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arijackz · 23 days

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PICK A CARD: Your FS' Secret Kinks

❦ “She lowered her lashes until they almost cuddled her cheeks and slowly raised them again, like a theatre curtain. I was to get to know that trick. That was supposed to make me roll over on my back with all four paws in the air." - Raymon Chandler, The Big Sleep

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✦ Pile One ✦

Poor lil pooh pooh. This person struggles to “fill their cups up” so they get off on denying themselves pleasure. They secretly like the feeling of hitting whatever rock bottom looks like to them. Honestly, they want to be saved. They are wallowing at the bottom of a well, waiting for their savior to swoop in and throw them a rope.

In a more literal sense, they want a person to be their reason to live. Their reason to feel daylight on their skin again. Everyone and everything around them is unsatisfying and “fake”. They want something real to coax them out of their hell and entice them with all the thrilling things life has to offer.

However, they also like this dark and brooding side of themselves. They have a bit of a corruption kink.

They fantasize about a virginal angel coming down to save them, but they end up convincing the angel to sink down to their level.

They like exciting, spontaneous people who are willing to jump up and run out the door to do something fun at any moment, but think innocent fun. Like going to the movies to theater hop, and getting away without paying. Or, running around the Target parking lot in shopping carts and trying not to bang into cars. Maybe even steal a few street signs.

Innocent childhood fun that you’d see in early 90s movies. But add a sadistic twist to it that only they are aware of.

You would be the innocent virgin (doesn’t have to be true, it's their fantasy) who is unknowingly leading this beast (also not true, they are just extremely self-deprecating) to your pretty little happy places which they plan to desecrate.

They want to fuck you in your family home and make a mess of your childhood bed, making you scream so loud that you’re family starts to look at you differently. They want to take you to your favorite movie spots where you usually chill and hangout with your friends and turn it into a place where all you can think about is them covering your mouth in the back of the theater while you’re squirming in their lap, trying to escape out of their grip as they edge you to the new Marvel release.

They have a kink for turning all of your innocent, fun moments into their very own filthy fantasies.

Ps. Fisting came out of the blue so lube up!

Come To Me, My Senseless Angel

✦ Pile Two ✦

I don’t believe this is a future spouse, to be honest. This might be a situationship you need to move past. They seem emotionally immature, or at least this is a side of them that exclusively comes out when they’re aroused.

They can be quite abrasive and feel like they are constantly under attack so they’re incredibly defensive. They have a history of lashing out at their loved ones when they feel overwhelmed and get so blinded by their emotions that they disregard their affection for their partners and say really unforgettable, harmful words which permanently alters the connection for the worse.

They carry guilt from these actions and are in a constant state of regret. In this state, their sense of pleasure is a little twisted. They get turned on by causing a genuine issue in the relationship. They like the idea of pushing you to your limit where you’re this 🤏 close to your breaking point and at your absolute lowest. It’s when you reach your rock bottom and realize the need to move away from this person and you scream out, “I DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS.”

They like to grovel. You know that cycle where somebody fucks up and then they’re in the dog house buying flowers and being extra fluffy just to get in the victim’s good graces so they can do the same thing over again. So far, pile one and two’s respective partners like to feel like shit. They secretly like the moment where they completely fuck up a relationship and have to beg on their hands and knees to get their person back orrrrrr they get off on emotionally tearing someone down to the point where they get on their knees to bed for this person’s attention.

Either way, there's a lot of fucked psychological issues underneath this fantasy that I’m not unpacking here because it differs from person to person.

In its best light, this person glorifies struggle love. At its worst, this person is purposefully emotionally abusive with the intent to tear their partner down for their own sexual gratification.

They’re conscious enough to know their actions are toxic but don’t have the emotional maturity to work past their actions. They’re at the phase where they’re just aware and are like “I know I’m shitty but that’s just who I am. If they stick with me and the sex is good, it’s meant to be.”

I’m honestly getting twitter relationship hypotheticals with this one. Iykyk.

They’re also an edgelord. Less in an internet cockroach way and more in a witty- can be funny if done well- way, but they get pleasure from shocking people nonetheless. This energy can be directed toward you to piss you off and annoy you with the intent of getting in your pants later.

I’ve been guided to switch the conversation briefly: If this resonates and is someone you are dealing with. It is time to move on. This person gets gratification from hurting you and will not get past that high of tearing down a relationship and then having a messy recovery. They have their own issues to work through and cannot see how they are hurting you. There is no future with this person, they came into your life to teach you a lesson about your self-value. That cycle has run its course and it's time to move on.

To be honest, I’m not a fan of this person and don’t even want to list the explicit kinks that came out but I will just in case this message is for you but you’re not sure.

Random messages: Hot tub/pool sex, hair pulling, break down crying, interracial, milk, broken condom, “i fucking hate you”, “whore”, mirror, drunk sex, complaining, smack a bitch, twitter

P.S. You’re too sexy for the bullshit! There is bigger and greater out there, you just need to believe that for yourself!

This person will not get a mood board out of me.

✦ Pile Three ✦

Okay, so this person has some deep religious guilt. This is a male presenting person. I am being clear with their sex because it plays a role in this reading. They have some majorly repressed feminine energy. They may even be attracted to the same sex.

This is a fs reading, so they are likely bi, pansexual, or trans. Either way, their family is close-minded and is not supportive of them. They were forced to leave home so they could finally live their truth. They have lived their entire life fitting somebody else’s narrative. They were the hypermasculine bro type to “cover up” their femininity.

So, they have a kink for hyperfeminity. It’s almost to the point where they obsess over the caricature of girlhood. I see lots of pink, high heels, full-glam, all-day mall shopping, pinup curls, flashy jewelry, sleepovers, day spas, that scene in Scott Pilgrim where that girl is like “SHE’S PROBABLY LIKE 25!”, and everything else that gets associated with “girlhood” nowadays.

They fantasize about you in your receptive energy, being waited on and cared for hand and foot. They like to observe the way you move. Everything about you and your feminine aura is incredibly alluring to them. The way with each breath your breasts fall, the way your hips swat with each step, the cute way you match your accessories with your outfits. They notice everything about you.

You know those paintings of wealthy women lying on their sides and being fed grapes? That. They’re not in the serving role, they're the painter. Their kink is capturing you in those everyday moments where the world seems to be waiting on you like you’re the collective’s queen.

They see femininity in a higher light than the general population. They see women as automatically deserving of this type of care, they also want this care.

They have a secret hard-on for pregnant women and women with swollen breasts. They have a lactation kink. They fantasize about cumming in you over and over again. They see you as a Goddess, so they want to see you masturbate at church on an altar, like you're waiting to be worshipped.

A lot of their fantasies, they’re not even included in. It’s just you looking God-like and being worshipped by the world around you. This person may hate when you wear clothes. They act like the fabric is committing a sin by covering your body. They just want to capture your essence. Like an admirer and a student.

P.S. Dick game goes CRAZY. They watch a lot of women-focused porn to study what gets a woman off. Like Maddie in Euphoria, here is there to study.

Pretty In Pink

✦ Pile Four ✦

WE GOT A PLEASURE DOM IN THE BUILDING Y’ALL STAY CALM. As my mama would say, they love your dirty drawls!

You could do no wrong in this person’s eyes. They’re the golden retriever type. Head empty, leading with heart and IN LOVE>>>>>

You are the pot of gold and the end of the rainbow they’re chasing. They appreciate a good fling but they’ve never felt this before. The emotions you stir in them are unprecedented, this is puppy, sandbox love that most people lose touch with after life jades them.

This is raw love at its most unprocessed. I taste honey.

They have a kink for the power you have over them. It’s like you have a carrot on a stick and they’re the pig being led to a love den they can’t escape. And they’ll happily be the squealing pig in every lifetime they get with you. This is a soul yearning.

You will know this person because they will proactively pursue you and they will have no doubts in their mind about it. They are really attracted to your physical form, your curves. Even if you’re on the slimmer side, they like your structure and the dips in your spine. They’ll stare at you when you’re talking and zone out, thinking about how attractive they find you.

They’re not used to having to try to get someone to sleep with them. They have to put effort towards you and they like that. This person is downright thirsty and craves intimacy with you.

Their fantasies aren’t even dirty, they’re passionate. They want to put you in a mating press, with your knees pressed all the way up beside your ears. They want to penetrate (could be with a toy) deeply and touch that gooey part of you that makes you see stars.

They want to see an imprint of them in your lower belly. Any position where you’re in their arms is a go for them because they like having you. They want every moment to be just you and them away from the world. So very sweet and intimate. They also love marking you, expect lots of hickeys.

Ignore them from time to time too (healthily, these conditions should be discussed beforehand)! They see you as the ultimate prize, so if you delay their satisfaction, they’ll feel like they’re chasing again, which gets them off. They like to feel like they’re convincing you to sleep with them. You both are consenting, but they like the idea of you having better things to do and they’re trying to convince you to stay and party with them.

They are very action-oriented and love movement. Anything that involves an adventure together, they are down for.

PS. Surprise them with a bubble bath together, they’ll love that. And tease them while pulling their hair a bit!

Ode To My Darling Sun

#arijackz #pac #pick a card #tarot #tarot reading #pick a pile #astrology observations #muah

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semisolidmind · 3 months

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I like the Y/n relationship with Dogday, is kinda sweet in my eyes :3 I imagine that a relationship with Catnap could work if he starts to see Y/n like their own person instead of just an Savior/New god. What do you think?

i think, that over time and with observation, catnap's "worship" of y/n would simmer down to an ardent appreciation, and quiet obsession.

y/n isn't like the prototype. they're far from a hulking mass of rot and metal capable of razing down everything in their path; a being that fits the title of "god," though a twisted one. they don't demand violence of him or the others under their care. their voice doesn't take up immeasurable space in his head, consuming his every waking thought (but they do take up space there, in their own quiet, persistent way).

y/n is human, soft and fragile. he could kill them without a second thought. their hands are small, calloused from work but endlessly gentle. they reach out and request touch, they don't demand it from him or any of them. the toys are allowed to deny them, though they rarely do.

outside the factory, they are an entirely different person. gone is the silent, determined ex-employee come to destroy; in their place is simply... y/n. the angel of mercy. or perhaps they were always the angel that wretched hound believes them to be, and catnap was too blind to see before. he considers himself lucky that he's been granted mercy by one so forgiving. he doesn't care if it's nothing more than pity; he's been freed.

he never thought he'd see real moonlight or daylight or trees or stars or— it's all so overwhelming. he spends the nights wandering the great wide expanse of the outdoors he's been granted access to, marveling at everything and hunting real, living, flesh and blood animals. his gratefulness to y/n can't be overstated. he doesn't mind that he's been relegated to the barn; anywhere that isn't a cell is better than his previous living arrangements.

y/n has every reason to despise him the way the other toys do. he's a monster in every sense of the word. and yet... they never deliberately make him feel like one.

they're still somewhat afraid; he can see it in the way they momentarily freeze when they make eye contact with him. despite this, they offer him kindness. though he avoids the other toys in the house (he's not blind to their hatred, would never dream of asking their forgiveness)...

any spare scrap of attention he can get from y/n is taken without hesitation.

#their relationship is a bit more complicated

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lunes-blanches · 11 months

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yandere ! kaveh x reader. themes of obsessive, dependent and unhealthy behaviors down below! you have been warned.

he's a pathetic mess of a man, his glory as an architect nothing but a mask he keeps on in front of the public. drowning his problems in alcohol is a momentary salvation - liquor cannot magically solve his problems in an instant.

you can't do that either. you've told him repeatedly that you aren't the savior he deems you to be, that your mere presence will never be enough to suddenly turn his life upside down for the better. and yet he insists. he crumbles to his knees at your door step, his trembling hands latching for you just to enjoy the warmth of your body even for just a mere second. he cries, he begs - please let him have you, please let him love you, please love him the ways he loves you. and even if you don't love him, at least stay with him. let him hold you, look at you, bask in the momentum and enjoy the comfort you offer him by just breathing next to him. life is less bitter by your side, he claims as large crystalline tears roll down his flushed face.

even as you close your door and rush to your bedroom, you swear you can still hear his drunken pleading outside your house, and it's enough to haunt you for the rest of the night.

the next morning, as you visit alhaitham, your eyes catch a glimpse of blond locks behind his shoulders, walking in a hurry as he comes to greet you - as though nothing happened last night.

"[name], you're here!" he chirps, and the image of his face lit up with joy when your eyes cross reminds you of a puppy when its owner comes home.

yet, even in the morning daylight, probably after his hungover, you can still see the same intense obsession within those red irises from last night.

its been a while since i wrote something on tumblr.... woah.... (i still can't use it) anyways pathetic obsessive men for the win woohoo!!

#🌿. munei's writing #🌿. paradisaea #gi kaveh #kaveh imagines #genshin x reader #yandere #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact #kaveh x reader #genshin imagines #tw.yandere #genshin impact kaveh #yandere kaveh #yandere x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader

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amywritesthings · 8 months

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the better strategy. / astarion x tav

summary: After successfully saving Druid Grove, Astarion has one goal in mind: secure his safety. His strategy? Seduce Tav. But what if that plan goes horribly wrong and he falls for his own game? pairing: astarion x tav (female, she/her) word count: 3.9k tags: tiefling party reimagined, act one spoilers, non-sexual intimacy, astarion's pov, allusions to astarion's past, selûne!tav // mature for thematic elements

part two. / masterlist.

PART ONE: THE ATTEMPT

“I can’t help but notice you’re not indulging.”

The minute the conflict within the goblin camp was over, the second the dust settled in the grove and the victory was imminent, Astarion knew precisely the trajectory he would need to take.

Call it his innate instinct — it wouldn’t take many brain cells to understand just who led this group of afflicted tadpole carriers, for better or worse, after such a battle.

At first he assumed Shadowheart would be the one he’d eventually stalk in the daylight, with her mysterious artifact clutched tightly to her chest. The follower of Shar, however, has about as many problems as her braid has sections.

She would not lead this group to triumph.

Lae’zel? Strong, but lacking in people skills.

Karlach? Strong, relatively agreeable, but suffering greatly from her fiery defect.

