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littlejuicebox · 4 months

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The wish spell worked.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: 10 years post BG3. Follows my HC for spawn Astarion arc. See my other fics for more information, but otherwise the title speaks for itself. :)

Rating/Warnings: PG / allusions to sexual behaviors / fluff / in-game spoilers / lightest bit of angst if you squint but not really / this is self-indulgent af and idc / so sweet it will rot your teeth

Word Count: 2.2 K

A/N: HAPPY 400 FOLLOWERS POST! Thank you to everyone who likes my stories and provides encouragement. I love you all! I originally wanted to post this as a New Years Eve/Day special, but I couldn't get it quite right by then. After several reiterations, this is what we finally have! Hope it was worth the wait and multiple edits for you guys! :)

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If anyone had told Astarion Ancunin a decade ago that he would one day hold Gale Dekarios on a pedestal nearly as high as the one on which he held his darling Tav, the immortal elf might have actually died from laughter. The strange irony and wicked life lessons of fate were not lost on the retired rogue. Unbelievably and annoyingly, Astarion eventually found himself indebted to the wizard in a way he could never repay.

The wish spell worked.

It had taken years for Gale to feel absolutely ready to cast the spell. Astarion waited — exasperated, impatient, and impetuous — for what felt like the longest ten years of his ageless lifetime to be given the gift of mortality.

More than once, in the pale elf’s tearful fits of frustration, he accused the wizard of intentionally stringing him along or simply not having the skills to perform such a spell and not wanting to admit it. More than once, you had to calmly remind your husband of the great lengths Gale had gone to find information regarding the act and the even greater risk to both the vampire and the wizard if the spell was not cast perfectly and mindfully.

It had been a long decade, waiting for that impossible possibility, but the wait had been more than worth it.

Just over ten years after you met that silver-haired rake on the beach, Astarion was miraculously returned to his living, breathing, heart beating, mortal elven form. Surprisingly, not much changed about his appearance. Most notably, his eyes turned a gold-flecked green, and his complexion took on a constant soft pink undertone, permanently tinged by the circulation of his own blood by his own heart. That beautiful undertone caused a delightful blush to creep across his cheeks and ears whenever you teased or aroused him, and you took an even more significant liking to both these behaviors, just to watch that gorgeous rosiness creep across his skin.

And while you dearly loved that blush, your favorite part of the change had certainly been the steady beating of his heart. You would rest your head on your lover’s chest for hours to savor the sound if he let you, wrapped tightly in the new found warmth of his long limbs.

While you became obsessed with Astarion’s steadily thrumming heart, he’d become obsessed with his reflection. As soon as he’d been able to see himself, your husband had taken to having you sit on his lap while you primped and preened. He would stare into the looking glass with you for long lengths of time, his limbs coiled around your waist and chin often resting on your shoulder as he studied the mirror with a besotted, hazy smile on his face.

After a few weeks of this, you finally asked your silver-haired husband why he seemed positively obsessed with this new behavior. Astarion’s response had floored you.

“Darling, in my over 200 years, I never imagined I would have a love of my own, nor did I ever imagine what we would look like together. I couldn’t have envisioned such a thing even if I thought it a possibility or wanted to. I simply couldn’t envision myself at all. But now seeing it? I want to commit everything to memory exactly as it is… because it’s the most precious vision in the world to me.”

And really how else could you respond to that apart from kissing your sappy, bleeding heart of a husband and allowing him to continue the practice?

Of course, the two of you behaving as innocent love birds hadn’t been the only thing Astarion wanted to see in the mirror. On more than one occasion, he’d easily charmed you into the throes of passion in perfect view of a reflective surface. Your husband’s darker, more carnal half had become obsessed with watching you two in the act and it certainly thrilled you to know he was trying to commit those sensual sights to memory. You were quite happy to oblige.

As such, you’d soon found yourself carrying the byproduct of one of your many erotic couplings.

“That was a big one.” Astarion murmurs, and you see a smile creeping across the reflection of his face in the mirror as he glances down and runs his long fingers across the swell of your abdomen. His arms are looped around you as you sit front of the vanity mirror, placing the final touches on your appearance.

You agree with a gentle hum, moving a hand to your pregnant belly and rubbing circles on the stretch of skin, hoping to calm the young life stirring within. You coo softly to the rolling babe as you finish your primping, “Surely you aren’t thinking about breaking out of there yet, my little love. You have a few more months to go.”

Astarion’s now-warm hands cover yours as the little one seems to do somersaults in response to your voice, causing you to wince slightly as they jolt against your ribs. He presses a tender kiss into your shoulder and chuckles, “This one is strong like their mother and impatient like their father… we may be in for a spot of trouble in a few years, my love.”

You laugh in response as you stand with a pitiable amount of effort and quite a bit of assistance from the supportive arm of your husband. “I believe you’re right… but surely we’ve taken on scarier and more difficult things than a stubborn babe.”

Astarion hums in agreement before pressing a kiss to your swollen stomach, which is hovering just in front of him now, “Surely, darling. Now let us all go say hi to Uncle and Auntie Ravengard. I’m positively famished.”

-----

You are almost out of breath as you walk the final steps toward the entry of the Duke’s home. Astarion had practically begged you to take the carriage all the way through Wyll’s estate, but you waved him off, adamant that a bit light exercise would be good for the baby. The walkway was fully paved, how hard could it be?

As it turned out, you’d severely overestimated your abilities. Though it was just under a quarter mile to the front doors of the manor when you’d decided to exit the carriage, you were no longer the young, lithe woman that traversed the wilds with a petulant vampire a decade ago. The weight of your belly slowed you down more than you would admit. Astarion implored you, more than once and with growing concern and exasperation, to return to carriage. You refused each time, forcing the driver to follow behind at a snail’s pace.

“Gods, I hope this child does not take on your stubborn streak. I will be constantly overrun in my own home.” Astarion huffs, dabbing at the few beads of sweat on your brow with a silken handkerchief as he helps you climb the small flight of stairs at the entryway of Wyll’s home. He rolls his eyes as you laugh, breathlessly, and lean into him for support as he presses a kiss at the meeting point between your cheek and ear. “But, my sweet, as much as I would have preferred we stayed in the coach, you know I adore the way you look with your cheeks all flushed after a bit of… exertion.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at your husband as he traces his hand over your flushed cheek, his expression practically brimming with desire. The flush on the tips of his ears is a telltale sign of his salacious thoughts. If he had it his way, he’d be dragging you into the carriage right there for a quickie. But, he knew you two were nearly running late for dinner with the Duke and forced himself to push all desires aside. For now.

Wyll and his beautiful wife, Euphemia, greet you with a flurry of excitement and hugs. Their two twin toddlers run around in the entryway, a nursemaid trailing behind them.

Wyll wears a kind, soft smile as he addresses the both of you, “Dinner should be just about ready… shall we make our way there? I hope you two don’t mind. We are having work done in the dining room — my beautiful flower insisted upon remodeling — so dinner will have to be served in the Great Hall.”

As the four of you head towards the larger of the two dining areas in the Duke’s estate, Astarion wraps his arm around your waist and runs his hand along the side of your nearly bursting belly once again. There is a subtle pause at the doors of the Great Hall, and your husband’s eyebrows crinkle in a silent question before you gently press a kiss into his cheek and whisper, “Happy Rebirth Day, my love.”

Today marked one year since Gale successfully cast the Wish Spell.

The oak doors burst open to reveal the faces of everyone you hold dear, all of them shouting, “Surprise!” in unison. Wyll and Euphemia are laughing with delight as the four of you enter the room. Astarion is obviously shocked and overwhelmed as he takes the scene in, but a toothy smile is plastered across his face nonetheless. The elf could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped his mind, nor could he believe that you all went through such great lengths to plan a spectacle on his behalf.

Everyone showered your husband with a plethora of well-wishes and congratulations. The food was heavenly, and the silver-haired elf dined to his heart’s content. Just as Astarion loved to watch you both in the mirror, you adored seeing him eat and savor real food. You’d pursued cooking as a new hobby in the past few months, just to watch the delight on his face as he tasted any number of delectable things you placed in front of him.

“Have you thought of any names for the baby?” Karlach asks through a mouthful of food as she continues to tear into the lamb shank in front of her.

You smile knowingly. This topic has piqued everyone’s interest and they all turn their gazes in your direction, “Yes, actually… Astarion picked it out. It works well for a boy or a girl, and I think it’s an excellent choice.”

The elf smiles shyly, that subtle flush of his cheeks and ears crawling across his face as you turn your gaze to him and urge him on, “Go on, my love, and tell them the gorgeous name you picked.”

“I… I decided we should name the baby Gale.” Astarion reveals, his hand immediately moving to graze against your swollen stomach as he meets the flabbergasted expression of the wizard sitting across the table with a round-eyed, nervous gaze, “If… that’s okay by you.”

Gale coughs in surprise, nearly choking on the wine he’d just sipped from a goblet. For a moment, you watch as he blinks away tears. You are beginning to truly believe he might leap across the table and tackle your husband in a hug when he rapidly nods instead.

The wizard’s voice cracks with emotion as he speaks, “Y-yes. Thank you, Astarion. That is such an honor.”

Ten years of friendship between two men that once seemed entirely at odds with one another, honored by a namesake given to a precious babe. Fate was a truly remarkable thing.

“It’s an honor you are quite deserving of, Gale.” You respond, reaching your hand across the table to give the wizard’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “May our child have just as much heart, wit, and skill as their namesake. We will be truly blessed.”

A cake with candles is brought about at the end of the meal and placed in front of Astarion as everyone sings an off-key birthday tune. While your husband always seemed to thrive on being held at the center of attention, you noticed with a bit of amusement that his ears and cheeks were flushed pink as everyone focused their eyes upon him.

