She was dark, grim, cynical in a sense, but she had enough self-control to not let her more violent nature subdue her dignity.

Thank you for asking me about her 🖤

#YESS EILEEN #she was my first bloodborne blorbo so what can i say other than she is everything #<3 #eileen the crow #asks #bloodborne #bloodborne headcanons #mutuals

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vixensofsorrow · 3 months

Text

Demolition Lovers - Ⅱ what we know starts to waste

DISCLAIMER: This fic is a long slowburn with multiple chapters, still being updated. also on AO3 my masterlist (all the chapters are linked there) PAIRING: young!Carol Denning/fem!reader OVERALL SUMMARY: An exploration of your and Carol's relationship through the years. CHAPTER SUMMARY: Family drama and showing Carol around the lesser known parts of the school. CHAPTER TAGS: fluff, friendship, complicated feelings, reader plays soccer, high school, developing relationship, family argument, exploration of family dynamics A/N: no clue how to add footnotes on tumblr so. 2 - Edson Arantes do Nascimento, considered one of the best soccer players of the XXth century next chapter will have more carol nd reader action so stay tuned

You were caught off guard. When the fuck did she get here? You swore you closed your eyes for 5 seconds. What were you even supposed to say to that? How did she walk up to you so casually? It was almost like all the time you were apart wasn’t actually real, and the last time you spoke was actually on the phone yesterday, complaining about how your teammate sucked at practice, wondering how she’s even allowed on the team, and Carol talking about whatever she was into now. You’d like to talk with her about that, to be honest. You’d like to tell her how much you missed her and how your life changed, and you’d want to hear about how hers changed, too.

After giving it some thought, though, you’d especially like to talk about how irrelevant she made you feel. You knew it wasn’t her fault that she had to move out, but it was her fault that she stopped calling you. It was almost like she just threw you away like you were a broken toy that got replaced by something more shiny and pretty.

What if she did care, though? “Maybe wait until she comes up to you… And then you’ll know that she also wants to talk or something…” You recalled Veronica’s words.

Fuck it. What’s the worst that could happen? You have dwelled on this for too long already.

You dropped your duffle bag and pulled Carol into an underarm hug, brushing past the big glasses that almost hit you in the face. She clasped you so tightly, it was almost like you were one person now. It had changed from what you could remember; her arms were more defined now, which made the hug a little rougher but still comforting and pleasant. She also had a new scent: an unexpected mix of burned tobacco, fresh cherry laundry, and hints of artificial candy.

You could feel people staring at you as they passed by, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t think that you longed for this feeling so much, as you squeezed Carol even tighter in a primal-like manner, like she was about to go off on a long hunt. Your arms were tired, your faces red from being out of breath, and your bodies warm, which slowly wore off as you reluctantly let go of the hug from exhaustion. You were still speechless, only in awe of the moment being real.

“I missed you.” She broke the silence, looking you right in the eye.

“I did too, Carol, a lot. I’m just shocked, like, you just showed up here, out of nowhere an-” You cut your sentence short before you could say too much and possibly start an argument. This was the first time you had seen her in years, and yet your mind was pushing you into confronting her right now.

“That’s a story for another day. I’m gl-” A car’s honking interrupted Carol, and her sister was incomprehensibly shouting at her. “I’ll see you!” She ran towards the car, turning her head to wave at you, before cursing something at Barb. Before the car sped off, you managed to yell out, “Maybe I could show you around?”

“I’ll hold you to that!” She flashed her dimples, but as soon as her sister hit the gas pedal, Carol’s face turned into a blur, just like she looked in your memories.

That was a long, fucking day. You threw your bag on the floor of your bedroom and sat down at your desk in an attempt to get some homework done. You knew you were just lying to yourself and that you’d have to bullshit about it to your teachers too, which usually worked—one of the perks of being an athlete. You’d just have to say something like, “We have so much practice right now, with the State Championships and all.” and they would let it go, most of the time.

Still, you rummaged through the papers on your desk—an unfinished essay on The Great Depression, geometry exercises, and a stoichiometry assignment. You tossed it all to the side and checked the clock, which read 4:50 PM.

