#speaking of My Friend P: still working on and off on Chapter 3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonnie-the-butcher · 5 months ago

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Rip Tide | Chapter VI

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 8.928 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW (p in v, unprotected, implied m!masturbation); Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

OMG Bonnie what is that? A JJ chapter? Yeah, maybe I went insane. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

JJ takes a slow step forward, his shoulders rolling back, his fingers still coiled tight around the handlebars of his bike. There’s a heat rolling off of him, a barely contained energy that makes your stomach twist.

His gaze drifts over to you. The rage burning through his eyes as he climbs down, drifting through Rafe’ arms, how they wrap around you, how close he’s holding you to him. – What’s going on, huh? – His voice is taught, barely restrained. You think of the hiss a rattlesnake makes before pouncing, the barely restrained violence simmering under each sound. – What are you doing here?

– I could ask you the same thing, Maybank. – Rafe hums. You call his name, trying to reel him back before it gets dangerous, but he seems entertained more than anything. – We’re a little far from the salvation army. Not much for you to do around here.

– Rafe!

The kook holds your hand to his chest when you push him, smiling down at you like it’s the funniest thing in the world. – I’m just having a little fun with him, that’s all.

– Get off of her, Rafe.

He’s looking at you with a focus that’s never a good sign, but don’t miss the way his eyes flick to where Rafe’s hand still lingers at your waist. The moment stretches, thick with the weight of his anger, but you can’t bring yourself to move first.

Rafe doesn’t bother hiding his grin. If anything, it grows, slow and deliberate, like this is the most fun he’s had all night. – Why? You scared she won’t come back when she realizes there’s more to life than being leeched off of by her brother’s friends?

– Rafe, this isn’t funny.

– JJ must think it is, it’s the only thing he does well. – Rafe drawls, tilting his head as he finally steps back from you—but not without dragging his fingers along your side, a pointed reminder. – Right, JJ?

JJ’s lips press into a thin line. His fingers flex around the handlebars, his nostrils flaring as he exhales hard through his nose. His gaze cuts to you now, sharp and demanding. – What the hell are you doing with this asshole?

His voice grates you. Every word echoing in your head like nails on a chalkboard.

– This is none of your business, JJ.

He doesn’t even pretend to hear you. – Kie told me what happened at work. We were all worried about you.

You open your mouth, but Rafe hums before you can speak, stepping in again, loose and easy, barely putting in effort but still commanding all the space between you. – Worried? Were you worried that you’re finally gonna have to get a job and deal with your own shit?!

– You don’t know what you’re talking about, okay?! Shut the fuck up!

– Or what? Are you gonna freeload off of me too?

JJ moves before you can stop him. His bike crashes to the pavement as he lunges, fists already clenched, fury twisting his face. Rafe barely shifts, like he’s been expecting this all along, like he’s been waiting for the moment he can finally push JJ over the edge.

– THIS SHIT ISN’T ABOUT YOU RAFE!

You step in fast, hands catching JJ’s arm before he can swing, your pulse hammering. – JJ, don’t. Fuck off. Don’t fucking do this right now.

– He’s the one who needs to fuck off! We’re talking right now, it’s none of his fucking business! – His breath is ragged, his muscles stiff under your grip. But Rafe just grins, smug and taunting, eyes alight with something dark. – Tell him to go away.

– You can’t tell me that yourself? Is that how much of a bitch you are, JJ?

JJ lunges, nearly pushing you into the asphalt by mistake. Rafe’s the one that catches you, his hand steadying you as you hold JJ back. – LET GO OF ME!

– JJ step the fuck back, I’m not even kidding you.

– He started it!

Rafe whistles lowly, laughing just under his breath as his arm wraps around you again. – Your brother really knows how to pick them, doesn’t he?

– Not helping, Rafe.

– I’m just trying to enjoy myself while you talk him down from his tantrum. I’m great.

– Stop fucking talking to her like that!

– Or what? You gonna hit me? – He muses, tilting his head, like the thought actually amuses him. – Go ahead, man. Take your shot. I bet it’ll feel real good.

JJ’s jaw tightens, his arm twitching under your hold. You can feel the war inside him, the barely restrained urge to throw that punch, to finally give Rafe the fight he’s clearly asking for.

But you don’t let go.

And JJ doesn’t swing.

For a second, the only sound is the thick silence between you.

Then Rafe sighs, exaggerated and disappointed. – Shame, – He mutters, stepping back, shaking his head like JJ’s let him down. – I was really hoping you’d play along, JJ. It’s been what? A week since you last got arrested? Has it ever been so long? I bet they’re missing you down at the station.

He flashes a grin at you, sharp and knowing, before brushing past, hands moving over your back like he owns you. – Y’know what, baby? We should really get going. I’m getting kinda bored.

– You’re out of your fucking mind if you think she’s going anywhere with you.

– JJ. – You warn, but he doesn’t seem to hear you.

– She came here with me, buddy. Maybe you wanna look around you. – He glances at you, blue eyes gleaming as he takes you by the arm. – C’mon. It’s getting late, right? Your brother’s probably struggling to figure out the oven right now.

– You don’t know what the fuck your talking about. – JJ growls.

– You’re gonna go home with this pogue? –The question comes out in a hum, almost condescendingly. His laughter thrills up your spine like a shiver of fear. – You’re gonna let him strongarm you like this?

You swallow, breathing in deep.

Rafe’s grip on your arm tightens, fingers warm against your skin, but you don’t move. His smirk twitches—just barely—before he tilts his head, watching you with curiosity, even if the smile he’s giving you doesn’t seem too pleased.

JJ notices too. He exhales sharply, barely holding himself together. – You’re not leaving with him.

His voice is low, coarse. And he’s clinging, moving his arms within your hold like a whiny kid. But it’s not a plea. It’s a demand.

Rafe hums under his breath, low and pleased, like this is all going exactly how he wanted. – She’s not staying for you, JJ. – He flicks his gaze over, like he’s looking at something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. – You have John B’s useless ass to thank for her not leaving with me right now.

JJ clenches his jaw so tight you swear you hear his molars crack. – Shut the fuck up, Rafe.

Rafe grins, slow and knowing. – I will if she makes me. Right, baby? Maybe you can give me a goodnight kiss before I go.