While the others continue to sing, you lean closer to your husband and whisper, “I know we will never surpass the wish you made last time, my Star. But go on and make one anyway.”

Astarion’s gaze roams around the room, taking in all the friends he collected this past decade. Then he turns to you and grins, pausing to etch every bit of this moment into his memory before closing his eyes and blowing the candles out to a cacophony of inebriated cheers and whoops.

The elf wished for the only thing he could: a healthy child and a long life with his little love. Fate had already gifted him with more than he could have imagined for himself back in those dark, dank dungeons he once called home. Astarion found himself in want of nothing but the health and happiness of the woman beside him and the safety of their offspring.

Though he knew it was another selfish ask, and he’d been blessed far more than he had ever expected, Astarion prayed to the gods that he once never thought would answer to grant him this last wish. And just in case they did not hear him the first time, he would be sure to make the same wish every year, until his very last.

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sincerelyverena · 4 months

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the oliver fic section of tumblr is SOOOOO dry rn so I'm wondering if you could write about how you've been friends with ollie since oxford and got invited to stay the summer with felix. then while playing spin the bottle you and him have something? IDK IM JUST RAMBLING BUT YEAH

i enjoyed writing this so so so much. i diiiid take this in a way different direction than i anticipated, but i hope you enjoy this nevertheless. thank u dearly for ur rambles! mwah! 🤍

⟡⁺ SEVEN MINUTES IN HELL

. . . OLIVER QUICK X FEM!READER ‘testosterone boys and harlequin girls.’ @ajs-222 @michael-loves-chickens @surazim @soocore @fedyascoffin

inbox is always open to requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒hate has no bounds. except when you're stuck in a wardrobe with oliver quick.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒implied sex ﹐fade to black smut ﹐enemies with benefits ﹐dom!oliver ﹐spoiled!reader ﹐reader would’ve probs bullied you in high school ﹐oliverrr you little stalkerrr ﹐felix and reader have a sister-brother connection ﹐ oliver brat tamer arc ﹐farleigh has naturally sharpened canines beware ﹐reader is a homie hopper ﹐YES OLIVERR USE YOUR HANDS ﹐DRUNK N HORNY, DRUNK N HORNYYY ﹐smack my ass like the drum slurp the dick til it cum ﹐forced proximity ﹐degradation ﹐phat exposition beware ﹐the plot is absolutely plotting ﹐implied incest between minor characters

THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS: @sparklehani ﹐@vikwrites

You pushed the frame of your sunglasses upward with the pad of your thumb. The accessory nestled into the top of your hair, positioning yourself to soak up the grandeur of old money that ascended far beyond where the naked eye could see.

Saltburn. A spectacle passed down by word of mouth.

The double ebony archways are considered to be a set of doors shifted in position. Presented to you, the skyscraper-remnant entrance is extended with a gradual creak of effort. Revealing the beauty of the estate’s foyer in the process.

“Miss Esmeray.”

You were too absorbed in the elegance etched into every breath that was drawn in the manor alone to notice the suited male positioned behind the doorways. Declan, was it? You weren’t too opposed to not giving a singular shit about the name of a mere, working butler.

To outsiders, those morals would’ve been doubted in the fashion in which you approached the estate’s employee.

You inclined forward. The painted maroon of your lips puckered as you scattered lightweight kisses upon either side of the loose, wrinkled surface of the butler’s cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Declan.”

He didn’t seem particularly phased – on the surface at least – apart from the cool hardening of his formerly strained eyes.

“It’s Duncan.”

You stifled the urge to laugh.

“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” You leaned backward with a hushed hue of voice and a poised frown. A frown that didn’t last long as you slipped by with an isolated thrum of your heels along the blemishless, maintained floors.

The porters that had withheld your luggage followed suit, grasping the attention of Duncan. He continued to clasp his hands behind his back, surveying the situation with a stare that would put a hawk to shame.

“Leave the luggage there. The estate butlers will see to it.” The note of exasperation that tainted Duncan’s articulation caused your personal porters to arrange the stacks of luggage onto the flooring without missing a beat.

The bound of employees hit the open doorways, leaving you to bask in a well-deserved solitude. Or so you had thought.

The hue of your flickery eyes had fixated immensely upon the silhouette which overlooked the foyer. An individual that leaned along the fencing of the plank-relied stairway, slinked in the comfort of the shadows. Even in the limelight of darkness, you could scrutinize the sight of a chiseled jaw and the irises of dusked aquamarine.

Oliver Quick. Bile slicked the crevices of your throat. That slimy, freakish companion of one of your closest friends from Oxford. The sole reason you were invited to the estate in the first place.

And that sole reason broke out into the foyer before you could’ve mustered a word.

“[Y/N]!”

Felix Catton. Gorgeous, radiant Felix Catton came bounding toward you. Arms sprawled wide open, and a grin of nothing more but graciousness broke across his lips. Devoid of awaiting a response, Felix tossed the base of his arms around your shoulders. The toned muscle propped behind the sleight of your neck, burying himself into you in the process.

“Hi, Fi.” You mumbled around the top of his broadened shoulder, basking in the familiarity of his scent and aura. The tension that had made itself known in the base of your abdomen uncoiled, just the slightest.

You had inclined backward momentarily. The palms of your hands propped themselves upon the sleight of Felix’s jaw. You surveyed Felix closely and blew out a sharp breath. “Felix, you’re looking thinner. What have they been feeding you here?”

“The summer fucks up my appetite, you know that,” Felix grumbled pointedly.

“That’s not an excuse, Fi.” Your forefinger pinched the practically non-existent fat lining his cheeks, reeling a small grimace from the male.

The dense thrums of rhythmic footsteps spliced unnervingly through the moment. You tore the unyielding hue of your stare from Felix toward Oliver, who positioned himself solidly against the foot of the stairway.

“Ollie!” Felix unraveled his arms away from you, in turn, to acknowledge his self-titled best friend. The male was peacefully oblivious to the glowering irritation that etched itself into your gaze. “You remember [Y/N], yeah?”

“How could I forget?” Oliver quipped the mere intensity of his gaze maintained upon you. You felt as if he was staring right through you, aware of every crook, crevice, and secret of your being. Deep speckles of disgust were blanketed behind hues of feigned interest.

As the moment drew on, he extended a hand. You harshly glared into it. Whilst the remainder of the inner circle Felix had established in Oxford grew to warm up to Oliver’s meek, somewhat awkward presence. You loathed it.

“Mum has been dying to see you all day, [Y/N].” The strained hues of Felix’s voice tore into the steadily growing silence. His lips curved upward into a thin smile. Felix could virtually feel the tension tighten between his two companions.

“She’s in the morning room.”

You pecked him on the cheek on your way out. “Thanks, Fi.”

Felix’s words of prominence held a generous truth. Lady Elspeth Catton pushed the teacup amid her hands aside the second her eyes had met the radiance of your presence. You mustered a small smile at the sight of the woman you had known for the year prior.

“Oh, darling. It’s been too long.”

The all-too-familiar scent of high-end designer perfumes assaulted your nostrils as Elspeth brought you into a momentarily embrace. You had come to terms with the preceding summer that she had grown to be more of a maternal figure than your mother ever would be. Even if you were inclined to remove your nose ring and settled for a less dramatic false lash to soothe her fear of what she deemed to be ugly.

In those logistics, you had no idea why she hadn’t thrown Oliver out the second she met his acquaintance.

“Come, come, come. Sit down, I’ll whisk up some tea for you…”

“Hot chocolate.” You had a hard time grappling with the concept of politeness.

“Oh, of course! How would I forget?”

As Elspeth handled the hot chocolate-bearing teapot, you were prompted to discuss the prior school year. Conversations flowed from academics to the selection of boys and girls alike who had the misfortune of encountering your diva-like logistics.

Elspeth indulged in her tea. “Did Felix mention the festivities we’re having tonight?”

You propped a spoonful of whipped cream atop the chocolate goodness, a frown painting your lips. “Not at all. What festivities?”

“One of the annual dinners with the Catton’s family friends is proceeding tonight,” Elspeth explained, tone somewhat bored with the lack of any mentions of gossip present in this crevice of the conversation. The flimsy painted surface of her nail tapped away at her teacup.

“Please tell me it's the Lockwoods.”

“Who else would it be, darling?”

“Thank Christ.”

As Elspeth continued to chatter onward about the newest scandal she observed with the Lockwoods, you pertained to drifting off in thought. Concerning the night ahead. And the dread that followed with the idea of socialization with a bunch of stuck-up acquaintances alike yourself.

And Oliver Quick.

You rolled the base of your fingers around the rounded cigarette Felix had outstretched. Flimsy smoke curled outward from the plumpness of his lips, drifting upward toward the coiling stairs above your heads.

You circulated your lips around the rim of the drug stick, angling your hand backward as you took a hit – brimming with a buzz of pleasure. The cigarette slipped back into Felix’s hand, which inclined away to pass it toward Oliver. Whom you hadn’t even bothered to glance toward once during the entirety of the night.

The remains of the others flocked behind, the light hue of conversation prominent in the air. The three others you’ve befriended – Wiona, Lincoln, and Valencia – had befriended the Catton children in their younger years. At the annual dinner that commenced the year prior, you discovered that they had developed an annual tradition for Spin the Bottle.

The sole reason why the group of eight traversed up the spiraling stairway in the first place, bottles of alcohol propped in hand.

A prominent part of you wordlessly hoped that the alcohol would loosen you up a tad. Alas, with the sensation of Oliver’s eyes bored into the back of your head. You were bound to feel a tad paranoid. Especially when you weren’t oblivious to how every movement you made was tracked.