Wyll? Too many contracts, so little time to absolve them.

Gale? Not a chance in any of the Hells.

Tav, however…

Calm and collected Tav. Skilled and cunning Tav. Diplomatic and equitable Tav.

Brilliant in all shades of red, peppered across her skin in blood spatter — that Tav.

From the beach where he held a knife to her throat all the way to securing a victory for the refugee tieflings at a grove that never deserved her help, he’s watched this elven woman go from a nobody to a savior overnight.

Everyone vies for her attention. Everyone wants her approval.

Even now he witnesses her flutter through the throngs of beggars invading their sleeping space, trying their hands at flattery and praise.

(Incredible, that her ego hasn’t shot to the heavens with the gods and goddesses themselves.)

So when she finally — finally — stops in front of his tent after her lap around the camp, he knows he must catch her attention.

Keep it. Suffocate it.

He holds an empty goblet for the sake of saving face amongst the traveling tieflings, not quite willing to divulge his little secret so willingly to strangers.

Tav stops walking to stand before him when she catches that he's talking to her. “Am I not?" she challenges, holding up her goblet. "I’m drinking.”

“Not as heavily as others,” he quips, blinking his attention to the downtrodden no-name tiefling to his left still going through the motions of war and loss.

Tav’s eyes follow Astarion’s, resting there on the tiefling for a moment. Astarion blinks back to watch her expression soften — empathy.

(He hates it when she does that.)

“No, I suppose not,” she begins to reason. “That being said, I must admit I was not born with an iron stomach like Gale — or given a gifted singing voice like Alfira — or find myself in the mood to expose my talent of strength like Lae’zel.”

He can see it in his peripheral — Wyll and Gale sharing a bottle of wine, discussing the parameters of magic while crowding a most-eager Alfira as her slender fingers strum well-loved strings. Shadowheart sits quietly to the side of Halsin, nodding her head to the steady stream of tunes, and Karlach whoops and hollers as Lae’zel takes down yet another tiefling opponent in a series of arm wrestling matches.

Astarion hums indifferently. “But you were the one who secured the demise of those leaders. They all should grovel at your feet.”

“I recall seeing a fire bolt or two ignite from your hand,” Tav teases, returning her attention to his face. The licks of light from the fire compliments her complexion so well. “It wasn’t an effort finished alone.”

“It was an opportunity for violence,” he reasons. “I wasn’t about to squander it.”

“Is that so?” she asks, seemingly unconvinced by his removed reasons.

“Besides, fighting and swordplay is all well and good, but you were the one to spin the spider’s web to convince that rigid drow to believe we were rallying to her cause,” he tut-tuts with his tongue. “I didn’t think you had it in you to lie.”

After a brief huff, Tav shakes her head. “Not my best strategy.”

Astarion’s brows slide high. “No? I beg to differ.”

“I just needed to buy more time so no one would get hurt,” Tav explains, and Astarion wants to outwardly groan at her heroics. He doesn't. “I had no interest in aligning myself with someone who wanted to bring so much pain. Zevlor led his people well — they ought to be the ones you praise.”

Gods, he really likes her best when she’s focused on battle. Feral, merciless, bold — not whatever this at the end of the fight. She’ll list the damned stray dog for valor before herself.

Still, Astarion catches himself before he can ruin his own performance and sharply inhales. He puts a knowing smile back on his face, voice smooth like tainted honey nectar.

“You could still stand to take a little credit, my sweet,” Astarion replies, “but if you’re not willing to take it, then allow me to personally pay it forward.”

The dance is as old as time itself. Astarion steps from the makeshift rug of his tent, finding himself in the plush earth beneath their feet. The party rages on around them with copious laughter and impromptu music and sloshing ale, but the vampire hears nothing, sees nothing, smells nothing — except her.

And, if he’s calculated correctly, she only sees him.

Jogging up to him after missions to check in on his opinion as if she truly gives a damn. Glancing back when she’s talking to all sorts of lowly creatures as if his opinion means anything to alter her otherwise fortified decisions.

He tries to goad her into the worst possible ideas — no, this person doesn’t need help; no, this idiot can rightfully get fucked for creating their own problems; no, we’re not accepting a mere thank you for payment of our services.

(It’s any wonder she has any gold in her pockets at all.)

Sometimes she listens. Sometimes she’ll demand payment — though, if he had it his way, Astarion would turn these godforsaken degenerates upside-down and shake them stupid until Tav drains them of every last coin for acting like she’s anything but a saint.

Sometimes she stands up for herself, and Astarion can’t help but giggle when these little leeches scramble to reroute back to her good graces.

If he was a lesser man, if he didn’t know better, then the vampire would have an insane thought behind these random acts of acknowledgement: that she values him.

Somehow, in some way, even after he’s managed to violate her trust, her body, her blood — all for his gain.

For his survival.

Now he’ll offer something similar as a sort of payback for her kindness. Unfortunately, his talents are something of a one-trick pony: take a ride, any ride, and he’ll provide the best bloody night of your life. Cazador all but forced it to be a guarantee.

In the end, offering his body to Tav will secure his position in this merry band of misfits.

It will keep him safe — even if he feels the bile rising in his throat as he prepares himself to bite his lip and play coy to her every desire and whim.

(He can prove she’s just as vile as the rest.)

“Pay it forward?” Tav asks as if she doesn’t already know.

“Everyone appears occupied,” he begins, each word dripping with intention. “I can’t imagine they’ll miss us for a spell.”

His crimson eyes find hers, searching for the answer he needs: desire – for him, for stress relief, for a chance to use a willing body to let go.

“There’s a clearing not far from camp,” he purrs, taking yet another step as he ducks his chin to meet her gaze. “You can see the moon brilliantly. And the trees will catch your pretty little cries, so I implore you to be as loud as you’d like.”

Yet he’s met with widening eyes without a single thought behind them. Her lips part, close, then part again. Astarion waits for the telltale signs he’s memorized for the last agonizing two centuries — quickening of breath, dilated eyes, shifting in her stance.

“I promise it will be a night you shall never forget.”

He smirks with haughty confidence, his swagger undoubtedly catching her eye. He won’t touch her , not yet — it’s always best to make the anticipation —

Wait.

There: her eyes widen a fraction larger, lips parting with a sharp inhale.

Then her nose scrunches as if… amused, and he’s lost the script.

The hells?

“Astarion,” she starts.

“Yes, my dear,” he coos, keeping that seductive air about him.

“I don’t…” Tav gives a small smile, apologetic in nature. “I appreciate what you’re offering. Flattered, even, but I’m not someone who…”

Astarion stops moving forward, taken aback by the hesitance in her voice. For someone so headstrong in their decisions within this group, this is the first he’s seen her so… girlish? Up until now, he’s never seen Tav react to anything without conviction.

He senses a running theme between such an annoyance and the unwavering faith of a cleric.

“Am I meant to use our wiggling little friend to complete that thought for you?” Astarion presses, fluttering his fingers parallel to his temple for dramatic emphasis.

Tav sighs, and he hates it. “It’s hard to find the right words.”

“Then we needn’t use them,” he persuades airily. “That’s what bodies are for.”

Gods, she gives this look — and by now, he knows it well. The same knowing stare she gave that wretched little gnome who dared speak ill of her even after his rescue. The same knowing stare she gave Wyll when he threatened to attack their fiery friend.

The game is up.

Astarion feels… cold. Rejected?

He didn’t wish to sleep with her in the first place, but he’s never been outright denied.

“Is the gaudy wizard that eats magic trousers more your type, then?” He flippantly twists the problem away, raising a brow of feigned disinterest. “Or perhaps it’s the bloodthirsty Githyanki who gets off on smelling sweat.”

Tav snorts, rolling her eyes in a way that makes his stomach churn.

Does she think him a joke? Not attractive? Not worthy of sleeping upon her bedroll?

He runs through a list of grievances the cleric may have with him when she finally finishes the lingering thought: “I’m not someone who deals in one-night trysts.”

Tav explains slowly, cautiously, as if trying to spare his feelings. Astarion would be offended if he wasn’t so confused.

“I recognize many of us are seeing these hours as our final to live. Yet I find no comfort or pleasure in sleeping with someone I barely know.”

“But you know me better than most,” Astarion argues under his breath, jutting his chin back. That isn’t entirely a lie — Tav’s has taken the inner workings of his past, his plight, and the monster itself in stride.

Tav is the one to take a step forward this time, her cup half-drunk from the wine Halsin poured. Suddenly another feeling twists in the vampire’s sated gut: surely she’s letting him down gently because she’s interested in that beast of a man.

(The druid is certainly less jagged around the edges, teeth and all.)

“Not well enough for something like that, though,” she replies, her smile light.

Astarion’s brows knit as he considers his options. His usual form of seduction hadn’t worked. Should he spin a story, a web of lies, to make her think she truly knows him? Should he push a little harder, make promises of delight and pleasure, to—

“I’d like to see this clearing you speak of, to see the moon. Connecting with Selûne would be wonderful to experience with you near,” Tav adds, interrupting his inner monologue, “if you’re still willing to show me.”

Oh.

That’s so…

Odd.

Why does he suddenly feel so out of place and odd?

“I…” Astarion has half a mind to wave her off, to say it’s a massive waste of his night when he could get his quota filled by someone else in this camp. Yet he’s compelled to stay, to stare, as he takes in her expression. “...if that is what you wish.”

Is this a game? Play ignorant, then arrive at the clearing for sex?

He can’t read her. He can’t place her smile into any sinister category. It only widens, bright like the moon above, and she brings her goblet to her lips.

The vampire finds himself watching as her neck bobs with the gulp she takes.

“Shall I see you once everyone rests?” Tav asks, suddenly having the upper hand in a situation that was supposed to be his and his alone.

All the vampire can do is nod, sensible not to say anything that will jeopardize the private meeting, and smiles with a strain when she walks away to talk to the tiefling moping on the edges of the camp.

Of course she talks the sad sack into joining the party.

Of course she fucking does.

There’s still a chance she might want him.

All this talk about not wanting to rush things or explore another person could have been for show. She’s the diplomat of this group of imbeciles, lest he forget. She probably couldn’t afford to look interested in him, much less anyone else, so not to cause tension.

No worry — he’ll come prepared, may the cards fall where they must.

Astarion creeps past his tent, shedding his white tunic to hang on a sturdy branch a mere foot’s step away from the clearing in question. His pale skin practically glitters and glistens in the light poking through the treetops, his complexion a stark contrast to the scars and lines of a body that’s only recently belonged to him.

He leaves his trousers on. He’s not a goddamn animal, after all.

“Astarion?” a rushed whisper sounds to his right, so the vampire turns in all his slender glory.

“You came,” he greets, grinning ear to ear with his entendre.

The wood elf stares back at him from a thick cluster of trees, notably confused by the way her brows knit and her nose scrunches. She assesses his vivid nakedness, but doesn’t make a comment — not yet.

Well, she doesn’t particularly look lustful.

Then her attention disappears entirely when she realizes just how clear said clearing is: a damn near perfect circle, where he’s prepared a small blanket held down by sizable rocks he’d found by the river while everyone started heading into their tents for sleep.

To an innocent eye, it’s nothing more than a midnight picnic.

If he had anything to say about it, then it would certainly become that. The only road block is Tav as she nears the makeshift lovebed in the center of the clearing.

“You didn’t have to use your blanket, you know,” she mentions, and Astarion is yet again left sputtering for a suave answer.

How the hells did she know that was his blanket and not that wretched Gale’s?

“It isn’t mine,” he tries — smooth, very smooth.

Tav makes a noise as she sits down on the blanket, head turning as she studies the lack of patterns or love in its weave.

“I saw this in your tent,” she argues without conviction. “Lae’zel hates blankets. Mine are all accounted for. And Gale—”

“Alright, yes, it’s mine,” Astarion interrupts, peeved she’s more interested in playing detective than commenting on his broad chest.

The vampire awkwardly meets her on the blanket, sitting down with his heels dug into the dirt.

His legs stay in a raised triangle, knees to the sky, while Tav sits tall and crosses her legs under one another. Her slender fingers sit in her lap, annoyingly so, and Astarion stares at them to calculate a way he can smoothly bring them into his.

All he needs is to wriggle his way into this bizarre outing, to find what makes her tick, and he’ll be safe. It’s the only word running through his head at lightning speed.

Safe, be safe, make yourself safe—

Her gasp is light, possible to miss, but it takes him right out of the mantra to look up at Tav. Her smile is practically glowing as the moonlight bathes over her body, generous and… beautiful.

“You’re right,” she murmurs. “This is… beautiful, at this time of night.” Tav pauses, searching the constellations. “It’s so hard to pray, really, at camp. I don’t wish to offend Shadowheart.”

“What does Shadowheart’s approval have anything to do with your praying?” the vampire asks, feeling surreal that this is what her pillow talk has started with. Prayer. Religion.

(He’d gotten himself at least somewhat hard at the sight of how pretty she looked in the midnight air, ready to try his hand again, but now it’s all but softened with flattened disinterest.)

“Well, she worships Shar — the twin sister of my goddess, and they are not friendly.”

“So?”

“So,” Tav explains slowly, dipping her chin to observe him at her side. “I don’t wish Shadowheart to see me as an enemy just because of our differences in worship. But now you’ve shown me a place I could visit where I can properly speak to her — so thank you."

Astarion must look perplexed as all hell, because Tav studies his face, his naked torso, then back to his face again. He sits up straighter, unable to hide his annoyance in his rigid movements.

Tav shifts in her seat as well, but before she can continue her soft little chat about useless goddesses and Shadowheart’s temperamental feelings, Astarion clears his throat.

“Do you mean to tell me we are really not going to…?”

Tav’s lips purse, and Astarion’s gaze drops to them. They’re plush, soft – they wouldn’t be the worst to kiss. Hells, she looks soft. Her neck was delectable; her blood divine. It wouldn’t be the worst lay of his miserable little life.

“Sex,” he bluntly states, slashing straight through the bush instead of beating around it for the one-hundredth time when Tav doesn’t ask. “Are we not having sex tonight?”