JJ takes a step forward, but you press a hand to his chest, stopping him. He seethes, nostrils flaring, but you shake your head. – Just go, Rafe. Please. – Your voice isn’t sharp—it’s tired, annoyed.

And that’s exactly why Rafe thrives on it.

He tsks, squeezing your waist in his hold on you before pulling his keys from his pocket. – That’s okay. We’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow, right? – He leans in, voice dipping lower. – You can make it up to me.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. – Rafe—

– You’re cute when you get all flustered. – He laughs, tapping your chin with his knuckle. – I’ll call you later.

JJ lunges, and it takes everything in you to shove him back.

Rafe just whistles, all relaxed amusement, stepping back with an easy grin. – Damn, Maybank, you’re really gonna let her hold you back like that?

JJ is shaking in anger, chest heaving.

Rafe doesn’t wait for an answer. He shoots you a wink and a lazy salute before finally turning away, tossing over his shoulder, – Don’t miss me too much, baby.

JJ exhales sharply, shaking off your hold. His head drops for a second, his hands clenching at his sides before he looks at you, eyes blazing. – What the hell was that?

You swallow hard, the weight in your chest pressing down heavy. – JJ—

But he shakes his head. – Nah. No way. You don’t get to brush this off. – His voice is rough, disbelief coating every syllable. – Tell me you’re not— He stops himself, exhaling sharply again before taking a step back, shaking his head like he’s trying to make sense of it. – Tell me you’re not seriously falling for this shit.

You don’t know what to say.

Because maybe you don’t have an answer he wants to hear.

– Oh my God. – You don’t know what exactly in his face shifts, but you feel the air around you thicken. – You are, aren’t you?!

– Spare me the outrage, JJ. I’m not in the mood for your lectures.

– The guy is a fucking psychopath! There’s no fucking way you do’t see that! He’s insane!

You roll your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips before you can think of it. – You say that like you’re some sort of model of normalcy.

– I can’t fucking believe you!

– I don’t fucking need you to believe me, JJ. Clearly you fucking don’t. It doesn’t matter what I say, you already have your pitchfork ready! So what exactly am I supposed to be getting out of this?! Huh? Tell me. – A beat of silence lingers between you, as you turn your back on him. It’s long past 6 PM. The sky is pitch-black. – Can we just go? I don’t wanna do this.

You can see the gears turn in his head when you speak. His eyes soften, jaw unclentching. – I’m trying to look out for you. – You scoff. – Look, I know you’re stressed and all, but you don’t need to be taking it out on me, okay?! Chill out.

– Thanks, Mother Teresa. I feel much calmer now.

– Can we just put down the boxing gloves, right now?!

– I don’t know JJ, can we? I can’t put my guard down with you for a moment. Because that’s what you do. You tell me I should calm down, and when I do, you come up with some insane shit to piss me off all over again!

JJ watches you, chest still rising and falling like he’s trying to catch a breath that won’t come. Then his expression shifts—like something clicks into place, like he’s realizing something he doesn’t like.

His lips curl, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek. – Are you serious? – His voice is quieter now, almost disbelieving. – This is where we’re at?

You shake your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat. – I don’t want to do this right now, JJ.

– Oh, that’s rich. You don’t wanna do this right now? – He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. – You wanna pick a better time? Should I make an appointment? Because it’s like you never have time for me these days! You’ll speak your mind, talk all the game you fucking want, but when it’s time to talk about my feelings, suddenly you’re too tired to deal!

Your stomach twists.

JJ scoffs. – You know, I keep trying. I keep trying to get through to you, and you just— He stops, shakes his head again, shoving a hand through his hair like that’ll help get rid of some of the frustration bleeding off of him.

– Trying to what, JJ? What is it that you’re trying to get through to me so much? That I can’t even talk to people while you go around fucking whatever girl you want? – The words come out before you can stop them.

– That’s funny, I don’t remember leaving with your mortal enemy!

– And I don’t remember kissing your best friend after leaving your bed, JJ. But here we are!

JJ goes still.

For a second, neither of you speak.

Then he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head like you’ve just confirmed something he was trying not to believe. – There you go again, – He mutters, half in laughter, half in scorn. – You’re insane. Like. You’re actually sick in the fucking head. You and Rafe are perfect for each other. Maybe that’s why you’re here right? I was too normal, so you got bored. And that’s why you’re here in the Country Club, fucking that psychopath!

You stare at him, heart still pounding, but there’s something else gnawing at the edges of your mind now—something off. Something you didn’t notice in the heat of it all.

The country club.

You’re not at your job.

You’re not at home.

You’re not even on your side of the island.

Your stomach twists again.

– JJ, – you start, voice quieter now.

But he doesn’t hear it, or he doesn’t care. He scoffs again, throwing his hands in the air as he turns away, pacing. – I should’ve known. I should’ve listened to John B. He always said you were fucking twisted! But leave it to me! It’s my fault or thinking you could act like a person for once!

Your pulse stutters.

You don’t even register his words.

You don’t remember telling him where you were.

Your job isn't anywhere near the Country Club. You didn’t text him. You didn’t call him.

So how did he find you?

Your skin prickles as you stare at him, the words barely coming out. – JJ... how did you know I was here?

– What?! – He laughs, like you’ve just said something stupid, but you’re not gonna let him do this. Keeping your face neutral, even while your blood runs cold, you repeat:

– How did you know where I was? – He looks at you for a moment, frozen in place. You don’t even see him breathe. But the thoughts run wild behind his eyes, his mouth hanging open, unable to keep up with the speed at which his mind is running. – Answer me. How did you know I was here, JJ?

– I— He swallows, looking between each of your eyes frantically. – I was gonna pick you up at work,

– At a quarter to seven PM? You know I get the bus. It leaves at 5:20. You know that.

– Why are you making a big deal out of this?! I was driving to the wreck and I saw you here—

– No you weren’t. The wreck is East. To get here, you need to be going West.

He’s quiet again.

– Are you following me? How did you even— Realization dawns on you. JJ and John had your phone all day after you left. The notification you saw when you finally got it back, was from your maps app, which you’ve never opened in your life. You pull your phone out of your pocket. The location is on, but you don’t remember activating it. You open your messages. The latest contact is JJ. But you haven’t texted him in days. The chat is empty. – You sent my phone location to yourself, didn’t you? You and John are fucki— Your voice dies within your throat. The hair at the back of your neck standing. – John doesn’t have my password, though.

