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webshooterrr9 · 4 months

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Take Care

Act Two Astarion x gn!reader

just fluff and angst if you squint, no smut

Sigh. "You don't have to do this, darling. I'm not some sort of child in need of coddling."

Despite his standoffish tone, Astarion makes no attempt to move away as you tend to the cuts on his arm. It had been a long day of adventuring, and your party most unfortunately ran into a horde of goblins on your way back to camp for the knight. Being stronger after a recent feed, Astarion fought most of them - giving him the most injuries.

You're being far too gentle. He watches closely in the dim lantern light as you wet the rag for cleaning. A part of him wishes you'd just hurt him instead. He knows how to deal with pain. He doesn't know how to deal with this.

Whatever this is, his mind tells him it needs to stop. Stop before he starts to care. He doesn't want to care about you. If he does, you'll be another thing for Cazador to use against him when the time comes.

He can't have that.

"Oh, shut up." you wave a dismissive hand before resuming your cleaning, gently wiping away the dirt and grime from his wounds. You sat comfortably in his lap as you worked. Another form of intimacy he was unsure about.

"I've received worse and lived, love. I'll be alright without your babying."

He would never admit it, but Astarion almost... enjoyed the way you so carefully tended to him. But it felt wrong. Why would you do this? It wasn't like his life was on the line, the goblins only inflicted minor injuries.

"I know you have, I've seen the poem that... he carved into your back. You showed me, remember?"

Astarion winces at the memory, and you feel sort of bad for bringing it up. But he just rolls his eyes, covering up the discomfort with a scoff.

That wretched devil. That evil, evil man.

"We're still travel companions, so I want to help you. Regardless of how minor it is." you continue, speaking slowly as you bandage up the cuts.

"Because I'm incapable?" there's a bite to his voice, one that he didn't mean to be there. But he couldn't help it. This was so... odd. "I managed to take care of myself just fine before you came along."

You look up at him, almost with a glare at his accusation. "I never said you were incapable, 'Starion. But you have to let others help you once in a while."

Gods, he hated it. He hated how caring you were, how sweetly you spoke to him, even when he was rude. How fondly you pictured him in your mind, even when he had done nothing but manipulate you so far.

How could you he so naive? He was obviously using you. And yet, you seemed to care about him, which pissed him off more.

He doesn't deserve someone as tender as you. As kind and caring.

Astarions grits his teeth as he speaks. "I don't have to let you do anything. I don't deserve that."

Why did he say that? How stupid of him so seem so vulnerable around you. And why does he want to curl up against you and let it all out? Why does he want you to wrap him up in your arms and whisper into his hair and tell him everything is going to be okay?

What is wrong with him?

You wrap up his cut tightly, giving him a glare. "You're wrong." you replied, short and direct. Your stare made it clear that this wasn't up for debate.

"You deserve just as much as everyone else. If not more, given what you've been through."

Astarion glares right back. If there was one thing he could do, it was argue. "You know nothing about me. I barely even told you half of it."

You don't know why he has to be so stubborn about this. Maybe it's his nature. Or maybe he's just too much of a coward to admit that he's actually starting to develop feelings for you. Astarion doesn't know which.

"I'm objectively the worst person on this team. You should be helping the others. Lae'zel got all scratched up too, you know."

"They've got each other." you argue back, just as stubborn as the elf. "But you, you've closed yourself off from everyone. Shut them out."

"If I don't take care of you, no one will. The Hells know that you wouldn't take care of yourself, either. You're too self-loathing for that."

When the hell did you become so perceptive? How in the world did you come to that conclusion? He wasn't self hating, he was just telling the truth. He was awful, evil. He knew it to be true.

...

Shit. Maybe you were right.

"Fine. Maybe your words have some truth in them." he sighs, not daring to look you in the eyes as he admits it. "You're right. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Damn it. Now he wants to hug you. The feeling he's been trying to avoid the entire time is bubbling up, threatening to engulf him.

Does it make him weak to want to be coddled and comforted by you? Would it make him just as pathetic as he was under Cazador's thumb? Would allowing himself this pampering, this affection, be nothing more than something to regret?

"I'm always right." you scoff. "You'd have picked up on that by now if you weren't so aloof."

You slide off of his lap once you're done bandaging, giving him some space. But you don't leave his tent.

You stay there, sitting in front of him, as a silent show of solidarity. "I'm not going anywhere. No matter how much you try to push me away."

The urge to pull you close and never let you go is overwhelming him. Astarion's not sure if he can trust himself to resist it.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks quietly, lowering his head a bit shamefully. "Why are you so insistent on helping me? I'm not worth it."

"Because you are worth it. And I won't stop until you believe it."

"I will not allow you to fall into tragedy when you can be so much more than that. I've seen your potential - on the battlefield and in camp. I refuse to let you waste your life in solitude."

Astarion wants to believe you. Desperately.

The evidence is staring him right in the face: the way that you care for him, how he feels secure in your presence.

But if he believes you, he can't hide any longer. He can't seek shelter behind the walls he's carefully erected within himself. And he can't shield himself from the vulnerability of admitting that he needs you. So instead he just says:

"Shut up."

You sigh. No matter how much you try to break him down, he stays persistent. "Fine."

"I'll stop talking, but you'd be a fool if you think I'm leaving."

He scoffs. "So what, you're just going to sit there and watch me all night?"

"If that's all you'll allow me, yes."

Allow. Such a sacred, unheard word to him.

Astarion didn't even have a response to that. In the end, he didn't have enough energy to make a snarky counter. And before he can form a coherent sentence and protest, his body makes a decision for him.

The elf slumps forward and places his head in your lap, curling up in a way that resembles a kitten. A stray seeking shelter.

Despite his efforts of stubborness, he closes his eyes and lets his body go slack.

He wants this.

You're relieved. For a moment, you sit still, not wanting to scare him away with any sudden movements. He needed this peace, and you wouldn't dare take it from him.

Slowly, you start to rake your fingers through his curls. Slowly, gently. Like a mother comforting her child.

He needs it. More than ever.

When you begin to run your fingers through his hair, it's like all his defenses dissolve away. Astarion lets out a quiet hum of contentment and presses his head further into your warmth, making himself as comfortable as possible in this precious moment.

Time seems to slow down as you sit there. There's no need for words. After so long of being taken and abused by his master, Astarion finds himself oddly calm. Safe.

It's strange to feel this comfortable. Even now he should have to urge to try and escape your touch, but he's not feeling those impulses.

He takes a deep breath and relaxes into your touch. The tension and discomfort that seemed to define his existence is melting away. For the first time in centuries, he feels he's where he belongs.

As you continue to pet his hair, you hear a quiet whisper come from your companion.

"Thank you."

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #fluff #bg3 #my baby deserves the world omg #i love him #webshooterrr9

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charliedawn · 2 months

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Hey I was wondering how do you think the slashers would react if they're s/o was wearing a piece of their clothing or mask (for the masked ones)? Honestly I think if Michael found his s/o wearing (or even touching...) His mask that's a killable offense right there lmao.

Jason Voorhees:

Jason was asleep when you took his mask. When he woke up and didn't find it—he started panicking.

He made a mess out of his bedroom in a desperate attempt to find it and locked his door so that nobody could come in.

You frowned as you found the door locked and knocked on the door.

"Jason ? Are you alright ?"

He wasn't.

He hesitated to open the door, but you then slid his mask back to him through the door.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to surprise you."

He understood what had happened and opened the door a little to look at you. You seemed genuinely sorry and he finally opened the door for you to come in.

Jason wears the mask for a reason. He is insecure to the extreme. It's the only way for him to hide himself and if it had been anyone else than you ?

...That person would have been dead and buried.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms actually woke up when you were looking at yourself in the mirror with his mask on.

He seemed stunned for a moment before he silently got out of bed to stand next to you.

Once you saw him in the mirror, you turned around. You were ready to apologize, but then saw the way he was looking at you.

He wasn't angry. Far from it. He just stared at you and smiled before slowly removing the mask from your face.

He then put it back on his and took a deep breath—as if smelling it. He then hummed appreciatively and wrapped his arms around you.

"...Brahms' mask smells good now." He whispered and held you closer.

…

Well—that backfired.

Vincent Sinclair:

Panic. Immediate and irreversible panic.

Unlike Brahms or Jason, Vince is deeply ashamed of his face. It isn't about being insecure or having a couple of scars. He is TERRIFIED of his own reflection.

Vincent used to be attached to Bo. Being twins at birth, it made him feel as if there was someone out there who understood him.

But, the mask is a mark of shame—the constant reminder that that connection is severed. And he feels ugly because of it. Because he was disfigured from the operation—while Bo wasn't.

They are different now, when there were supposed to be one and the same.

Plus, he’s only got one mask. It took time to make as he had to get Bo to agree to mould a mask with his face.

So, he would get mad. He would also be pretty physical about getting it back.

He COULD hurt you.

Do not steal his mask, unless you are absolutely sure and asked permission beforehand.

Michael Myers:

...You have a death wish. There is no other possible explanation.

Michael values his mask more than anything in this world.

He hides his face for a reason. It became a part of him over time and he HATES when people see his true face.

So, do not steal his mask.

But, I don’t think you’d be able to anyway.

Michael almost never takes it off and if anyone tried to take his mask away ? Wrists would get crushed. Just saying.

Freddy Krueger:

"If you take the hat, sweetheart…Be ready to face the consequences."

Freddy LOVES his hats (Yes. Plural. He’s got a full drawer of them in his room)

He counts them all before going to bed and when he saw that one of them was missing, he was ready to track the person down and draw blood.

But, when he understood you were the little thief, he smirked and simply closed the door behind him. He then sat down and grinned mischievously at you.

"Looks good on ya. But since you stole it…How about you offer me a show as compensation, hmm ?" *pats his lap and smirks*

Sleazy lil’ goblin to the end.

Pennywise:

If by some MIRACLE, you managed to get Pennywise’s gloves…He’d be furious. Pennywise hates touching people and his gloves are like a second skin to him.

Pennywise *appears behind you and screeches*: "GIVE THEM BACK THIS INSTANT, YOU STUPID HUMAN !"

Pennywise is usually pretty chill. So, for him to get really mad ? Yeah…No stealing the clown’s gloves. Never.

Bo Sinclair:

Bo's cap is his own way of hiding his insecurity. He has a scar at the back of his ear from the operation to separate him from Vince.

He doesn’t like people looking at it, so he wears that cap all the time.

One day, you decided to remove it while he was sleeping, and he grabbed your wrist before you could run away with it.

He then smirked and tutted playfully.

"Careful, darls. You take my cap, I take your life."

You knew he was only kidding, but there was also a little bit of a warning in his eyes.

He likes his cap. It’s the only thing he got left from his dad and his tolerance is zero. So, do not try to steal his cap, or ask first. He would allow you to wear it eventually, but still…Bo is not someone to be messed with.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #pennywise x reader #bo sinclair x reader

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sherwees · 4 months

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cw : cheating (that's it)

busy idol boyfie winwin that'll take you out everyday even after stressing practices whenever you weren't "busy" with anything. he knew that you had time to visit him and his suspicions stayed high on his mind but he'll never want to make you upset so he just pushes his conflicting thoughts to the side.

winwin loves coming home after a long day and having you sit on his tense,sore lap whilst you whisper all types of praises; his hands rubbing soothing circles into your plush thighs. especially when you say his real name, it makes him feel all warm inside and makes him relish in the moment. But, knowing that deep in his gut, he knows that you're slipping right through his fingers.

he hates when you're mad at him. those times that he questions why there's a certain amount of makeup on one part of your neck but you only brush it off and move away from him. he'll spend the rest of the week thinking about how he could make it up to you and even asks his fellow groupmate and best friend yangyang about it but his advice is only him saying to stay away from you so it's only futile. he just ends up buying chrysanthemums for you (hendery's advice) and you end up catching hay fever but at least you accepted them.

and he also hates that you mention yangyang nearly everyday. “yangyang bought me it” “yangyang said..” or you just reusing a cheeky joke from the orange haired goblin. he also wonders if you were "playing" around with yangyang behind his back because he'll never mention the gifts or when he would ask him about it, he'll act oblivious and cut the conversation right there. there was a problem, he doesn't think he could fix it.

your hands on the headboard keeps your stature as you ride his cock. the silence of it all made it feel so solemn.. winwin didn't feel the lovey doveyness of it all anymore. he was quite turned off at this point and it was even the fact you had your eyes closed.. what the fuck? winwin wished you could just simply open your eyes to see his unamused expression or the fact that he's gone soft inside of you already. it was so fucking awkward just seeing you mumble to yourself, it only made the turmoil of anger worsen. he didn't want this to end but you were being fucking rude.. his dick game wasn't bad because he made you cum before, maybe even scream but what was your fucking problem? there was a cork in his throat, that cork turned into the words. the more he paid attention to his gut, the more he would listen to your mumbling;

“s’ so big”

“im yours and nobody elses”

“I will, I will..”