Tav rears her head back, pulling away from him with a lean. “I… thought I already said we weren’t, back at the party—”

“Yes, and playing coy is all well and good, but I know you hold a candle for me, darling.” Astarion gestures around to the nothingness that surrounds the clearing. “No one is here to judge. No one is listening. It’s just us, so if you want—”

“I don’t.”

Talk about a sobering response.

The vampire squints, and finally — finally — Tav raises her chin with what can be considered a glare.

It’s cute, he’ll give her that.

“I already told you that I don’t simply sleep with people to do it.”

“And why not?”

“Because it’s never any good when it’s not with someone you care for, now is it?” Tav replies, exasperated by his poking and prodding. “Is this what all of this is for? The blanket, the… lack of a shirt?”

Astarion leans in. “Was it not obvious to you?”

“I thought you were overheated in the night!” she reasons, the blush on her face creeping up her neck to her cheeks. He sees it. He fixates on it. “I thought you were genuinely being my friend.”

Friend.

Oh, that one stings — he hates that it stings, that somehow he’s disappointed in himself for kicking the hornet’s nest when he had mostly been in her good graces up until now.

“If.. that’s all you wanted from me tonight, Astarion,” the wood elf slowly begins, curbing her temper with each word spoken, “then perhaps it’s best I leave—”

“No.”

Before he realizes it, the vampire grabs ahold of her free hand to stop her from pushing to her feet. His pale hand cages her wrist in, anchoring her to this shared spot, and he feels… well, not great.

But he can’t screw this up.

He cannot, under any circumstances, have her hate him.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology feels disgusting on his tongue, because he doesn’t quite mean it. He means a fraction of it, however, and that’s enough to push a genuine tone in his voice.

“Please, just… sit with me, then.”

He continues to hold her wrist, taking it as a good sign that Tav hasn’t ripped it from his grasp yet. That, or she’s just giving him the nicety treatment she gives to all of her companions.

Slowly the woman lowers back to the blanket, and he realizes a beat too late that she’s turned her palm to face his.

What?

Tav sighs heavily and turns their hands with a delicacy that feels too sacred for an undead such as himself. Astarion’s palm faces the mercy of the moon when his long fingers, one sinful digit at a time, let go of her wrist.

She doesn’t move away.

“Intimacy is a gift so many people crave,” she begins softly. “I know I do. I know all of us do. It’s why we choose to stay together.”

“The bloody tadpoles in our heads are what keep us together,” Astarion flatly argues, but his voice is tighter as her fingers draw against the life line of his palm.

She huffs with a laugh. “That, too.”

She sits her fingertips atop his palm, hovering. A lump forms in his throat.

“I like when physical intimacy is just that — intimate. That’s not to say Lae’zel’s views or your own are wrong, but… just isn’t how it works for me.”

Astarion is immobile. Lost, quite frankly, in the sensation that’s so little yet feels like it could move mountains.

He’s terrified to breathe, to think, as she continues to press her hand gently to his.

“For me?” she continues. “This — knowing you have my back, and I have yours? That you sit here in front of my goddess and allow me a moment to think — that is intimacy.”

He exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, before raising a defeated brow. “And this is pleasurable, for you?”

“Is it not for you?” she returns straight back like a rapid-fire arrow to the gut.

The vampire doesn’t know how to answer that. Yes, this feels… nice, but it also feels wrong. Like he’s holding a lamb before the slaughter.

She is too trusting.

This world, as horrific as it is, will swallow her whole. He will swallow her in a singular gulp, right down the gullet, before she can process his inevitable betrayal.

Yet what does that say about him — holding her hand, allowing her to manipulate his palm at will, in front of a goddess he doesn’t believe in? This is her sanctuary yet he does not burn.

When she returns her gaze back to the moon with the wonder of a person who doesn’t believe in eternal damnation for merely existing, Astarion cannot help but stare.

Not at the moon, no.

At her.

Astarion’s fingers experimentally curl around hers, testing the boundary.

He notices the way she smiles not long after.

It takes a second too late to realize that he is smiling, too.

Well — shit.

#baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #amywritesthings #the better strategy #baldurs gate 3 fic #baldurs gate fanfic #baldurs gate fic

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dawneternal · 1 month

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The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Four

☁︎ notes: these dummies are so smitten

☁︎ warnings: usual talk of injuries and Beron's abuse. Injured animal (he's okay though)

☁︎ word count: 2.2k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @cauldronblssd @teddyhoneybear @imma-too-many-fandoms @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove @landofpetrichor

The next summon interrupted Aya’s day off. Her promised day of nothingness; no lessons, no jobs, no meetings, and no Court dinners. She planned to curl up in a corner of the green house and read, surrounded by the scent of healing herbs and flowers. Until that infernal ring began to glow once more. She could not ignore it, but she could grumble to herself all she wanted about how talented the Heir of Autumn was at collecting near-death experiences.

She was still silently complaining while she winnowed, while the world righted itself, and while Edana’s garden appeared before her eyes. What finally stopped the chain of complaints was the sight of Eris standing before her.

Hands in his pockets, head tilted to the side, he smiled as her gaze met his. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, eyes bright and unclouded by pain or alcohol. The sunlight gilded his copper hair and kissed every freckle.

Aya found herself unable to remember what she had been thinking about. No memory of her difficult weeks, her reluctance to return to this land of cunning and deception. She was lost in his smile. Something in it made her feel like she knew everything and nothing all at once.

Eris watched her eyes flick over his form, still struggling to focus after winnowing, and he took the time to study her in turn. Her height surprised him, the top of her head barely level with his shoulder. She had lovely curves, hugged by flowy, pastel fabrics as per the Dawn Court fashion. Her ears were lined with piercings, a gold ring with a gem dangling from her septum. Her wings were a soft glimmering gold dappled with darker brown, feathers rustling in the light breeze. She kept them tucked in tight to her body. And her eyes-

He thought of the sun rising, the blue fading into the orange and leaving that strange greyed-out tone in between. Somewhere in that softly painted sky was the color of her eyes. A brilliant silver, not quite blue, hints of orange. Purple in some lights. Somehow conveying all the loveliness of a misty dawn. Perhaps he had not appreciated the sunrise as much as he should in his five hundred and something years alive.

In short, they spent entirely too long staring at each other.

“At last, I meet my savior,” Eris broke the silence.

“I’d hardly call myself a savior,” Aya said, clutching her bag a little tighter. Her voice was as soft and melodic as he remembered from his dream.

“You deserve countless thanks, nonetheless,” He smiled, and Aya admired the way his freckles moved and dipped to make way for his dimples.

The crisp air combined with her thin clothes pulled a shiver from her. She had begun to wonder if he had called her there just to thank her when he swept an arm toward the door to Edana’s rooms.

“One of my hounds is injured,” He said, his expression slipping into something more solemn, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to know it’s nothing serious. If you’ll follow me.”

In the daylight, she could see more details of Edana’s rooms. The trim, doorways, and furniture were cut from the same dark wood as the rest of the Forest House, but the Lady had her walls painted light colors. Her decorations ventured outside of the familiar autumn color palette, a few daring shades of blue scattered throughout.

Aya also noticed for the first time that the door to the stone hallway was different from the rest. Aside from being situated in a strange place, it was older, warped and scratched. It had been left slightly ajar, and she could see from its faint purple glow that it was enchanted. When the door was shut, it would disappear from the wall entirely.

She followed him through the doorway, watching the fae-lights in the dim hall illuminate his muscled shoulders and well tailored shirt. As the ever present silence of the stone hallway wrapped around them, it finally hit her that they were alone.

“This is a private passage?” She asked softly, “There’s never anyone here.”

“Yes,” He answered, his voice strangely tense, “It’s an old passageway either unknown or forgotten by my father.”

He did not elaborate and she did not pry any further. It bothered Eris that she had been here twice before and he had not been conscious of it. He had no idea what she had seen and heard and learned. Things he should have been there to shield her from, no doubt.

When she stepped through the doorway, Aya shivered, her wings ruffling. Eris’s brows knit together. He had never seen anyone react to wards that way before. He watched as she scanned the room and locked in on the hound laying on his bed, needing no instruction. When she approached, she offered him the back of her fist to sniff, and he seemed to have no qualms with her coming closer. She soothed him before moving to his wound, smoothing down his dark fur and massaging his ears, all the while murmuring kind words and praise.

Eris almost smiled, wondering if she understood how ferocious that beast could be. He had seen the same dog with eyes hollow and hungry, blood dripping from his jaw. Not many would go near him. On his feet, he probably stood almost to her shoulder. And here she was, turning him to putty with her pets and kind words. His tail wagged as she spoke to him and he didn’t protest when she finally began to clean and dress his wound.

“What happened?” Aya asked, eyes remaining focused on the work before her. He admired the dance of her hands, swift and coordinated.

“He tumbled near the river bank, silly beast,” Eris answered.

Aya noted the affection in his voice and the embroidered collar around the dog’s neck. A thought also prickled at the back of her mind that Eris was not telling her the real story. Why have her come all of this way if the cause was not something that Beron must not know? But it did not matter, because she wasn’t supposed to sleuth.

“He has a name, doesn’t he?” She said instead, smiling.

“Juno,” Eris admitted, a bit sheepishly. Embarrassment crept up the back of his neck, the feeling of being caught at something he tried to hide. Her smile was too knowing, she definitely recognized it as another figure from mythology.

“I wish I could give you something to thank you properly,” He continued.

“Well you did interrupt my day off,” She flashed a sly smirk, eyes still on her hands.

“Oh, did I?” His eyebrows raised, lips twitching up into a smile. Something sparked in his veins at her playful tone. “I suppose I’ll have to figure out something special then.”

“If you think that’s fair,” She let out an exaggerated sigh, eyes glittering.

Eris was distracted by a golden glimmer, catching the light as she worked. It was the ring on her forefinger, a simple gold band that fit snug against her skin. His stomach dropped.

“My mother bound you?” He whispered, and from his tone she could practically see the embers burning in his throat.. Aya paused and looked up at him, the color draining from his face.

“Yes,” Her brows furrowed. She thought he would have known that. “Her contract seemed fair. I asked for a written copy.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw and he said in that same quiet fury, “Will you please send me a copy?”

“Of course,” Aya said, gaze still stuck on his as she searched his face for answers. It was almost too long before she turned back to the hound, who had begun to whine for her attention. The silence in the room had begun to squeeze.

“I understand that this situation is…delicate,” She continued after a moment, swallowing hard. It was always too quiet here, sounds of arguing and pain the only things to interrupt it. It was unnerving, like balancing a glass ball on each shoulder.

“I wish she would not have dragged you into it,” He whispered through his teeth. He stood with his arms crossed, looking a little taller than before. This was closer to the image of the Heir she had heard stories about. Though he was certainly less intimidating since she had seen him drunk and smitten with a fictional angel.

“I can handle it,” Aya said, giving Juno one last pat before rearranging the supplies in her worn leather satchel.

“You shouldn’t have to.”

She faced him, bag in hand, tilting her head back to look at him fully. Eris drew in a deep breath, trying not to stare at the reflection of the light on her long glossy curls, in her misty eyes.

“Thesan gave me a talisman,” She pulled up one sleeve to reveal a tattoo on her bicep. A stylized, swirling cloud. “It will give me protection against magic if your father tried to use any against me.”

The sight of it did strange things to Eris’s heart. He felt the relief of her protection. She was not another liability, another piece on his chessboard that he must keep under his watch at all times. But there was another feeling there, too. Like he resented this thing that separated her from him. That ugly desire to control and protect everything he felt a fondness for reared its head. She belonged to the Dawn Court. She was Thesan’s creature. She may be Eris’s healer, bound to his mother by that horrible ring, but she was not his. She was not loyal to him. Unless she chose to be. And nobody ever chose Eris of their own accord.

“Good,” Eris said, in another tone that Aya couldn’t read.

“Oh,” She said, in an attempt to avoid another awkward lull, fishing a corked bottle of green tablets and holding it out to him. “Juno can have these for the pain. They’re mostly herbs so they’re very safe for him.”

“You’re very kind,” Eris smiled, his voice softened by the kindness she had shown his beloved pet. It was, of course, a risk to show any affection for his hounds. They were meant to be ruthless weapons. Just like the seven sons.

“What are your mother’s guards names?” She asked suddenly, brows drawing together.

“Why?” He swallowed an urge to reach out and smooth the wrinkles between her eyebrows with his thumb, swiping away whatever worried her just to see her smile again.

“I just think I should know. It seems to rude to refer to them as anything else. They’re not my guards.”

So she must not know about Thesan’s order for Eris to protect her while she was present in the Autumn Court. He had extended that order to the guards.

“The older one with dark hair is Caspian, and Asher is blond and bearded,” Eris answered. Aya nodded, and he could practically see her tucking the information away in her mind.

Against the dark wood and warm colors of his room, he thought she looked like a sparkling gemstone. Vibrant Amethyst among common stones. They watched each other in silence for the third time until, reluctantly, he led her back to the winnow spot and let her return to her world.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The next morning, Aya was pulled from her sleep by a knock on the door. A courier waited on the other side with an envelope and package wrapped in brown paper and string. She thanked him and returned to her bed, holding the parcel in her lap. The paper and string fell forgotten to the floor as she opened it eagerly.

Inside was a new leather satchel, the same shape and size as her old one. The sides and edges had been dyed a rich mulberry, the leather carved and tooled into an interlocking, curving design. The golden clasp, shaped like a leaf, gleamed in the morning sun. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of it, so lovely and new compared to the one she had carried daily for years now. The leather had been worn so thoroughly that it drooped and sagged.

Aya opened the bag, finding it lined with pockets and sections the perfect sizes for bandages and vials. There was also an envelope nestled inside, her name scrawled on the front in curly script. She opened it gingerly, planning to add the paper to the box of ephemera under her bed. Mail was a rare treat.

Aya,

Thank you again for your help. Juno is doing much better and I suspect you have made a friend of him. I hope this gift will be of use to you.

As for retribution for your missed day off, you may also find that your instructors received a strongly worded letter from some anonymous busybody complaining about the state of cleanliness in the healer’s wing. I believe the buildings are being deep-cleaned over the next few days. Enjoy your long weekend.