The minuscule smirk when the base of your nail had chipped. The glimmer of distaste when you looked up and down the outfits of the current houseguests. The burn of eyes when you laughed a tad too loudly. The indescribable emotion that blared throughout Oliver’s surveying gaze as you stared into him. An attempt of intimidation that was never accomplished.

The solid front of the bathroom’s tiles was undeniably cool, in contrast to the thin garment that shielded the top of your thighs.

You proceeded to tuck yourself across the minuscule opening between Farleigh and a most currently amused Felix. The glass-spun bottle of the night lay vulnerable in the grip of his broadened fingers.

“Care to make a bet on this year’s game?”

A short laugh stirred itself from the crevice of your throat. You inclined your head over the brink of your shoulder, scrutinizing gaze propped upon the curly-haired male sat inches away. Farleigh’s eyes crinkled with the intensity of his curved lips, tongue tracing the rim of his canines.

You suddenly grew aware of the sheer amount of certain plastic bags you had smuggled down your bra upon arrival. Ziplock bundles of goodness Farleigh would surely die for. A sentiment visible from the mere spark of interest blanketed behind his eyes.

“You seriously think I’ll say no to a good gamble?”

With a tinge of casualty, Farleigh swung a singular arm over the bridge of your shoulders. His voice grew hushed, but the intention of his words burnt into the crevice of your ear. “One of those pretty bags of yours if it lands on Valencia and Lincoln.”

“They’re siblings, munchkin.” The force of your articulation twisted with a prominent combination of distaste and fluid judgment.

“So what?”

For someone who always had something to say, you hadn’t been rendered this speechless in a long, long time. Alas, Farleigh wasn’t the only soul that expressed his amusement with the fact.

Oliver stared right into you. Twisted amusement circulated within his gaze.

Felix proceeded to illustrate a spectacle of himself, the glass-rimmed bottle set down on the tiled ground before him. Dramatics and flairs. Nothing out of the ordinary for your beloved Fi, who expressed the rules and regulations of the game as if his company hadn’t played for the years prior.

This excluded a scrutinizing Oliver. A prominent smirk threatened to overcome your lips at the sight of his cockiness. His prior attitude slipped away at the news of having to potentially be stuffed in one of the Catton’s family closets for several minutes – with his luck – accompanied by a total stranger.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to begin.

Felix offered a riveting motion with his hand. The echo of uproar, paired with the creak of the bottle against the tiles bounced off of the thinly-veiled walls as he gave it a fluid spin.

The uproar crescendoed into a screeching halt as the pitcher shook into a steadied pace. Its glimmering tip angled precisely toward a noriette-haired girl, who was in the midst of pertaining her slight nose toward the strip of snow-white goodness laid out on the back of her hand.

“Wiona!”

“You better hope and pray, darling.”

“Leave your drink with me, Wynn!”

Felix stuffled the broadened nature of his fingers into his mouth. He offered a low whistle toward Wiona, whose smirk was shielded by her bob-length curls.

He inclined toward the glass-rimmed bottle once more. “Right, whose the lucky boy… or girl? We don’ discriminate here…”

Murmurs of agreement followed the winding silence of the spinning contraption. Accompanied by short-circuited laughs, and gambled musterings. Overtaken by shrill yells as the crown cork inclined precisely toward Farleigh, whose curves were still draped over you.

“Leigh, that’s you.” Felix had confirmed, to the delight of those inclined around the circle. His eyes crinkled, appropriate to the intensity of the sparkling grin that graced his otherworldly face. “The blue room awaits you lovebirds…”

The jangling of cash and the slip of dope occurred.

The game continued as such. And with gradual time, all participants grew intoxicated by the minute with the presence of booze and crack. Two of your tit-coke bags have been ripped out of your disposal with the force of the circle’s gambles, gaining triple the amount in the process. Especially when Lincoln and Valencia slipped into the next room.

You found yourself with the curve of your head lolling atop the pad of Felix’s shoulder. An endearing warmth buzzed throughout you, rooted in the alcohol burning the crevice of your throat.

One of Felix’s broadened palms settled upon the hitch of your scalp. The other claws at the scarcely dented bottle once more, sending it into a tile-searing spin.

Commotion peaked within the room as the pitcher sloped toward Oliver.

Shadowiness engulfed your vision as the wardrobe doors closed in. Bathing in the darkness of mere loathing for two factors in this twisted, twisted equation. For the bottle. And for Oliver Quick, who had never been closer to you than in this moment. Bile rose in your throat for the second time that day.

It was just your luck that the bottle inclined towards you at that moment.

“That’s ironic.”

A slither of outside illumination managed to crack into the wardrobe, lining the crevice of Oliver’s azure hues. Speckled with what was perceived as faint amusement, tightening the knot of tension present in the atmosphere.

The sleight of your back strained as you stumbled toward the clanky side of the closet, desperate to discover an escape. To no avail. The faint ghost of a scoff reverberated from the hollow of your throat. “What’s ironic, huh?”

For some reason. For whatever reason at all, Oliver inclined toward you. The slightest indeed, but it managed to send your heart hammering between your ears. Nothing more but pure loathing pulsated throughout you with the sudden proximity. It was the alcohol. Booze does funny things to the mind, right?

Olivcr’s alcohol-tinged breath mists upon your lips. His words slurred somewhat. “For som’one that gets everythin’ she wants, you seem pretty… helpless right now.” “Anyone that finds themself in a closet with you would be.”

“I’m jus’ sayin', it’s pretty pathetic.”

A gradual grin seeped onto Oliver’s face at the undeniable loathing that flared within the depths of your eyes. You looked as if you were a tick away from murdering him with your bare hands, and it brought him nothing but pure amusement.

“Pathetic…” The word dripped off of your lips with slow, taunting articulation. A twisted of taunted tipsiness. With the fiery force of each syllable, you leaned forward and clasped a sloppy hand toward the center of Oliver’s chest, an attempt to shove him further away.

“Pathetic?”

You had made your intentions very clear to extend the distance between you and the male. To your luck, you had found yourself even closer.

Oliver didn’t appear phased, gaze carving holes into you. “You think the complete world of yourself, I’d say that’s pretty pathetic.”

Your stare narrowed down further. Silence draped over you momentarily with the intention of cold-shouldering Oliver until the seven minutes eventually ticked by. You adverted your eyes, purposefully scrutinizing the slight gap between the worn closet doors. The illumination blurred amid your intoxication.

“Look at me.”

A roughened palm tore you back toward reality. Accompanied by a thread of fingers that pressed into the curve of your cheeks. Your once inclined head had surrendered into Oliver’s grasp, involuntarily meeting his gaze.

“Whoa… he’s finally thinkin’ for himself for once.” You spat out around the mere brute of his hands. Even though they radiated a certain chill only Oliver could possess, a prominent warmth glowed in every patch of skin he had clutched onto.

“Instead of bein’ Fi’s little hound…”

Oliver’s grappling hand seemed to tense with every batter of your words. “Shut your bloody mouth before I do it for you.”

“Wooow… so scary–”

You barely possessed the will to blow out another sharp breath before Oliver’s lips were interlocked with your own. The breath you had been holding hitched upright into your throat. Your chest constricted. In replacement of the disgust you preempted, velvety warmth pulsated throughout your entire being with a singular brush of the male’s mouth along yours.

With the fashion in which Oliver devoured your lips, you wondered if he wished to eat you alive.

You blamed it completely on the booze and the crack.

He was the first to pull back from the embrace, hands still tucked immensely around your jaw. A glow of succession is prominent in Oliver’s aquamarine stare, a glow that brought forth a sleight of irritation to overcome you.

“I believe you liked that.”

“Your ego is as big as your head, Oliver.”

He inclined his head, a smile wandering upon his lips. “That wasn’t a denial, now.”

The palm that cradled the sleight of your jaw loosened the slightest. It moved toward the back of your neck, utilizing the position to guide you toward him further. His lips. So close. Nearing with time. The curve of your abdomen burned with a newfound desire, christening your inner walls with its molten warm goodness.

But you couldn’t care. You just couldn’t.

“You’re completely… fuckin’ mad.”

The seven minutes must be up now, wouldn’t it? Your ears strained themselves through the momentary silence as you processed tidbits of laughter from the next room over.

You reminded yourself to beat the everliving Christ out of Felix Catton the next morning.

The palm still collared around your neck dug downward into the base of your shoulders. In the same leering motion, the edge of a heel curved into the density of your legs. Before you can even process the situation, the rock-hard surface of the wardrobe is felt underneath your suddenly aching knees.

“Now, now…”

You inclined your head upward. The twisted hues of Oliver Quick bored down upon you, like wood to an already brewing fire engulfing the inner workings of your womanhood. The hollow of your throat bobbled as you gave a dense swallow.

An even denser zip of Oliver’s dress pants sounded throughout the wardrobe.

“How about I teach you a lesson on how a brat should behave?”

WORD COUNT: 3K MASTERLIST REQ ME!

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angelxd-3303 · 1 year

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Ok so there's a new clip out that a friend showed me, and it got me thinking. In the clip we see the Bros finding the pipe, and somewhere along the way Mario loses track of Luigi. We see him enter the pipe, and he says:

"Luigi, are you in here?" And he almost sounds... exasperated? Like this has happened before. Maybe it's just the nerves of being in such an unsettling place, but as a younger sibling I recognize the exasperation in his voice, lmao. That's the voice your brother uses when you once again get yourself into a Situation, and he's done with your Curious George arc.

That being said, if anyone has played Mario Galaxy, you know that every now and then Luigi will send you a letter basically saying:

"Hey Bro! I found something interesting, but now I'm stuck in x place and need help."