“hmm.. you're sure bigger than him”.

okay now what the fuck. so you wer– are fucking with him? I mean you grabbing your shit and storming out after he simply asked, “are you fucking liu yangyang?” was an overreaction, I mean you were able to simply cheat on him so..? the looks that yangyang gave him was a contrast from hendery's “I feel bad for you and I wish I told you but you're still a loser” looks even pissed him off more. I mean he couldn't even comprehend why you would do that; he gave you everything you wanted and you just ran for the arrogant sore loser in his group. yangyang's dick game was oftentimes mentioned only by himself,

“well I only fuck with real bitches because only high classes deserve this dick” like ew?

winwin took another harsh bite of his subway sandwich, it felt like his teeth were poking at his gums and his jaw hurt from chewing; he ended up just slamming his sandwich down on the table and leaning back with his arms folded. xiaojun looked at him crazy then returned to his phone which only made him mad enough and tears started streaming, bit by bit that only pushed his anger into loneliness.

“this is captain liu huge cock speaking..” ; from when he wore that stupid pilot outfit for their seasons greetings 3 years ago and he had that walkie talkie thing in his hand, his lips forming into a crisp smile.

“yangyang bought me this really~ cute necklace, wanna see?” ; from when you turned around in the summer dress that winwin bought you that same week; all giggly and smiley over a silver flower necklace. He remembers looking at the pandora bracelet on your tan wrist and all it's charms, winwin never had the time to take you anywhere now so he guessed it was yangyang again.

“do you think I could impress her” ; from that one time when he stood by the dormitory's bathroom doors before a party, texting YOU actually. he looked between the photo of you wearing the dress you got and the little slit in the bathroom door that let him see; yangyang fixing his collar of his suit. You sent another image of you in a lacey butterfly bra from Victoria's Secret through his peripherals and his eyes darted from the screen and back to the slit in the door once he heard Hendery say something also.

he turned back and yangyang's head appeared like a whack a mole in the doorway with that stupid innocent look in his face, eyes with a sad glint with a slight pout to his lips “don't be a snooper.. babe~” yangyang lilted with a smile before laughing at himself; winwin noticed that he tried to mock your unique tone.. he was also sure that you've never said that to him before. yangyang's pupils directed to something else, winwin's eyes searched for what he was looking for or at but he soon realized that he was looking at his phone and his smile widened.

his wrist immediately turned the phone away, looking back to him with an uncertain look that he, himself couldn't even describe till this day. yangyang only sighed before raising an eyebrow at winwin, his lips slightly distorted because of the laugh he held and once he popped his big ass head back in, he obviously started laughing.. boastfully..

The memory ended adruptly once winwin felt a headache incoming. his fingers found his temple immediately, massaging circles but immediately stopped his ministrations once he remembered the better times.

when you were both together.

#nct smut #smut #nct imagines #wayv smut #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct angst #winwin smut #winwin x reader #winwin imagine #winwin #sadsadsad #wayv x reader #wayv fanfic #wayv scenarios

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gaysindistress · 15 days

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Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Lae’zel.

Main masterlist

1. She hated you the moment you met.

I would even go as far as to say that it started the moment you made eye contact. For this I imagine you’re Tav, the great leader and adventurer, and she can’t stand you. She hates how you’re so willing to let the other companions join without hesitation. She hates how you go out of your way to help others like the tieflings when she’s telling you not to. She hates the fact that you are such an honorable and caring leader because she’s nothing like that. She hates the fact that you’re kind and compassionate towards her when all she’s been is cruel and malicious to you. She hates that your gentle hands and soft spoken words have artfully cracked the walls around her heart. She hates the way that you look at her and how it never seems to change even when you’re in the company of others.

She hates that you don’t hate her.

2. She becomes fiercely protective of you when Shadowheart starts to show interest in you.

It feels ridiculous to her but she can’t stop herself from watching your every move or guarding your tent at night. A desire to protect is buried somewhere in her. It pushes her logic away and forces this utterly primal feeling to the surface when it comes to you and your wellbeing. Before Shadowheart, Lae’zel might’ve just kept you in her peripheral and trusted you to not be stupid enough to get seriously hurt. She would’ve cursed at you when she marched over to you after a goblin landed a decent shot and yanked you to your feet. If she felt like it, she might even help you with your wounds but it wouldn’t be kind nor gentle. Although when Shadowheart comes and starts to show an interest in you, the warrior sees red.

During battles, she’s never more than a dash away and your enemies are shot down with an arrow before you can even pull out your blade. When you’re traveling, she keeps you at her side and will employ a host of reasons why you should stay there. They range from she needs to talk to you privately all the way to she senses danger and since she’s the best warrior, it makes the most sense to stay beside her.

Everyone at camp can see what she’s doing…expect you. You’re blind to it and that could because you genuinely think that she hates you. I mean what reason do you have to think she doesn’t? It becomes clear that maybe you were wrong the night that she and Shadowheart get into their fight. You’re coming back to camp from bathing when you see the cleric has Lae’zel pinned to the ground with a blade pressed into her throat. They’re unaware of you as they argue, threats and death wishes flying between them.

“Absolutely not!” you shout at them as you drop everything in your arms and rush over. Both women tense at your tone but neither are willing to back down. “Get off of her now,” you snap at the cleric with your hands on your hips.

“Chk, do not order us around as if we are yanki,” Lae’zel replies, brushing herself off as Shadowheart gets up.

That causes your blood to run cold. You narrow your eyes on her and take small strides towards her, pointing at her as you chide the warrior, “if you’re going to act like children, then you will be treated as such. Whatever petty disagreement you have with her needs to end now. We have more important things to worry about than protecting your pride, Lae’zel.”

The mentioned pride is wounded by your cutting words but she knows you’re right. She simply spits out a ‘chk’ before storming off to her tent. You know better than to check on her so you leave her to nurse her wounds in private.

The next morning is a different story though. The warrior may not be on speaking terms with you but you’d would be hard pressed to move a few feet without Lae’zel magically appearing. A few times you almost elbowed her from how close she was and the only explanation she offered was an upturned nose with a ‘chk’. Whatever danger you come into contact with that day is immediately cut down by either a githyanki sword or an arrow through their throats.

3. You don’t hear the first time that she actually compliments you.

Lae’zel thinks that showing her approval of you would be to show weakness and she can’t have that. She’s barely able to say kind words half of the time. It’s not that she doesn’t want to per se; she would love to see your face heat up and you grow shy under her watchful gaze when she tells you how stunning you are. It’s more that she doesn’t know how to in the sense that she can’t figure out how to make the words fall from her mouth.

Instead she settles for keeping you at arms length while staring at anyone who comes near you. The tiefling celebration at your camp however is the night she can’t take it anymore. You’re mingling with everyone, giving them the attention that Lae’zel craves. She keeps telling herself that you’ll come to her, you just need to see how unworthy these people are of your time first.

Eventually you do find her and she commends you on your leadership in defeating the goblins. Perhaps against her better judgement (her heart), she suggests that you two have sex, no strings attached of course.

You don’t exactly accept her answer but you don’t reject her either. It’s enough to ease her troubled mind until she sees Shadowheart lean in just a little too close. Given your last collective encounter, the girthyanki isn’t too pleased to see the cleric being friendly with you.

The drink that had been thrust in her hands has turned sour on her tongue and sits heavy on her stomach. Whatever food that had been prepared for their little feast now feels like it’s spoiled and threatens to come back up. Lae’zel’s head is swimming with foul thoughts whether it be from the alcohol or her jealousy. A mood even more intense and abhorrent overcomes her while she sits by the fire and stares at the flames. Consumed by the flames of both the fire in front of her and her internal one, she doesn’t notice you sit beside her. It’s not until you gently bump her shoulder with yours that she registers your presence.

“For a celebration you’re quite broody. Is something amiss, warrior?” you quietly tease her. The nickname you’d given her shouldn’t stroke the fire within her but it does. Something so simple seems to be amplified because it’s coming from you.

Lae’zel lets herself look you over, taking in every inch of your now relaxed body before forcing herself to look away. She finds a bubble in her drink to keep her interest and offers only silence.

“If you’d rather be alone, tell me and I’ll leave.”

Her ochre eyes snap shut and her shoulders subtly drop in defeat. She hopes that you don’t notice either action but those hopes are dash when you softly say her name with a light hand on her elbow. It’s not like her to show any sort of vulnerability or anything of the sort like this which is even more concerning to you. To save herself from saying things she doesn’t want you to hear yet, she tells you to join the others and she’ll come to you when they’ve fallen asleep.

It’s not quite a rejection but a blow nonetheless. She almost regrets it the moment your warmth has left her side.

You later find her in the alter room where she’s back to her usual self, demanding you submit to her and bend to her will. It’s when she submits to you that Lae’zel realizes that you are so much more than the person she thought you to be at first. It’s when you take her submission and honor it like a dom should, providing her with comfort and safety as you explore each other, that she realizes that you mean so much more to her. It’s when you tend her afterwards and ensure that she is take care of before falling asleep that she realizes she doesn’t want you anymore. No, no she craves you.

When you’ve drifted off to sleep, Lae’zel brushes back hair from your forehead and finally voices her admiration for you.

For now it’s enough for her that she’s said how she feels even if you didn’t hear. For now it’s enough that her feelings have been shared with the moon and she’ll wait to share them with you.

#lae'zel #lae’zel x reader #lae’zel x tav #Lae’zel imagine #laezel #laezel x tav #laezel x reader #laezel bg3 #lae’zel bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #bg3 imagine

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oops-all-concrete · 4 months

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I'm doing another BG3 companions headcanons dump, since I enjoyed the last one a lot! So please enjoy;

BG3 COMPANIONS REACT TO; TAV IS SCARED!

(For further context, companions reacting to Tav having to be around something they don't like, eg; water, small spaces, fire, undead etc, or they're just jumpy in general. Also, romance is not established, but implied!)

Wall of fluff below, enjoy

Lae'zel -

It depends on the fear. If it's something like a cave that's barely holding up or the group is sneaking past a hoard, she'll agree the situation is critical, but encourage focus. "I'd also like for this to be over. But it won't be if we hesitate and dally" but if it's something like heights or rivers, she doesn't understand...but she will become a githyanki barrier between Tav and whatever is causing them stress.

Shadowheart -

She's pretty understanding of most fears. She freezes at the mere howl of a distant wolf, so if Tav flinches at the crackle of fire or the smell of blood, so be it. She keeps an eye out and tries to find work arounds if the group is about to enter somewhere Tav is going to hate. If it's unavoidable, she's as gentle as possible. "We've got this. It'll be over before you know it, I promise you. Then we'll never have to do this again."

Wyll -

He'll make it as tolerable as possible, but will encourage Tav to face their fears head on. "I'm not scared. I have no reason to be and neither do you, because I won't let anything happen to you" he'll promise. Won't push, won't complain. Just keeps Tav in arms reach and stays calm. He's proudly Tavs dedicated rock. And sheild. And blade. He sasses anybody has anything to say about it.