Eris

Aya buried her face in her hands, covering her silly, involuntary smile and burning cheeks. She finally bothered to open the other envelope, finding Eris to be truthful. The head of the school had sent a note announcing that classes had been canceled, though they did include a list of assignments to complete and log in the meantime. Assignments that she could complete in the greenhouse, between dozing off and basking in the sunshine the green, herbal scent. Somehow, against all the odds she battled with, Aya had made a friend.

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munsonology · 1 year

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help me lord i have so many things about this man okay but eddie doing the sillest things during sex or when hes about to seduce you, like the little purr noise, the wolf whistle, and him doing eyebrow wiggles to entice you 💀

he also likes to talk to your pussy down there, like directly talk into it, he greets it and says goodbye when hes done, he can have an entire conversation with it and he makes the sillest noises in bed omg

there was this one time where he was about to cum, he gave out an actual tarzan yell and he started wheezing and laughing 💀💀

Bestie the way I’d fold so fast for the most basic shit he does 😭😭😭 if there was an Eddie in any of the classes I’ve ever been in I’d be such a simp!!! Like if he made a that’s what she said joke and wiggled his eyebrows I’d be on my KNEES SO FAST 😭 it’s the goofiness for meeeee

Eddie (or Steve) talking to my readers 🐱is kryptonite for me! I fall for it every time. He’s like “I see she’s been waiting for me, we’re reunited my love” and you think he’s talking about you but then he kisses your mound and goes “mommy’s not taking taking care of you. That’s ok daddy’s here” 🤤🤤🤤 and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard because you really haven’t been taking care of your pussy and she’s in NEED, you’re practically Niagara Falls for cock 😭

And modern Eddie has seen all 3 versions of tarzan! His favorite being with our lord and savior brendan Fraser! He dresses up as Tarzan for Halloween, loincloth and all and nothing underneath for “easy access sweetheart” because he has plans to fuck the living daylights outta you at Steve’s big party 😭 but you tell him he needs to put on boxers because even tho your mouth is watering seeing the tip of his cock swing between his hairy legs and how his balls hang when he sits, you can’t let him go out like that 😭 and when he has you over the counter in mrs. Harrington’s good bathroom, panties around your ankles, tits out, he cums hard with a tarzan yell and it takes everything in you to not laugh hearing Robin bang on the door “can you morons stop fucking for 2 seconds?! The stereo went out and everybody heard you! Nice finish dingus 10/10” 😭😭😭😭😭

#eddie munson/reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x black!reader #fem reader #eddie munson x black female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson/female reader #eddie munson x reader

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

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Jeremiah and worshipper god looking at eachother from across the street like that picture of the two people looking at eachother in their cars. Even funnier if they have the same darling. One being is an angel hunting god eater who views himself as a savior for humanity, the other a divine being that views you as the greatest thing in existence that is willing to bend reality to your will, just for a portion of your time. Imagine if Jeremiah decided to "adapt his approach" to getting your affection after seeing their tactics work better? Then worshipper god takes it up a notch, and then it becomes an arms race for your love.

It's the worst sight Jeremiah has ever seen. You and that fucking thing together. Even in its human skin he could tell what its true nature was. The only thing worse than it being a divine being was the fact that it choose you as its object of affection or rather worship.

The deity extends its palm to you. It heats with a bright glow, a miniature star forming in the flat of its hand. Even in the daylight the heavenly body's light was brilliant.

"Is it to your liking, my grace? Its luminance is only a factor to the light that surrounds you."

The God closes their hand around it. Smoke bellows from beneath their fingertips as they open it again. The star is now confined in a small glass jar with a sting tied to it. They offer the necklace to you.

"It's beauty can be replicated over and over - a feat created by your night sky, but yours is one that could never be replaced. I pray you accept my humble offering."

"It's gorgeous." You take the necklace and quickly put it on, showing it off with a smile. "How do I look?"

Breathtaking. It makes Jeremiah sick to his stomach how sweet your expression was. Course, you were a being meant to be praised, but he was the only one allowed to do it aside from those who deem him their savior. He was destined to aid humanity and have you by his side. That horrid God probably corrupted your mind to get your attention; buttering you up to make you its loyal follower.

It was the complete opposite. This otherworldly, ethereal being was the one to fall at your feet in worship. It saw you as an absolute power, despite its own able to rewrite reality and law to its whim. That gift was now yours as it gave itself to you fully.

Jeremiah has had enough. The priest storms over to the two of you; standing right between you and it. He flashes a kind smile as he bows in greeting.

"Y/n, my dear, is that you? Your radiance is so bright I nearly went blind. How are you doing today?"

"Hello, Father Jeremiah. I'm well and you?" You glance over at the God, wondering if he had seen any of the events that just occurred. They had reverted to their human form and were now staring daggers into the back of his head.

"Fantastic now that I've seen you. Are you busy at all? I'd like to take you somewhere special this evening."

"Um, well I'm spending time with my... friend behind you at the moment."

Jeremiah glances at them. "You can meet with them at a later date... or maybe never again."

The sky grows dark; the deity's eyes a pure onyx. You can't pick up on the exact energy between the two, but you can tell they despise one another. It probably wold be best to defuse the situation, but your words fall on deaf ears as both offer themselves to you.

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church-history · 1 year

Text

Geological and Historical Evidence for Jesus’ Crucifixion Account

At Jesus’ crucifixion, Matthew (27:45-54) reported “From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land. About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ (cf., Psalm 22)…And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment, the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. They came out of the tombs after Jesus’ resurrection and went into the holy city and appeared to many people. When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, ‘Surely he was the son of God!’”

Matthew’s passage includes two events that can be historically and geologically confirmed: (1) Darkness covered the land for three hours (c.f., Matthew 27:45; Mark 15:33; Luke 23:44-45) and (2) An earthquake occurred.

“At that same moment about noontide, the day was withdrawn; and they, who knew not that this was foretold concerning Christ, thought it was an eclipse. But this you have in your archives; you can read it there. Yet nailed upon the cross, Christ exhibited many notable signs, by which his death was distinguished from all others. At his own free-will, he with a word dismissed from him his spirit, anticipating the executioners’ work. In the same hour, too, the light of day was withdrawn, when the sun at the very time was in his meridian blaze. Those who were not aware that this had been predicted about Christ, no doubt thought it was an eclipse.”

- Tertullian (197 AD), Jewish Consul

“In the 4th year of the 202nd Olympiad, there was a great eclipse of the sun, greater than had ever been known before, for at the 6th hour the day was changed into night and the stars were seen in the heavens. An earthquake occurred in Bythinia and overthrew a great part of the city of Nicaea.”

- Phlegon (2nd century AD) Greek historian, “Olympiads”

“With regard to the eclipse in the time of Tiberius Caesar, in whose reign Jesus appears to have been crucified, and the great earthquakes which then took place, Phlegon too I think has written in the 13th or 14th book of his Chronicles…Celsus imagines also that both the earthquake and darkness were an invention, but regarding these, we have in the preceding pages made our defense, according to our ability, adducing the testimony of Phlegon, who relates that these events took place at the time when our Savior suffered.”

- Origen (184 – 253 AD), Greek scholar and early Christian father who confirmed Phlegon’s writings

“Jesus Christ underwent his passion in the 18th year of Tiberius [33 AD]. Also at that time in another Greek compendium we find an event recorded in these words: ‘the sun was eclipsed, Bithynia was struck by an earthquake, and in the city of Nicaea many buildings fell.”

- Eusebius (315 AD), Historian of the Emperor Constantine.

What Caused the Three-hour Period of Darkness?

Before determining that the three-hour period of darkness is due to supernatural causes, we must rule out the natural possibilities. We have experienced natural events that have caused darkness during the daylight hours. These include when volcanoes erupt and emit dark clouds and when storms occur and cover the sky with clouds. Yet no Biblical or secular sources indicate any support for a volcanic explosion or storms, so we can rule out those two natural events.

What about an eclipse? The positioning of the sun and moon is required to answer this question. We have much support for the dating of Jesus’ crucifixion on Friday the 14th of Nissan in the year 33 (April 3, 33). This date was further predicted in the book of Daniel (9). Passovers only occurred during a full moon, so an eclipse would not have been possible due to the moon’s location on the far side of the earth away from the sun. Even if the positioning were conducive to an eclipse, eclipses only darken the earth for short moments, not for three hours, so we have another reason to rule out that natural option.

Is the Best Explanation to Explain this Event a Supernatural Explanation?

I will let readers answer that question for themselves.

Geological Support for the Earthquake

Scholars have reported that devastating earthquakes occurred in Jerusalem during Christ’s death (Mallet, 1853; Rigg, 1941). This occurred in a region that includes the Dead Sea fault, which is a plate boundary that separates the Arabian plate and the Sinai sub-plate (Garfunkel, 1981). This fault has been active since the Miocene (Kagan, Stein, Agnon, & Neuman, 2011) and the fault is still active today (De Liso & Fidani, 2014). The fault extends from the Red Sea in the south to the Taurus Mountains in the north.

Kagan and colleagues (2011) analyzed seismites in the Holocene Dead Sea basin by constructing two age-depth chronological models based on atmospheric radiocarbon ages of short-lived organic debris with a Bayesian model. Seismites are sedimentary beds and structures, which are deformed by seismic shaking. The scholars analyzed seismites in different areas of the basin, finding that several synchronous seismites appeared in all sections during particular years, including 33 AD (+/- 2 sigma; 95% confidence interval). Other years in which earthquakes occurred as evidenced by seismites are (AD unless otherwise noted): 1927, 1293, 1202/1212, 749, 551, 419, 33, 31 BC, and mid-century B.C.

After analyzing laminated sedimentary cores recovered at the shores of the Dead Sea, Migowski, Agnon, Bookman, Negendank, and Stein (2004) also confirmed an earthquake in 33 AD with a magnitude of 5.5. They documented earthquakes around 33 AD in 31 BC and 76 AD. The scholars analyzed seismites using radiocarbon dating.

Ben-Menahem (2014) conducted a literature review of empirical studies over 4,000 years of seismicity along the Dead Sea Rift. The scholar referenced the aforementioned studies along with one by Enzel, Kadan, and Eyal (2000) before concluding that earthquakes occurred in Masada in 31 BC, Jerusalem in 33 AD, and near Nablus in 64 AD.

In summary, the literature on seismicity along the Dead Sea basin supports the assertion that an earthquake occurred either in or very close to the year 33 AD.

We can pinpoint the date even closer – to April 3, 33. A United States government federal agency, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, has documented the major earthquakes throughout history. According to their website (NOAA.gov), in 33 AD, an earthquake occurred at the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in Bithynia and Palestine and Palestine, Jerusalem.

Conclusion

In summary, we have extensive extra-biblical support for the accounts of darkness and the earthquake during Jesus’ crucifixion. Taken together, these events support the historicity of the account of Jesus’ crucifixion.

source: abbreviated from https://christian-apologist.com/2019/01/05/geological-and-historical-evidence-for-jesus-crucifixion-account/

#church history #catholic #Christian #crucifixion #good friday #geology #origen #eusebius #tertullian #phlegon

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xreaderbooks · 1 year

Text

Paradise on Earth (18)

Chapter: 18. The Cross

Pair: JJ Maybank x Routledge! Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, grave digging

Summary: All kinds of secrets are revealed in the island room

Links: Wattpad and AO3, Playlist

Chapter 17 - Series Masterlist - Navigation - Chapter 19

You had a headache. The events of last night had you tossing and turning. The illicit fight, the key is taken, you consoled Pope as best you could as he let his tears flow freely and the sobs wrack from his throat and into his crossed arms- you rubbed his back and let him rant. You feared he was close to his breaking point if he wasn’t already.

All of you had hardly slept, talking through the night about the new game plan- there was none- you were all sleeping in unintentional shifts, sprawled around the porch til daylight. You had all come to the conclusion that it was over, there was nothing left to be done even with Denmark Tanny’s diary.

The key was your only true lead.

That was until Sarah Cameron walked into your screened patio where you all lay like dead flies.

You whistled lowly at the sight of her, “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Shouldn’t you be on Figure Eight with your little group of polo players?” John B taunted her. “Or did you break up with Topper?”

She smiled sarcastically at him, “We’re just friends.”

“It seems like you have a lot of friends, Sarah Cameron.” Your brother continued as she walked a little way from him between where JJ was leaning against the metal that attached the screen and Pope who was sitting on a recliner chair.

“Yeah, and it seems like you’ve got some of your own too,” She must have seen John B with the girl who had invited him to the bonfire. “I’m here for Pope.”

Pope gave her a confused face.

“I found the island room.”

The five of you instantly perked up, the words she had just spoken had revived you all with hope.

Immediately, the six of you hopped into the Twinkie and rode out to Tannyhill.

“Guys listen to this!” Pope calls for attention holding the stack of paper that were copies of the diary. “The diary says the cross holds the most holy relic in all of Christendom, the garment of the savior.”

“So wait, it’s saying there’s a holy garment inside the cross?” Kie peeks over his shoulder to look at the paper.

“Yeah, it says the garment is capable of healing the sick from any malady.”

That must be what Limberey was after this whole time, you thought, that delusional bitch.

“‘If only I may touch his garment, I shall be made well’" JJ quoted from who knows where. You side-eye him from your seat, the rest of your friends equally as bewildered by him. “What? I went to Sunday school.”

“That’s why Limberey is desperate to find it, she wants it to heal her,” You said. “What else does it say?”

“‘Many feel that we have sinned to steal such a sacred thing and God will strike his vengeance on us’” Pope recites.

“Thing is, God did have his vengeance...” Kie pursed her lips.