So you go to help him, and you end up finding this ridiculous green bean in the most bizarre place imaginable, and you're left reenacting that one Security Breach meme:

"GREGORY! What the *honk* are you doing?? HOW DID YOU GET UP THERE?!?!?!"

This man right here:

Is absolutely impulsive as shit. Yes, he's jittery, and is most definitely going to scream at the sight of his own shadow, but put him on the trail of something interesting and all common sense goes down the pipes. This guy is ALWAYS getting himself into these situations, throughout the games, and presumably also in the movie.

I would not put it past this guy to cause unintentional chaos in Bowser's castle, just with his curiosity. Someone pointed out that his level of fear always stays the same, that he sees a spider in the bathroom and heccin' Cthulhu with the same level of fear, and it's absolutely true. Idk, maybe I'm overanalyzing this, but the idea just gave me a laugh. Feel free to share your thoughts!

(here's the clip, btw!)

youtube

#luigi #mario #mario movie #trailer spoilers #man is just curious #mario should just get one of those backpack leashes for him at this point #mario galaxy #Youtube

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josukegappyhigashikata · 2 days

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Not every character is meant to be likeable: Jake Disventure Camp.

So, as of late I've been seeing people dislike and be annoyed at Jake and like... yeah! He is meant to be exasperating but I don't think that's bad writing at all.

Meanwhile I would absolutely never call Disventure Camp a perfectly written show I will say that it has had very good character writing with having delivered some high notes on both of the previous seasons so now I wanna talk about Jake's writing in All-Stars.

First of all, Jake's writing? Very consistent. Jake's title was the naive one and yeah he is naive. He is paranoid as hell, he is gullible as sin, he is easily tricked by others, he is so easily manipulable to the point of characters pointing that out and all of those traits have been consistent with Jake through his seasons. The newest trait found was Jake's jealousy over Aiden but that jealousy was born over his paranoia and naivety which are both part of his established traits.

Also, something to be mentioned is that just like Ellie, James and Riya he has a context and background for those tough edges. We know that Jake's family life is not the best both from the show and from extra material, we also know that he was in a toxic relationship that he later got cheated on which was the breaking point of the relationship. Living with a family that you feel that you're always waiting for a mess to happen, which is implied his parents don't accept his homosexuality, would have easily made someone paranoid which now with a toxic relationship and one of the actual worst things happened to him? Jake is always waiting for something bad to happen and when that bad thing happens he thrives in his own victimization. Meanwhile this was seen in his season this has been more focused on the latest season and not only that but it has been less sympathetic towards him how easily he falls into those spirals of negativity.

Jake has had a lot of focus on All-Stars but also he is one of the characters that has his arc not be resolved at all, just like how Alec, Aiden and Gabby didn't have their arcs finished on their seasons by having other characters take priority over them. Now it seems they're taking their time to finish almost all the arcs they didn't give a proper conclusion to.

Now, I will say that I don't adore how he is a grown ass man being coddled by women which now Ashley was used for his development even though I know a character like Ashley wasn't made like Grett or Jake where they really thought of making them deep characters. It's still no excuse to have a female character that had already not had a lot of time to shine just be a stepping stone for a male character but it has a reason for it even if I dislike it.

Is Jake a dislikeable character? For some people? Yeah, he is very much dislikeable but also the traits he is disliked for are things that are written to be traits you see as negative. You're not meant to say: "Oh, yeah. It's fine that Jake is a stupid dumbass that gets clouded by his feelings at any moment." because it's obvious that his arc is overcoming those flaws in his character.

You might find Jake dislikeable and that's alright but I don't think that's bad writing, it's also not wrong if you like him since not only is he an entertaining character in his own messiness (which is that messiness why I find him an entertaining character) but he is a sympathetic character with what we know of him.

You're not meant to like every character, sometimes characters start dislikeable and you're meant to see them grow out of their flaws which after the tenth episode of All-Stars it seems that's where Jake is going.

Ever so often you have to take a step back and ask yourself: "What are the creators trying to convey with this story? Is it me not liking certain traits of a character an intended outcome?"

#Jake Disventure Camp #Tomjake #Disventure Camp #Campamento Desventura #Disventure Camp All Stars #DCAS #Odd Nation Cartoons

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gidaryeong · 3 months

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Sejak episode 12

I am and will always be Team Dong. If she killed the former king I'm sure he deserved it. That image of him pressing his marred and bloody thumb to her mouth to make her kiss it is so fucking haunting

"Please don't call me by that name, it's reserved for my friends" is the sickest burn I've ever heard! I aspire to this level of monklike serenity. He simply does not give a fuck and I envy that.

Jungjeon mama 😭 she was allergic to intrigue and now it's killed her 😭

Honestly this scene was so sad, when she clasped her father's hand and told him she'd carry his warmth with her to the underworld I sobbed ngl. I know that narratively Yi In has to become single, but they didn't even consummate the marriage...

I'm sorry what age is this girl who could be married off to either Munseong or Yi In supposed to be?? Since daebi and uncle are so eager for an heir she has to be at least 15-ish? Imagine having to choose between a middle schooler or a middle aged man 😬

What if I write my Sejak fic from the pov of this peach tree. Wouldn't that be experimental

*rookie historian intro playing*

Yi In finds time for self-pity in any situation, even when his wife is dying of intrigue. Way to center yourself bro :/

Their chemistry continues to be godtier! Say what you want but Mong-woo has amazing rizz. She really managed to get him from exasperated to horny with a single line

Love this eavesdropping scene because 1. very solid acting from all three and 2. for once it gives legitimacy to Mong-woo's mistrust in the king. He is waving red flags like he's a wigwag operator, and all of her newfound hope crumbles. (They should probably have had scenes like this scattered throughout the gay lovers arc to make her continued plotting more reasonable, but better late than never.)

That's his mom! 😭😭 I love them so much. They deserved to enjoy this new familial relationship for longer than *checks clock* two and a half seconds

Speaking of chosen families ❤️

This final scene made me want to BITE AND SCREAM AND TEAR MY HAIR OUT it's so good. I literally had to get up and pace around muttering to myself. Yi In's face journey is such an experience. You can see that a part of him understands the moment she begs him not to go inside, she is always dauntless even when revealing her most fucked up plans to him and now she looks absolutely terrified and he knows. He attempts to joke because he wants her to prove him wrong, but really there's just one thing it could mean, there's just one thing that Yi In has waited for her to do all this time. And the fact that she used this. She used the heartfelt devotion expressed in his vow to come whenever she called. She used sex. She used this place. Fuck fuck fuck.

I honestly have no idea what will happen now! A very exciting time to be alive, my friends!!

#my sejak tag #sejak: charmed deceit #captivating the king

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fascinationex · 10 days

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Sometimes I think TFP fandom would be so interesting if it had occurred a tiny bit later, especially with regard to Miko Nakadai. Because when I spy the ancient scripts (old fanfic notes, old posts, etc) talking about TFP, there was a lot of, "Yeah, I hate the kids though, Miko is really annoying..." and I bet if we were getting Miko NOW people would appreciate her a lot more. Fandom is still pretty misogynistic in some ways, but not quite like it was 10, 12 years ago. Now, people would be absolutely FROTHING about the Hardshell mini-arc, not to mention the whole apex armour thing.

At first Miko is presented to the audience as this loud, quippy, dramatic girl and she is initially placed as an obvious foil for Jack. That is, she is in the same circumstances as him (they are both human companions for the bots, keeping their secret, ultimately presided over by an extremely exasperated government agent and depressed dadimus), but she's clearly intended to be a contrast for the audience: Jack is responsible, Miko is irresponsible; Jack understands the nature and seriousness of war and worries about it, Miko thinks it's all cool and badass; Jack worries about endangering themselves and Raf, Miko throws herself into giant robot fights, takes a photo for posterity, and barfs on Bulkhead's interiors, etc. and so on.

But in a rare follow-through, they didn't leave her there. When she does get the rare Serious Miko episode, none of Miko's advanced goblin characteristics actually go away. There's no weird new serious Miko who is "corrected" by the narrative. She's not safer. She's DEFINITELY not more responsible — she's INCREDIBLY reckless. If you haven't seen it, there's an episode where she withholds intel from an Autobot officer (Wheeljack) until he agrees to take her on a completely unsanctioned revenge quest. They blow up a bunch of stuff and bait Megatron. And then she ignores Wheeljack's orders anyway.

When considering her character development, the show poses the question, "Does Miko REALLY not understand the gravity of the conflict she's embroiled in?" And then it answers it with, "She understands, but it's not stopping her from behaving like this. Also, she would pull the trigger."

And this isn't part of my argument, really, but she's just SO proud of herself when Starscream boasts to her of killing Autobots, and she stares him down ALL ALONE, IN FRONT OF HIS OWN MEN and tells him she's the one who killed Hardshell. Aw, Miko. ♡

(I love Miko so much and) I think 2024 tumblr would have loved her so much more than, like, the 2011 fanfic fandom seems to have.

#in 24 someone would also anon you to kill yourself because miko is a racist stereotype. but that's fandom for you. win some. lose some.#anyway one day I'm going to write the most unhinged miko fic in the world. one day.#tfp #miko nakadai

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bonefall · 8 months

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May I ask for some idioms and cliches in Clanmew?

"King's Ransom" = E'woo-en-oowe [Tax-o'-King]

A reference to the heavy cost of the First Battle, when Clear Sky stole away King Arc's prince. The original, and longer, phrase referred to the price of a King's right paw, but has been shortened over the generations.

The word for "king" is archaic, EXCEPT for this phrase. The same way we don't use "wreak" anymore unless you're wreaking havoc.