Karlach -

"Don't worry. Mama K is the best teifling sheild around, from here to Avernus! Stick close" She smiles, confident as ever. Even if she is scared too, she'll pretty much forget about that while Tav is scared. Tav is her main priority, and she let's them know proudly. Anyone else says anything? She's reaching for the greataxe.

Gale -

Doesn't want you to be embarrassed, so he tells you about a silly fear he has. Has a knack for rambling Tav into distraction, so he takes advantage as best he can of their attention. Of course in a moment of panic he'll drop the 'I did something stupid' fake laughter and immediately stop everything. "We can go, right now. I'm sure we can find another way to do this, we always do. I don't care if it takes longer, it's got to be better than watching you shake like that"

Astarion -

He pretends not to notice. Not because he doesn't care, but comfort has never been his strong suit. He worries he's going to make it all worse if he addresses Tav about it. Instead he occupies himself with laughing about whatever situation they're in. If he knows anything, its how to be disarming, and laughter works like a charm...but if it doesn't and nobody else steps in to comfort Tav, he'll do it- granted the words are coming out before he can think too hard; "Look at me. You have survived a goblin camp of cultists, an entire githyanki creche- we met after crashing from a nautaloid ship with illithid worms in our heads. This is nothing. You're stronger than this."

Bonus! (the elders)

Halsin -

He can tell they're nervous before Tav can. He checks in regularly and asks repeatedly if there's anything else he can do to make it all easier. Once it gets to be too much, he calls it for Tav. "I understand if you'd rather myself and a few others handle this. While I'm proud of you for staying, I can promise you no disappointment if you wish to leave. Your wellbeing isn't worth sacrificing for this"

Jaheira -

Similar to Halsin, she's very quick to pick up on when something upsets Tav even if they don't say anything. She subtly keeps an ear out for how well they're holding up, and will make excuses for Tav to take breaks and get further away from the thing they're scared of. "Apologies, but this old druid needs to rest her old lady hips. Tav, it would be safer if we both went to that safe spot there, come on." Jaheira won't bring it up, but its easy to figure out what she's doing.

Minsc -

He doesn't notice for a while, even if its obvious, but once it occurs to him, he draws an obnoxious amount of attention to it. Granted he's also asking people to get between you and the source of discomfort and will tell anyone who so much as sighs to politely shut the fuck up. If he thinks it will help, he will put Boo on Tavs shoulder. "Boo is a war criminal! Everything fears Boo. He'll protect you from all the nasties, won't you Boo?"

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you guys have any prompt ideas, I'd LOVE to write more ^^

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

Text

Spiderman au (stoncy)

Jonathan makes sure to check that the ally is well and truly empty before he pulls his mask up. Christ, he wouldn’t have become Spider-Man if he’d known how hot the suit would be. And not in the fun way people like to joke about. He chugs his water, and debates pouring some over his head. Sadly he needs it to hydrate. He slowly drinks the rest like a good superhero.

That’s still insane to him. Even after years of experience, he still sometimes thinks he’s going to wake up and it will all have been a bad dream.

Nancy told him she got into investigative reporting after her best friend went missing. She was found a year later, body deteriorating inside the restricted area of a government lab that had faces a chemical leak. A leak they tried their best to cover up.

Her first article is under someone else’s name. He’s read it. It’s incredibly good for a seventeen year old burning with righteous fury. It’s obvious that she was meant for this, built for finding the cracks and burrowing deeper until she pulls the ugly truth.

He respects her deeply. He just wishes that he wasn’t the crack she’s focusing on.

“You’ve spoken to him though, Jonathan,” she says, eyes pleading. “If anyone could get me an interview, it would be you!”

And have her recognize him instantly? No thanks.

“Nancy, seriously. He doesn’t want an interview.”

“But if I could just talk to him-”

“No, Nance.”

He knows her first regret will always be Barb. Her second, though? The ex-boyfriend who also went missing after agreeing to some extremely shady treatment for his terminal cancer. Unlike Barb, she never got closure for that one. She still doesn’t know what happened to him. She tracked him as far as the facility they’d taken him to, but it exploded long before she got there. Presumably with Steve inside.

He knows she still holds out hope. They never identified his body she’d whispered to him once after too many drinks at an office party. I checked the records. They don’t know for certain if he was still in it.

The next day she told him she knew it was a stupid wish. Even if the explosion hadn’t killed him, the cancer would have by now. But he knows Nancy. She’ll never stop wondering.

“So how’d you get yours?” Deadpool asks, swinging his legs cheerfully over the ledge.

“My Chimichanga? You gave it to me.”

He can practically see Deadpool roll his eyes behind his mask. “No, smartass. Your powers.”

That’s a loaded question. If he’s too specific it would be easy to find out who he is. But it’s not like it would be with anyone else, is it? Deadpool’s a hero too, no matter how much anti he puts in front of it. And they’re friends, or something like it. Friendly enough for him to let the other man slap his ass at least.

“I got bit by a radioactive spider.”

“No,” he gasps, whipping his head towards Jonathan. “No fucking way. Seriously?”

“I’m being completely serious!” He promises, starting to laugh. It really does sound ridiculous out loud. “I was on this field trip at the place my mom’s ex-boyfriend worked at, and it got out and bit me!”

“Field trip? Oh my God, you were a fucking baby. No wonder your mom broke up with that guy.”

That sobers him up quick. “He was actually a really nice guy,” he says quietly, looking down at his hands. “He, uh…he died, actually.” Saving my brother, he doesn’t say. The failure still bleeds in his chest. He should have been stronger. Bob didn’t deserve the way he died, ripped apart by the Green Goblin because they’d been after him.

His mom doesn’t blame him, but she should.

“Shit,” Deadpool swears, reaching towards Jonathan as if to comfort before thinking better of it and pulling away. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that, sorry. Me and my big fucking mouth.”

“It’s more trouble than you’re worth,” Jonathan agrees, and ignores the protest that gets. “What about you? How’d you get your powers?”

Deadpool takes the deflect with grace, eager as Jonathan to get the awkwardness behind them. “Oh, me? Great story, you’re gonna love this. So I was dying from cancer, right?”

He wasn’t expecting that, almost choking on the chimichanga he’d taken a bite of.

“Gross, man. Chew it, don’t spew it.”

“You have cancer and you’re out here doing all this?”

“I had cancer,” he corrects. “Terminal. There was no saving me, yanno? And I…well, I got desperate.”

Jonathan sucks in a breath. He knows exactly what kind of things desperation lead to.

Deadpool huffs a laugh. “Yeah,” he agrees, even though Jonathan hasn’t said anything. “Stupid of me, I know. Shoulda just kicked the bucket like a respectable motherfucker. But no, I just had to track down some shady research facility that promised to try and find a cure for me. You know how that goes, right? But, well…” He raises a fist, dropping it slowly down before he opens it near his thigh, making an explosion noise with his mouth. “Rock fucking bottom, amiright? I was gonna die anyway. Why not add human experimentation to my bucket list?”

“So it worked?”

“So it worked?” He mimics, in a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like Jonathan. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“How’d you get superpowers from it?”

“I was getting to that. So it worked, right? But the cure they used…it wasn’t designed to stop the cancer. Not really. No, what they did was turn me into a mutant. I’m basically an X-Men by now. X-Man? Point is, not dying did not come naturally. And once they brought it out of me, they made sure to test it. Again, and again, and again.”

Suddenly his chimichanga doesn’t look too good anymore. He hands it to Deadpool, who takes it with enthusiasm.

“Thanks, man, how’d you know I was still hungry? Anyway, I escaped, obviously. Took the whole organization down with me. By the time I left, whole building was in flames. Now I’m hunting down the survivors.” He takes a bite. “Y’sure you don’ wan dish?” He asks through a mouthful of food.

“I’m good.”

He swallows. “Your loss, I guess. This is fucking delicious. Sorry to be a moodkiller and run, but I’m afraid I have an appointment with a very small, very blind landlady. Toodles!”

He leaves Jonathan there at a loss for words. He can’t even make a sound to protest. All he can do is watch as Deadpool jumps straight down from the roof, only barely bothering to slow his fall so he doesn’t break his leg. Not that it would matter much if he did. Jonathan stays on the roof, processing, until he hears a woman cry for help a few streets away.

He hits his web-shooters. Crime never sleeps in the city.

It’s only when he’s in bed that he realizes he’s heard that story before.

The next time he sees Nancy, he’s a mess.

“You ready to shoot?” She asks, setting a coffee on his desk with a smile. It falters when all he does is stare back. “Jonathan?”

Ready to shoot? Right. Photography. His job. His job he works at with Nancy. Nancy, whose ex-boyfriend may or may not be the guy who has slapped his ass and flirted with him on numerous occasions. Fuck. He’s going insane. He’s losing his fucking mind. Deadpool probably isn’t even Steve and all this will be for nothing.

“Your ex-boyfriend,” he blurts out. She rears back, startled. “He had cancer, right?”

“Steve?” She shakes her head, not in disagreement but in confusion. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“Did he?”

Her mouth twists in displeasure. He doesn’t blame her, that was a terrible fucking way to start “Hey, your dead boyfriend might not be so dead after all!” He wishes he could bang his head on his desk without cracking the table. “I’m not talking about this.”

“Nancy, wait,” he starts, and she shakes her head again.

“I’m going to see if Fred is free, actually,” she says, and hurries away. He groans, and lets his head fall onto his desk anyway. One tiny crack won’t matter, right?

It’ll fit in with all the others.

Nancy avoids him for the next week. By the time he sees Deadpool again, he’s even more of a mess.

“Spidey!” He greets, blood dripping off his sword. “I know I ask this every time, but I just gotta check, man. You seen anyone named Brenner around?”

“Still a no, sorry.”

He sighs, wiping off his blade before sticking it back in the sheath. “Worth a shot.”

“Do you ever talk to people from your old life?” Jonathan blurts out. “Before you became a superhero?”

Deadpool shrugs nonchalantly, but he can’t pass off the tension in his shoulders. “They all think I’m dead,” he says. “It’s better that way.”

“Didn’t you have a girlfriend? Or friends? Parents?”

“Friends, not really. Parents, no. Girlfriend…she’s better off this way.” He says, counting on his fingers. He laughs bitterly. “I stopped talking to my parents before I even got diagnosed, and my only friend was my girlfriend. I dumped all the other ones for being assholes after…well, some shit went down, and they were real dicks about it, that’s all I’m gonna say.” He turns to Jonathan, suspicious. “Why the third-degree?”

“What’s dying like?”

“Pretty chill, actually,” he says. Jonathan turns to look at him, and he gets the impression Deadpool is grinning. “Don’t get me wrong, the dying part? That fucking suuuuuucks. But Death itself isn’t so bad. I usually just chill with Her for a while before She sends me back.”

“...Her?”

“Oh yeah, The Lady loves me. We’re besties.”

“You’re besties,” he repeats flatly. “With Death.”

“What? Like that’s so hard to believe, Mr. Radioactive Spider?”

He’s got him there. “What’s Death like then? The…Lady, or whatever.”

“Well, first of all, she’s a massive lesbian.”

Jonathan should have known nothing that came out of his mouth would be fucking normal. “I’m leaving.”

“No, wait!” Deadpool grabs his arm. “I’m being serious! Death is a lesbian, she loves birds and prefers to go by Robin, and we’re apparently soulmates.”

“…are you a girl?”

“No?”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“C’mon, Spidey, open your mind.” If he could see his face, he knows that bastard would be smirking at him. “We’re not romantic. She actually hated me at first. I mean we’re literally tied together by the universe. Whatever souls are made of, hers and mine are the same.’

“Is that Emily Bronte?”

“Look who paid attention in high school english!”

He misses his bed.