– You’re acting insane.

– How the fuck did you figure out my password, JJ? It’s a thousand characters long. I expect that shit from Pope, but— You stop again, opening your settings. A second fingerprint is set there, next to yours. – What the fuck is wrong with you?

– Don’t turn this around right now!

– That’s rich, JJ! And I’m the one who’s insane?! You’re a fucking stalker!

JJ scoffs, but it’s different now—less angry, more… wounded. Like you just slapped him in the face instead of uncovering something deeply fucked up. He shakes his head, stepping back like he needs distance from you.

– Are you serious right now? – His voice is quieter, rougher. – After everything?

You stare at him, blood still thrumming in your ears. – After everything? JJ, you just—

– No, you don’t get it. You don’t fucking get it. – He lets out a breathless laugh, dragging his hand down his face. – I knew something was off. I knew you were pulling away. I knew you were sneaking around, lying to me—

– I’m pulling away because you’re messing around with Kie!

– I’m not! Baby, I— He’s slapping himself, pulling out his hair. – I was trying to make you jealous, okay?! I just want you to pay attention to me! But you’re either glued to your phone talking to Barry, or you’re around John B, doing everything for him, everything I want you to do for me!

– What the fuck are you talking about?! He’s my fucking brother, JJ!

– BUT HE DOESN’T DESERVE IT! – He screams, the vitriol burning against his lips like acid. – He was always horrible to you, and I was there! I was there! I wanted you!

– What are you talking about?! You’ve hated me since we were kids!

– NO! I— I wanted you to look at me. I just wanted you to—Please. Just look at me, okay? I don’t want you sneaking around with Barry or with Rafe, or whatever! I want you here! With me!

– Sneaking around—JJ, you broke into my fucking phone—

– Because you wouldn’t fucking talk to me! – His voice cracks on the last word, and it throws you for a second—because the anger is still there, but there’s something else now, something desperate. His hands are in his hair, gripping like he’s holding himself together. – Do you even hear yourself? Do you even care? Or are you just gonna act like I’m some fucking psycho and not the guy who’s been there for you? The guy who—who has wanted you since I was kid?!

Your breath catches.

JJ exhales sharply, jaw clenching like he hates himself for saying it, for letting it slip out in the middle of this.

– You were there for me. – He continues. – When your brother couldn’t be. When my dad started— When he drank. You remember that, don’t you? You took care of me. You always took care of me. John B couldn’t get that! Even if he tried, y’know, who knows, maybe he did! But he was always this golden boy! Your dad, he— He treated him like he could do no wrong— He’d never get it. But you did! You always got me!

You’re quiet. Because you remember.

You remember taking a beating for JJ the day John sent you there to give him his surfboard. You remember laying there on the floor, his dad pulling you by the hair, because you stood there while JJ ran. You remember the face he made when his dad threw you out.

How he fell apart in your arms.

How you remained there, holding him, as he bled through your clothes.

And it tears you apart.

Because the way he spoke to you before, is exactly the way his father used to speak to him.

– But yeah. Sure. I’m the stalker. I’m the crazy one. – He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. – You’re so fucking worried about me following you, but you don’t care that you’re running straight to him! – His eyes flash with something sharp, something dark. – You think he gives a shit about you? You think Rafe fucking Cameron isn’t watching your every move, waiting for you to fuck up so he can sink his claws in? Like Barry did? – He steps forward, voice lowering like he’s telling you some ugly secret.

Your heart jumps in your chest at the mention. JJ knows this is a low blow. – You don’t know anything about Barry and me.

– I know he hurt you. – He’s almost pleading. – He hurt you because you were with him, when you should’ve been with me.

– JJ—

– I did this to protect you. Let me protect you. Like you protected me.

There it is. The flip.

You feel like you might faint.

JJ exhales shakily, his fingers flexing like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. The anger is fizzling out, but what’s left is somehow worse—smaller. He looks at you, really looks at you, and suddenly it’s like all the fight drains out of him.

– I can’t keep doing this. – His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. He shakes his head, eyes flickering away like he’s embarrassed, like you’ve just torn him down completely. – I don’t—I don’t know how else to prove it to you. How else to make you see that I just wanted to keep you safe.

His shoulders drop. He looks exhausted.

– But you don’t believe me. You won’t ever fucking believe me, will you? – He laughs, but it’s hollow, broken. – It doesn’t matter what I do. Doesn’t matter that I would literally die for you—Jesus Christ, I would, and you don’t even fucking see it. I’d do anything for you, and you’re just standing there, looking at me like I’m a fucking monster.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

– I mean—fuck, what am I supposed to do? Huh? – His voice cracks. His eyes are glassy now, but he swipes a hand over his face before anything can fall. – You want me to apologize? I will. You want me to beg? Fine. – He laughs breathlessly, shoulders shaking as he sinks down onto the curb like his body just gave up. – I’ll fucking beg.

Your stomach twists.

– Just— he exhales, hands clinging to your hips. – Can we go home? – His voice is so quiet now, so defeated. – Please. I don’t wanna fight anymore. I don’t wanna—fuck, I don’t even care. Just let me take you home. That’s all I want.

He looks up at you, and for the first time tonight, he looks fragile. Worn down. Like he’s carrying something too heavy for him, and the only thing keeping him from collapsing is you.

And God help you, part of you wants to believe him.

– JJ. – Your voice is sharp, but your hands are shaking. – This isn’t about that—this isn’t about you wanting to take me home. This is about what you did—

– I know! – he cuts in, his breath coming too fast, too uneven. His hands fist in his hair, like he’s trying to hold himself together by sheer force. – I know, okay? I fucked up, I fucking know— He stumbles over his own words, gasping, like the weight of it is physically pressing down on him. – But I can’t—

His voice breaks.

– I can’t lose you over this. Over Rafe fucking Cameron and his bullshit.

The air between you shifts. Something inside him just collapses.

– Please. – His chest is heaving, his eyes wet, his whole body trembling like he’s about to snap. – I don’t—I don’t know how to make you stay. I don’t know how to fix this. – His voice cracks again, and this time, his knees buckle.

You barely have time to react before he’s falling into you, grabbing fistfuls of your clothes, his breath hitching against your belly. His whole body is shaking.