You’d typically be at practice by now, but coach had an odd change of heart and decided to cancel today, probably because of the pep rally. Kind of irresponsible on his part. I mean, you should be training hard to win in the States, right? If he didn’t care about it, though, why should you?

You got pulled out of your thoughts by your mother announcing that dinner was ready. You walked down to the kitchen, took a serving of your mom's cooking, and were ready to walk back to your room. Dana peeked out of the small dining room and stopped you in your tracks. “Folks said they wanted a family dinner tonight.” She tilted her head in their direction and sat back down as you were walking in.

You sighed and also took a seat, facing your mother. Family dinners were always either awkward and silent or unnecessarily loud—sometimes good, sometimes bad. You had a feeling that today was going to be the latter, although you were hoping for the first. Your headache was bad enough already.

“So, how was the pep rally?” Your father broke the silence.

“Y’know, the usual.” You said, hoping that this would be a satisfying enough answer, but your dad gave you a look signaling that it wasn’t. “Yelling, chanting. School mascot grody, as usual.” That seemed to satisfy him.

“They still haven’t bought a new one? Jeez, gag me.” Your sister added in between bites.

“Yeah, I know, right?”

“Did you share the good news yet?” Your mother turned to Dana with a smirk. Huh. Good news regarding your sister?

Recently, she has become the family disappointment — dropping out of college, fucking up the family car, and moving back in to live with you all. To be honest, however bad it sounded, you were kind of glad it wasn’t you this time, but it seemed like that was about to change. Your sister didn’t look pleased, though.

“Well… no.” She looked at your mother and tightened her jaw. You could see your mom's expression turning stern. You were sure she wasn’t about to let this topic go.

“What the hell, did you join a cult or something?” You teased your sister, and she just rolled her eyes. Your mother let out an irritated sigh and furrowed her eyebrows. Your dad was too busy with dinner, but he sneaked in a chuckle, and your mom glanced at him, just like she did at Dana a few seconds ago.

“Dana, dear. This is the best time to tell everyone. You told me, you told your friends.” She tried to reason.

“No, mom, I didn’t tell you.” She began tapping her foot, looking down at her plate.

This was something big.

“I would’ve found out one way or another. I deserved to know, and so does your father.” Your dad looked up as she said that, now his curiosity had peaked—and so did yours.

“What is this all about now?” He tried to ask but got interrupted by Dana.

“You snooped around my room! That’s how you found out!” Your sister dropped her fork, and the whole room was focused on her now, face all red and her eyes teary.

“Would you rather I found out about it from one of your friends?! Or maybe your fiancée?!” She yelled, and your dad looked at the both of them in shock.

Your mom had an expression that read, I fucked up. Your eyes widened, and Dana got up, storming out to the kitchen. Fiancée, well, that was unexpected.

“Hold on, fiancée?” He directed the question at your mother, but she just clicked her tongue and flared her nostrils, stomping out of the room after your sister and yelling something at her, your father soon following.

Well, it’s unclear who’s the family disappointment now.

You changed into your pajamas and threw yourself on the bed.

You were so fed up; all you wanted to do was watch TV and rot your brain with something dumb, but with Family Feud going on downstairs, you could say goodbye to that.

That took your mind off of Carol up until, well, now. You weren’t as distressed as when she jump-scared you with that jock shit or whatever went down at the pep rally, but you knew you’d have to bring up the ugly feelings if you wanted to truly be friends with her again.

Surprisingly, the shitshow that went down at dinner helped you realize that you probably shouldn't hide the truth for too long because it’s going to come back to bite you in the ass three times as hard. Thanks, Dana.

You walked over to the beat-up boombox your sister passed onto you for your birthday and searched through the cassette tapes scattered next to it, ranging from ones you spent a pretty penny on, to the ones aspiring musicians would hand out at the mall as an advertisement technique.

“Eenie meenie miney… moe. Led Zeppelin it is.” You inserted the cassette and turned up the volume to drown out both your thoughts and your family.

You walked over to the closet, picked up the pack of cigarettes and lighter you hid in the pockets of your jacket, opened the window, and sat on the windowsill, lighting one up.