#Spiderman au #stoncy #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #jonathan byers #photographer jonathan #i kept seeing all these posts like ‘Steve is Spiderman’ ‘Eddie is Spiderman’ well I would like to submit my take #Jonathan byers as spiderman #Nancy as both reporter mj and Vanessa (is that Deadpool’s gfs name?)#Steve as deadpool #Robin as Lady Death bc I saw something that said in the comics deadpool can’t die bc death is in love with him and I said hmmm I can stobin #I had a lot of fun writing this can you tell #stranger things fanfic

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green-kat331 · 11 months

Text

My Friend Spider-man

Pt 4: "Our Friend Spider-Man"

(Spider-man x reader)

Pt1/ Pt2 / Pt3

Warnings:None

Your meetings are continuous. Strange and unexpected but still continuous.

Never too long, probably about two to three hours, but enough to feel closer to him by the end. For some reason he just kept returning, standing on your balcony with a stupid flashy pose. If he felt generous he would bring you lunch and a piece of information for your paper… but 90% of the time he is clowning around like he’s not a literal famous superhero. No, now he’s a guy in a funny costume that shows up at your apartment to hang out and tells you about random subjects, like what the weather is like on the other side of the city (he says there’s a difference, but you’re not convinced) or about how he found pigeons wearing a scarf. Stuff that you can’t even use in the report, he made it his mission to make this paper as difficult as possible for you.

And yet, you keep that door unlocked waiting for him to arrive if he so wishes. You didn’t tell Peter about Spiderman’s visits, You don’t know why. He would’ve kept it a secret, you are confident in that fact… but you want to keep it to yourself—like your own little secret.

Now you are sitting beside the suited hero eating a hotdog he got you from a vendor 40 blocks away. He claims them as ‘the best dogs in New York.’

You sat next to each other with your feet dangling down off the balcony platform. Staring at the many buildings of New York. Making small talk and laughing with each other…

“You wanna know something funny Spidey?” you ask taking a bite from the hot dog.

“Hmph?” He muffles out cheeks stuffed with half of his hot dog.

You chuckle as you chew and swallow. “I hate Spiders.”

He places a gloved hand over his heart in mock offense topping it off with an exaggerated gasp after the rest of his hot dog made it down his throat.

“Gasp!! NO!!…”

“Yeah…”

“Can’t you make an exception for me?” He pleaded leaning towards you.

You laugh at his dramatics crumpling the wrapper paper and throwing it behind you, into your room to clean up later. You hum as you think

“Hmm, I’ll have to think about it.” You smirk kicking your feet. Spiderman lets out a relieved sigh.

After a few minutes of silence, you lay on the ground and use your hands as a pillow for your head. You look up at both the sky and the underneath of your neighbor’s balcony. It was cloudy, as you expected for mid-day New York. You hear shuffling and turn your head to see that Spiderman has adopted the same position as you.

You see his broad chest rise and fall with each breath he took and he had pulled his mask back down to cover his face completely again.

“Do you think this is the right choice for me?” You ask suddenly, you didn’t even know what or why you were asking it until it came out of your mouth.

“You’re asking the guy that wears spandex to swing off of buildings and fights goblins all day,” He says in a joking manner. Unamused you jab his ribs making him twitch with a small yelp.

“I’m being serious here Spider!”

“So am I! You’re really gonna take life advice from someone whose main focus is keeping a city safe from zoo animals and other weird stuff like that?” at this, you sit up to turn towards him “Oh come on, Give yourself some credit, it doesn’t hurt to ask.” You say then lay back down on your back and huff. Spiderman sighs “Honestly, I don’t know why you doubt yourself sometimes…the paper is going fine, Jamison’s not gonna like any positive stuff about me being put out in papers either way so I would call it a win that you even convinced him.” You nod your head at his words then stop.

You think back to any moment that you might’ve shown The hero your report. None come to mind.

“How the hell do you know how the paper’s going?” You ask turning your head towards him with furrowed eyebrows. The only person you’ve told the updates to is Peter.

He paused…Realizing his mistake he looks away

“I… Uh- might’ve taken a slight glance at it… while you left the room.” He admits. You shove his shoulder “You need to wait! The paper comes out at the end of this week! You can’t wait two days?”

“I needed to make sure it was as accurate as it could be,” Spider says defending himself

“No– No.” You begin and sit up to face him with your whole body

“You. will be waiting for the papers like everyone else, Weekly. No sneak peeks or quick glances at the rough draft,” you say sternly, he puts his hands up in defense “Okay…okay… but what if you write something that’s not exactly the truth?”

“Well, then that will just have to be between you, and I won’t it?”

He chuckles a bit at your comment. “It sure seems like a lot of things are staying just between us, huh?” you take a moment… Spiderman had been returning to your apartment balcony for days now… it was starting to feel like he hung out with you not as an interviewee but as a friend. “Yeah…they’ll just have to believe me then…either way I'm not worried about getting anything wrong. After all... I do have the most direct source of information on Spider-man”

This makes him laugh out It was an airy youthful chuckle it lifted a little of your worry.

“Yeah. you are right about that..”

I smile as I watch him laugh, then I looked down at my lap “I umm…I haven’t told Peter…about us.” You confess rubbing the back of your neck.

He looked at you with a tilted head “Do you want to tell him?”

You kick your feet as you think “I don’t know, I mean how am I even supposed to tell him that a superhero just casually hangs out with me almost every day.” you say thoughtfully “Honestly you’re hanging out with me more than Peter has recently…I’m not blaming him though, He’s a busy guy.” You see Spider-man looking down thoughtfully “But don’t worry about it okay? That just means that we’ll get more time to spend together... Just you and me.” You say trying to lighten the mood back up.

“Yeah just you and me,” He says gently, you couldn’t see his face but you could tell he was smiling behind the mask.

–The next day later–

TOMORROW!

The paper comes out tomorrow! You need to get your report to Jameson as soon as possible!

As quickly as you could, you leap out of bed, patting down your hair. You grab a random shirt and pair of pants and do whatever you needed to in the bathroom. While brushing your teeth you receive a message from Peter

Peter: Good luck today!!

You: THX!!! <3

You don’t even say bye to Mikey before grabbing your report and running out of your apartment you run through the streets to make it to Jameson’s office on time maybe even a little early.

…

“YOU'RE LATE!” He shouts As you rush through his office doors, knowing that if you were late he wouldn’t publish your report.

“No, I'm not.” You argue back, holding the papers in your hands

“Uh, yes you are,” He says sassily holding his arm out to look at his watch.

“Nuh Uh” You argue back again with a smug smile. Before shouting back at you he looks at his watch closer to see you were actually 5 minutes early. “You’re early, I don't support try-hards.” He states standing up to walk out of his office. Your shoulders slump and you follow him out. “Oh come on Mr.Jamison…that’s not fair.”

“Fair? I’m not here for fair. I’m here for sweet sweet capitalism.” Jameson announces proudly, you roll your eyes at him still following as he walks through the many people who want to get their papers finished as soon as possible. A printer walked up to him asking him for tomorrow's front page. He rolls his eyes and snatches the report from your hands and hands it to the printer. “And the headline?” The printer asks. Jameson holds his hand out “How about ‘Deceived Citizen Reports on Spider-man Even Though He’s A Menace’”

“I’m not deceived, Jameson.” You state sternly

“That’s too long sir,” The printer says and Jameson brushes him off and continues to stomp away. The printer and you stand together. He holds your report in his hands and then looks at you. “You wrote this right?” You nod

“do you have a name for it?” you think really hard for something interesting and cool to pop into your mind but only one thing made it out of your mouth.

“Uh.. how about ‘Our Friend Spider-Man’?” You suggest to the printer with a nervous expression. He stands there for a moment and stares at you. Then he smiles “At least you’re not calling him a menace.” He laughs which makes you chuckle. You look around and see Peter who waves when you spot him, you wave him over.

After a brief conversation, Peter gives the printer his photo the one where Spider-man was holding those people in his battle with Doc Oct. The printer thanked you and walked away leaving you with Peter, After a few moments you fake faint into his arms.

“Oh I have been so utterly exhausted and sorrow-filled without my best friend who is always busy~” You say dramatically teasing Peter who looks down at you with a smirk “-and the only way to make it up to me is a milkshake from the diner~” You continue peaking one eye open at him. “One milkshake it is, (____).” He says walking with you out of the Daily Bugle building and down the streets of New York.

—

“‘Our Friend Spider-Man’

The citizens of New York are all well aware by now of the masked red and blue vigilante swinging through our city. Whether that be because of a video on the internet, seeing his mask on the front page of all your newspapers, or because of a personal situation where the masked man saved your day. Ever since his first debut, people have been wondering one single question. ‘Who, is Spider-man?’ and though the question refers to the man behind the mask I sought to find out more. Not what does his face look like necessarily but what type of person he is. A man that has transformed from a wonder, full of mystery, fear, and caution to a casual part of our daily lives, one that many of us welcome with open arms. Though his intentions have been put under many questions and his unwillingness to associate with law enforcement caused his reputation to become infamous. many would agree that he is an important and special part of why we live fearless and proud. From a brief interview with the masked hero, I was surprised to learn that he was not born with his powers. Instead, he was given them from an unspecified source and it took him months to years to become fully accustomed to his newfound powers. He was not born a powerful hero. In fact, he used to be exactly like us, an average man living a regular life. He is humble and humorous able to make the best out of a dire situation, comforting the afraid and angering the evil. Spider-man isn’t someone who sits back and waits for things to happen for him. Instead, he makes a valiant effort to strive for greatness. He protects to protect and fights to protect and honor those closest to him. Whoever those people may be–”

“Can you stop reading it!? it’s so embarrassing when you’re here!” you shout throwing your shoe at the hero who dodged it effortlessly and used his webs to retrieve it for you.

“Oh come on it’s not like it’s your diary, I'm just reading the papers,” Spider-man says teasingly, folding the newspaper and hopping off the rail to walk into your room. You sat at your desk with your head planted on the table blushing heavily at him reading your report out loud.

He stood behind you and put the newspaper on your desk. You lift your head and see the photo Peter took printed on the front. You sigh and turned around to look at him. “Well…I guess that's it then right? I Gotta say it was nice seeing a different perspective to the famous Spider-man…” I say looking up at the hero.

“What do ya mean by that?” He asks pacing around your room curiously. With a magazine in his hands

“Well…since my report’s complete it means you're done hanging out with me, right?” You ask almost sadly. Spider-man looks at you with a look of surprise he puts your magazine down and walks to your balcony looking at the view with his hands on his hips. Then he turns back to you and webs your chair to bring you closer to him making you yelp in surprise and grip your seat tighter.

He laughs at your reaction “Nah, I think I’ll hang out with you just a little more.” He says through chuckles, You look up at him with wide eyes and slowly you begin to smile.

“Really?” You ask standing up from your seat. Spider-man jumps and stands on your balcony rail. “Yeah, sure.” He answers nonchalantly then falls backwards off your balcony. You quickly rush to the rail and look down. You don’t see him falling when you look, instead, you feel a tap on your head and when you look up you’re face to mask with the hero who hung upside down. You laugh and back away from him. And he goes back to crouching on the rail.

“So how about it,(_____)? Willing to have Spider-man as a hang-out buddy?” he asks holding his gloved hand out for you.

You smile and put your hand in his. “Sure. why not,” you say, and his head tilts before he shoots a web and raises himself and you off the balcony and into the New York Sky.

A/N: Hey guys, sorry for not updating in a while, but I'm back with some new found inspiration (bc of Across the Spider verse AAHHH!!!) Any ways I hope you enjoyed the chapter and are looking forward to more <3 -Kat

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joannerowling · 8 months

Note

Man PinkNews really can't stay away from Jo for too long lol, they're back at it again with more slander, this time with a supposed like of a pretty offensive tweet. And as always people are eating it all up.

Now I went to check and that supposed like wasn't there which makes me think it's fake(either that or much like few years ago when she liked and then unliked that one tweet-I forget what was it about, and if her like was real then it could be the same case again, an acidental like).