– I’m sorry. – His words spill out in a frantic, broken rush. – I’m so fucking sorry. Please—please don’t go. Just—just let me take you home, baby, please—

His arms tighten around you, like if he holds on hard enough, he can force you to stay. And God, you shouldn’t. You should push him away, make him listen, make him answer for this.

But he’s crying.

JJ Maybank—loud, reckless, impossible JJ—is sobbing into you like a little kid, like he’s breaking apart right in front of you.

You inhale shakily, your hands hovering before you finally give in, falling before him on the ground, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his hair.

– It’s okay, – you whisper, even though it isn’t. Even though nothing is.

But it’s all he wants to hear.

JJ exhales sharply, his whole body collapsing into yours with something like relief. – Don’t leave me.

– I won’t.

And maybe you mean it.

Maybe that’s the scariest part.

You let him fall apart against you, his body wracked with silent tremors as he clings to you like a lifeline. His breath is uneven, ragged, hot against your skin, and his fingers fist into your top, desperate, like letting go isn’t an option. He presses closer, his whole body sinking into yours, like he’s trying to disappear inside you, like that’s the only place he might be safe.

And you let him. You hold him as his shoulders shake, as he fights to keep from outright sobbing, as the weight of whatever broke him presses down so hard you swear you can feel it, too. He’s unraveling in your arms, piece by piece, like he’s been holding himself together for so long that the second you touched him, he lost the strength to keep pretending.

So you kiss the top of his head, soft but steady, and something in him shifts.

JJ exhales, a long, shuddering breath against your skin, like you’ve reached inside him and pulled all that tension from his chest. His body, wound so tightly, begins to loosen—his grip on you eases, but only enough for his hands to smooth over your back instead of clutching desperately. He leans into you now not just from pain, but from something quieter, something softer.

You feel it in the way his breathing slows, in the way the tremors start to fade as your fingers trace slow circles over his back. His arms tighten around you again, but it’s different this time—not frantic, not desperate. Just… needing you. Needing to be here, against you, in your warmth, in this small, quiet moment where he can finally let go.

His face stays buried in the crook of your neck, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse but steady.

– I’m sorry, – He murmurs, again and again, lips moving against your skin.

You shake your head slightly, your fingers still stroking his back. – It’s okay.

And maybe for him, it actually is. Maybe just for a moment, with your hands in his hair and his body wrapped around yours, he feels something like peace. He doesn’t let go—not yet. He holds on, reveling in the comfort you offer, pressing into you like he never wants to leave. Like you’re the first real breath of air he’s had in a long time.

You stay like that, until the silence grows too heavy and you sigh. – We should go.

JJ doesn’t argue. He pulls back slowly, blinking, his eyes still red-rimmed but calmer, softer. His fingers linger at your waist before he finally steps up, exhaling like he’s reluctant to leave the space you created for him.

The drive is quiet, with him pulling your arms tighter around him everytime he gets the chance. You don’t protest. For a moment it's almost comforting, sitting on the back of his bike, without a word being spoken between you. But the feeling sits there, in your chest, that shiver you got when you realized he’s been following you.

It's not just caution.

It's not strangeness.

It's fear. A real, tangible fear of what he did, of what he can still do. Of what he might have continued doing had you not realized it. —It curls up around your throat, that fear. Pressing against your windpipe. You almost struggle to breathe.— You remain there, arms fastened around him as he slows down, pulling the brakes just before your house, even when he finally stops.

JJ leans back into you, breathing deep, clutching your hand to his chest, his body completely relaxed against yours. You’re still wondering. Mind still running.

How long had he followed you for?

Had he been trailing you? Close behind, just out of reach, or had he stared at your location, waiting, watching you without seeing you?

You don’t know which is worse.

– John B’s with Sarah tonight. – JJ mumbles, his head thrown back against your shoulder, the ends of his hair tickling your face. – I saw him sneak out. He’s probably gonna sleep there. – You hum, not really sure of what to say. – Pope and Kie are gone too. – His thumb brushes over the back of your hand slowly, his voice growing deeper, lower. – It’s just the two of us now.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t know what to say.

JJ looks back as you throw your leg over the other side of the bike, and climb down. He still clings to your hand like he’s got you on a leash: you have to remain there as he pulls the key from the ignition, as he sets his things in the top-box, as he leans back against the seat, pulling you in for a kiss.

You meet his mouth briefly, close-lipped, his fingers interlocking with yours as he pulls you in for another, and another, and one more. – I missed this. – He whispers, eyes barely open, already leaning in again.

– It’s been two days. – You remind him, but JJ only laughs.

– Two too many.

You don’t resist when he pulls you closer. His hands find your hips, sliding beneath the waistband of your jeans, calloused fingers pressing into the small of your back like he’s trying to mold you against him. He kisses you again—deeper, messier, his breath warm and tinged with something desperate.

JJ doesn’t just want this. He needs it.

That's what you like about him. He takes like he can’t get enough. He begs, and he grasps and he clings and he needs you like he needs air to breathe.

His hands are restless, traveling up your ribs, down your waist, over your thighs, like he’s trying to make up for lost time, like touching you might steady him, might ground him. But it doesn’t. The more he touches you, the more insatiable he gets. He’s humming against your lips, sighing into your touch, a little frantic, a little unsteady.

You pull him inside, but JJ can’t seem to break the kiss. He takes your hands to the hem of his shirt, tugging impatiently, his lips dragging from your mouth to your jaw to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin between whispered pleas.

– Touch me, – he breathes, his voice cracking like the weight of everything is still right there, lingering beneath the surface.

Your fingers slip into his hair, threading through the strands, and JJ shudders. He melts against you, knees almost buckling as he exhales a sharp, shaky breath.

– Fuck, – he mumbles, almost laughing, giddy and drunk on your touch. He’s clinging to you now, pressing his body into yours, murmuring against your lips, deeper, please, until you give in, kissing him the way he wants. The way he needs.

He moans softly, hands gripping your waist, pushing your top up just to feel your skin against his palms. He’s lost in this, lost in you, smiling against your mouth in that dazed, breathless way, like nothing else exists beyond the way your body fits against his.

Like everything is fine.

Even it isn’t, not really.

You lead him to your room, kicking the door behind you as he falls back on the bed, tearing his shirt off of him as if it were burning. He doesn’t even give you the time to think before he’s pulling you on top of him.

You try to guide him through the motions, letting his hands explore, letting him pull you closer, letting him bury his face in your neck, all while your mind is somewhere else. Detached. Floating.