You wondered what cigarettes Carol smoked — Newports? Marlboros? Lucky Strikes? Pall Malls? You should take a mental note of that; it could be a good conversation starter if things get awkward. It was weird to even think about the possibility of there being any awkwardness between the two of you, but it seemed more real than ever now. With each puff and drag, your eyes got heavier.

Your alone time got interrupted by your sister storming in with a glass bottle in her hand. She immediately locked the door, then jumped on your bed and sat down. Dana knew you smoked, so you didn’t care about that; you did care that she interrupted your moment of peace.

“Get out.” You groaned as you turned to her, and she took a swig of an already half-empty Absolut. She's probably been hoarding that in case of an emergency.

“I’m here for the music, not you, dweeb.” You could tell Dana was lying.

“Why don’t you go to your room then? You have a fucking Walkman.” You flicked the ash.

“Oh, whatever.” She threw her arms up in resignation. “I dunno, we’re sisters; we talk about shit, right? You can help me take my mind off of this.” Your parents banged on the door, indistinctly shouting something that got muted by the music and chatter. “Fuck off!” Dana yelled out, and you just giggled. She showed off her proud smile and took another swig.

“So, what’s new in the high school world?”

“Oh, shut up, you only graduated two years ago. You’re acting like it’s been fifty years.” You bumped her arm, taking a drag of the cigarette.

“Yeah, but, you know, a lot can change in two years.”

“Yeah, like you getting married.” You teased her.

“Oh, shut up, Jeff and I aren’t even married yet.” She chugged down more of the vodka, laughing.

“Emphasis on yet.” You put out the ash and tossed it out of your window. There was a small pile of cigarette butts on the ground outside.

You threw yourself on the bed next to your sister and sighed. Should you tell her about Carol? She was probably too tipsy to remember anything in the morning anyway.

“Do you remember Carol?” You lain down on the side, propped up on one elbow, your other hand supporting your head, looking directly at Dana.

“The one with the glasses? You’d always draw those comic strips with her.” Huh, she remembered pretty well, it seems.

“Yup. The one with the glasses.” You jeered.

“What about her? I didn’t even know the two of you were still talking.” She scoffed in amusement, lying down on the bed.

“We weren’t. But, well, actually, there is something new in the high school world.” You hoped she would get the suggestion, but she just looked at you with a blank stare and an eyebrow raised.

“The Dennings are back in town.”

“Holy shit! That’s rad, oh my god! Are you excited?” Dana swiftly sat up and grabbed your knee, slightly shaking it. That was sweet; she was happy for you, even if it was the alcohol that induced it.

“It’s kind of weird.” You sighed. “I missed her so, so much. You don’t even get how much, but I’m still bitter.” You turned to lie down on your back. “I feel like such a bitch.”

“You know, relationships are complicated, friendships are complicated, shit, everything is complicated. Don’t think about it too much. You lived without her for so long, you can do it again, and like, you have even more friends than you had when she left.” She slurred her words, and her stomach rumbled. Dana furrowed her brows, scrunched her nose, and burped. Before you could say anything, she covered her mouth with her hand, got up, unlocked the door, and sprinted to the bathroom.

You could hear the vomiting as you closed the door and got back into bed, drifting off to sleep, with Led Zeppelin still on in the background.

You searched amongst your disorganized locker in hopes of finding your English textbook, yet all you found were notes you exchanged with Rachel during Chem, a beat-up copy of A Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, which you were supposed to return to the library two months ago, an expired Cheez-Its bag, stickers raising awareness about AIDS, and your duffle bag. You must’ve given the book to someone you didn’t share the class period with, maybe Gina? It was too late to look for her anyway; you’d have to fall under the mercy of some good Samaritan for now.

You glanced at the wall clock, shut the locker, and ran to the second floor of the building.

You barely managed to get to class on time and took your usual seat on the slightly too small, hard wooden chair that made your ass hurt after sitting on it for too long; third row, right by the wall that was covered in profanity or cheesy quotes.

The rest of your classmates walked in, and to your surprise, the scent of burnt tobacco and a hint of cherry followed along with them. How many classes did you share with her? You pondered.