"Peace in three languages I beg of you" = Warl-en-myyao afehao yoayaa [3-quarters-of-words peace I-begging]

When the First Battle broke out, Bumble was caught in the middle of the chaos. Just a translator and totally unable to fight, she desperately tried to push out of the crowd while crying for peace in the three languages she knew.

The phrase is used in exasperation, it's similar to the English "For pete's sake, calm down."

"I have to do everything myself!!" = Arrl ul-arra grryrr wrah [Commanded one-whole-amount i-contain mine]

Another expression of exasperation. Implies you have to be everything at once.

"When in water, the rabbit swims; when on land, the frog hops." = WeeUrr'rr slof pbum weeShishi, WeeUrr'rr por roeg weePipi. [It-feel pool the rabbit it-will-treadwater, it-feel ground the frog it-will-hop]

In English, we say "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." In Spanish, you might say, "En donde fueres, haz lo que vieres." In Clanmew, this is the equivalent phrase.

It's about modifying your behavior to accomplish a goal, or to survive. If the rabbit did not swim, it would drown. If the frog did not hop, it would be caught. You would hear this phrase as wisdom from a Cleric to a Leader to adjust their methods, or from a mentor to an apprentice to mind the importance of learning many skills.

"The waves not in your mouth is the flesh of the river." = Wur'ree mawa lalm winyar, ssbass urrgryyr gawi wi [In mouth waves they-not, river he(clanmate)-owns flesh it.]

A phrase heavily associated with RiverClan; note how they treat the river as a living animal. It is an entity with a mind of its own to be respected, not controlled. They don't need to "own" the river as they own territory, the river simply gives itself to them as they need it.

And they can be sadistic as well, reminding the other cats of this. The river is THEIR ally, other Clans SHOULD fear the water just as much as the fear a boar even when they don't see its tusks.

They phrase river-related things very differently than their neighbors, as well.

Compare to the version that other Clans tend to use;

"The drops that aren't in your mouth is rain for the world." = "Wur'ree mawa pwiq winyar, arrkoor-en-papa wi."

And lastly, my absolute favorites, fox-phrases.

A vixen is wise, not for her smell, but because she contains many seasons." = Bwaayr usihu mwrrgrryrr kurr kifew mwrr mwrrgrryrr, kurr qim winyar. [Vixen wrinkle she(rogue)-contains because old she(rogue), because essence it(harmless)-not.]

Wisdom in Clanmew is the same word as "wrinkle," usihu. This isn't wrinkles as in the furrows on a human face, but the texture of an old animal's fur. The thick, coarse packing and duller shine, on skin that is losing its elasticity.

The phrase reminds you that a vixen isn't so dangerous just because she is a fox, she's dangerous because she's old and wise. In some contexts, it even tries to invoke that nothing is born malicious, and that advanced evil is taught.

But there's a follow-up that some cats are VERY fond of;

"Every single todd is a vixen's son!" = Arr'arra-ul ka'ak bwaayr-en-nia'u mwrr! [Every-all todd vixen's-child it!]

Todds are troublemakers. Not as dangerous as a vixen... but this is a reminder that all todds come from a vixen, somewhere.

In some contexts, a cat will use this to stress that there IS something inherently evil about some things. All todds come from vixens. Others use the phrase in the sense of bad parenting, sympathetically. A low-stakes troublemaker comes from a bad nest or a bad mentor.

The two phrases are very versatile and used often, for lots of different reasons.

Funfact it's also adapted from the Spanish idiom, "Más sabe el diablo por viejo que por diablo" which has fascinated me for months now. "The devil isn't wise because he's evil, he's wise because he's old." What a cool phrase!

#Clanmew #Idioms

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zahri-melitor · 4 months

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I’ve got to say, I hate the ‘it was funny’ excuse that gets thrown around for a lot of Damian’s early writing. Because one of the big problems with Damian’s introductory stories was the absolute tonal whiplash they were from what preceded them.

Like, yes, ‘the 10 year old has a sword and is violent and foul mouthed! And gets away with (literal and figurative) murder! Isn’t that amusing!’ is a genre for stories. However, it’s a genre aimed at ADULTS not teen readers premised on the incongruity of a small child doing unchildlike things. And actually I do think trading in the teen character who was noted for having relatable school based arcs and friends for a book about a hyperviolent 10 year old had…issues. I was here reading Robin. If I wanted to read Kick-Ass I would have been reading Kick-Ass.

Especially when I’m picking up a book with the word ‘Robin’ on the cover. I mean I can point to sections of Tim’s Robin run that I would rather not hand to a 12 year old (the back half of Willingham particularly, but that’s because it’s just boring propaganda), but for basically all points up until Batman & Robin 2009, books with ‘Robin’ on the cover were a safe pick to grab for the preteen in your life and often came with a bit of an accompanying moral. Since then? It’s been all over the shop.

Things did pick up once Tomasi got control and there were far more moments where I was fondly exasperated with Damian rather than just exasperated, but early Damian, particularly written by Morrison, is a TRIAL.

Just. Maybe I’m square, but I don’t find Damian’s early violence against criminals and Tim to be funny or charming. I mostly find it to be something that I sigh at.

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burr-ell · 2 months

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Vox Machina as The Planets Suites

Grog

Pretty self-explanatory. "Mars" lacks the boisterousness with which Grog approaches battle, but I think it makes up for that by being an absolute banger that Grog would think is sick as hell (to the real Holst's consternation; he was greatly exasperated by the popularity of The Planets, and given Grog's propensity for exasperating serious people, it seems appropriate).

Keyleth

While Keyleth can be warlike in her own way, she's most often an advocate for peace and diplomacy, and I think "Venus" has both a melancholy and a hope to it that mesh well with the conclusion of her arc. It's the kind of melody that I can easily hear in the background as she rests with the raven beneath the cherry tree.

Pike

"Mercury" has some intense, joyful sections that I think are very well-suited to Pike's triumphant moments, but it maintains an overall light and airy tone that are a perfect fit for both her gentle nature and her mischievous streak. The wing imagery also calls to mind the wings she gets from the blessing of Sarenrae.

Scanlan

There's not a doubt in my mind that Scanlan would blast this song while floating into Castle Whitestone on top of a giant purple hand, but I also think the more sincere and triumphant section toward the end is well-suited to his vulnerable, sacrificial moments of courage. It wouldn't be a bad background for "What level?" "...Ninth."

Percy

Yeah, yeah, old man Percy, whatever, but I think "Saturn" has a sense of brooding that fits with Percy's general outlook and his willingness to be unpleasant and consider a morally grey hard call. The ending to the suite is uplifting and soft, reflecting the hope of the happy ending he earned.

Vex

This suite is very like "Jupiter" in its bombast but with a darker tone, which is fitting given how Vex and Scanlan's arcs play off one another. I think this suite evokes the way Vex's character pushes and pulls—her darkness, her heroism, her sense of mischief, her authoritativeness, and the triumphant place she ended up. Also, come on, the Uranus jokes write themselves. Vex would have a whale of a time.

Vax

While I think Vax is less dark-and-broody than he's often portrayed, he still grows into a very contemplative character. The lighter woodwind sections call to mind the love that motivated Vax throughout the story, and the tone of the suite is somber, but not threatening—perfect for the Champion of the goddess of death and fate. The fade out at the end is especially fitting.

#critical role #vox machina #percy de rolo #vax'ildan #keyleth #vex'ahlia #grog strongjaw #pike trickfoot #scanlan shorthalt #this post is for me and maybe three other people. enjoy <3 #also i had these as full mp3 files under 10 MB and tumblr refused to upload them no matter what i did so if anyone can explain??#i'd like to upload the full audio if i can

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listenheresweaty · 10 months

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Ok uh here goes

Can I get revivedbur headcanons for a reader who was very hurt by his betrayal? Like all rev wants to do is be nice to reader and love them but they want nothing to do with him?

-roses 🥀

ohhh boy my first ask

first off i wanna say that i absolutely love this idea. perfect angst fodder mmm

im not that great at writing angst. when im not sure what to write i add a lot of insignificant details until i get motivation. so hopefully this is satisfying :) If not, i'll try to come up with some more concise headcanons for wilbur trying to regain the reader's affections.

-----

First off, I'd like to point out that Wilbur right after revival and Wilbur a couple days after revival (especially after the events of hitting on 16) are quite different

When he's freshly revived, Wilbur is ecstatic. He's alive, rejuvenated, and ready to cause mayhem in every conceivable corner of the server.

Ever the ambitious man, his first concerns are with gaining power--- or, rather, interfering with power. He wants to become relevant, involved in the incessant, political push-and-pull of mankind that has interested him since a young age.

Eventually, though, the adrenaline wears off and he starts thinking about the people in his life. Tommy, who he had immediately recruited for his expeditions to Las Nevadas. Phil and Technoblade, who he visited gladly. And you. You're there, just a short 5 minute walk from Technoblade's house.

Wilbur's sitting at the table with Phil, making small talk about the weather or something when you walk in, throwing open the door with a huff and brushing the snow out of your hair. You look a mess, hair wet and plastered to your cheeks and your nose red and sniffling.

God, how he's missed you.

You freeze when you see him, your voice dying in your throat.

Wilbur smiles oh so sweetly, opening his mouth to speak.

Phil accidentally interrupts him, standing up and explaining the situation to you--- yes, the rumors were true. Yes, Dream is on his necromancer arc. No, he's not Ghostbur.

Wilbur tries his best to speak with you, but it's hard with Phil and Techno there. And for some reason you won't speak to him directly, asking all questions about him to Phil, such as "When was he revived? Was it really dream who revived him?"

When you do address him, your answers are clipped, polite but distant.

He figures it's just because it's awkward with Phil around.