But like, I really don't get these people...I get it, they hate her, but why make up stuff? Is it cause perhaps normies are waking up and seeing that Jo isn't this evil person the likes of PinkNews and TRAs are trying to paint her as...it's so weird.

Well they can't exactly go and talk about anything wrong she would have actually done, can they, since when you look up what Jo really does with her money it's all charity and paying her taxes. We're still waiting on that list of anti-trans organisations she would have supposedly funded or donated to - you'd think they would line up to claim her patronage, and yet! Crickets! Strange, isn't it?

So they are reduced to this: dishonesty, defamation, and just making shit up when they run out of ideas. Take this week's example of what has the gendiboos shitting themselves: Jo liking a darkly humourous tweet saying "at least the Talibans know what a woman is". Someone tried to paint that as a) original tweeter was supporting the Talibans (yes, in this era where people can just say "kill yourself" to a celebrity over them claiming to like raisins); b) JKR herself implicitly supports the Talibans by proxy because she liked the tweet. Now, the person who said that claims to have received a cease and desist order. Gee, why would that ever happen??

… Yeah, i guess Jo's a little sensitive about that particular brand of defamation of her character. It's almost like, unlike these bozos, she actually cares about hate crimes against women.

Honestly i wish she'd actually take them to court, just once. She would absolutely wipe the floor with them and that would set the record straight for any more who wants to try her. And i'm not even saying that with her sake in mind tbh.

But for the sake of the ACTUAL WOMEN IN THE MIDDLE EAST SUFFERING THROUGH ISLAMIC REGIMES RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.

Like hey!! guys, gals and nonbinary pals! Maybe… just maybe?? we shouldn't use victims of horrible religious tyranny as pawns in some stupid gender wars?? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I know we're all convinced in our heart of hearts that JK Rowling is a big bad meanie, but maybe we could act like the better people we pretend to be for once and treat this topic with the seriousness it warrants?? ufuckingwu!

And since i had the unpleasant surprise to see that in the tag this morning: same thing with Ukraine. No, JK Rowling is not friend with Putin, she has actually helped Ukrainian refugees since the start of the war, and the fucking Harry Potter store being maybe still up in Moscow on Google Maps is the last of Ukraine's problems even if she had the actual power to shut it down (assuming GM's infos are even actualised).

Like, i can sort of laugh it out when these idiots make up bullshit about the Goblins being antisemitic caricatures. (Except, it's not actually funny, not when you take two seconds to think about the implications that a whole generation of people apparently think that this is what antisemitism is, OR, care so little about antisemitism that they are happy to pretend that this is it.) It's a whole 'nother business to pick victims of current wars and religious extremism and make up a story about how it's all some writer you don't like's fault. Those are real people ffs. Whom JKR is tangibly helping. What the fuck is Pink News doing for them, hmm? Not even showing them an OUNCE of decency and respect, that's what.

Anyways, apologies for this outburst. To answer your question : why do they do it? Hatred. Hatred is the point. It goes nowhere deeper than this i'm afraid.

#replies #anon #jk rowling #jkr #afghanistan

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autumndasher · 2 months

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The Hobbit Trilogy Random Collected Thoughts (because i rewatched it and wanna ramble)

Over-Hated. Big take away every time I watch it, over-hated

Martin Freeman is the load barring pillar of this Trilogy. His performance is top tier and nails everything he’s given. Personal favourite moments include: “…fair enough” in the Goblin Caves, “Mine!” in Mirkwood, his little “oh… wait a second” with the barrels and the Acorn bit with Thorin

The complaint of “The Hobbit Trilogy isn’t about The Hobbit” I get but it’s still stupid. We do kinda need to know what Gandalf’s doing considering he leaves halfway to Erabor and we need the perspectives of Thorin and the People of Lake Town considering the story of Power Corrupting and Broken Promises being told

I respect them not trying to give deep characterisation to every individual Dwarf but I do wish they gave them a few memorable moments. Like tell me something Ori, Nori or Dori did… tell me which ones Ori, Nori and Dori are. The only waste I’d say is Bofur (the one who talked to Bilbo about being Home Sick before the Goblins) wish he had more Friendly moments with Bilbo, seriously keep your eye on him next time you watch

I like Radagast. He’s weird, likes animals and barges into peoples lifes unannounced with swords, Like Me! And he’s played by Sylvester McCoy, unlike me

Benjamin Cucumber is having so much fun playing Smaug, it’s great. I’m convinced Dragon tastes like ham now

Complaints about the story being dragged out are hilarious coming from the people who praise the LotR Extended Editions as the greatest work of all time

Having not read the book in over 10 years and a passing familiarity of what was changed in the adaptation I’d say a good number are for the better, like Bilbo actually consenting to the journey, Gandalf’s disappearances, Dragon belly scales. List out all the changes and choose 10 at random I think 8 or 9 would be for the better

Thorin’s Funeral and Eulogy should’ve been included, like at least one shot of his corpse on display

#the hobbit #lord of the rings #peter jackson #film review

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tea-with-eleni · 4 months

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Hers was the first sentient blood you ever dared drink.

In truth, you don’t know why you did it. Perhaps it was just that you wanted to break as many of the chains he threw over your life as possible. Perhaps it was the way she looked at the world with such innocence that you found her irresistible. Perhaps she just had the misfortune of setting up her bedroll closest to yours.

You think you want her to wake up. You want her to see that she shouldn’t have been so ready to invite just anyone to travel with her — psionic connection or not, she allowed a predator into her camp on a few moments’ acquaintance. You want her to turn on you.

Of course, she doesn’t.

“I’m a little hurt you didn’t say something earlier,” she whispers with a soft smile. “I’d like to think I’m understanding, when it comes to things like blood demands. I told you, I think I’m the Dark Urge.” Her silver eyes look as red as yours in the firelight. The scars at her throat ripple a little when she swallows, hard. She is nervous, you can hear her pulse, but she also isn’t lying. She tugs at the laces of her shirt, pulling it a little away from her neck. “I trust you. Take what you need.”

She’s a fool. Or perhaps not — you also notice the fingers of her other hand twitch, beginning to gather the weave. She can call fire as intuitively as you can, part of your shared elven heritage. That actually calms you. If you do lose control, if her blood does overwhelm you, she’s ready to defend herself.

You accept her offer.

Nothing could have prepared you.

You thought, that first night, that nothing could compare to the game animals you stalked in the darkness. They were already so much better than the vermin he made you drink. It was the difference between peasant’s gruel and fresh buttered bread. If a boar is fresh bread to you… she is the richest cake, something worthy of a royal wedding. You aren’t sure if you believe the superstitions about sorcery being part of the blood, but it would explain a lot if it is. She tastes like power.

She has to ask you to stop, but you are able to draw back. You feel a little drunk. She presses her fingers to the oozing wounds at her throat with a slight wince. “I’ll feel that tomorrow,” she whispers. “Did it help?” She looks at you and her eyes narrow. She has seen her blood, still on your lips. She frowns slightly. “Did… No. You would have remembered.”

“Is something wrong, darling?”

She shakes her head. “I thought, for a moment… I don’t remember anything before the nautiloid. There’s just blood.”

You wish she hadn’t said that. As potent as she was, you do still need more. You can’t drain her dry. You make your excuses, though she seems lost in her own thoughts, and vanish into the night.

You hunt well.

It isn’t surprising that she comes to your tent before breakfast is even ready. She’s a little pale, a little less steady on her feet, and, oh yes, there are the marks from your teeth at her throat. “About last night.”

You raise an eyebrow. Part of you wants to convince her she dreamed the whole thing, but she isn’t angry. She’s far too understanding. You admit you aren’t a true vampire. She accepts it. Is she truly this accepting, or simply stupid?

“In the spirit of openness,” she says with a smile, “Your condition punishes you with weakness if you don’t drink blood. That’s straightforward enough to deal with, although I don’t think we’ll like the results if you just take mine. Especially since my blood calls for me to kill anyone and everyone and decorate the camp with their intestines. I could be wrong, but I don’t think that’s normal.” She says it so sweetly. Her posture, her expression, hells, your dim sense of her through your psionic connection… she’s serious.

You’re not sure how to respond to that.

You settle on what you already decided to say before she approached, that you’re happy to make meals of your little band’s many enemies. Perhaps the deaths of bandits and goblins will be enough for her as well, although you’d prefer her to keep the redecorating to a minimum. She agrees, although she sounds a little uncertain. You laugh and suggest maybe she could keep a skull or two around. Her smile turns teasing and she jokes about scaring you off, how she isn’t at all sure that she isn’t the bigger danger to camp. You assure her that you can still drain her if you have to. Perhaps that wasn’t the best choice of words.

The rest of your companions seem rattled, when they overhear your conversation. She defends you. She’s very good at persuading them. She does not mention the part where you technically threatened to kill her.

Over the next few days, you realize that she’s confided her own form of bloodthirst to several of your band already. None of them took her seriously. It unsettles her, how easily they brushed off her peculiarities. She asks you, when you have a quiet moment, how you deal with your own dark urges. You avoid the subject but her question stays with you.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #bg3 durge #bg3 dark urge #baldurs gate 3 dark urge #the dark urge #durge x astarion #female dark urge #just a bit of a ramble while I'm at my parents over christmas #can't play rn because my gaming computer is 12 hrs away #so fanart and fanfic it is I guess #astarion pov #second person pov

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goblin-spider · 10 days

Text

[Log 009]

«quiet down manual. Who is it?.»

«answer it.»

[Morning. Reporting in from the bunker. Mergwen, Patrick and Noah have all gone to bed but I've stayed up to keep watch. Carla is safe and sound in Noah's room.]

«*exhales* I'm so relieved everyone made it out alive. How screwed is 206?»

[facility 206 has successfully been taken down. All employees have been... For a lack of a better word...set free.]

«and the mutants?»

[Spared. Gwen was quite adamant about killing them too but we stopped her. Gets a little bit carried away with a gun.]

«*snorts* and you don't?»

[*chuckles* course not. Since I made manual a little bit more lax, I haven't been too bad with a gun... I wish you could have seen it though.]

«Hmm... It would've been delicious to slice into them myself.»

[Gwen had the pleasure of doing that.]

«Wow. I didn't take her for a blade fan. So, she's not nuts or anything after all that?»

[No. Not at all. Speaking of her, something great happened.]

«More good news? I definitely need good news right now.»

[She offered to let me mix toxins with her.]

*There's a beat*

«Come again?»

[She offered to mix toxins with me...]

«Norm, you're not meant to be doing that. It's weird. Is she hurt at all? Your hands-»

[-i don't care what I should and shouldn't do. It didn't happen but I was tempted.]

«n-no more details, thanks.»

*Mer can't tell if norms lying or not. He can't physically go ask Gwen herself. Something about it feels wrong, as if he'd been violated in some way. Especially since Gwen's his variant.*

«*clears his throat* did you ... . -. -.. / -- -.-- / -.-. --- --- .-. -.. .. -. .- - . ... / - --- / ..-. .. .-. . .-.. .. --. .... - ..--..»

[don't tell me you're still stuck in there.]

«Of course I am. They keep this place highly secure. I'm in a containment field. Did you or did you not?»

[I did and i've got some bad news for you.]

«...»

[Gabriel is probably not coming. He can't portal inside.]

*His lip quivers*

[don't cry, it's weak and you know crying is probably what they'd like to see from you. Besides, I've been thinking of ending him, then you can come back and be a family with Patrick, Noah and I.]

«I don't love Patrick. I haven't in a long while. Didn't I explain this already? If you do anything to him, your brain's being fried. You hear me? I'll pull it out and let that shit burn.»

[I can easily replace him.]

«No you fucking can't.»

*Norm starts feeling rage. He scans the room and detects a Gabriel variant watching*

[how does it feel having another Gabe stare into the back of your head while you're trapped?, Uncaring and unhelpful as you suffer?]