Your eyes followed Carol around the cramped room, and her face immediately lit up as she noticed, speeding up to take the seat next to you, her backpack hanging off one side of her shoulder.

The teacher began the lesson, and the chatter slightly calmed down. The cheap, fluorescent headlight flickered now and then.

“Oh, my God. You saved my ass, dude.” She whispered through a laugh of relief as she shifted to face you, dropping the bag and pulling out a notebook, pen, and the dreaded textbook. All the essentials.

“You don’t even know how much you saved mine.” The two of you exchanged smiles, and you scooted your desk and chair, just close enough to be able to read the text, but far apart enough, so the teacher wouldn’t get on your ass.

“So, can anyone tell me what stylistic devices the author used in the fourth verse?” Ms. Cooper paced around by the blackboard, waiting for an answer. You sighed and pretended to write something, just so she wouldn’t call on you. In reality, you were just writing down the lyrics of whatever song was stuck in your head on the margins.

The bell rang, and the noise of closing notebooks, zipping up backpacks, chairs scratching, shuffling against the linoleum floor, and conversations made itself known again. You put the desk back into place, where it was at the beginning of the class, and walked out alongside Carol.

“You got lunch now?” You asked. Seriously? Small talk? Oh, my god. Was that all the two of you had to talk about now? She probably wouldn’t have even talked to you in English if you weren’t childhood friends. She was right; you were just a fuckin’ jock now, and she was a girl that was way too cool for you.

Carol had this odd, mysterious appeal that you couldn’t exactly pinpoint. Was it the combination of cherry and tobacco? It was the type of allure that would make people polarized. She was like a 70s rock star in the body of an overlooked, underappreciated teenage girl who wasn’t aware of her potential. Definitely not the type to subscribe to social conventions, which possibly was the most charming thing about her.

“Probably hold on.” She started digging through the pockets of her flared, dark blue jeans and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “Uh, yeah. Lunch, sixth period.” You walked down the stairs and headed towards the cafeteria.

“So, are you going to show me around now?” You could still remember her teasing tone. Carol stuck her tongue out, and you ruffled her hair in response, just like you used to do way back when.

You stopped walking and leaned on the lockers. “You want me to show you around or show you around?” You bit your lip and gave her a sly smirk.

“The latter.” The two of you chuckled, and you walked in the direction of your locker to take your coat.

“Who’s that?” Carol pointed at one of the Polaroids that was on the inside of your locker door—this particular one of you and Veronica. It was from soccer camp, the summer between freshman and sophomore year, and the two of you had ugly, messy blue eyeshadow, smudged red lipstick, and huge puffy hair, all thanks to Kristen, who wanted someone to practice hairstyling on. Your face had that exhausted grin after a long, tiring day of kicking the ball around. It was similar to the feeling you’d get on vacation after walking around a brand-new city for eight hours straight, but still wanting more. You remember being so happy that your cheeks were in pain from smiling. You were sure Carol knew that it was someone from your team; she must’ve seen her yesterday during the pep rally, and she wanted to find out more about your new life.

“Oh yeah, her? That’s Vee, erm, ‘Ronica. Shit. Veronica. Veronica Vasquez.” You put your hand on your slightly red forehead, giggling, as Carol laughed loudly through your stuttering. You took a breath and continued, “We are, you know—Oh my god, you fucking saw it—we are on the soccer team together.” You put on your jacket and closed the locker, turning to the school exit.

Why were you so awkward around her?

The harsh, late-October West Virginia air hit you in the face. You wanted a smoke and a one-on-one moment with Carol more than you cared about being cold, though. So far, she was the only one asking about you, what you were up to, and your friends. Shit, were you projecting how you felt during her time of absence onto her now? Nope, no way. As soon as you’re going to sit down, you’re going to ask her about everything.

“Where are you taking me, Pelé2?” Carol jeered as she put on her beanie.

“Wait, how the fuck do you even know who that is?” You took a step back, slightly raising your hands and waving them around, like you were telling her to stop whatever she was doing, and stared at Carol, your agape mouth turning slowly into a smile.

“Maybe I’m a jock now too, huh? Have you thought about that?” She pulled you by the sleeve of your jacket, and you continued your walk around the school grounds. You were leading the way towards the back of the gym wing.