But even when he manages to catch you alone, you try to push him away, glaring at him before stalking off with your jaw clenched and your face hidden from his view.

ouch.

That doesn't deter him for long: Quackity had brushed him off with an eye roll and a dismissive wave of the hand, and yet their rivalry is still underlined by a vague sense of respect and friendliness. (keyword: vague). So, he'll just act the same as he does with Quackity!

But as soon as he starts pestering you too, popping up in your house to nick a few items and smirk at you, the look in your eyes stops him dead in his tracks.

"Get out of my house, Soot!" Your tone of voice catches him off guard. There isn't a trace of amusement or playful exasperation. Your annoyance is so profound it borders on disgust.

All the lighthearted mischievousness that had been previously dancing in his rib cage is extinguished in a heartbeat. His smirk fades, and he stands in silence.

"Didn't you fucking hear me? Get out!"

"Darling, I-I.. " He laughs nervously. "I was just joking, you can have your stuff back---"

"I don't care if you steal, leave or burn them. I want you out of my house."

"But--... I don't--"

"---And don't call me darling."

"I don't understand."

"What? What don't you understand?"

"I didn't.. I just want to talk." He raises his hands in surrender, exhaling slowly. "I just wanted to talk."

"I don't want to talk." You say, quiet and composed once more. "You aren't welcome here. Just--- get out. Please."

He wanted to stay and argue, but something about the way you were looking at him was almost more suffocating than Limbo. He turned tail and nearly bolted out of there.

---

He doesn't visit you for a while after that. It's even worse if you had been attached to Ghostbur--- because of course you were attached to Ghostbur.

And after hitting on 16? When he goes on his apology arc?

If people don't accept your apology, Phil had said, you need to let them go.

And so Wilbur does the same thing with you as he did with Tommy: avoiding you like the plague in fear of having to inevitably let you go.

He still spends his time thinking about you, of course. Whenever you two accidentally end up in the same area, he stands to the side, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

The only way he's going to end up talking to you is if Eret sets it up, not revealing it to either of you until you're face to face.

You've calmed down since your last encounter with Wilbur. Although your opinions haven't changed, you willingly sit down to talk with him.

He, too, is less insistent with his apology. "Listen, I-I.. I know this won't fix things. I don't expect them to."

Wilbur pauses, and you raise an eyebrow for him to continue.

"But you-- you mean a lot to me." He says, wincing at the immediate scoff from you. "You do. You mean the world to me."

"Months. Months you lied to me, in Pogtopia. Months we all spent slaving away to get L'Manburg back-- and I did it all for you! I fought for that country because you loved it like life itself. You watched us fight for it, you let us bleed and sweat and shed tears for it, all while knowing all our efforts would be in vain because you'd be blowing it to pieces regardless. And then you up and left! You left us all, left us to pick up your pieces and drag your body to be buried. "

" ______." Wilbur said your name, quietly.

"-- And you proposed to me! The day beforewe were about to fight to get back L'Manburg, you got down on one knee and proposed.--"

"______." Wilbur repeated.

"You promised we'd have a life after the war. You looked me in the eyes and promised me this, knowing damn well what would happen the next day."

Wilbur doesn't say anything. His shoulders sag, deflating.

You sigh too. "And then you're revived. Months go by, I don't hear a word from you--- not that I was asking to--- and now you're apologizing."

Wilbur falls silent. "I'm selfish."

You purse your lips and move to speak, but he cuts you off.

"I'm not saying that to provoke pity or fish for compliments or serve an excuse. I'm just stating the fact. I am, at heart, a selfish person. I-- that's why I proposed to you that day. I-I knew it would hurt. I thought it would.. keep you closer, wanting to avoid you leaving me. Even though I was the one leaving." He exhales, running a hand through his hair.

The brutal honesty has you dumbfounded, searching for any traces of trickery or manipulation-- but not finding any. He seems genuine. Incredibly self-depreciating, but genuine.

"..And that's the reason I haven't apologized to you until now." Wilbur continues, seeing that you weren't going to speak. "I didn't.. I couldn't bear to hear a formal rejection."

You don't know what to do, having exhausted yourself with your outburst earlier. So you just nod in understanding.

"I-I'm going to be honest. I really, really don't want to let you go. But I've promised myself that that's what I'll do if you don't accept my apology. If you want me to leave you alone, say the word. You won't have to see me again. But if there's anything I can do, anything to earn a second chance for myself--- I'll do it." He rambles on. "I don't need you to love me. I want you to--- I really want you too-- but I don't need you to. I just don't want you to hate me."

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully. "I don't hate you."

He looks relieved, hope lighting up his features.

"...But I don't know if I'll accept your apology."

His face falls.

"I know I don't accept it right now. And I think that's understandable. I want to accept it sometime in the future, Wilbur, I just.. I need time."

Wilbur nods, mouth twitching as he works up the nerve to speak. "Would you.. prefer if I stayed away, during that time?"

"I don't want you to outright avoid me." You admit. "If we happen to end up in the same place together, I´ll talk to you. But I think some distance would be helpful."

"Yeah." He manages, clearing his throat. "Yeah, I'll... I can wait."

Wilbur looks back up at you. "I'll wait for you." He promises.

and then he leaves for utah

#roses anon #anon ask #revivedbur x reader #c!wilbur x reader #dsmp wilbur #revived wilbur #c wilbur #c: wlbr #dsmp x reader #revivebur #wilbur soot angst #and for anyone who says that c!wilbur doesn't stutter: yes he does. it may be just an effect from his dialogue being mostly improvised #but he does stammer under pressure. not exactly in a shy way. in an excited #impassioned run-hands-through-hair kinda way #the reader is kind of a bitch in this my bad #“bitch” i say in a gender neutral fashion #and then he leaves for utah and you never see him again haha #sweaty “writes”

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urproblematicfav-arsonk · 2 years

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I think a lot of people overlook that Izzy's actually a fairly meh okay person when he doesn't feel threatened. He's calm and open about his feelings with Jackie to a sort of embarrassing point lol. He's surprisingly chill during the initial Stede interaction and MOST importantly in my opinion, he's openly soft with Edward. I see a lot of fanfic that characterizes Iz has having this hyper masculine image of Blackbeard in his head and when Ed fails to meet that standard he's violent and cruel. And that's true in the last episode when Izzy is at the end of his fucking rope and is making the worse possible choices out of desperation but before that,,, its really not that bad??

There's clearly a disconnect between the two of them that's bothering Ed("you have no imagination" ect) but Izzy still shows a lot of softness towards Ed. Its mostly in his body language and exasperated housewife voice but Izzy is showing that he's okay with Ed being soft and being soft to Ed back but only in private. And this isn't to say Iz doesn't absolutely have his own toxic masculinity issues but I think these issues come more from fear then Izzy genuinely thinking being nice and having friends is bad. Something also important to remember is that Izzy knows what is probably Ed's most emasculating secret: the fact that he doesn't fucking kill people. Its not overly clear if Izzy knows the why of it but either way he respects it and actively protects Ed and takes on the burden for him because he knows that it on some level will hurt him to try to push him into it. When Iz betrays Ed he keeps saying "its humane" "its fast and clean and over" like he's trying to ease Ed's conscience and make it emotionally easier.

Izzy also isn't initially bothered by Ed playing dress up until he realizes Stede is also there. So Izzy is mostly okay with Ed wearing stupid fancy boy clothes and being a dramatic weirdo across the boat because Edward is erratic and probably has already done this before. And even though its a delete scene and I will forever hate David for this, Iz did help Ed get dressed up for the party.

I think Iz' behavior is just normal ass romcom other woman jealousy and having deeply internalized trauma and fear towards being seen as less masculine by society. Maybe I'm just having too much empathy for everything all the time again but Izzy's problem is so clearly that he knows if he's vulnerable and soft then he'll get fucking destroyed by the cishet toxic world we all live in. He's posturing all of the fucking time as a form of self defense and he tries to force Ed to use Blackbeard in the same way because he wants Ed to be safe and hidden from the people who absolutely are out there and want to hurt them. Trauma tends to fuck with you're perception of reality so we as a audience watch and go "But Fang and Ivan are cool!! They wouldn't bully Izzy for being soft" (despite the fact that the do in fact bully him in canon) but for Izzy, he's just in panic survival mode all of the time and can't easily relax and just casually trust a bunch of strangers in the way Stede (and by extension Ed) can

My point is Izzy deserves love and the space for growth just like Ed did and if you think otherwise then ur ugly and I don't like u.

also if Izzy doesn't get a redemption arc I will fully end up hating this show and i really deeply mean that im not fucking being hyperbolic lol

#its izzy apologist hours again #back at with the izzy posting #no idea why a 50 year old gay pirate with codependency issues has taken up so much of my brain space for like 4 months straight #probably the autisim tbh #ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #izzy hands apologist #long post #character analysis

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skygemspeaks · 9 months

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episode 2 thoughts:

this whole episode was fantastic, just as awesome as the previous one, but to me, i feel like peter gadiot's performance as shanks was absolutely my favourite part of it. there was just so much tenderness in his interactions with luffy, that i became attached to their relationship in a way i don't think i've ever truly felt with the manga or the anime. the live action managed to make me absolutely sob when he was saying goodbye to luffy as his crew left dawn island, which is never something i've done with the manga or anime (for that scene at least). you can almost physically feel how much he adores luffy, and it's making me really emotional

once again loving garp's expanded role in this arc! his interactions with koby and the rest of the marines were really good this episode, and the scene where koby tells him that luffy was the straw hat pirate who raided the base....you could just SEE the exasperation garp was feeling right then. i loved it!