“He sent a hurricane to sink the ship, only Denmark survived,” Pope says solemnly.

~~~

Sarah directs you all around the mansion, guiding you all through several corridors to a room that you believe to remember is where Ward took his meetings. The room was completely different now, the fancy wallpaper was torn off, and a mural of a town was painted on the walls of the room.

“It’s the island room,” Sarah gave him a pleased smile. “It has to be.”

Pope walked into the room and written all over his features was pure awe “This has got to mean something.”

“This is a map of the whole island,” John B noted.

You take notice of historical Kildare Island landmarks, as do the others, they name the places the group has been to. Parcel 9, the lighthouse- JJ mentioned Rixon’s, and John B just pointed out the surf break at Mase. The boys determined that the drawing in Denmark's diary and his writing had matched that of the paintings on the wall.

“This has something to do with the key, right?” You ask, though at this point it was obvious it definitely did. You run your fingers across the torn edges of the wallpaper leftover and question Sarah, “How did you uncover it?”

“I didn’t, it was like this when I got home.”

“So then who did it?” Kie questions.

A voice came from the door you all had entered through not too long ago, you and the rest of the pogues jumped at the sound. It turned out to be Wheezie, she answered Kie, “It was the freaks.”

“What freaks are we talking about, Wheeze?” JJ recovered from being startled by her quicker than the rest of the group.

“That sick lady and her attack dog,” She said. You laughed at what she called Renfield, you sent the group an apologetic smile as Wheezie explained. “They showed up last night, and they wanted to talk to Rafe-”

“Pale blonde lady?”

“Crutches?”

“It’s gotta be Limberey.”

Pope, JJ, and Kie give out identifiers of the one person who could have known about this.

“What happened?” You asked, not wanting to wait any longer for the details.

“First, they searched the whole house looking for something, and then Rafe told me to go upstairs, but I didn’t wanna miss out so I listened through the grate, I heard Rafe show them this room and the paper ripping. They were talking about getting across the sand flamingo.”

“That’s code, that’s code for something!” JJ immediately theorized.

Pope dismissed him and clarified with Wheezie, “The cross of Santo Domingo?”

“Yeah that’s it, and they were talking about angels- a lot of angel talk, I don’t know.”

“Denmark’s famous last words!” You piece everything together. “He buried the real treasure at the foot of the angel.”

Pope snaps his finger, “We have to find the angel in the room!”

Everyone spreads out and starts to search for any sign of an angel, Wheezie said something that made you freeze, and a cold chill went down your spine.

“You know, I could never ask Rafe 'cause I know he’d be a dick about it but did you guys break up?” She spoke nonchalantly, “He’s been extra asshole-ish lately and I know there’s a lot going on-”

John B stood still, slowly turning his head to Wheezie. Sarah’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head, “What did you just say?”

You couldn’t move, all thoughts of looking for the angel were gone, you could hear a pin drop in the room as everyone had stopped moving.

“Y/n and Rafe,” Her voice got quieter, just now realizing that she had said something she wasn’t supposed to. Heat rushed up from your neck to your cheeks, not from embarrassment but from shame, that same feeling you get when you're in elementary school and get sent into the principal's office you probably weren't in trouble but it felt like the end of the world. To make matters worse, she pulls out her phone and hands it to Sarah.

You didn’t want to know, you shut your eyes, this was a nightmare- it had to be some shitty nightmare that when you opened your eyes it would all be gone. Everyone was staring at the youngest Cameron’s phone, Kie looked disgusted, Pope couldn’t have hidden the betrayal on his face, and JJ… he was still upset with you so his current indifference toward you hadn’t changed.

“Guys-” You started.

“How could you?” John B practically shoved Wheezie’s phone in your face, you grabbed it and saw a picture, he tapped on it so they could see the date it was taken on the top. “How long?”

Your lips quivered, the tears welling in your eyes, “We weren't together.”

“And that’s supposed to make it better?” John B shouted at you. You flinched, John B hardly ever spoke to you like this, and if he did- you were right there with him. It stung, it felt like getting scolded by your favorite parent or favorite teacher who you never wanted to disappoint. John B was your brother, so fights were normal but it never felt like this.

You didn’t know what else to say, “I’m sorry.” It came out in a sob.

“He framed me for murder, Y/n, he jumps Pope like every other day with no regret!” John B mentions every way Rafe has wronged the group. “He almost killed his own sister!”

You look at the ceiling to stop any more tears from falling, but it was too late, when you blinked they fell. 3-4 at a time, came flooding out of your eyes, you took every word he yelled at you, you knew Kie and Pope had their own thoughts to chew you out but John B was giving it all to you that they didn’t need to.

“Hey, yo guys!” JJ called out to the group suddenly in front of a painting with a tree. “Come here, this humongous tree is still on Goat Island, you know what it’s called?”

John B is breathing heavily and still glaring at you as he walks over to JJ with a shake of his head, Pope glances over at you once- not meeting your eye.

“Angel Oak,” He responds.

JJ points to the center of the painting of the tree, “Look, there’s a keyhole. That means the cross is buried at the foot of the angel, that must be where he put it, we should go.”

Pope wastes no time rushing out of the room, the others going after him, you push Wheezies phone into her chest as you walk out.

“I didn’t know that you didn’t tell them!” She comes after you. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head but you couldn’t find it in yourself to reassure her with a smile, you settled for just telling her it didn’t matter. “They were gonna find out one way or another.”

Surprisingly, they were still waiting for you in the Twinkie the sliding door left open for you. No one would speak to you, which was fine- you found it better that way. Pope gave John B directions, the tree was past Freedman’s church, a long road surrounded by trees and wetland.

“Shit,” John B cursed. “Tide’s coming in.”

The path turned muddy, there were tracks already imprinted in the dirt that Pope had pointed out. JJ who was in the passenger seat asked John B if they should risk it, “It’s a little dicey.”

“Well, clearly they made it,” Kie stated.

“In a two-wheel drive?” JJ clicked his tongue. “I don’t know about that.”

“Why are y’all acting like you’re not gonna do it anyways?” You dared to quip. “Like when have you ever done the safe thing?”

John B turned his head to give you a quick once over and JJ gave him a downward smile and they both shrugged, you didn’t take this as a sign of being on good terms, simply giving them the fuel they needed to do what they needed to do with no hesitation.

You, Pope, Kie, and Sarah held onto whatever you could as JJ talked John B through the speed he needed to get through the land without getting stuck. At a distance that was deemed safe enough to park, the Twinkie was stopped and the group piled out to where the Angel Oak tree was.

JJ began to ramble about gators, you weren’t entirely sure if it was to diffuse the tension that hung around the group now but it was working. You walked behind the rest of them, Sarah and John B a little ahead of you talking- bickering- more like, amongst themselves until she let a tree branch smack him in the face.

You snickered to yourself which earned you a sharp glare from your brother.

“John B-”

“Not now, Y/n.”

You sighed and came up behind Sarah and Kie who were hidden behind the cover of tall bushes. You heard Limberey’s dreamy voice go on about the significance of the garment, one touch and she will be healed. By the sound of the sarcasm dripping from Renfield’s voice, he doubted it.

There was a crane that dug through the roots of the tree, handled by a hired construction worker. He hit something hard that was covered by soil, and Limberey ordered him to stop. Rafe and Renfield dug with their hands and lifted a casket.

The pogues impatiently stood by as they opened it with a crowbar, the woman’s face fell in disappointment, “We must have missed something.”

She grabs ahold of her crutches and shouts out her new plans to go back to the island room and how it wasn’t over.

The coast was clear once they packed everything up, Rafe got into his range rover, and the construction worker hauled the crane on the back of his truck that was rigged up with something to hold it, Limberey right behind them.

Pope came out of hiding, and ran straight for the casket, “Cecilia Tanny, Denmark’s wife.”

It was empty, only dusty bones left.

“He wasn’t talking about the cross, he buried her at the foot of the angel.”

“The true treasure,” Kie breathed out.

How tragic, your heart clenched at truly devastating it all was- romantic even for all the wrong reasons. “Denmark was hung for burying his wife and they defiled her grave,” Pope reached in, searching for something in her ashen bones- a necklace with her name.

Sarah found something herself, a ring, “This must be from Denmark, her wedding ring.” She and John B shared a look.

“We can’t leave her like this.”

“We won’t,” John B reassured Pope.

You worked together to reseal the top of the wooden casket with nails from a toolbox in the Twinkie, the boys lifted and gently placed her in her resting place, and you all pushed the dirt back over it. Placing fresh flowers from around the area, on top of the spot.

“I just don’t get it,” Pope announces, “He hides his gold so no one finds it for 170 years and then he sends a message to his son, Robert, to come here to his mother’s grave- but the message never gets to him. Denmark wanted him to find the cross, I know we’re in the right spot, it just feels like-”

“Like we missed something?” JJ was looking up at the tree. “Guys, come here.”

Kie climbs up on the roof of the van and then onto the thick tree branch with JJ. “That looks like the painting from the island room.”

“It’s worth a shot right?” JJ reaches into the tree hollow, “There’s something in here.”

He begins to scream as if something inside was tugging him, he struggled to pull his arm out, and the four of you that were still on the ground instantly go to help him. You call his name and start climbing the van to reach him but his shouts were stopped by his laughter.

“Asshole,” You hop down from halfway up the Twinkie.

“I got all of you,” He chortles. “Wait, but seriously there’s something in here.”

He pulls out something metallic and thick, tossing it down to Pope before jumping from the tree to the ground and taking it from him. “Give it to the captain,” He observes before elongating it, “It’s a spyglass.”

“There’s something on the end,” You point out. “An inscription right there.”

“You’ve come this far, do not falter, the cross is on the Freedman’s altar,” Pope reads. “Freedman’s altar… the cross is at the church!”

~~~

Your luck appeared to have run out, the tide had risen and the path that was already made muddy from the water became worse. The road was gone, and John B hit the brakes before warning everyone to brace themselves, he and JJ debated if the Twinkie would make it or not; it did not.

About halfway there, John B hydroplanes and the Twinkie is stuck in the mud. Pope suggests you all walk from where you're at but John B refused to leave the Twinkie when the tide was still coming in.

“I can take my dad’s truck,” Kie begrudgingly suggests.

“Are you sure?” Pope asks.

“How much worse can it get, you know?”

“We’re gonna need something to pull her out with, there’s the winch at the Chateau,” JJ mentions. “That’s like two miles.”

“If you’re gonna do it, just go-” John B declares.

“Can- Can I go with?” You waver when you ask. JJ searches your eyes and glances at Kie as if he’s asking her permission, you almost roll your eyes at the action. She shrugs and encourages you with a tilt of her head.

You’d much rather deal with the asshole who was already giving you shit and your best friend who you could already hear in your head reprimanding you than face your brother, his ex, and the person who had been wronged time and time again by the person you had a secret affair with.

The three of you trekked through muddy waters until you reached the part of the road that had been untouched by the tide, and walked into town with half-soaked pants. The mission to Kie’s house went quickly, she snuck into her parent's house to steal the keys to the truck while you and JJ crouched outside the picket fence.

“You alright?”

You considered the question JJ asked you, it took you by surprise to say the least, you thought he was still upset- he probably still was but he cared. It increased the pace of your heart, you nodded, you didn’t think you were at the level yet with him to actually talk like everything was all good.

Kie tossed the keys at JJ the moment she came back, you rushed to get into her dad’s truck as JJ turned the car on and you were off to your next stop.

“This’ll only take a sec, it’s in the surf shack,” JJ told you both, running out the door- tripping, and falling onto the ground. You winced, he picked himself up and continued running.

“Why’d you do it?” Kie interrogated you the moment it was just the two of you. “Why him? That’s seriously so messed up Y/n, he’s a fucking psychopath.”

You understood the anger, you could take the judgment from Sarah and John B, and the puppy dog glances full of hurt by Pope who couldn’t believe you would betray his friendship. You could even handle the shit JJ gave you for fucking the guy he cannot stand and would probably kill if ever given the chance, but Kie?

“I know, Kiara, I know he is- it just happened.”

“Like what the hell was going through your head, honestly?” Her tone was full of condescension, “That’s just another thing he could hold over you. Did you seriously think we wouldn’t find out? Or that you could keep this from us forever? I’m your best friend!”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up!” You blurted out without being able to stop yourself. “I know, I know, I know! He’s a psychopath, he sent John B to jail, he fucked the group up too many times to count- he’s a shitty fucking person but he loved me!”

You didn’t want to believe the words that you had shouted at her, but you said it, it was out.

“He was there, and he is obviously toxic as hell but I saw something in him that I thought…” This was going to be embarrassing to admit. “I thought I could help him be better, he acted like he could be like he would- but I guess I was just desperate to think so because of all the bullshit he fed me when we were alone.”

Kie held a bewildered expression, but she openly listened.

“It happened once, it was sort of a long time coming with what we had going on but we weren’t in a relationship- I genuinely meant to help him be better. Clearly, I failed, and everything went to shit but there’s your explanation Kiara. I don’t need one more person- much less you, telling me that I’m fucked up for doing what I did when I’ve already had this conversation with myself too many times to count.”

She frowned and nodded, “I’m sorry.”

You felt like a small weight had been lifted, one down- four more to go. With perfect timing, JJ was walking back but with a taller older figure behind him. Luke. Since when was he out of jail?

Kie walked out of the truck, “No, Immediately no.”

“Just get in the truck, Y/n get in the front passenger,” He instructed as he put the tools needed in the trunk.

Without a word, you walked out of the back cabin and went into the passenger seat as Luke slid into your old seat. He winked at you with a smile, you shivered with disgust, Kie argued with JJ.

“Guys!” You yelled for their attention. “The Twinkie is sinking, what the hell are we doing?”

~~~

JJ made Kie stop at a corner store near the marina where he was to drop his dad off, you and Kie sent each other expressions of distaste as Luke sat in the back, he was just as ADHD as JJ. He tapped on the back of your seats, making as much noise as possible for attention that you and Kie were not giving him.

“You’re a terrible father, you know that?” Kie spoke.

“Preach it to me,” He leaned back into his seat, finally stopping his incessant noise.

“You don’t deserve him,” You chimed. “Not an inch of how amazing he is.”

“He’s a thief is what he is.”

Ire burned through you, you had millions of words to describe how you wanted Luke Maybank to rot in hell.

“And what are you?” Kie retorted. “You’re just a wasted local salt who never did shit but get messed up and hustle people, not exactly impressive.”

“You sound just like your mama,” He told Kie. “She was just like that in high school, always thought she was better than everybody else. Kook princess- and looky here, you're just like her slumming it with the bad boys, and the princess of pogues here pretending she won’t grow up to be trash just like her daddy.”

Kie snapped and elbowed Luke in his nose, knocking him back, “Don’t talk about my family.”

Pride surged in you, you wanted to laugh, you’ve been wanting to do that for years, and although it was Kie who got the satisfaction, watching it happen felt just as good. JJ came not a minute after, handing him a 6-pack of beer, and getting in the back with him.