“Well, are you?” You weren’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not.

“Fuck no!” She scoffed, imitating barfing. “Wait, Y/N. I didn’t mean like it’s a bad thing, but seriously, could you imagine me as an athlete?”

“Well, shit, how could I know? You said you were surprised to see that I’m a jock now, a lot has changed; you could be one too now, as far as I know.”

“Now, you can be a hundred percent certain that I’m not.” She confirmed.

You reached your destination, and you took a seat on an old, empty beer crate, with Carol sitting down next to you. You pulled out the pack of cigarettes, flicked the lid open, handed it out to Denning, and she raised an eyebrow at you.

“Shit, you smoke now? Welcome to the club.” She took it and sparked one up.

"Yeah, you've got to keep a balance between strenuous working out and ruining your lungs.” You put the cigarette in your mouth, and Carol gave you her lighter, but no fire was coming out of it. You shook it around, but there was still nothing.

“Come ‘ere.” Carol got closer to you and put her hands around the cigarettes hanging out of your mouths to block the wind as she put her cig to yours, lighting it up.

“Thanks, Care.” To your surprise, she rolled her eyes at you and groaned.

“God, don’t call me that.” You gave her a confused look.

“Barb just fuckin’ ruined it for me. She tends to ruin a lot of good shit. Just like Debbie. God, fucking Debbie!” She kicked back the crate you were sitting on.

Shit, Debbie. She was a full-on kid now; the last time you saw her, she was a few-month-old infant.

“What about Debbie?”

“Oh, don’t even get me fucking started.” Carol scoffed. “Basically, she’s the star of the family now, and mom and dad just go along with her fucking up my life.”

“Wait, fucking up your life? How?”

“I’m just going to say she’s the whole reason I’m back in this shithole. At least you’re still here.” She looked at you and sighed. “I’d probably off myself or her if I had to put all this effort into making new friends, making an idiot of myself, just to move out again in three months.”

“Shit, I’m sorry to hear that.” You sat in silence, not knowing how to comfort her, only broken by footsteps in the distance now and then before an idea came into mind. “Hey, maybe you want to go to the party my team is throwing tonight?” You stomped your cigarette, putting your cold hands inside the pockets of your coat.

“A jock party? Stop fucking with me.” She slumped her shoulders, her head shaking.

“It’s going to be chill, I promise. We could just stick together, or I could introduce you to my friends if you want. Also, free booze.” Carol tilted her head, eyes darting around in contemplation, tapping her fingers on the crate. Unexpectedly, she swiftly laid a hand on your thigh, letting go just as fast. “Fuck it, why not?” She tossed the cigarette.

“Hell yeah! That’s the spirit, Denning.” Oh god, you sounded like a typical jock you were trying your hardest not to be. You winced at what you said, and Carol chuckled.

You opened your backpack and took out a pen that was lying around at the bottom, grabbing her hand. “Here’s my address; swing by at like 7:30 PM.” You almost put the pen away but remembered to write down your phone number, and Carol did the same.

“Okay, let’s get out of here. You have to show me where the weed dealer hangs out.”

“I had a feeling you’d be the stoner type.” You joked, and the two of you walked towards the soccer field.

“Hey, I can’t show up to that circle-jerk party of yours empty-handed.” You will confront her about the whole feeling irrelevant thing some other day. It didn’t matter for now.

#orange is the new black #oitnb #carol denning #carol denning x reader #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #oitnb fanfic #carol denning fanfic #lesbian

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bhaalsdeepbat · 5 months

Text

Some Mercy (Durge) & Astarion romance things I've been thinking about.

Mercy cannot braid their own hair. They don't know it's because Sceleritas used to lovingly braid, style, and adorn them before. Like Mercy doesn't knowthis, but it doesn't change the fact that Mercy lacks some basic skills when they wake up on the nautiloid

so mercy's braid was super messy for the first part of the adventure. They'd look so disheveled and unhinged. Everyone thinks they're kind of a slob, but Mercy eventually cleans up a bit with practice and confidence in their sense of self.