i was a little sad that mayor boodle's role was reduced so much in this arc, and also the fact that chouchou's entire subplot was cut out. BUT it was a cool little easter egg to see him running around at the end of the episode. just a cheeky little wink wink nudge nudge to the manga/anime fans. i'll forgive them for it because the rest of the episode was so good

i audibly gasped at the scene where we saw buggy's audience laughing through pained expressions, and then the camera panned down to show their legs chained up. that absolutely gave me the chills.

i like the direction they took buggy's character in this. he still feels very true to his canon self, but i like how they made him somewhat more...empathetic, in a way? he sees a kindred soul in luffy after he makes the assumption that luffy had been abandoned by shanks. he genuinely felt like luffy was like him, like all the other outcasts in his crew, and he wanted to offer luffy a place in their family. it's found family, but make it evil!!!! you can see he has a lot of hurt and bitterness towards shanks and his perceived betrayal, and it's fantastic. they somehow made him more pathetic, but also more sinister than the manga, in a way?

i'm really really seeing why the cast and crew are all so insanely proud of this show. i'm a quarter of the way through now, and it's already obvious just how beautifully done this whole series is. the love and passion of all the people who worked on this show is evident in every single scene, in every little detail that they include for those of us in the know, and i really really appreciate it. it's everything i could've hoped for, and i'm so sad that i won't be able to watch the whole season tonight because i have work tomorrow. i think i should be able to watch at least 2 more episodes today though.

next stop!!!! SYRUP VILLAGE! i finally get to see my favourite liar! i'm so psyched to see jacob's performance in this

#opla #opla liveblog #opla spoilers #one piece #monkey d luffy #red haired shanks #nami #roronoa zoro #buggy the clown

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horsetailcurlers2 · 8 months

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do you have any outlaw queen headcanons? (robin lives au)

yes for sure! i’ve admittedly been on my swan queen vibe for a while (so i might be a little rusty at this lol) but i am nothing if not a multi shipper and this is perfect timing bc i have been thinking about OQ lately.

-in my perfect “robin lives” AU, the zelena-is-marian arc never happened lol but for narrative purposes let’s say zelena just had a redemption arc, robin was not killed, and everyone is safe and happy and storybrooke is settled and peaceful with no magical antagonists.

-robin and roland move into regina’s house eventually and it is…. quite the adjustment. he has spent at least a decade living in the woods and sleeping on the ground for one thing. and unlike everyone that came over during the first curse, he very much does not have 30 years of built in knowledge about modern technology. he is absolutely hopeless with it all. it took regina two months to teach him how to use the coffee maker. he only knows how to put on his two favorite channels in the tv (do NOT ask him to put on netflix or even put in a dvd). and he flat out REFUSES to use the microwave. regina finds this all to be some combination of exasperating and adorable. henry just finds it absolutely hilarious.

-as robin settles in and gets more comfortable in storybrooke, he discovers the things he likes about our realm. he loves the music. naturally, robin really likes classic dad bands. like the avett brothers and stuff. he’s always asking regina to help him play their music on his “magic song thingy” (an mp3 player). he also loves the nature channel (sorry if that’s a little on the nose haha). i also think he’d have a fascination with reruns of old family sitcoms.

-he makes her more social. not in a forced way, i just mean that he makes her feel a lot more comfortable going to public social gatherings. it’s a lot easier for her to be around all her former subjects when robin is there with her. and he’s kind of a social butterfly so she lowkey loves seeing him in his element. a lot of her discomfort also comes from thinking that nobody actually wants her there or that they all still hate her so he definitely helps assure her that she is wanted and he encourages her to spend more time around people so she can see for herself.

-sharing her space is very difficult for regina at first. she’s always been a very solitary person (aside from her relationship with henry which is a completely different thing) and every time she’s had to share space so intimately, it’s usually been because it was forced upon her. so she is very grumpy and irritated when he first moves in because he keeps leaving things out of place or because he snores in his sleep or “breathes too loud”. eventually they work it out and she learns how to live alongside another person and she learns to make space for robin while still keeping some for herself.

-he LOVES post it notes. he thinks they are the handiest modern convenience after indoor plumbing and electricity. he leaves an excessive amount of notes for her all around the house- on her vanity mirror, on the refrigerator, on the dashboard of her car. sometimes it’s practical reminders (they’re out of bread, he will be working late, he’s handling dinner that night) but usually it’s just something very sappy about how beautiful she is or what a good day he wants her to have. it’s ridiculous and cheesy and cliche but she can’t help smiling every time.

-the charmings host a lot of the big family gatherings at their farmhouse, but regina’s house is also a hot spot for family dinners (see my regina headcanons about how she secretly loves hosting). they have monthly family game nights at mifflin street but regina has actually been banned from playing. she is confined to being the score keeper or the game master because she gets WAY too intense and it kind of ruins it for everybody else.

-somebody with as much trauma as regina is bound to have some nightmares. the first time they share a bed for not so scandalous reasons, he is so startled and freaked out by her nightmares that he falls off the bed and onto the floor. they aren’t bad all of the time, and a lot of nights she doesn’t even have them. but when they’re bad, they’re pretty bad. once he catches on to what’s going on, he’s exceptionally good at helping sooth them.

-roland LOVES living with regina and henry. he thinks having a big brother is so cool and he is obsessed with “helping” regina in the kitchen. he also really loves the “magic moving pictures” on the tv. at first, it’s an adjustment for him because he misses sleeping in a tent with his papa’s merry men, but he still visits camp very often. regina also puts some of those glow in the dark plastic stars on his ceiling and he LOVES them bc it feels like he’s still sleeping under the “outside ceiling” as he calls it.

-robin’s main love language is gift giving. it seems a little contradictory with the whole “robin hood” thing but it is not materialistic at all. it’s just in the sense that he is thoughtful and perceptive and he likes giving things to the people he loves that show how deeply he knows them. it’s very novel to regina, who has never really received a gift from anybody except for daniel (and henry of course). she mentioned her favorite novel once offhand, and he bought her a beautiful first edition for christmas months later. it’s also the little things: her favorite flowers when he comes home one weekday evening, her favorite candy when he swings by the grocery store, stopping into her office to surprise her with a coffee the exact way she orders it. she’s never had somebody who is just so clearly always thinking about her and prioritizing her in such a way.

-i go back and forth on whether or not they would ever get married (mostly because regina has so much trauma around marriage and they are already in love and living as a family anyway). ultimately though, i think that they would. the idea isn’t so scary to her when it comes to robin (plus at this point she’s had quite a bit of therapy) and it’s what she’s always wanted- to be married to the person she really loves and to have a peaceful simple life surrounded by people who love her.

#this is a little all over the place so lmk if you want something more specific #regina’s love languages are much more complex and i could go on and on about them for hours #lmk if you want headcanons for any other regina ship #regina mills #ouat #once upon a time #outlaw queen #robin hood #regina mills headcanons #outlaw queen headcanons

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vodika-vibes · 4 months

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LOL Cody lied about Alpha toning it down to be a good big brother calming down anxious Dad Rex 😂 what happens when the kids find out he didn’t tone it down for them? 🤭

Cody is an amazing big brother, and all of the kids are shocked to hear that they survived actual ARC training.

"This has been the worst six months of my life," Vali declares from the front of the line, "I had to have my prosthetics replaced three times because of this training." "Yeah, but now you have better prosthetics. You know, actually useful ones, compared to the pretty ones that Naboo paid for." River points out from just behind her. "Yeah, yeah. I know." And he's right, Vali's arm is now made of a much more durable material, and it's matte, rather than silver, so it doesn't reflect light anymore. The group of fourteen kids comes to a stop in front of Alpha, with Vali and River working together to make sure the Junior ARCs are lined up properly, before turning their attention to the adult ARCs near the back and bullying them into formation as well. Alpha watches this with a gleeful smirk on his face. River and Vali have the makings of CCs, and their armor even has CC designations on them. In fact, of the nearly 28 people in the room, only River and Vali have CC designations. Cody is going to lose his shit. "Quiet." Alpha orders, as Vali and River settle into place in front of the formation, "Congratulations, all of you. You've passed ARC training." He smirks at the puzzled expression on some of the little CTs faces. The pair of CCs have a look of resigned exasperation on their face. Figures they would have figured it out. They're the only ones who regularly interacted with the older cadets after all. "Did you really think that I had the time, or the inclination, to create a Junior ARC program and run it at the same time as the regular ARC program? No. Absolutely not. You are all fully qualified ARC troopers." Vali sighs, "Dad's going to flip his shit." "Yeah, well, Rex went through ARC training too, so he can take it up with me if he has a problem with it." Alpha says, "Kamas and pauldrons will be distributed at the end of the day. Vali and River, with me." The pair share a look and then they hurry after their uncle. He leads them through the halls, and into a very specific supply room, "They ready?" "Yes, sir." Pep, one of their uncles, says from where he's getting something set up. He favors the kids with a grin, and then moves to the side, revealing two, nearly identical, sets of armor. "River, you're probably going to grow until you're in your twenties, so you'll be making several trips here over the years. But Vali, you're done growing, side effect of being a woman." Alpha says, "So you shouldn't need any replacements for the armor we prepared for you." Vali eyes the armor, "Ba'vodu...that's Commander Armor." "I'm aware." Alpha says with a smirk, "Commander Armor and Commander Helmets. For the both of you. Neither of you are getting pauldrons, since we decided to give you the visored commander helmet instead. What color paint do you want?" "Blue," Vali says immediately. "Purple." River says at the same time.