*He only starts bawling*

[please stop crying. It's useless in this situation and only makes you look stupid.]

*his bawling turns to wailing as everything becomes all too much. All the stress, all the pressure, all the harrassing because he didn't want to be with a robot, everything. He had things right. Things were okay. Why was norm being so mean and pushy? Why was he trapped in this holo cage? Why couldn't He go home and see his children? He crumbles under the weight of the world and splatters under it.*

[The fact that you can't hold it in is despicable in the face of an enemy.]

*mer still refused to say anything to norm, his entire chest heaved in pain, feeling the old familiar sting of release. Maybe holding it in would have been better but what could be worse. He was alone. Alone just like he'd always wanted. He was filthy like his family name and nothing could bring him back. Spider man was meant to be a hero. Now he's a goblin.*

[You know, I like working for Mergwen and Patrick better. You're a weak piece of trash with no spine and no intelligence.(⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠) You sit here, crying like a child over hurting someone and being captured. You're nothing like Harry. You're nothing like Norman. You're nothing like Spider man. You're not even anything like Noah. Is that boy even yours? How could someone as measly as you make something like that?]

*Mer's crying only gets worse. He hated being insulted through his helmet and being unable to bite back. Norms words sounded like word vomit hurled at him just to hurt, and boy did they hurt.*

[Gabe can't even get in the building. None of us are going to come for you. That other Gabriel couldn't care less either. I can't believe I loved you when you're so... <Manual disabled ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡> You're stupid and ugly and deformed and everyone, including your own friends hate you now. You're annoying. Weak.]

*mer didn't utter a word and tried to ignore him. What was so wrong with crying? What was so wrong with what he did? Wasn't this the best course of action?. Wasn't he doing a good thing?*

[Get the hell up and face the other Gabriel. Use your powers for Thor's sake, do something-]

«Everett, shut up. Please just shut up. *Sobbing* You're huuurrrting meeeeee!»

*He smashed his head against the containment field*

«It huuurrrttttsss! It hurts inside. It hurts. Everything hurts.»

*he smashed his head against the containment field again.*

[Don't tell me you feel guilty about your revenge now.]

*He smashed his head against the containment field again*

«nooooooo. *Sob* I don't care about that. They got what they deserved for what they did to Gabe. They should be grateful I didn't kill bowe!. I care about my family. *Sobbing* I try my best to make everyone happy all the time and to make my home, a place Noah can grow up safe in. *Sniff* Oscorp goes and it'll be safer. *Hic* safer *smash* for everyone. I hate it here. *Smash* I hate it!.»

*smash*

[Crying won't help. Smashing your head that softly into the-]

*Smash*

«HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!»

*CRASH*

«THERE EVERETT! *SMASH* IM LAUGHING! HEHEHEHEHE HEHEHEHEHE!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! LAUGHING! LAUGHING! LAUGHING! *SMASH* IS THIS BETTER THAN CRYING?! AM I A STUPID *SMASH BUZZ* IDIOTIC *BUZZ CRACK* PIECE OF SHIT?! *CRACK BUZZ BUZZ*»

[yes, actually, you are all those things. Facts and brains aren't your strong suit...]

*laughing mixed with sobbing in between can be heard as mer mutates further than ever before. His genes were starting to override his spider mutation and his body ached with the need to kill*

[...Are they? (⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠)]

*mer hits his head so hard that the field sends an electrical spark into his head. He's shot backwards and lands on his back, twitching.*

*Mer started laughing and sobbing again. Nothing could stop it from coming out. Overflowing with the mixture of everything he'd shoved down. He was no longer being loud about it though. They came out in weak attempts.*

*Everett had stopped talking at that point, choosing to listen to mer destroy himself as he twisted into a goblin like creature and started tearing at his own flesh.*

«My silence knot is tied up in my hair...»

*weak crying as chunks of hair were ripped from his scalp*

«As if to keep my love out of my eyes. I cannot speak to one for whom I care. A hatpin serves as part of my disguise...»

*he gets himself up and pulls his knife out of his boot, coughing up acid and hopping over to face the direction where the other Gabe watched*

«In the play... my role is baticeer...»

*He stares at the door of the room, twirling his knife before stabbing the containment field.*

«A word which here means "person who trains bats." The audience may feel a prick of fear, As if sharp pins are hidden in their hats...»

*he stabs the knife in again and then uses his claws to dig deep into the containment field*

«My co-star lives on what we call a brae. His solitude might not be just an act.»

*the containment field buzzed and cracked as he spat acid at it, weakening it, needing to go home. Everetts words swirling in his head as his head and body ached from the soreness of what he did to himself.*

«A piece of mail fails to arrive one day. This poignant melodrama's based on fact.»

*He knows Gabe's probably waiting somewhere, looking for ways to get in Lily's home.*

«The curtain falls just as the knot unties»

*he cracks open the containment field enough to get his hand through and shoots a web at the door to the room, pulling hard to try and open it..*

«The silence broken by the one who dies.»

*he can hear norm hauling insults at him through the helmet and he hoped to Loki that he could get out just to kill him.*

[end of log]

#the life of mer taylor #mer osborn #oc rp #spiderman oc #oc post

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amaranthinewilliamsauthor · 2 years

Text

Fanfic WIP 2 - Labyrinth - Sarah Williams x Jareth (Goblin King)

PLOT: Sarah, after grading the writing of her students (from rather good to criminally terrible), makes an ill-advised wish (essentially “I wish I had someone to help deal with this shit”). Jareth pops up, as you do when you’re bored to tears by your moronic subjects, and helps Sarah go through her work. They get take-out, have a few drinks, and Jareth decides to make it a regular thing. He audits the class, though he didn’t figure on having to actually DO the work, and just is a chaos magnet.

Sarah: English Professor (Associate) at (insert school) who teaches Creative Writing (deals with super shit writing) and helps with student theater performances. In her mid 30’s , divorced with no kids and two cats, and happily single at the moment. She keeps in touch with the Labyrinth crew, tries to be there for Toby but feels exasperated at times due to the age difference, and even keeps in touch with Jareth.

Jareth: Goblin King, eternally ageless, and has a fondness for moronic writers. (They will give up a lot to get their dreams, especially when they know that they don’t have the ability to earn their dreams.) He decides to audit Sarah’s class, with her knowledge and permission, and gives other students all the wrong ideas.

=============================================

CHAPTER ONE:

It’s the weekend, thought Sarah for the tenth time that night, I should be doing something other than grading papers.

The first creative writing project of the semester was always an unmitigated disaster. Either the work was perfectly adequate or it was criminally terrible. It made sense, she supposed, because most students hadn’t read a lot of literature to inspire them to write better quality stories. By the end of the semester the writing would get a lot better, or at least that’s what she hoped and planned on. At 28 Sarah was mostly happy where her life was, though she regretted some of her decisions, but at this particular point in time she was considering a career change. She didn’t hate her job, she was an adjunct English professor who taught creative writing, but sometimes she fantasized about leaving it all behind to pursue something else. Anything else. “I wish that I had someone to help grade this bullshit,” She felt perfectly safe to say those words, especially since she lived alone, but a cold thread of doubt wove its way through her. She knew better than most that you should be careful what you wished for. When nothing happened she let out a breath that she had been holding.

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

“Hello Precious,” Jareth purred as he stood in her living room, “Now what would make you call upon me, especially 13 years after you beat my Labyrinth?” Sarah’s mouth had gone dry, panic would do that, and she was in full blown panic mode, “I-I didn’t mean to “call upon you” as you say, but I just made a stupid wish.” “You wished for assistance in grading,” A wide grin slowly grew, revealing curiously (and frighteningly) sharp teeth, “subpar assignments from your students. A wish made in frustration, though one still meant, is a wish. I should know,” He conjured a crystal with a flick of his wrist, “I specialize in wishes.” Jesus, Sarah thought, he’s still such a drama queen….king. “I know what kind of price you charge for wishes, but you won’t lay a finger on Toby.” Though, now that she actually thought about it, Jareth might not want her brother even if he could take him. Toby was a full-blown teenager, with the requisite mood swings, and had a curious standard of cleanliness. Karen had, after much fighting with Toby over keeping his room clean, admitted defeat. Sarah, when she came to visit, refused to step foot in her brother’s room as the numerous clothes and dirty dishes were frightening enough.

“You won him back, and I must regretfully abide by the rules. Unless another wishes him away I have no claim upon your baby brother.” Jareth spoke, still grinning, but his words calmed Sarah.

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bonkerslilghost · 2 years

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“Its all fiction” jereth x reader fanfic

[tw swearing-lots of it,older brother being an asshole]

[reader is gender neutral and 18-19 ish]

Thank you @liquid-death-and-bones for the awesome ass request! Enjoy! And fuck tumblr for deleting my hour of work the first time.

“Calvin did you fucking touch my book collection again? If I find one fucking page wrinkled im killing you!” I shout down the hall as I stare down at the strewn about books on my floor the hoot of an owl being the only sound i hear back. Clavin is my older brother by barely a year, he calls that span of time “the happiest times of his life”

“Dude its just some books, I was looking for one for a book report” he walks up to my open door frame holding my copy of the labyrinth which I snatch out of his hand. He even did things like this when we were kids and he never grew out of it and always remained immature when it came to others things, he would take my things not put them back, move them around, leave them laying on my floor, even my expensive hard back ones.

“Yeah and you fucking left them lying on the ground yet again Cal ,pick them up for fuck sake!” “Dude no, theyre yours you pick em up” “Im so sick of you! Do you know how many of my books you ruined by spilling shit on them, leaving them places, and not taking care of them? A fucking shit ton! You’re gonna start owing me money!” “Y/N you are the most sensitive little hard ass ive ever met ” “im not being sensitive! this is why you cant get a girlfriend Calvin,you have no respect for others or their things!” “Oh! And like you have any grasp on romantic relationships? You dont even have friends for fuck sake Y/N ! You just read all the time and pretend you have friends.”

I clutch the book in my hand until my knuckles turn white, that struck a nerve..Calvin knew I have a hard time making friends, barely having any over the years and often crying to him about being lonely throughout school. “Get the fuck out Calvin..” I say through clenched teeth my eyes stinging with tears,my brother dissmisses my words with a huff and saunters back to his room, I hear the harsh closing of his door before I close my own.

I sit down and lean back against my door, looking at the brilliantly red book that sits in my hands as I feel some tears slide down my cheeks and onto the cover. “I wish the goblins would come and take you away..right now” its stupid, I had uttered the same line whenever we were kids, whenever he broke my things, fucked up my home work that was due that morning by spilling orange juice on it, never really putting any meaning behind it till now. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the door.

I hear mischievous laughter come from down the hall as well as many rushed footsteps, my eyes snap open as I realize what I heard, I stand up and open my door, poking my head out “Calvin?” I call out, no answer, I rush down the hall and knock on his door so hard I thought I was going to break “Calvin! Open up!” Nothing still, I open the door and I dont see my brother, I walk in the room with caution, I start to grow panicked as I screw my eyes shut“no no no this is all fictional, this isnt real, its just a stupid kid story!” I feel the cold air rush from Calvins window “a stupid kids story you say?” I open my eyes and I come face to face with the blond smirking figure I know to be Jereth the goblin king I observe him for a small moment .

“ That cant be—you arent real! I didnt wish away my brother—why didnt you come until just now??” “My my you certainly have your head on a swivel hm? As for your question my dear the anwer is, you simply never meant it when you were a child, but with those few tears you shed I couldn’t help but answer you” he walks up to me and places a hand on my cheek “am I real enough for you now Y/N?” Careful Y/N this is not the time to make a sassy remark “yeah..so what deal do you want to make? My brother for me? Or do i have to run the labyrinth? Im wondering”.