~~~

JJ practically dragged Luke out of the truck, you called his dad's attention, and you and Kie had your middle fingers up. He went to react but JJ turned him around telling him to go. You and Kie giggled, calming down after a minute.

“You think he’ll be okay?” You worried over JJ dropping his dad off.

“He’ll pretend to be, for sure.”

“I’m gonna go check on him in a minute,” You told her with a frown, she gave you a half smile.

After a couple of minutes, you walked along the dock over to where he stood, watching the boat his dad drifted off in.

He saw you and immediately engulfed you in a hug, you didn’t have time to process before wrapping your arms around his middle. You whispered into your hair, “I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry.”

You felt droplets fall onto your shoulder, your arm went underneath his aviator jacket and traced the line of his spine with light tickles. Who knows what his dad’s final words were to him, how hurt he must feel.

“JJ,” You took a small step back from his arms, cradling his face in your hands. “It’s okay, you're gonna be okay, we’re okay.”

He shook his head and pulled you back in, clutching you tighter, “I didn’t mean to snap on you. I was just scared I’d lose you to that kook."

He squeezed you after a minute, "You know you’re my girl right?”

You just let him hold you, and tell you sweet nothings if that’s what made him feel better, nodding along as he kissed your temple. He seemed to hold himself up as you walked back with his arm around your shoulders.

~~~

“Oh look, the three tortoises are back!” You heard Pope comment through the open window of the truck. “Where the hell were you guys?”

You observed the three you left behind, John B lay in a weird position on his right- grimacing.

“Luke was at the Chateau,” JJ reached into the pickup bed grabbing what was needed.

“Great, while you guys were there having family time, John B got bit by a gator!”

“What?” You went over to him and ran your eyes over his body to see where he got bit. You saw blood smeared on the side of the Twinkie.

“What the hell happened?” Kie exclaimed. Immediately getting shouted at by Sarah, John B, and Pope. “I don’t why I’m being yelled at, I put my ass on the line.”

“You’re being yelled at because it was 20 minutes!”

“We got here as fast as we could!” You defended Kie.

Pope sent you a furious look, “Let’s not start on what you’ve been up to while everybody’s been put through hell!”

Words were said, voices were raised, and everyone was agitated. The five of you verbally fought amongst yourselves until JJ called out at the top of his voice for you all to stop.

“Seriously guys, I can’t take it anymore, alright- everyone just cut it out for a second.” He chuckles, leaning against a tree to steady himself, “Look, I just helped my dad leave this island for good like he’s not ever coming back. He’s straight up like the Spanish- just ‘Bon Voyage’”

Not the right language, you and Kie gave each other puzzled looks but everyone stayed silent nonetheless.

“All we got and I know for a fact all I got is you guys, okay? You’re it” He stared directly at you as he said it. “I’ve come too close to losing you, all of you. So, this blaming each other is some kook-ass bullshit, we don’t do that, we’re Pogues. Sorry, that was a lot right now… I didn’t mean to.” His hands were on his hips and he avoided everyone’s gaze after his speech.

The group looked as though to be in agreement, giving JJ a round of applause.

“That was the best freaking speech I’ve ever heard,” John B praised. “Also, you should think about getting a Rosetta Stone because your Spanish and French are flip-flopped.” JJ flipped him off.

Sarah raised her hand, “We should bon voyage out of here.”

JJ and John B attached the Twinkie to the back of Kie’s dad's truck, hauling it out of the water in no time and the pogues were off to the church.

~~~

Birds fluttered away from the door the boys had forced open. The church had been abandoned, long long ago, vines had grown through the cracks in the floorboards and around the windows.

Pope insisted the cross was here, and JJ joked about there being a secret button around the piano.

“How about we find obvious clues?” John B advises, but there wasn’t much to look for.

“It’s not an escape room,” Kie rolled her eyes.

Pope was on the verge of a break when John B doubted the cross was in the church. “No, no. There’s no way he would set us up on a freaking goose chase that would lead us to a church that has nothing in it.”

“Yes, I get it, I don’t know what to tell you, man.”

“The clues led us here, the cross is in this church,” Pope slumped down a pew. He fiddled with the spyglass and looked through it, pointing it at the ceiling. With a conspiratorial gaze at the wooden beams supporting the roof, Pope climbed on the walls through the termite-eaten holes.

You, JJ, Kie, Sarah, and John B warned him about the dangers of climbing, but he wasn’t listening. He ignored all of you and knocked on all the beams to hear if one of them was hollow.

You noticed a bee hive above his head, “Pope, just move slow- there’s a hive.”

Sarah left and came back with a crowbar to help Pope who was tearing up the wood on one of the beams that turned out to be hollow with his hands. With the metal in his hand, he tore all the pieces til it revealed the golden cross.

Cheers went all around, Sarah and Kie brought you into a group hug, and John B and JJ had their arms around each other. Pope accidentally dropped the crowbar from excitement, the glory of victory of short-lived as bees swarmed Pope. He slipped, holding himself on the supporting beam, the group worked in unison to move the pews and find anything that could break Pope’s fall.