#star wars #star wars au #clone creche

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rottenprincessshura100 · 2 months

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The Interview Part 2 (Blue Exorcist Fanfic)

So, I've had a lot of folks wanting a follow up book to my first fanfic. So here it goes. This book travels ahead into the future 18 years. With Yukio, Shiemi and Lewin as the new Grigori and Shura and Rin as Arc Knights. Arthur is still the Paladin. Mephisto is still Mephisto. Lucifer is attempting to destroy with world, but he will be much more menacing. He is in the form of Homare Todo, and she is a tough customer.

Chapter #1

---------------- I opened my eyes and found myself in a familiar place. True Cross town, more specifically, Mephisto's Mansion.

I'd been at home one minute, and the next, I was here. Despite the demon's seductions, I hadn't left willingly, and I hadn't given in. But Mephisto wouldn't take no for an answer. And now I'm in his giant bed, surrounded by full-sized plushies, dressed in flannel pyjamas. At least he hadn't taken advantage of me. But of course, he hadn't; he acted under the guise of a gentleman.

Amaimon, my demon mate, wouldn't be mad that I was here. He knew I had to appease the Time King. Mephisto was higher in the demon hierarchy, and to deny him was unwise. What made things incredibly complex was that Mephisto is also my mate, but we've been apart for many years. His manipulations had been too much for me to bear, and we separated.

Mephisto was a polyamorous being and didn't confine his desires to monogamous relationships. He was also not the type of demon that preferred one sex over another. He was infinitely fluid and attracted to souls. Unfortunately, he found my soul impossible to resist, so I'm in my current predicament. I never had a chance to escape him.

Was it weird that I was the mate of two demon brothers? Well, yes, and no.

The Demon Kings treated themselves like siblings, but in reality, they were not blood relatives. All demons had materialized from Gehenna and were born from the stuff of Satan. Technically, under the same rules, all humans came from the same source material in Assiah. But humans don't consider all other humans siblings. The Demon kings only associated as family to others with equal power and prestige.

Yet, Mephisto and Amaimon were the closest of the Demon Kings. At one point, they even lived together as uncle and nephew. It had been infinitely awkward that both had fallen for me. Demons didn't feel complex emotions and were fuelled by pure desire. Yet, as a hanyou, I absolutely did experience emotions. And I had enormous guilt.

My cell phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Amaimon: "When I got back, you were gone. Are you alright?"

Eve: "I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, Amaimon!"

Amaimon: "He wasn't mean to you, was he?"

Eve: "He wasn't, but he also didn't listen."

Amaimon: "Well... brother is an asshole."

Eve: "I'm sorry about all of this."

Amaimon: "Listen, don't get all human on me. This will be fun. Promise."

I put down my phone with an exasperated sigh. Staring up at Mephisto's mirrored ceiling, I gaze at my reflection with nervous foreboding.

"Good morning,"

Belial, Mephisto's demon butler, entered the room. "I have brought you a quick breakfast. We must hurry. You are required to be at Vatican City for an interview."

"Listen, I don't even want to be here!" I jumped out of bed. "Mephisto stole me from my home!"

"I'm sorry, about all of that." Belial waved his hand, dressing me in a long, black trench coat. "But you cannot be late."

A portal opens on the floor, and despite my protests, Belial shoves me into it.

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I found myself in a cavernous hall with 60-foot buttressed ceilings. In front of me were heavy wooden double doors that were at least 20 feet tall and two burly guards. I stared at my hands, which were bound with delicate bracelets. I realized they were not jewelry but magic-cancelling handcuffs.

"What. The. Fuck." I snarled. "What the hell is this about!"

"Sir, Pheles," a guard whispered in a headset. "She's here, and she seems angry."

"Keep her detained." Mephisto's voice answered. "I will fetch her momentarily."

My demon-enhanced ears picked up the word detain, and I immediately backed away.

"I'm not a prisoner, am I?" I whispered.

"Of course not, lady." The one guard announced. "You are a guest of the Grigori."

"Great!" I answered nervously. "That means I can leave, right?!"

I turn to run and slam into something hard and obstinate—a solid wall of white.

"Why hello, Eve!"

His boisterous laugh caused me to groan inwardly.

"Don't be afraid! You are a person of great importance! You are the hero of Assiah!"

My face was planted in the middle of Arthur August Angel's broad chest. He spun me quickly and firmly wrapped an arm around my waist. Next, I felt the cold steel of Caliburn pressed tightly against my neck.

"Then why am I being treated as a hostile!"

"You are not hostile, my dear." He whispered into my ear. "You are just skittish. You are a kitty, after all!"

I looked up into his face with a scowl. He's smiling good-naturedly. He is just as handsome as ever, only now his pale blue eyes are lined with crow's feet. Honestly, age made him even more attractive and distinguished than before. His platinum hair was still thick and beautiful and impeccably groomed. But the man still lacked critical-thinking skills and blindly obeyed orders instead of questioning them.

"Angel, please let me go." I pleaded grumpily. "I don't work for True Cross anymore!"

"My dear, that is an understatement. You went AWOL." He affirmed. "It's not the same thing."

"So they waited all of these years to enforce the law?"

"We need you to help fight against Lucifer."

"Dammit!!! What if I don't want to?"

"I understand your hesitation, Eve." His voice softened. "Having Mephisto summon you must be so irritating. I find the demon annoying at the best of times. I fantasize about smiting him."

"He is my mate," I answer dourly.

"I know!" He laughed. "You've made such a terrible choice!"

"Yeah," I whispered. "But I still hate the way our separation went down."

"Eve, you are just as beautiful as I remember!" He winked. "Demons are polyamorous creatures, after all. You always have options. Remember that."

"Are you...hitting on me?"

Angel smiled and winked.

Just then, the double doors flung open with a bang, startling me.

"HAHA!" Angel laughed robustly. "Speak of the Devil."

Mephisto emerged and stalked toward me. He graced Angel with the most enormous shit-eating grin he could muster, but did I also detect a hint of anger? Did Mephisto hear Angel's words just now? But how could he? The walls were six feet thick!"

"Why are you holding a sword to Eve's neck?" He questioned with crossed arms. "She is our guest. Not a spy headed to the torture chamber."

"She was attempting to escape the Vatican; I was given strict orders."

"Yes, well," Mephisto grabbed my forearm firmly with his purple-gloved hand. "If some goon held a sword to my neck, the normal reaction would be to run."

"Goon? How insulting! I was keeping her safe from more dangerous people." Angel narrowed his eyes accusingly.

"Then perhaps I should be owing you thanks for keeping my wife safe." His voice dripped with fake pleasantries. "Come along, Eve. The Grigori awaits!"

Mephisto half-guided me, half-dragged me through the double doors. Angel and the guards followed closely behind. I had no chance of escaping, but that didn't stop me from struggling.

"LET ME GO!!!" I hissed with ire. "I can walk on my own."

"Then walk," Mephisto whispered tensely through a fake smile. "You are embarrassing me."

He released my arm abruptly, and I found myself under the glare of an impossibly bright light. As my eyes adjusted, that is when I saw them—the Grigori.

"Hello, Eve." A soft Texan accent voice addressed me. "Long time no see."

"Oh. Shit." I back away at the site of the man, only to feel two strong hands gripping my shoulders. One of them is Mephisto, and the other is Angel. I stare at them with mutiny.

"Sir, Pheles." Lightning chuckled wryly. "It appears your mate is unwillingly here. You must be losing your loving touch."

"I assure you there is nothing wrong with me." Mephisto laughed. "Maybe she's remembering the time you wanted to torture her."

"You mean that time you lied to me?" Lightning countered. "And left this poor innocent Neko vulnerable?"

"Since you can read any creature's aura, I assume you made the executive decision to kidnap Eve for ulterior motives..."

Mephisto and Lightning locked eyes with building menace.

"Enough, we're getting off topic."

A man dressed in Armumahel's dark robes interrupted. He was at least ten years younger than Lightning, in his mid-30s, and well-built. A streak of pure white ran through his wavy, chocolate-brown hair, which fell rakishly over one eye. The most identifiable thing was the eyepatch.

"Is that you, Mr. Okumura?"

"Just call me Yukio; there's no need for formalities," he assured. "You are amongst equals and friends here."

"Yes. The best of friends." The Shemihaza representative nodded. With a flourish of delicate hands, she pushed back her bejewelled hood, revealing Shiemi Moriyama.

"Shiemi." I sighed with relief. "Thank goodness. But where is Rin and Shura?"

"This was a meeting for the Grigori only. The Arc Knights were not required..." Lightning began.

"What the fuck is going on in here!!!" The double doors suddenly crashed open as if on cue. "Why wasn't I invited to this party? Who cares! I'm crashing it!"

A fiery redhead marched up the aisle and approached Angel and Mephisto. Behind her, another 30-something man with bright blue eyes and flaming indigo horns followed.

"And those would be the Arc Knights." Mephisto drawled with a secret smile. "How timely."

"Angel," Shura barked, pushing him back with a firm hand. "Give Eve some space. You big lout!"

Before I could utter a single word, Shura wrapped her arms around me like a protective mother bear, giving me a hug that nearly shattered my ribs.

"Are you okay?" She eventually released me, her hands now holding my face, studying it carefully.

"I've been worse." I smiled wanly. "It was a bit of an ordeal getting me here."

"Yeah." She smirked. "I bet it was."

"Mephisto was the absolute wrong person to send. I wouldn't have come ether. I would have assumed it was a trick." Rin folded his arms. "I should have gone instead, not this bastard."

"That's enough from you," Mephisto threatened. "She's here now, and we have much to discuss."

"Yeah, we do." Shura pulled an enormous wooden chair to the table with an ear-shattering squeak. "Have a seat, Eve. We'll tell you what we know."

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#blue exorcist #mephisto pheles #ao no exorcist #yukio okumura #rin okumura #fanfic #amaimon

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