Because underneath it all—beneath the heat of his mouth and the weight of his body and the way he pleads for you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart—there’s that feeling.

That cold, creeping thing at the back of your mind.

That fear.

It wraps around your throat, pressing tight, squeezing, reminding you of what he did. Of how long he must have followed you, watching, waiting, just out of reach.

Of how much worse it could’ve been if you hadn’t noticed.

JJ doesn’t see it. He doesn’t feel it. He only sees you, only feels your hands, your lips, the comfort he’s so desperate to take from you.

– I missed this, – he murmurs again, voice slurring slightly, hands still moving, still searching. – Fuck, baby I missed this so much.

You swallow hard, exhaling slowly, before finally answering.

– I know.

And you let him keep touching you, let him revel in this, let him have this, because maybe if he does, he’ll calm down. Maybe if he does, you’ll feel safe again.

JJ exhales against your skin, his body completely unwound, pliant beneath your hands. – Take it off. – He groans, hands shaking against his breeches. – Take it off of me, baby. Please. I just want you to be on me. I need it. Please.

You don’t need to be told twice.

He watches, almost breathless while you strip him bare, moaning at every touch, hips bucking every time you brush against him.

That doesn’t last long though.

It isn’t enough that just your hands are on him. So he drags you onto his dick, still clothed, and he grinds himself into you, eyes rolling back.

There’s something raw about the way he touches you—like he’s savoring every inch, like he’ll be going through withdrawal unless he doesn’t hold on tight enough. His fingers dig into your sides as he pulls your hips into his, his laugh breathy, almost delirious.

– God, I fucking love this, – he mutters against your shoulder, his hands slipping beneath your top, his thumbs brushing lazy circles over your skin.

This.

Not you—this.

The warmth. The closeness. The way you let him touch you, take what he needs. – You love this too, right baby? Your hips— He moans, head thrown back when you roll your hips against his cock, the fabric of your jeans giving just the friction he needs to work himself up. – You're so fucking good at this.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he kisses up your throat, his lips tracing familiar paths, his breath hot and unsteady. He hums when you card your fingers through his hair again, pressing into your touch like he’s melting from the inside out.

He's getting wilder, humping you with this reckless abandon he never seems to shake off. But you can see him unraveling. Just the friction isn't scratching the itch.

He needs more.

– Take it off, baby. Please. Please. – he sighs, voice catching, eyes blown out. – Fuck, give it to me. Just ride me.

You hesitate. Your fingers still against the nape of his neck. The sounds he makes, strangled, anguished. Like he’s going mad.

You actually hear him whine when you lift your hips, and his hand flies down to palm himself while he watches you pull the jeans down.

He tilts his head up, catching your mouth again, dragging you deeper into him. His hands slide down, gripping the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer until he's practically in you.

But you don’t let him sink in just yet.

It's more fun when you drag it out.

When you move against him, teasing him, watching him twitch and moan and plead with nothing but the wetness, the softness, the warmth.

There’s a slow, creeping sickness curling in your stomach.

Because you’re leading this. Because you know what he needs, and you’re not quite giving it to him. Because you’re letting him press closer, letting him unravel, letting him forget—for just a little while—that anything is wrong at all.

And a part of you wants to forget too.

It feels good.

It doesn’t matter what he did, what he would do, because he needs you. He can’t get enough of you. He won't leave.

– Please. Please. – He repeats it like a mantra, writhing beneath you, clutching you so fucking tight. His hips go rogue, bucking wildly. – Please let me fuck you. I need to fuck you. Please. Fuck, I can't take this anymore!

The laughter that falls from your lips almost seems to stoke the flames.

He groans out loud when tip pushes into you, and for a second, his entire body just collapses against yours, heavy, needy.

Then his hands slip under your bra again, tugging at the fabric, his breath hot and desperate against your skin.

– Let me see you, – he murmurs, voice thick, rough. – G-Go ahead, baby. I need you to move. Please.

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his lips kiss-swollen, his expression open in a way that makes you ache.

JJ wants you. That much is obvious.

But more than that—he wants to disappear into you.

To sink into your warmth, your touch, your body, and let it drown out whatever’s eating him alive from the inside.

Your stomach twists.

His fingers have long stopped tracing slow patterns against your ribs, now he's bruising you, nails digging in, shaking, waiting. Pleading.

You could give him what he wants. It would be easy. So, so easy.

But for the first time since this started, you wonder if you should. – And who said you deserve that, JJ?

– Huh?

– Because with the way you talked to me before, I don’t think you do. – You move, just slightly, and he folds, back arching. – I think you’re gonna have to convince me.

– Please. Baby, please.

– You think I'm pathetic. – You tsk, your hips rolling so slow his eyes flutter when they roll back. – I'm not the one who’s begging, though.

– Please! – He's screaming now, and you’re moving faster. The bed creaking beneath you. – I need it! Faster, baby. Faster!

He's splayed out, a puppet with the strings cut loose, yet he's anything but relaxed. You can feel him tensing, hands fisting the sheets so tight his knuckles have gone white.

He screams.

Almost yelping when you start going at the pace you know he likes. And it still isn't enough. He still grabs your hips, pulling you closer, and closer, again and again, banging against that soft spot within you like it's the only thing that can relieve him from this torture.

And you let him.

You ride him like a bronco, as if he’s trying to fuck you off instead of closer. As if he isn't begging for it. Screaming for it. – MORE, BABY, PLEASE!

You want more too.

At some point you lost yourself in trying to punish him, and it started to feel good. You're biting him, teeth dragging against the skin at the crook of his neck, the spot that always makes him shudder, that always makes him writhe.

Your nails have mapped half his body over.

He's red. —His face, his eyes, his lips, his scratches.— He’s gasping. Shaking. His whole body trembling, his eyes rolling back. You can’t even make sense of what he's saying anymore.

The only thing that leaves his mouth are these incoherent pleas, these oohs and aahs that make you laugh, humming to yourself as you ride into your orgasm, feeling him fall apart.

– F-uck, fuck! Don’t stop! Feels so fucking good baby, so fucking good! – He pushes it in faster, but it's still not enough. He needs more, he was going mad! Grabs you by the waist, tosses you on the bed, rutting like a wild dog, head thrown back, eyes rolling upwards. – Fuck! Fuck! Feel s-feel so fucking good!