Just as he landed, the cross came down after him.

~~~

Chapter 19

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dirtnapdreamfactory · 13 days

Text

The Nature of Daylight - [Chapter One]

Rated: Explicit for Future Violence, Gore, Mature Themes, Adult Language, and Smut. 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 1.5K

[Next Chapter]

The sky wept with a fury that seemed to shake the very foundations of the city, plunging it into a dissonant symphony of howling winds and relentless rain. In the depths of this tempest, a small, trembling figure huddled in the meager protection of a damp alleyway. A mess of coppery hair clung to her pale skin, glistening with each flash of lightning that momentarily split the inky sky. Tattered and soaked, her simple clothes were but a poor defense against the icy claws of the storm. The woman pulled a threadbare blanket tightly around her shoulders, her shaky movements seeming to mirror the erratic dance of the windswept flames of a nearby streetlamp.

Her eyes, wide with a mixture of exhaustion and terror, darted from shadow to shadow, her paranoia heightened by the cacophony of the elements and an all too recent brush with death. She knew that there was not a single place in this realm or the next that he couldn’t find her, where he couldn’t send another horde of faceless pursuers to capture her. His motive was a mystery, but his intentions were clear – she was to be taken to Castle Ravenloft…by any means necessary.

Empty pockets were a constant reminder of her desperation, as her search for a haven or a potential savior proved fruitless. The unrelenting downpour hammered on, creating an impenetrable curtain that obscured her view of any possible salvation. Alone, scared, and penniless, she resigned herself to the harsh reality that she was not long for the world.

As if on cue, a particularly vicious gust of wind ripped a shred of the tattered awning away from the building above, further exposing her to the elements. With a hopeless groan, she forced herself to her trembling legs and pressed on into the tempest. She knew that she had to find some semblance of shelter or perish in the attempt.

The city was a maze of slick cobblestone and forgotten alleys, each turn a potential dead end or a new assailant's lair. But she trudged on, grim determination etched on her delicate features. The sound of her footsteps, all but lost in the tumult, echoed in her head: splash, splash, splash. One foot in front of the other; her mantra in the never-ending nightmare of her life.

In the distance, a flickering light danced erratically through the downpour. Hope surged within her but for a moment, only to be quickly extinguished by her own pessimism. Still, it was her only lead, a single point of light in an ocean of darkness. With renewed vigor, she stumbled towards it, each step taking her closer to her salvation or her doom. Truthfully, at this point, she would gladly accept either.

The light, it turned out, was coming from a small tavern. A haven for the desperate and the damned, but to her, it might as well have been the warm embrace of the gods themselves. Pushing through the creaking door, she nearly collapsed onto the floor, her sodden clothes hanging heavily from her thin frame.

The patrons inside, hardened by their own trials, spared her but a glance before returning to their drinks and conversations. After a moment, the gruff barkeep hobbled over and pushed a small towel and a steaming mug of something hot and fiery into her hands without a word. She didn't care; it could've been dragon's piss and she still would have drank it - this was the first bit of kindness and generosity she had been shown in ages.

As she sipped the brew, the fire in her belly warring with the one in her bones, she approached the roaring hearth tucked away into a small, seemingly forgotten corner of the Tavern, and stared into the flames as she became lost in thought.

After a while, the door of the tavern creaked open once more - the woman’s eyes immediately glancing over towards the new arrival. A tall elven man entered the dimly lit space, his senses immediately attuned to the scents and sounds of the establishment. The lingering scent of sweat and cheap ale mingled with the crackling fireplace, creating a pungent cocktail that did nothing to mask the undercurrent of desperation and deceit that permeated the air. His predatory gaze scanned the room, seeking out a target for the evening. A rogue's gallery of patrons lined the bar, each harboring their own secrets and desires, but only one held the allure that he sought. His eyes settled on a plump merchant, adorned in finery ill-suited to the seedy establishment, trinkets that practically screamed "rob me."

With a practiced glide, he sauntered over to the bar, his movements languid and effortless. Slipping onto the barstool next to his mark, he ordered a glass of the house red, his voice dripping with honeyed seduction. "Well, well - you appear to be a man of fine taste and discerning palate," He flashed a disarming grin at the man, revealing just a glimpse of his fangs. The merchant, a portly man with a bushy brown mustache, turned to look at Astarion, his small, beady eyes widening in interest. "Allow me to introduce myself," The elf purred, extending a slender, white hand. "My name is Astarion. Now, do tell - what is a fine man like you doing in a place like this?"

The two exchanged stories and flirtations for a while before the merchant's eyes darted towards the hearth for a moment, where a bedraggled figure huddled in the corner. The elf’s preternatural hearing caught the barest whisper of the man’s thoughts: "What a pathetic sight. Someone ought to throw the little bitch back into the gutter she crawled out of." Astarion mentally sighed and prepared to steer the conversation back to more fruitful pursuits.

"Tell me," he purred, feigning interest in the man with practiced ease, "have you ever visited the Szarr Mausoleum?" The man's eyes shone with macabre curiosity, and the elf knew he had him. "There are all manner of... magnificent treasures there, if you know where to look." He winked, letting the man's greed do the rest.

As the unfortunate soul eagerly took the bait, Astarion's attention was drawn back to the drenched, shivering woman in the corner. There was something about her... something that sang to his sense in the strangest of ways. But before he could delve further, the moment passed. "Come now, darling. Time and tide wait for no man, as they say." He flashed a charming grin, leading the unsuspecting man out into the rain-soaked darkness.

The lively chatter of the evening eventually faded into the cool night air as the exhausted girl, the last remaining patron, still sat hunched over in front of the hearth. She had been nursing the drink the barkeep had given her for hours, the amber liquid swirled idly in her cup as she stared into its depths, lost in thought. The scent of stale ale and smoke hung heavy in the air, an oppressive reminder of the revelry that had once filled the room.

The barkeep's gruff voice jolted her out of her thoughts, and she lifted her gaze to meet his stern expression. He pointed towards the exit, and she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. "Oh, sorry - I didn't realize it was so late," she apologized, her gentle tone betraying a hint of shame.

The man studied her with a critical gaze, his features showing the signs of a tough and rugged life. In a rare display of compassion, he grumbled, "Tell ya what, girl - if you're up for cleaning up this mess, you can have the cot in the back. But don't get any ideas; I find anythin’ missin’ in the mornin’ and, well…let’s just say I’ve got friends that run in some pretty unsavory circles, understood?”

The woman smiled, amused by the thinly-veiled threat. "Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it," she said, letting his pointed words roll off her shoulders.

“Right. What’s your name, then?” He grunted.

“Alida,” She answered softly.

The man made a small sound of acknowledgment as he trudged off to lock up, his steps heavy and slow as the weight of a long day bared down on him. Alida watched him carefully as he eventually departed, before turning her attention to the task at hand. She worked quickly and efficiently, clearing tables and wiping down sticky countertops until they gleamed under the dim lighting. Her mind was miles away, however, lost among the whirling thoughts and worries that seemed to follow her like a shadow.

As soon as the last table was cleaned, she retreated to the small backroom, her body tired and aching. The cot was waiting for her, a thin blanket thrown over it to provide some semblance of comfort. She sank onto it gratefully, feeling every bone in her body sigh in relief. Staring up at the ceiling, her amber eyes caught the moonlight filtering through a cracked window pane, casting a soft glow across the room. Despite her exhaustion, sleep evaded her for a while longer before finally claiming her in its peaceful embrace.

#astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 #baldur’s gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x oc #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion smut

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 11 months

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Crossing A Line

Clan of Three: One-Shot

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers and a heavy role to bear. High stakes can be the reason the innocence begins to crack.

Word Count: 4.8K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, heavy angst, heavy details of gore and murder (including children) slight ptsd, sad-but-sweet father-daughter moments

A/N: This takes place between the end of Season 2 and before the Book of Boba Fett- CONTAINS CLAN OF THREE SPOILERS. Read all of the Clan of Three Series here

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"Me and the devil walkin' side by side"

The chill of the planet's atmosphere despite how close you were to the center of the galaxy. You’ve never been so close to the Core your entire life was the Outer Rim that was all you ever knew. Scars are still fresh and healing haunted memories branded onto your skin forever with you unable to escape them or have them escape you. Your eyes were glued onto the flowy cape that trailed off the bounty hunter, your protector, your savior. Things were tense given how much has occurred in little over a year. The empire, your adventures, you and the kid, Gi-

But the kid was safe. Grogu was with the Jedi getting the proper training but you didn’t though. It wasn’t safe, you needed to be with Din you couldn’t abandon him. Your gaze flickers to the new weapon resting on his hip that he’s used a bit on some quarries. It was yours by right. You fought and won it, the blood and sins of that weapon were passed onto you.

You would never touch that thing if it killed you.

The streets crawl with rodents and the pure scum of life. You thought being towards the Core on Corellia that it would be the height of luxury. How wrong you were, crime and death still clung to every planet no matter how much that planet lies claiming it’s peaceful and innocent. Din stops short in his path you coming to a halt almost running into him.

“We’ll rest for the night and continue at dawn,” His modulated voice speaks looking at the quickly setting daylight and you nod silently. You weren’t tired at all and if you weren’t in the picture he probably would have continued, but he didn’t want a young girl walking through this place so late into the night. It was an abandoned building Din had to help you crawl through an open window to move the barricaded items before the door. You wondered what the history of the building was with broken light fixtures, broken windows, destroyed furniture and anything of value already ransacked. Following up the long flights of stairs since the turbolift was out of commission reaching a floor that Din decided was adequate entered a room at the end of the hall. The room was barren with the windows cracked but luckily not broken a small balcony that showed an overview of the crime-ridden part of the capital, Coronet City.

“Get away from the window.” Din calls out and you sigh parting your gaze from the view and seeing him sprinkling broken glass on the floor in front of the door leading towards the main area then he passes you doing the same by the balcony. Taking in the inventory of the room finding some destroyed cushions taking them a beginning to dust them off before making makeshift beds on the ground. “Kid,” Din gets your attention before tossing a small ration in your direction which you catch.

“Thanks.” You respond quietly and you can sense his slight disappointment from the lack of conversation between you two since everything. It had only been a few months since…all that. While it was your choice to stay with the Mandalorian it had been a lot, wounds still fresh and time was slowly but barely healing. Without the Crest it was hard for Din to collect bounties to support the two of you if that meant rations or stolen food or sleeping in abandoned places instead of inns then so be it.

The stars and planets of faraway systems and galaxies look down being your source of light as you finish your meal and you hadn’t realize how tired you were until you were resting. Your back rested against the wall your head dipping every so often before you jerked awake. Din having situated his sleeping arrangement with a good view of both entry points notices you nodding off, “Get some rest,” He speaks and you nod sluggishly fixing yourself to be laying your bag resting beside your head your saber right beside it within your reach.

“You better wake me up to take the next shift.” You murmur and you see him nod slightly. You had a feeling he wasn’t going to, no matter how many times you assured him you could take the first watch or to wake you but then it would be morning and he would tell you it was alright. You needed the rest more than him, ‘You’re a growing kid,’ He would say, and he could still function even on a few hours of sleep or even none. Your lashes felt heavier and grew more in weight before darkness consumed you and you were quickly dragged under the peace of slumber.

The small moment of peace that were far between was interrupted by a frantic shaking jolting you awake. Your hand reaches for your weapon but you stop when you see Din hovering above you. You got to speak when he covers your mouth and you look at him with wide eyes. The sound of crushed glass alerts you and the multiple sounds of voices, “They’re on this floor check every room.” A voice comes through the walls and Din pulls you up to your feet throwing your bag over your shoulder and your saber is placed into your hands.

“What are you doing?” You whisper as he pushes you towards the balcony, “I’ll hold them off.” He responds and you shake your head, “No we do this together.” You say and you don’t get another word in as the footsteps grow closer and you’re outside. The windows don’t fully show the balcony as your back presses against the wall right beside the window listening in. It’s silent before you hear the entrance door enters and the slow crunch of glass, you hold your breath when the sudden blaster fire makes you jump and the sound of struggle grunts and groans before you hear a loud noise followed by Din making a sound of pain. Your hands shake clenching your saber wishing you could be there helping him.

Din struggles in the grasp of the bounty hunters and there was a multitude, he was able to take out a few before he was overwhelmed and forced to his knees restrained. Who he assumes was the leader steps forward a buffy man with scars visible on his body that wasn’t covered by his clothes or tattoos. “This was the Mandalorian we were supposed to be worried about?” He smirks and Din felt his blood boil but he needed to remain calm a single wall separating them from finding you.

“The Empire’s got a high bounty on your head but I’m more interested in a higher one,” He says looking over the beskar-covered man, “Where’s the girl?” Din didn’t even budge if looks could kill no one in this room would be standing right now. A sharp hit to him makes him groan though he stifles it.

“Just tell us where the girl is and we’ll let you go.” The man says leaning forward trying to offer up a deal Din slams forward the beskar cracking the bone of his nose and the leader pulls back clutching his bleeding nose as Din is taken down fully to the ground. The leader growls blood pours down his chin his teeth staining red, “Search the room, you find her…kill her.” Din’s heart lurches as he’s restrained as the others tear apart the room making sure no corner is left unchecked until all is left is the balcony. The man gives a sly bloody grin at the Mandalorian at the only hiding spot left before instructing a Rodian to check. Equipped with their weapon they head towards the balcony the crunch of glass under their boots as they open the door ready to deliver the killing blow to the young jedi. Din holds his breath waiting for the inevitable gunfire and the cry you would produce, you were going to die because of him, your blood would be on his hands. Why didn’t you go with the jedi you would be safe-

“She’s not here sir.” The Rodian announces the news and Din almost sags in relief while the leader curses, “She couldn’t have gone far, Hit the streets and start looking.” Most leave respecting their orders as the two restrainings Din bring up the Mandalorian.

“What do we do with him?” One of them asks and the leader sneers at Din, “Take him back to base…she’ll come after him.” Before Din could get any word in a needle injects through the fabric of his flightsuit and darkness quickly takes over.

The sound of the door slamming shut behind you as you release the air you were holding in. Hanging off the side of a balcony so high up in the air that the people on the streets looked like little bugs. Pulling yourself up and getting on solid ground you peek inside finding the room empty beside the dead bounty hunters that were after you. A tightness filled your chest Din was gone, you were on your own….they took him. They hurt him….they were going to kill him-you weren’t going to let them. You would make them feel the same pain if they laid another finger on him.

The streets were dark a storm brewing settling over the planet reflecting your emotions, you didn’t even know where to start who, or what you were looking for. You had some voices but that gave you nothing. Neon signs light your way through the rainy streets and alleys, despite how late into the night it was probably early morning the nightlife was active whether it would be to enjoy a night out or for more nefarious acts held so late. Gliding through busy streets crowds none paying attention to a young girl or empty alleys where creatures scamper to find their meal in the trash. It felt like hours trying to find where to even look for, who to go after, who could they even be on this planet. You weren’t a bounty hunter, you didn’t even know the first step in finding someone. It was sudden hands that wrapped around your waist the other covering your mouth muffling your screams as you’re dragged into an alley. Kicking your feet out your teeth dug into the flesh until metallic blood filled your mouth producing a cry from your assailant as another appears revealing a crude rusty blade. He looked around your age you could see the slight tremor in his grasp of the weapon.

“Just kill her already!” The man behind you yells as the other flinches before stalking closer. Kicking your leg out the blade flies into the air as your momentum slams the two of you back into a wall. The arms loosen around you and you slam his head into the wall he quickly knocks him unconscious the other scrambles to grab their blaster when they're flung into the wall opposite pinned there. The young boy quivers from his restrained position as the streetlights illuminate the young girl her hand held out. This was the power they had to be worried about, the reason a bounty was on her head. To bring the Jedi in alive or dead. Thrusting your hand forward and he too is shrouded in darkness.

When Din regained consciousness he was revealed to still have his armor on, despite his creed already broken he didn’t wish to break it twice. He was stripped of his weapons and his vambraces, leaving just the beskar armor to be his protection. Tugging at his restraints the heavy chain shakes around his wrists behind his back and from their place in the solid floor. The darkness that fills the room beside the dingy light above him allows him to see the true emptiness of the room. He curses lightly leaning his hand back against the wall, he wasn’t nervous for himself he could handle whatever torture or attempts at harm towards him. It was you he was fearful for, there was never a time where you needed to be looking for him. He felt foolish not at least preparing you for the event if the two of you were separated or if he was trouble. If the Crest still existed he would have least known you were safe but you were out on this planet alone trying to find him.

The door slides open revealing the scarred man as he stalks into the room the confidence that radiates off him. Like the deadly bounty hunter chained before him is something he shouldn’t be worried about. If he could wrap these chains around his throat and listen to the crack of his bones Din would be delighted.

“They are going to find her,” He speaks to Din as he remains silent his emotions masked by the beskar helmet, “You could have made it easy, she could have remained alive. But when my men find her they are going to rip her apart.” His grin was full of joy and malice trying to get on the bounty hunter’s nerves, “Maybe they have their way with her first? See how loud she screams before they slit her throat.” The chains were the only thing holding him back from throttling him. On his feet, his arms pulled behind him creating a strain, a growl ripped from his throat.

“You touch a single hair on her-” Din threatens just itching to tear him apart, “You’ll what kill me?” The scarred man laughs his head leaning back, “I’ll be sure you’ll get to see her corpse before we kill you too.” He pulls as curses in Basic and Mando’a are thrown at him before the door closes locking him in there. He couldn’t even feel like he was breathing, oh maker he felt sick he fell back to his knees. You were going to be okay, he would get out of here and kill anyone that dare to even look at you.

The sound of groans and fist meeting skin draws the young boy awake his vision adjusting he tries to move but he’s restrained his arms tied behind his back attached to some piping on the floor. No matter how hard he tugged and the pain in his wrist flared he couldn’t break free. Drawing his attention away from his restraint he focuses in on his superior restrained but in a chair, a wave of nauseous fills him at the amount of blood that was around the chair some speckled on the floor or in large puddles. A feminine grunt as he watches her fist make contact with his superior’s face the crack of bone and the sound of anguish emitting from who he thought was a hardened criminal.