Jereth takes his hand back in surprise, oh dear god was I too snappy? Fuck im so screwed, he doesnt look angry “no one has offered to stay before,youre not going to beg for you to stay here and for me to just give your brother back?” “Well no —ill be honest im not the friendliest of people sometimes and I dont really have any friends, but my brother does, he may be a dick sometimes but i want him to live a good life, and I dont want to mess that up for him.”

Jereth looked in deep thought “alright you can stay with me in exchange for your brother, but you do know he and your parents will forget about you?” “I know..please just make sure they live well even without me?” Jereth smiles warmly “alright, i dont see why not” “thank you Jereth” “no my dear I should be thanking you, I too am often lonely” “well now we both have good company” we both smile at each other.

[ I will make a part 2 to this because I had so much fun,so for now take this and I will return with more as soon as I can! Thank you once again @liquid-death-and-bones for the request!]

#labyrinth #fanfic #x reader #the goblin king #jim henson's labyrinth #gn reader

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theoracleofgiana · 1 year

Text

The Ball

(Amore Castle, Amore)

Alana yawns and stretches her arms. She's so close to being done with everything. Soon, she can take a break and rest. Perhaps take Camillia on a proper date. Somewhere other than Lampa Cafe. A knock on her door startles Alana out of her thoughts. "Yes?" She says, getting up to open the door. Catrina stands on the other side, making Alana immediately suspicious. Catrina wasn't her maid. Catrina is the queen's special handmaid. It took years to figure out why Catrina got special treatment from the queen. Now that Alana knows why, she doesn't much care for the maid. "Did you need something?" Alana levels the girl with a glare. Catrina's face is neutral as she bows. "Her Highness is holding a ball and wishes to know if you are coming," Catrina says, leaving without waiting for an answer. It makes Alana frown. Was she really that predictable?

Of course, Alana was going to the ball. It was a place to socialize and gain more allies. If Alana wants to be queen, she needs to be clever. After all, she's sixth in line for the throne. That number doesn't dwindle if you play nice. Alana sighs and searches through her closet. This is the last thing to do before she can make up with Camillia. Alana isn't stupid. She knows Camilia's upset at her. The radio silence was oblivious to that. However, preparing to be queen takes a while and sacrifices. Now that everything is ending soon, Alana can apologize. The two can make up and go back to before. Alana hums at the idea and pulls out a light orange dress.

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

The ball itself is fancy. However, the atmosphere is stuffy and tense. It's not hard to see why when not only are nobles here but also the lower class. Probably Emil's doing, Alana thinks, a bit bitter. Alana doesn't hate Emil. She hates how much attention he gets. Everyone views him as if he's a god. It grates on Alana's nerves. Fortunately, Emil isn't here. Alana takes the opportunity to speak with some of the nobles. She sees Mr. Wolfhound and, for a brief moment, debates talking with him. She quickly shakes those thoughts away as Mrs. Bai walks towards her.

Being seen with a Wolfhound is the easiest way to tank your social status. The only reason they stay nobles is because of the queen. Alana has had many arguments about the family with her grandmother. The queen is very stubborn. As much as Alana adores Camillia, she can't condone the Wolfhounds having power. It's too dangerous. "Ms. Alana?" Alana quickly plasters a social smile and turns to Mrs. Bai. "I was worried I lost you there," Mrs. Bai jokes with a hint of concern. Alana forces herself not to wince at the tone. "Not at all, Mrs. Bai," Alana says with her hands clasped together. "Please call me Souji," Mrs. Bai- Souji says with a soft grin. "I'm not much older than you." Alana nods, reminding herself to be polite. "How are you, Souji?" She asks, hoping to redirect the conversation.

Souji takes the bait and gives a dramatic sigh. "I always worried my little sister was going to work herself to death," She looks to the side at a woman with dark blonde hair. "She hasn't. Instead, she found two wonderful girlfriends to love. Two women not afraid to make her take a break." Souji smiles with pride as Alana watches in awe. To not care about what others think and spend time away from work. Alana wonders what it would be like. Souji lets out a huff and looks at Alana apologetically. "We'll chat later, Alana. I have to go stop my husband," With those words, Souji was off toward the buffet table. Alana watches and manages to swallow her gasp. Souji's husband is a goblin. An angel and a goblin together are rarely heard of. At least while dating Camillia, Alana can claim she enjoys the forbidden romance of it. As Alana judges the couple, a flash of red catches her eye.

"Brooklynn?" Alana can't help calling out to the woman. The Marrons are a well-respected family of scientists, so there is no danger in speaking with Brooklynn. Alana realizes that Brooklynn didn't hear her as the red moves farther away. Alana decides to follow. Brooklynn would have an engaging conversation with her. Alana follows the red until she loses the trail. She looks around and freezes at the sight of the dance floor. In the middle, couples dance together in a waltz. Most are silent or having a quiet conversation. Only two are giggling and being loud.

A woman with slick black hair and piercing red eyes in a dark purple evening gown with a woman with red hair and light blue eyes in a dark red suit. Alana recognizes her immediately.

"Camillia?"

The woman with red eyes- no, Camillia, freezes and stares at Alana. Alana, on the other hand, is conflicted. She wants to dance with Camillia but knows the danger. Perhaps she could write it off as her being polite. The redhead notices Alana and glares at her. She whispers something in Camillia's ear. It makes Camillia ease up and smile. Alana frowns at the exchange. She assumes the woman is a Marron as they all look the same. The two women exit the dance floor as Alana tries to remember what the redhead's name could be. Alana is quick to follow.

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

She finds them with Mrs- Souji's little sister. The redhead and blonde give Alana dirty looks as Camillia hides behind them. It's almost comical as Camillia is at least a few inches taller than both women. Instead of funny, it unnerves Alana. Why would Camillia hide from her? Alana puts on a friendly smile and walks up to the trio. "Hello," She says, greeting Souji's little sister first. "You must be Mrs. Bai's little sister. May I have your name?" The dirty blonde seems uncomfortable. "What is she? A fae?" The redhead mutters, and Alana sees Camillia smother a laugh. Alana takes a small breath before turning to the woman. "Did you say something, Ms. Marron?" She manages to say in an even tone. The redhead raises an eyebrow. "Get that from my looks?" She asks with a condensing smirk. Alana almost takes a physical step back. How could anyone speak to royalty like that?

"Rin," Camillia's tone is a warning, and the redhead seems to listen. The redhead- Rina, Alana's brain supplies, lifts her hands in a surrendering motion. Camillia turns to the blonde with a gentle smile. "Jazzy, can you make sure she doesn't do anything?" Camillia asks, and the blonde nods. Camillia grabs Alana's hand and leads them to a quiet hall away from everyone else. Alana can feel her heart speed up. She looks up at Camillia and starts to move closer-

"What do you want, Alana?" Alana's eyes pop open. Camillia is away from her and staring at her with a stern glare. Alana's heart drops. No baby, babe, or Lani? Camillia seldom uses people's real names. Alana needs to fix this. "Camillia," She starts walking closer to the demon. "I'm sorry." Camillia looks at Alana with shock and anger. "Do you even know what you're sorry for?" She asks, and it's Alana's turn to be confused. "No, but that doesn't matter," Alana starts, only to be cut off. "It does matter. It matters to me," Camillia says in disbelief of Alana. "Sweetheart, just let me fix this," Alana says soothingly. It only irritates Camillia more. "There's no fixing this," Camilia says, her tone final. "Why? What are you so upset about?" Alana can't help her voice getting louder. "Do you even remember the irises?" Camillia's tone is pitying, and Alana practically snarls at it. "This is about a couple of flowers?" Alana throws her hands up and rolls her eyes. "I threw them away a few weeks ago, so what."

"Alana,"

"Get over it, Camilia."

"Alana."

"They weren't even that pretty!"

"ALANA."

It's loud. Alana flinches and finally looks at Camillia. The demon's calm and her eyes are sad. "Alana, it's been two years since I gave you those flowers," Camillia states calmly as Alana feels the world around her crumble. She has so many questions and statements. "What.." Is all that comes out. Camillia sighs and puts her face in her hands. Alana sees them now. There are two bands on Camillia's left and right ring fingers. Gold and silver engagement rings that look familiar. "Are you," Alana struggles to get the words out. "Are you engaged?" Camillia slowly lifts her head and looks at the rings. A fond smile crosses her face. "Yes," Her voice is faint yet filled with love. "To Rina and Jazz." Rina Marron and Jazz Bai, Alana thinks with a heavy heart. She wants to cry but can't. It isn't proper, and she needs to return to the ball. Alana brushes off her dress and starts back to the party.

"Lani?"

Camillia's voice stops her. She looks at the demon, hope slowly filling her heart. "Find someone who loves you," Camillia says, and Alana feels her heart shatter. She gives the woman a slight nod and walks back into the party. Everything feels off. The world feels wrong. People are speaking, but they sound so faint. Nothing seems to register except them. Except for the dirty blonde in a dark blue pantsuit, the redhead in a dark red suit, and the gorgeous black-haired woman in a purple evening gown, all smiling at each in pure happiness.

(A/n: Part two of once upon a time couple and the final part. I feel bad for Alana but also not too bad. Camillia needed to move on and Alana focuses on status and power more than her own partner. Jazz and Rina hold healthy boundaries and a lot of love for Camillia. Alana doesn't find a partner and instead works on herself after this. Also, Catrina is the child of the queen's girlfriend which is why she (Catrina) gets special treatment. Alana doesn't like the idea of the queen's mistress's daughter being treated as important. Alana is a very envious person. Also in no way, shape, or form does Alana become queen. The next heir is someone she doesn't even expect to become royalty. (More accurately she wrote them off as unimportant) So you might get more of Alana when I write about that.)

#creative writing #original characters #original writing #ocs #my writing #fantasy #fantasy world #fantasy writing

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somedaylazysomeday · 2 years

Text

Dreams (Part One)

Jareth x fem!reader. More of a setup for the second part, which will be explicit. Reader wishes away her college roommate and meets Jareth.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,900

Warnings: kidnapping, fey shenanigans, unsettling vibes, one dubcon kiss

Next | Masterlist

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Normally, you didn’t dream.

You were told it was normal. Most adults stopped having dreams vivid enough to remember after they reached a certain age, usually adolescence. You were probably still dreaming, your therapist had told you when you asked about it, but you didn’t remember them after you woke up. She assured you that it was perfectly normal and that it didn’t mean something was wrong.

It was odd, though - you remembered having incredibly vivid dreams all through your teenage years and into your early 20s. Sometimes, it had felt like living a second life… and then The Incident had happened.

The doctors said it had been a mental break due to an overload of stress, anxiety, fatigue, and poor eating habits. You had been found unresponsive in your dorm room. Not dead, clearly. No, you had been sitting up, breathing easily and fully conscious, but you hadn’t responded to anyone when they spoke to you or asked you questions. You had come out of it without trouble, but it had been enough to cause concerns, especially from Rachel, your roommate at the time.

You hadn’t been close with her before The Incident, but it had been a bonding experience. Afterward, you two were inseparable, and she was still one of your closest friends, long after you had graduated and parted ways.

You were the only one who seemed to know that you two had viciously fought that night. It was over something stupid, something you didn’t even remember anymore. What you did remember is the fiery rage that had risen in you when Rachel had stomped into the bathroom attached to your shared dorm room, slamming the door behind her.

Drawing from your childhood, you had told her in a venomous whisper, “I wish the goblins would come and take you away right now!”

It had been a joke in your family, read in some half-forgotten book of fairy tales, a cautionary story about choosing your words carefully. Usually, you and your siblings had only gotten as far as, “I wish-” before one of the others tackled the unwise speaker to stop them.

But no one was there to stop you that night. You weren’t sure why you said it, but you were shocked by the immense surge of satisfaction that crashed over you, only tinged with the slightest hint of regret. You smirked to yourself. If it had felt that good to say, maybe you should start saying it more often.

Then you had heard Rachel let out the slightest eep! and the hairs on the back of your neck rose.

You were at the bathroom door in a heartbeat. “Rachel?” She didn’t answer, the faucet still running. You knocked twice, the sound loud in your small room. “Rachel!”