All that was heard was your laughter, the pleased little gasps that escape your mouth as he fills you up over and over and over again, animalistic and heaving, laughing as well, but out of his mind, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure, by the building release. He crashes against you, once, twice, getting careless. But by then he couldn’t hold it in. More! More! is all you heard from him.

And then you felt it.

His body shudders all over again, still rutting like his life would end. – God. God! I need to cum— fuck! I need— I need— Keep going! Don’t fucking stop baby, don— FUCK! FUCK!

You felt him coat your walls, white, hot, and endless. By then, you were shaking as well, the waves of your own climax washing over you as you arch against him.

He collapses over you, trembling and crying as he smiles, moaning your name in that shaky, adoring voice, eyes clinging to you in utter joy as he pumped lazily, through your climax and his, he still needed more of you. – It won-won’t stop. Fuck, there’s so m-much of it. – Laughter. Yours, his.

Your mind is blank.

He's heavy, heaving, still inside you.

JJ's breathing is ragged, each exhale a shaky whisper as he remains, still there, still trembling with the aftershocks. His hands wander aimlessly across the sheets, his body warm and heavy, as though he's been consumed entirely. His eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, and a soft whimper escapes him as he reaches for your hand.

– Baby... can you...? – His voice is slurred, broken, as if he’s still caught between the pleasure and the exhaustion of it all. His hand gently tugs at your wrist, his fingers brushing against your skin. – Just... touch me. Please... softly.

There was that, too.

He was always sweeter when he was done.

You give a soft, reassuring smile, your fingers gently grazing his messy hair, pushing the strands out of his face, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before you speak in the same soft, soothing tone. – I’m here, JJ. I got you.

He hums in response, his eyes fluttering closed, a content sigh escaping his lips as you run your fingers through his hair, the action slow and comforting. – I’m... Fuck— Laughter buzzes against your skin as he presses his lips on you again. – I'm never getting used to this... I’m not used to this, – he mumbles between shaky breaths, his hand coming to rest on your arm, the weight of his touch grounding him. – Feels... too good. I need you to... keep me close. Just... just a little longer.

You hate the way your heart skips.

But you love the way he says it.

The way his voice brushes against your skin when he pleads, so softly, so sweetly. Like he could never do you harm.

You shift slightly, pulling him into your chest, the warmth of his body a constant reassurance. His hand rests over your heart, the frantic pace of his pulse now slowing, but his face is still pinched with that lingering tension, a mix of exhaustion and need for reassurance. He lets out a soft groan as you press your lips to his temple, whispering, – I’m right here. You’re okay.

His breath evens out, and as the minutes pass, you keep stroking his hair and kissing his head, each kiss lighter than the last, until his body relaxes fully, his grip on you loosens. – Love you.

You feel yourself tense up.

It’s not the first time he says it.

But it might be the first time you know he doesn’t mean it.

Still you smile down at him anyway, pressing another gentle kiss to his forehead before whispering back, – Sure you do, baby. Go to sleep, okay?

He doesn’t need much encouragement.

JJ's never been easy to tire out, but when he does, it's immediate. His ear is pressed to your chest, to your heart, and you wonder what kind of dreams he’ll be having with that soundtrack, but it doesn't take long for his breath to even out.

The house is quiet.

Completely so.

And though you're glad John wasn't there to hear it, laying there, without his snoring to lull you into even halfway into reality only means that it crashes against you like a bucket of cold water a soon as JJ is out.

The day dawns on you, as it has done several times, but still the loathing blooms in your chest and spreads through your body faster than your mind can process.

You're broke.

You're jobless.

The girl you thought was your best friend is a snake.

The boy that's sleeping on you is a stalker.

Your best prospect right now is famously the most spoiled and volatile person on the island. That, because your best friend, the person that could actually get you out of this, has faded away after abandoning you, and you have no idea if he’ll even come back.

What's funny is that this is the thought that hurts you most —Not that you're unemployed, that your now previous boss could ruin you forever, that your relationship with only family member is as unstable as your financial situation, or that the people you thought you could trust don’t care about you— that Barry is gone.

Something he has been plenty of times before.

You lie there in the stillness, the weight of JJ's body pressing against yours. The sheets feel too warm, too much, a world you can’t find a way into. JJ’s steady breathing is a lullaby of sorts, pulling you toward the edge of exhaustion, but it’s not enough to quiet the thoughts tumbling relentlessly in your head.

Barry's absence gnaws at you —You know he’s not gone forever, not really. Or at least you hope so. He’s done this before, pulled away just long enough for you to convince yourself it doesn’t matter. And yet, it hurts like it does. Like it’s different this time.

You turn your head to glance at him—JJ, still sleeping soundly, unaware. His face is soft, the usual edge to his features dulled by exhaustion, but even now, with him so vulnerable in your arms, you feel the invisible distance between you grow. He’s a comfort, but only in the way a warm blanket can make you feel safe when the storm is too loud. And it is too loud. So loud you can barely breathe through it.

Your fingers trace patterns along his skin, but it’s absent, mechanical—the world outside the room, the boy in your arms, the life that’s slipping from your fingers, and the ghost that won’t stop haunting you, and you don't even know why.

Barry.

You know, deep down, that it’s not about him being gone. It’s about the fact that, despite what JJ has just tried to convince you of, Barry actually is the one person that was there for you.

When your father went away, he celebrated with you. When he was declared missing, he comforted you, even if you said you didn't care. Even if you didn't even know you needed it.

And maybe that's the problem: He saw you better than you saw yourself. He knows you. Really knows you.

But does he now?

So much has changed in two days.

You can’t even tell yourself it was real anymore because everything you thought you knew about him, about you, is shifting—becoming something else you can’t identify.

There’s no way to put a name to it, though, is there? That dull ache you’ve learned to live with. Not quite loneliness, but not contentment, either. Just an empty space where hope used to live, and you're so used to it now that you don’t know what it would feel like to fill it.

You let your gaze fall to JJ again, watching the way his back rises and falls with the easy rhythm of sleep. Maybe this is it—this is what you have now. A boy who doesn’t even know what he’s asking for when he whispers his need into the quiet night. And you, too tired to push him away, too lost to turn to anything else. You can almost convince yourself it’s enough, and for a second, you do.

But then, Barry’s face flickers in your mind again, like a ghost.