One night while sitting beneath the stars, the last time they're able to so, before their descent into the Underdark and trek inro the Shadow Cursed Lands, he'd find out Mercy purrs when he pets their head and would take over doing their hair just to hear his grumpy murder addict melt. Like he'd find it so funny and not realize it comes from a place of starting to have feels for Mercy.

Mercy wears a lot of jewelry bc they like shiny things, it's the one nice thing they genuinely like, but they didnt emerge from the pod with anything but their piercingd. Every other piece of jewelry they own came from Astarion.

Like every time he finished sorting his loot, he squirrels away one or two pieces to give to Mercy, and then they pawn the rest. Almost all of Mercy's fingers have a ring, all picked just for them by their fussy little vamp boyfriend.

And the way he would present it. I think he'd come over to gossip / be bitchy, and just so very casually slide it on. He's just talking and then so casually takes Mercy's hand and slides on a ring, or slips a bracelet around their wrist, just while he continues chatting. Mercy just doesn't like a big show of gifting, and Astarion would be really respectful of boundaries when he realizes the person is just as respectful of his.

But, when he starts getting down bad for someone, he wants to adorn them in pretty things. Like his love languages are gift giving & physical touch.

Mercy's transformation from feral little fuck to well dressed and adorned, this time by their own developed taste, and with the help of someone who loves them for who they are, not for who they have the potential of being.

Mercy also likes to gift give because they are literally a cat. They would hunt, kill, and leave the carcass as a gift for Astarion if they could, but they know it would be a waste of blood. But their gifts tend to be practical.

And Mercy would hunt with Astarion, as well as provide their own blood. They'd hold bandits and offer their neck to him to get his fill.

Mercy buying him a new bow and that being the first new thing he's received that is just his in so long. No strings attached. Mercy just has a strong desire to provide everything they can for this group of weirdos they have the disgusting pleasure of calling friends.

Astarion goes from having nothing except the clothes on his back to having new armor, new clothes, new boots, several new bows, and other items bc his murder happy partner wants to provide him the best equipment to keep him as safe and strong as possible. It's Mercy's way of looking out for him.

Mercy also very much sees him as equally powerful, they just understand they are both powerful in different ways. Mercy would be so vocal about how strong they find Astarion. Like they stroke his ego, often to their own detriment, bc he then would be confident enough to bark at the wrong person and have to go get his bigger dog (Mercy) to help him when a 1v1 Astarion easily could have handled becomes a group he couldn't take on alone.

Astarion would constantly desire physical touch from his partner, which would be a struggle for Mercy at first. They're pretty touch starved and have a hard time initiating contact. The first time Astarion stepped too close, Mercy would have been so stiff and uncomfortable. Like immediately steps back, eyes narrowed, baring their own fangs while telling him to watch it. It doesn't make him back down, but he does reevaluate using touch when trying to seduce Mercy.

Then they start sleeping together and Mercy becomes so enamored by physical touch, and realizes how soft he becomes when Mercy holds his hands, scritches his head, traces his features so their mangled brain never forgets them. Astarion just melts under little intimate touches.

By the time Astarion has his confession, these two would have a routine of sitting together at Astarion's tent for a bit to people watch everyone at camp, Astarion with his bitchy little comments, Mercy snickering and egging him on, and they're just holding hands or Astarion has one hand on Mercy's forearm, rubbing circles into their wrist. Sometimes Mercy is draped across his shoulders, nuzzling into his neck and feeling the way his chest vibrates when he talks.

These rituals continue, but increase in frequency after they do deepen their bond. Mercy would be so used to having Astarion close at all times. Like they'll be standing together with their shoulders touching, or Astarion will take Mercy's hand while they're having a moment of stillness. Like they'd be all PDA, just all non sexual intimacy.

Then Astarion kills Caz, and he is just fucking glued to Mercy sometimes. Like they have an especially good fight and a sweet victory, he'll use the first opportunity he gets for a little adrenaline fueled makeout session. Like he gets a few steps out of Wyrm's Rock Fortress after killing Gortash and he's just shoving Mercy against the nearest wall and having a passionate kiss.

#bg3 #durge #mercy #dark urge spoilers #astarion

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