The red liquid drips from your knuckles but it wasn’t yours as you swing your fist against another sharp cry admitting from the man and you pull back. The mess of the man the injuries all over him as he starts to slump over when you fist his hand yanking his head to look at you. “Where is the Mandalorian.” You hiss as blood dribbles from his face coughing globs his body quakes in pain.

He spits harshly it landing on your face with flecks of blood and you step back wiping it off your face and staring back at the heavy glare directed towards you. The echo of the blaster bolt and his scream fill the empty building and you see the boy behind jolt from the loud noise. Smoke emits from the man’s kneecap as he hunches over trying to calm himself from the immense pain he’s experiencing, “Where’s the Mandalorian!” You shout and he flinches shaking his head before he gasps for air. You can feel the young boy watching in horror as the man begins thrashing in his seat trying to breathe but no air entering his body. Anger and hatred fuel you as your hand clenches more into a fist watching him turn blue from lack of air.

“Stop! I know where he is!” The young boy proclaims and you drop your hand as the older man sucks in the air he was praying for loud coughs rack through his body. “F-foolish…boy…shut..up.” The man croaks his voice strained as you pull away approaching the young man. He couldn’t have been old maybe fifteen or sixteen. Crouching down and he leans back to keep a distance as he feels your gaze take him in.

“It’s at the junkyard where they are disassembling imperial cruisers,” He says as the other man curses at him, “You’ll find him there, Rel he’s covered in scars he’ll have him.” You look over him and despite the clear fear you didn’t sense any distrust.

The older man thrashes in his seat curses hurled, “You traitorous bastard. They will skin you when they find out you ratte-” It was a blur one second you were in front of him and suddenly the howl of a saber as he’s cut apart his torso hits the ground blood pooling around the body. Terror in the boy's eyes as he looks at the orange saber and he can see in the lighting the person now over the destroyed body, smeared blood from the profile of her face, the hands coated in red as she now stands over him.

“Wait please, my family is there under their protection, just let me warn them so they won’t be in harm's way.” He pleads, darkness shields your eyes, and he can’t see what you’re thinking, “Would you tell the empire about where I am?” Your voice is cold and heaviness to it as he frantically shakes his head.

“I swear on the Maker, I won’t tell a soul.” Liar. Your hand tightens on the weapon and you turn from the dead criminal slowly prowling towards him and he shakes in his restraints tears in his eyes as pleads fall from his lips.

“We could trade with you guys. We could be friends. I didn’t know. I’m Jash. What’s your name?” He’s frantic pleading for mercy as the view light sources crack the fuse blowing out as darkness grows closer but also the orange saber. Your hands tighten on the weapon. You were doing this for Din, to keep the both of you safe, leave no loose ends. The heat of the blade is so close as you raise the weapon, “No, no, no, no! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please! You don’t have to! Please! No, no, no! We can just talk! Mom! Mom! Mom!”

It’s quick and painless. Silence fills the room beside the crackle of the orange plasma. You turn from the massacre heading back into the night the blade returning to the hilt the growing storm cleaning the blood of you and cleansing your sins. No one would hurt him. You wouldn’t allow it.

Din wallows in the darkness before the sound of footsteps returns and the door opens revealing the leader followed by another man a staff in hand. Neither of them speak until the man gestures to his subordinate and the staff crackles with electricity and it’s jammed between the plates of his armor. Din seizes groaning out in pain as it rushes through his body thousands of knives embed into his skin while also being on fire. The staff is pulled away and Din slumps over slightly trying to catch his breath, “You’re making this harder Mando. Just tell us where she is.” He says leaning against the doorframe and looking down at the bounty hunter. Silence fills the room and the leader nods once more and the staff returns to Din’s body. A harsher groan of pain is the intensity and duration that increases his limbs locking up but also twitching from the pain. A rapid stream of knocks at the door pauses the ministrations of torture.

“What?!” The man yells while gesturing to stop and Din wheezes trying to calm his rapid heart. The door opens revealing the same Rodian from earlier a frightened expression on his face twists his hands together, “What is it?!” He demands and the Rodian flinches.

“One of the groups hadn’t returned from their findings so we sent out a group to find them,” He reveals but there seems to be more, “They were massacred…” A tense chill fills the room with this news. A faint rumble that could be mistaken for their fidgeting until it returns a deeper one that shakes the walls, the lights flickering, one that felt in their bones.

“si-s-sir!” A bad connection through the comms as the leader raises his commlink attached to his wrist a hologram projector appears, the signal is bad breaking in and out and what looks like a battle occurring, “The mai-ain gates have been breached-ched! We-we’re taking h-heavy los-sses! We nee- concentrated for-” A loud crack fills the air as the hologram shows their neck contorting in an unnatural angle before the line goes dead. The sound of battle was far away from them but still they could hear it, whatever was going on was big. Another call comes in though it only lasts a few moments.

“It’s h-her! We can’t sto-” A bloodcurdling scream as it ends and the three enemies of the Mandalorian felt a moment of fear, that feeling you get knowing you were close to death. Even Din knew whatever you were doing was enough to strike fear in all of them. “Get every blaster, knife, and weapon out there now!” He yells and the Rodian scampers out as the man with the staff stays beside him, “What do we do with him?” He questions and Din glares at the two if looks could kill they would ash.

“Kill him.”

The metallic smell of blood and blaster fire residue fills the air, and a sheen of sweat, and different species’ ichor taints you for battle. Like a warrior with ceremonial paints, this coated you. A steady patter fills the hall, the drip from either the leaky pipes or gaping wounds as the life slow drains. You understood death, it surrounded you frequently, people you cared for, those you tried to save and failed, even yourself. It hovered over you waiting to take you as its latest target.

Now you were death.

Clean cuts ripped through the men the heat of blaster fire flying past you or blocked reflected. Their weapons were the cause of their demise. No mercy ripping the final breaths from your victims. Making your way through the massacre of corpses the lights flickering as lone criminals try to hold their ground the last thing witness is the plasma blade the color of the sunset. The only time they would get a glimpse of daylight again. Screams of mothers hovering over children with lifeless eyes and cold skin before they too join them. It muffled in your ears a hum and quietness settling over you. Your way of blocking out your trauma is by creating more, the blood wasn’t on your hands if you didn’t acknowledge it. A steady pump of your blood through your body lets you know you were fighting and living. Faint cuts of shrapnel or blast fire that nicked you but were irrelevant.

Huddled in a corner you catch round fearful eyes staring back at you. The fear only seemed to grow when they realized they were spotted, standing mere feet from the littered bodies surrounding them. The orange light highlights the tears welling up as they stare back at death. You gaze back your grip tightening as the young eyes just stare. A standstill waiting to see who would act first. A new presence enters one you were familiar with and unlike death, you spare those young eyes. They watch unmoving as you turn away from them continuing their path the others not spared, your face branded in their mind.

Those young eyes will always remember those cold eyes.

Din pants a wave of nauseous as he almost fails at controlling his stomach. There was so much blood. Turning corners with his blaster in hand with his regained weapons only to find a bloodbath. The lifeless eyes stare at him as he made his way through the halls, the mutilated bodies of men and women…his heart growing cold and fear at the children. He followed the path of destruction if he had been smarter, and gotten out faster, you wouldn’t have done this. When the order had been given to execute him and the scarred man had left he had been quick to defend himself killing his adversary before making his escape. A sharp squeal fills the air as if an animal was put to slaughter. Following the noises the sound of the raging storm outside competes with the one created inside. Roaring pelting rain and the darkness outside make it hard for the Mandalorian to see but it’s a crack of lightning and the flash of orange draws his attention to you. The blade pulls out from the body of Din’s captor it hit the ground with a horrendous squelch, red quickly mixing with the rain.

Your body jerks whether from the crashing adrenaline or the frigid rain that soaks you, the caked and drying blood growing wet once more. The orange saber should be red from the amount of blood that soaked it. The hilt was slippery from bodily fluids and the lives that were drained. Turning away from the man a flash of lightning paints the sky and you catch the gleam of beskar armor standing in the rain. You couldn’t read his emotions as he moves closer to you until mere feet separate the two of you. He was uncertain what to do with you, comfort you, scold or yell, but he just remained silent.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is raspy and hoarse which shocks you for a moment. You didn’t think you would lose your voice, you don’t even remember screaming—you don’t remember much, just feelings and flashes of moments. He nods stiffly taking in your appearance, you would need new clothes soaked from the rain and… other things. You looked tired a sort of lifelessness in your eyes that could compare to the others inside. He couldn’t help but ignore the twinge of fear he felt, he’s never seen this side of you. Maybe with Gideon but this was brutal this was heartless lacking any form of mercy. It was like someone took over your body and committed these acts.

“Are you…?” He speaks up filling the silence that consists of rain and thunder. He truly needed to know if you were going to be. It all seemed too soon with Gideon and losing Grogu and going through everything you went through. He didn’t want to blame you.

“I thought I lost you…” Your voice cracks and the rain conceals the tears that pour down your face but he could tell, “We were supposed to be in this together and then you were gone. I didn’t know where to look or what to do.” His heart aches to hear what you felt during their time apart. He knew your connection was strong and the idea of losing another person close to you would destroy you and time you over the edge.

“Then I felt it…they were going to kill you if I didn’t find you. I couldn’t let them,” You shake your head and he can see the tremor in your hands. Flashes of what you did, the man and the boy in the warehouse, those criminals, but the innocent people, fathers, and mothers with their children. They were under their protection but you didn’t care. They were all guilty.

“I killed them.” A coldness covers the two of you with your confession, “I killed them all…they're dead, every single one of them. And not just the men, but the women and the children, too.” There’s a wild look in your eyes as the realization of your actions begins to register. Din grabs you by the arms holding you to his chest as you cry in agony. “They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals. I hate them!” You shout into his chest before dissolving in tears and sobs as he consoles you in the rain a tension of comfort and death that lingers in the air.

His arm stays wrapped around you as he leads you away from the massacre that was committed by you. He knew they couldn’t stay here long, who knew what other forces may have been alerted or the empire could be arriving soon for their supposed bounty. Din wasn’t sure where to go next after this but he needed to keep you protected, keep you safe, and you would never go through this again. You would get better at this low point, too much horrors and pain for such a young life. Watching your innocence chip away from those stained with evil, even himself chipping some away by involving you in this type of life. How long could it continue until nothing was left, what would be left of you then?

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #clan of three series #clan of three #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din x reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x teen!reader #din djarin x y/n #mando x reader

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hxavennhell · 11 months

Text

DAYLIGHT

miguel o’hara x reader

summary; miguel o’hara was too focused on the perfection in the multiverse, and without realizing he lost what he loved most.

warnings; SPOILERS, ANGST.

note; english is not my first language, they/them pronouns used, probably very ooc, bare with me, i wrote this while listening to daylight by david kushner on repeat, not proofread.

word count; 1.5k

They were old friends, and probably more than friends. Never labeled anything, too caught up on cannon events and what could happen to each other, but feelings from both sides were there.

They both built the society from scratch, and were the proud leaders of it. The work had been heavy, even more now with a new wave of anomalies, with an unknown source.

The night was long, just as every other night they had spent at HQ. The LED light of the screens gave a ghoulish hue to both faces, tired eyes and the occasional re-adjustment from either of them.

“Go get some rest, i’ll finish this up.” Miguel muttered as he kept working on the several screens in front of him.

“In a minute.” They muttered as they tapped hurriedly on the screen in front of them.

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

Silence engulfed the room and both kept their eyes fixed on the screens. The tension was palpable between them, the last argument fresh on both.

“Come on, get up and go back.” Miguel said as he stood up and turned to them.

“I found it.” A sigh of relief was heard “Earth-1610.”

Miguel moved his eyes to their screen, muttering to himself. “¿Qué encontraste?”

“The source, I found it.” They breathed out as a smile crawled up their face, as they pulled up more information about the events that caused the wave of most recent anomalies.

Miguel hovered over the screens, reading all the information on Earth-1610.

“Their Spider-man died?” They muttered as they pulled up more screens with information.

“That’s the disrupted cannon event.” Miguel whispered as he looked over to the other screens being pulled up. “We’re fixing this first thing tomorrow morning. Go home, get ready.”

“No need to tell me twice.” They said as they stood up and stretched their sore muscles. “Lyla, please brief me with the plan first thing tomorrow. And make sure Miguel gets some sleep.”

“Okie-dokie.” Lyla responded as she popped up next to them. “Rest well.”

“I’m serious, O’Hara.” They muttered as they tapped away on their watch, opening up a portal. “We need a fresh perspective on this tomorrow.”

A hum in acknowledgment and a distracted ‘sí’ was heard from Miguel, as his companion walked into the portal and left HQ, leaving him alone in front of all the screens.

That assignment was pushed by a more pressing matter, an anomaly creating havoc and possibly making another universe colapse, -and since Earth-1610 seemed stable enough- the mission was posponed.

A decision was then made by the two leaders of what everyone knew as the “Spider Society”, to push to mission further until a solid plan was made, for sake of avoiding the colapse of other universes due to anomalies.

More Spider-people were recruited.

The society grew, making it what it is today.

The plan growing stronger and more solid each moment.

But as of right now, the mission had gone wrong.

Miguel was suddenly called as back-up by Lyla, who seemed to go in a frenzy. He halted the explanation from Lyla and in a moment he was there.

Rubble was covering almost every floor space, they were nowhere to be seen. Other spider-people that were called for back up started swinging their way up an join on the battle against the anomaly.

They were nowhere to be seen.

A slight movement coming from the rubble alerted Miguel. And again the rubble moved, revealing what was underneath, and there they were, protecting civilians. Civilians who fled the scene, leaving behind their savior, who seemed to buckle under their own weight.

Before they touched the ground, Miguel had caught them, arms shaking as the shallow breathing of them kept struggling.

“Talk to me.”

The desperation on Miguel’s tone was evident and after a few seconds he barely heard their shallow breaths alter.

“I hate the green goblin.” A sigh of relief came from Miguel as he tried to push back the desperation on his face.

“Tell me about it.” He muttered as he sighed and helped them stand up. “Can you walk?”

“I always find a way to come back up.”

“I know you do. Now, let’s go get you patched up, Jess and Ben have this under control.”

“I can walk.”

“Not with that on your leg, you can’t.”

“Thank you.”

“Ajá, lo que sea. Dinner’s on you tonight.”

(“Yeah, whatever.”)

Each and every aspect of the events occurred in Earth-1610 we’re studied by the two leaders.

Havoc was now reigning on Earth-65, where a renaissance Vulture anomaly had ended in. Both leaders knew very well where they where, Miguel wary of making contact with their Spider-variant.

Being called by Lyla, both Jess and the other leader of the society appeared within seconds, ready to aid on the capture of the anomaly.

In the end, the anomaly was captured, and now the three of them stood in front of Gwen Stacy, that universe’s Spider-man variant.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“She’s all alone.” Jess said as she looked at that universe’s Spider-woman, rubbing her very pregnant belly as she talked.

“Baby hormones.” They muttered as their eyes locked with Miguel’s.

“We were very clear on this.” He grunted as he looked at Jess. “She’s too close to the source.”

Jess now turned to look at the other leader, who just turned their face refusing to take pity on the pregnant Spider-woman, but failed miserably.

“We should help her.” The other leader muttered as they looked at the girl in front of them, and considering all the options as the portal behind them gave a orange hue to all the faces on the scene. “We can just get her out of this tight spot.”

Miguel sighed defeated “Just this once.” He muttered, then rolled his eyes and threw a watch at the girl in front of him, walking through the portal without looking back. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

“We can’t do this.” They said as they looked at the plans on the screens in front of them.

“We need to keep the balance and stop all these anomalies.” Miguel said as he paced around. “They are too much to handle.”

“We’re handling them just fine.”

“Not for long.” He said as he pulled up a screen. “Lyla kept records on the anomalies, and they seem to become more and more. We need to stop this now.”

“We need a more solid plan.”

“¡Ya tenemos un plan!” Miguel argued as he turned to look at them. “We can do this.”

(“we already have a plan!”)

“It’ll have to wait.” They muttered as Lyla appeared, informing of an urgent anomaly and a spider-person that needed back-up.

“Listen to me!” Miguel kept arguing as he looked at them open up a portal, ready to aid back-up.

“What?” They asked as they put on their mask, turning to look at him.

“We need to stop these anomalies from incrementing. We need to go to the source now.” He argued as he ran a hand through his hair desperately.

“We both know that us alone can’t stop him! It would be too disruptive and he’ll probably run away. He’s just a kid!” They argued back “Now, let me take care of this. We’ll talk when I come back.”

Miguel’s companion walked through the portal and seconds after, it closed, leaving an empty space and a silent Miguel.

“Whose side are you on?” Miguel grunted as he looked at them, having let go Miles from the bubble.

“He’s just a kid, Miguel.”

“He will make the universe collapse!” He countered as he turned violently and gestured to the direction Miles left.

“We both collapsed universes, Miguel.”

“We didn’t know better!”

“Neither does he.”

“He’s the original anomaly. I cannot just let him roam and mess things up further.” He argues as he paces around the room seething.

“He doesn’t know better.”

“I’ll ask again, whose side are you on?” Miguel repeated himself, stopping his pacing and turning abruptly to look at them.

“No. You will not guilt trip me into your plan. This is not the right thing to do.”

“THIS IS the right thing. We’re stopping universes from collapsing! We’re the good guys!”

“You want to kill that boy, Miguel!”

“He disrupts cannon events! It’s the right thing to do, we need to keep the balance!”

“We both know he won’t be able to save the captain without help.”

“He has plenty of it.” Miguel argued. “So i’ll ask one last time. Whose side are you on? And, are you willing to help me clean up this mess you started by letting Gwen Stacy join?”

the silence was loud, heavy breathing coming from both parts of the conversation, and a lingering stare was shared.

“You cannot possibly kill that boy.”

“If it’s what it takes to keep the multiverse from collapsing then I will. Now tell me, are you with me?”

“Miguel, don’t do this.”

“Are you with me?” He asked keen on stopping Miles and avoiding the collapse of the multiverse.

“We cannot kill that bo-“

“¡CONTÉSTAME!”

(“answer me!”)

Everything seemed to stop as they halted their breath. Their heartbeat seemed to grow louder, pounding against their chest and ears, blood ran cold at the realization.

Miguel wouldn’t stop until the multiverse was perfect, he wouldn’t settle for talking down Miles.

He would kill him.

“No. I’m not on your side.”

thank you for reading! <3

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