You wonder, just for a moment, if you would’ve been able to say anything if he were here. If you would’ve told him how much you needed him to help you, how much you needed him to be here, not just physically, but with you in the way that only he ever did.

But he’s not here.

And you’re not sure when he will be again.

The buzz of your phone slices through the silence. You freeze. What's the likelihood that he would call you right then, when you needed him most?

You slide from under JJ, and he grumbles, hands reaching for you even deep into sleep, but you don’t see it. All you see is the unknown number flashing on your screen amidst the darkness, and your heart races as you bring the phone to your ear. – Bee? – The word falls from your lips almost fearfully. You don’t want to know where he's been, what he's doing, or how much of what he had to take to call you like this, in the middle of the night. But you’re impatient to hear his voice, you just want to know if he's okay. – Bee, is that you?

The line scratches softly, the familiar sound of skin whispering against the microphone echoing in-between the two phones. Your pulse thrums against your ear. – Not bee. – You finally hear. – Are, actually.

– “Are”? Barry, what are you talking about? What did you take?

– It’s not Barry, baby. – The edge of his words resounded even through the distance. Pleased, but not quite satisfied. – It’s Rafe.

You let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

– Oh, “R”. Okay I got it.

He chuckles, a long, breathy noise. His breathing is heavy. – Did you put the cry-baby to sleep or is he still up whining?

JJ turns in his sleep. His arm, still lying, lax, over your lap shifts, and he pulls himself closer, brow brushing against your thigh. – JJ is… gone.

– Good. Thought I was gonna have to call CPS or some shit. – He scoffs, turning, in bed, you gather, since you hear the squeak of furniture.

– How considerate.

– Well, baby, I'm nothing if not considerate. – He hums. – What are you doing awake?

Regretting your life decisions, pondering the benefits of suicide. – Thinking of you. – It was meant to be a joke, but it didn’t sound like one as it slipped from your lips.

There's half a second of silence from him before you hear that laugh again, like you shocked him.

Rafe Cameron was shocked.

That's definitely a headline.

You can almost hear the smirk on his face. – I was thinking about you too, baby. What are you wearing?

You scoff, almost rolling your eyes. – Rafe.

He laughs again, even breathier. – Sorry. Was that too soon? – His bed creaks again. – You don’t seem like the kind of girl who needs a lot of foreplay.

– Hilarious.

– I was really hoping you'd give me a taste of what you’re wearing tomorrow, though.

You look down almost unconsciously. The only thing covering your skin is sweat. – Definitely not what I'm wearing right now. Unless you're hiring for a job other than personal chef.

Rafe’s quiet again. He moves around. You can hear him breathing. – Maybe I am. What kind of job are you thinking?

– Well, aren’t you the little hiring agency? Should've met you before. There’s some things on my resume I'm definitely not proud of. – He laughs with you now, though there's something strange in his tone. – Did you talk to your governess, or that other guy you said you didn't know the name of?

– Did. We'll be waiting for you.

– Well, you call and I come. – He laughs at the double-entendre, another noise escaping his lips. – What time should I be there?

– How's 10 AM sound?

– Perfect, Rafe. Thank you. Again, really. I can’t thank you enough.

– You're welcome, baby. You really are. – He groans, the bed creaking. JJ moves around again, his head on your lap, hands around your knees, and he mumbles something unintelligible. – What was that?

– Sorry, uhm. Just… thinking out loud.

You swallow, but Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. – And what are you thinking about?

– About… What I'm gonna wear. – Improvising was never really your forte.

Rafe hums, a long stretch of the M, then something smaller, a sound you can't quite catch. – That skirt. – He sighs. – The blue pleated one.

You pause.

– What?

– It's pretty. – Is all he says, then a groan, or a purr. The phone falls on his pillow, you can hear it scratch against his skin as he moves. But the way he says it, as if he’s seen it a thousand times in the two days you've known each other, as if he can picture you wearing it right in front of him. – Fuck, baby. You’re so pretty.

The compliment grates at your ears.

How does he know your clothes?

You think of the skirt. Your blue pleated skirt. It's been ages since you've worn it. It's way too short. You’ve outgrown it a while ago. – What else, baby?

– Hm?

– What else are you wearing for me?

His bed creaks again, over and over, and he doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just sighs.

– I, uhm. I don’t know. – What even is this conversation?

– Far as I'm concerned you don't need to wear anything. You can come— He laughs, low and unsteady, a strangled “yeah” cutting through the word. – Come as you are.

You feel a trickle of repulse run down your back. You don’t wanna talk to him anymore. You don’t want to talk at all.

– Talk to me, baby. – He groans, again.

– I, uhm. – You kick the nightstand, the noise echoing loudly around your room. – Shit, uhm. Sorry, that's my brother. I'll see you tomorrow.

You kill the line before he can say anything else.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @sassyvillaintrophy @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss

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a-shrimp-for-you · 4 months ago

Text

Unread Messages

All OM characters (except for ‘newest’ 3) x Gn!reader (approx. 3.8k words)

-A/N: orginally written 14/3/22 but never published have changed some parts! I came across it deep in my docs and decided to finally do it lol hardcore procrastination x

-angst with minimal comfort, diverted from some canon plot points, maybe a lil OOC?? Just a tinsy :P

-WARNING: OG!OM chapters 1-16/17 spoilers.

Desc: Time travel is no joke. Neither is facing those who have harmed you. The past month has been a blur of emotions but you decide to open up memories from a past reality that seem to be currently pulling you down, even though to you try to keep pushing forward. You’ll end up spiralling if you don’t. Will this be for the better or worse, is the true question.

After making a beeline over to your bedside table, you scoured through its drawers. You were having Saturday movie night with Beel and Belphie, something that had been recently added to your tight schedule, and you had left quickly to fetch your emergency snacks (just in case there wasn’t enough). But you couldn’t quite remember which drawer you left them in.

It was taking some time, but, slowly you were patching up the broken relationships Belphie had with his brothers during the aftermath of that incident. Everything seemed to be normal again. Mammon running away from a furious Lucifer after maxing out Goldie, playing Mononoke Land all night with Levi, reading and discussing sessions with Satan about the newest releases and makeovers or shopping trips with Asmo. It seemed normal, but something was off. Whether it was when you would mention a memory from early on in the year and one of the brothers gave you a strange look as if they didn’t recall. Or when you would search through your D.D.D.’s camera roll top to bottom to find a picture that you swore you took. It wasn’t their fault but you could put two and two together, it was the result of jumping between realities that were not as identical as the one you came from.