It was stupid to be scared of a fairy tale curse, but your heart was in your throat when she still didn’t respond. If she was just pouting, you were going to feel like an idiot, but your nerves were screaming. You tensed your arm, braced your feet, and broke open the thin door with a few strikes from your shoulder. The door slammed open, leaving you stumbling in the empty room.

At least, it had been empty at first. You had seen the stark white emptiness when the door opened, mussed only by the products and typical mess of a bathroom shared between two girls. But by the time you regained your balance, you weren’t the room’s only occupant.

“Well, well,” a smooth voice drawled.

You caught yourself only inches from a smooth chest, almost planting your face in the deep vee of a shirt no one in this century would wear outside of a costume party. You leaned back, staring up into the face of an unfamiliar man.

He was strange, his face a little too sharp, his high cheekbones angling down into a pointed chin and a jaw that looked like it could cut you. His eyes were even stranger. One was fairly normal except for the color, a greenish blue that made you think of cool stretches of ocean - too deep to be fathomed. The other eye had its pupil blown out in a way that left him looking like he had an black hole in his gaze. Both eyes managed to be filled with satisfaction.

His clothes were strange, as was his hair. He looked as if a punk from the 1980s had decided to take up cosplaying as a pseudo-Medieval jester, but did so wearing all of his leather clothing… along with a healthy dash of body glitter. Even as you finished your study, you noticed that you were still far too close to him and leaning closer every second.

You pulled yourself back before you could touch him. You really didn’t want to touch this stranger.

Or did you? Your skin almost stung with how badly it wanted to be pressed against his. Your hands rose of their own accord, ready to reach for him, if only to see if the material of his strange shirt was as scale-like as it looked. You fought back the impulse, locking your hands behind your torso.

“Hey,” you greeted awkwardly. “Nice, um… glitter. Where’s Rachel?”

One of his arched eyebrows managed to quirk even farther upward. “Did you not set the terms of our deal? I took her, of course.”

“Took her?” you repeated, trying to bite back the desperation that snuck into your voice. “Where exactly did you take her?”

“To my kingdom, of course,” he told you, slowly turning off the still-running faucet with a flourish that looked taunting. “I am a king, you know.”

You frowned at him, but a sound like raspy giggling echoed from around the room. You tracked movement from the corner of your eyes, but when you tried to look directly at any one of the laughing creatures, it was gone.

“Let’s say I don’t know,” you suggested carefully. It was always best to be careful when dealing with someone who was apparently going through some kind of mental break. “Walk me through it.”

The man sighed, shaking his wild head of hair as if despairing of you. You watched glitter drift down to land on your small bath mat, and you noted absently that you needed to vacuum it. There were pieces of fuzz and other detritus attached to the mat. Once they had landed, however, the glitter disappeared, as if it had been absorbed into the carpet. It was an odd detail to notice, and - if nothing else - you were certain you weren’t having one of your incredibly vivid dreams.

When you looked back up at him, the man gave a complicated bow. “I am Jareth, King of the Goblins and Warden of the Labyrinth.” With that introduction, he leaned toward you, holding out his hand with a courteous smile. “May I have your name?”

“Not until you tell me where Rachel is,” you insisted.

His smile widened, sharpening somehow. “And then you’ll give me your name?”

Something about the question made you tense, especially repeated a second time. That book of fairy tales had been popular in your household, and your favorite stories were filled with impish tricksters who took great pleasure in playing games of carefully phrased questions and invitations, extracting payments far beyond what had been implied.

You leaned back again, putting distance between Jareth and yourself. Your eyes narrowed. “You’re- You’re fey, aren’t you?”

It was a ridiculous question and you were embarrassed for having asked it… until the almost imperceptible flinch in his black eye. “Why would you ask such a silly question?”

Answering a question with a question? A common fey avoidance. If memory served, fey couldn’t lie. You crossed your arms. “I’ll give you my name as soon as you tell me you’re human.”

Jareth straightened up, flashing a smile that didn’t look nearly as friendly. “Why, my darling, what else would I be?”

“Fey,” you repeated. “And if you’re stealing people? My money would be on you being a fey of the Unseelie Court.”

Now, Jareth’s smile was gone and the wild giggling from around the room had disappeared entirely. “You do not know nearly as much as you believe you do, human.”

“Probably not,” you agreed easily. College had taught you that much, at least. “But here’s what I do know: first, I know not to make deals with the fey. Second, I know that I’m going to want Rachel back. So take me to her.”

Jareth laughed, a cruel, glittering sound. “Why, you brave little thing, you’ve already made a deal with me! You gave Rachel to me in exchange for having her gone. You wished her away and I have obliged you. If you wish to bring her back, we could strike a new deal to allow you that chance, but you are already one favor behind.”

You paused to think that over. Jareth offered, “If you choose not to go after her, I will consider us even.”

“What do you want with her?” you asked.

“Want? Nothing,” he told you with a shrug. “But there are those in my world who will treasure her. There is always a demand for humans, even if they are… so… terribly… delicate…”

You glanced sharply up at Jareth, shivering at the predatory look on his face. He licked his bottom lip as the dark circle of his all-pupil eye expanded slightly, eating away at the white.

Rachel wasn’t your favorite person, but you couldn’t leave her to that. Not if you could stop it. “I’ll trade myself for her. For her immediate safe return to this dorm room, her life unchanged, you can have me in her stead.”

Jareth’s brows furrowed. “One human, another human, it makes no difference to me. What does matter is the magic required. I have already transported her to my kingdom. If I brought you there instead, that would be another favor and, as I mentioned previously, you are already one behind.”

Ah, so you weren’t getting out of this without making another deal. “You talked about me having the chance to get Rachel back. How would I do that?”

From Jareth’s widening smile, that was exactly the question he had been waiting for you to ask. “Why, run my labyrinth, of course. If you can get to the center in thirteen hours, I will return Rachel to you.”

“And you’ll send both of us back here?” you asked suspiciously. “To this room, on this day, at roughly this time?”

“As you wish,” he agreed with a deep bow. He tilted his head up slightly to peer up at you through his hair, eyes predatory. “So you do wish to make another deal?”

“It sounds like I don’t have a choice,” you grumbled. “Wait, do I have another choice? You can’t lie. Is there any other way you’ll just bring Rachel back here?”

“No,” Jareth said, seeming to relish the chance to give a simple answer.

“Hang on, thirteen hours… labyrinth…” you frowned, struggling to remember the details of the story you had read all of those years ago. “You have no power over me! Did that do anything? Do I get to skip it?”

Jareth somehow looked violent and amused at the same time. He stepped closer in a rush that was too fast for the motion to be fully human. His hand lifted, inches away from wrapping around your throat. You stopped breathing, somehow dreading his touch and wanting it worse than you had ever wanted anything.

As he stared down at you, his dark eye expanded until the edges almost crept under his eyelids. “Is that true, my little human? Do I, in fact, hold no power over you?”

“It’s not true,” you admitted. As long as he had Rachel, he had power over you. More than anything, you wanted to look away from his triumphant, greedy gaze. You couldn’t lower your chin, though, or you would risk him touching you. You couldn’t balance forever on the tightrope between wanting to feel his skin and fearing his touch, but you were willing to try for a bit longer.

Jareth nodded once, still standing so close that the ensuing wave of glitter dusted the front of you. He lowered his hand carefully, seeming reluctant to move away, but stepped back anyway, leaving you to breathe more freely.

You slumped after the tension of that encounter. “Then I guess I want to make another deal. I’ll run your labyrinth. If I get to the center in thirteen hours, you bring Rachel and I back here, to this exact moment.”

“And if you lose?” he asked silkily. “Do not forget: you have yet to offer me another incentive to make this deal.”

“If I lose…” you cleared your throat, kicking up your chin. “Both Rachel and I will stay in your kingdom.”

“Why should that be adequate compensation?” Jareth asked. You frowned, but watched as his black eye spiraled smaller until the eye was dominated by whiteness.

“Because there is always a demand for humans, no matter how terribly delicate we are,” you answered dryly.

He laughed, tipping his head back as another shower of light fell from his hair, then extended a hand in your direction, mirth still dancing across his face. “We have a deal, little human.”

You still didn’t want to touch him - mostly because you wanted to touch him so badly. Nothing in your book of fairy tales had warned you about some kind of magnetic draw, but it was unexpected and powerful. With a deep breath and a grimace, you shook his hand, trying not to think too closely about the feeling of his skin against yours.

Despite all expectations, you had gotten to the middle of the labyrinth before your timer ran out. Jareth had thrown every trick at you that he could muster, and the labyrinth had held more than a few of its own. Still, you had won and were jolted rudely back to your dorm room for the trouble.

You could hear the water running in the bathroom as Rachel cleaned up after your fight. She had asked not to remember any of her experience and you didn’t blame her. You were lying comfortably on your bed just as you had been before everything… but you weren’t as alone in your room as you were supposed to be. Jareth stood in front of you, once more wearing his black leather outfit. Even as you registered his presence, he leaned over the bed, caging you in between his arms.

“Was I not kind to bring you back?” he asked.

“Like I asked you to?” you reminded tartly. “As part of the terms of our deal? No, I don’t call that kindness.”

“And your broken door?” Jareth asked, smiling that too-sharp smile at you. “I repaired it so that your Rachel will be none the wiser.”

You glanced over, more than a little surprised to see that he actually had fixed the door. That was… uncharacteristic of him, to say the least. Reluctantly, you admitted, “That was nice, actually. I’m sure you have some kind of angle-”

You cut yourself off as you turned back to him, startled to find him far closer than he had been before. “Don’t use your creepy fey crap on me.”

“I think I deserve a boon for that kindness,” Jareth determined. “It is only fair.”

“Oh, now you care about fairness?” you bit out. “I’m still not telling you my name.”

He grimaced and you rolled your eyes. The Goblin King had been more persistent about that than anything else, but you had managed to keep from telling him. Your most successful trick had been giving him a false name, but he had figured you out eventually.

“Then it appears I must choose my own boon to be taken,” Jareth mused.

You glared. “Whatever you’re thinking-”

Jareth cut you off that time, crushing his mouth against yours. You made a startled sound and he pressed his advantage, sweeping his tongue past your teeth to catalogue every part of your mouth. You had originally brought your hands up to press him away, but they seemed to be stuck clinging to his shoulders as you melted into the kiss.

He tasted sweet, but you had expected nothing less. Jareth’s kingdom was full of glitter-covered ruins - why should its king be any different? He was sweet and charming, but there was something more under that perfect facade.

So why did the monster underneath make him even more intriguing?

“This is not the end for us,” Jareth whispered against your lips when he pulled away. “I will see you again, my little human champion.”

And the next thing you knew, you were waking up in the nurse’s station of your university. Rachel knew you called that night The Incident and thought it referred to the state she had found you in, but you meant it in reference to the whole experience. At least, that was the biggest reason. Running the labyrinth had been a singular event, but - when you were being truly honest with yourself - The Incident was that kiss.

After that night, you hadn’t had any of your vivid dreams and you were glad. You were too worried that they would be filled with darkness and stone, dead trees and glitter-encrusted passageways. They might hold a predatory smile, the rapidly changing darkness of a single dark eye, wild blond hair that shed pinpricks of light like rain.

No, you were terrified that Jareth would haunt your dreams if you had them.

And you were equally terrified that he wouldn’t.

---

A/N - There will be a second part to this story, and it will be definitively rated NC-17. I combined a lot of different sources to create a more dark fey-esque Jareth, so he doesn't quite match up with his film counterpart. There will be slightly more explanation in the second part (but the majority will be taken up by adult activities).

Part Two (NSFW and explicit - minors DNI!)

Find other works on my masterlist! Thanks for reading!

#labyrinth #the labyrinth #labyrinth 1986 #jareth the goblin king #jareth #jareth x reader #jareth x you #part one #reader insert #mature

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