You tried not to think about it because it made you spiral when you did. It made you wonder if the prior timelines D.D.D. you had on you before staying in this timeline still worked and still received the notifications from another goddamn dimension or not. It made you wonder if the brothers sending those notifications to that D.D.D still hope that you’re alive and trying to get back to them, to where you truly belong. It made you wonder if your family and friends from the human world that you were whisked away from think that you’re dead.

Nothing was out of order, in fact these were small differences, but they did speak volumes in the long run. And what about Belphie? Was he locked down deep below the Devildom in the Demon Lord's castle dungeons? Did Lucifer stand up against Diavolo to save his family? If he did… where would they fall to next-

No- MC don’t think about that! Lord Diavolo would wait for you, he cared about you, right? He just sent you on a mission and you failed miserably. No. No! It was the prior MCs own fault for being stupid and weak and dying! But, how could you blame another version of yourself when you were so close to making the same mistake. Everything is a misunderstanding. Belphie just had a lot of built up emotions, all of the brothers do but they just couldn’t express it at the time, but you’ve helped them change and improve. They have their reasons. It just doesn’t help the fact that he killed you.

You swallowed thickly, opening the bottom draw after contemplating. Maybe looking at it could help you clear your mind, I mean - you haven’t touched it in a month or so. However long ago you came to this timeline. When Belphie was freed you had had it on you for the duration of transpiring events and proceeded to take it through to this timeline without even realising. After the ordeal settled and you could escape to the quite of this timelines room - your other versions room - on the rustled up and unkept blankets that looked akin to your own back in your own timeline, was another D.D.D. You’d think it’d just combined together as so did your body when you revealed yourself, but alas it didn’t, leaving you with two unbeknownst to the brothers and began to use this timelines version, hiding the other away. Surprisingly, Mammon hadn’t come across it in one of his scavenger hunts of items to steal for himself “sell”-

You pressed the home button of your original timelines D.D.D. But it was dead, per usual, you couldn’t blame it for the hours you spent on it playing mobile games Levi suggested to you or just swiping through Devilgram, the battery would’ve died out due to not being charged or used in the past weeks. You put it on charge and left to get snacks from the kitchen instead, as well as to walk off some nerves. The boys could wait, they’d be fine and would know where to find you.

When you returned with kitchen found snacks, it was alive with only 1%, but would do if kept on charge. Old, unsent notifications came flying through, from missed calls to messages, game notifications, reminders, and more. They ranged from being a month old to… 2 hours ago? From Mammon, it was most likely he’d be one who held on the most that you would finally message him back. Your heart ached.

.. At least they were… alive. Who knows how they were doing though.

You swiped all the way down to the bottom of your unread messages and started reading. The first message was from Barbatos, you suspected he sent after you entered the door;

Barbatos - 1 month ago

-MC, stay safe and hidden. You could cause quite a bit of problems if you were to be spotted. Make sure to come back through the door you came through once the job is done. Good luck.

-The others are beginning to panic. Please do not fail Young Master. Or me for that matter. I wouldn’t forgive myself if so.

A bit too late now. You cleared your throat from tightening further, refusing the urge to cry. Not yet at least.

The next was from Lord Diavolo. You couldn’t tell what he really wanted out of sending his most weakest exchange student into another timeline without any magical powers or hardcore strength. Problems would arise if you didn’t return of course. Maybe he had a lot of faith in you since you had lasted so far. Maybe he wanted to get rid of you because it was the only thing he thought he could do to solve the abundance of problems, but if that was ever leaked to human media, wars could start.

But everything changed when you saw his message.

Lord Diavolo - 1 month ago

-MC, the brothers have faith you are coming back. But .. It’s already been a few hours, and if you see this I want to say I’m terribly sorry. I don’t even know what came over me or what I was thinking, it’s incredibly irresponsible of me as the heir to the throne and one who you entrusted with your own safety at the highest rank throughout the exchange year course.. one of the brothers should’ve gone with you or- no, I should’ve gone instead of you. I put that responsibility onto you. And I’m sorry.

-I truly am

Emotions flowed through you; frustration, guilt, sadness, longing. You could at least make out he regretted his power and anger driven actions. It had taken him so long to conjure resources and support to form his program and to have his own exchange student help the opposer .. It had taken you a few weeks to look at Dia in the eyes again, as well as Barbatos, because every time you did they had this knowing and saddened look.

But you continued forth, messages from Luke, Solomon and Luke. They would’ve noticed the lack of your presence at RAD as soon as the day started and were informed, all except Luke.

Simeon - 1 month ago

-Hey MC, once you’re back, promise you’ll come make those cookies with Luke and I? He’s really missing you right now and if you could answer him or even me it would probably make him feel a lot better :) I hope you return safely, please don’t get caught up in things and come back hurt. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

Luke - 1 month ago

-Hiya MC! Please return my calls once you get back from your vacation so I can make you welcome back cookies! Or pastries! Whatever you want :)

-Please MC!

-I.. I know something is wrong, no one is acting normal or telling the truth. One of those horrible demons better not have done anything to you.

Solomon - 1 month ago

-Remember the small protection spell I had been helping you learn and perfect. I’ve seen you harness true magical power before, beyond what I passed to you that night at the Demon Lord’s castle. You’ve got this.

-I had to take Luke’s phone away, Simeon gave him some tea that’ll make him sleepy, but it seems right now he has enough energy to fly. Hahah..

-Please be okay.

My head hurts. You hadn’t even scratched the surface yet your head was pounding, heart racing, eyes couldn’t tear themselves from the screen no matter how much you wanted them to. You scrolled not even a bit and the brothers had begun sending influxes of message to you.

Mammon - 1 month ago

-MC WHERE ARE YOU?! I’m just.. kinda bored right now! But I’m not worried or anything yknow, don’t get any ideas stupid human.

-Can you answer me?!! JUST ONCE!

-Even if it’s an overdue bill that Lucifer thinks you can sneak on to me, I don’t care!

-I never meant to call you names

-Are you tryin’ to torture me?!

-I’m freakin’ the fuck out please just answer me! Damn it

-I have faith in you.

No Mammon…

-I have faith you’ll come back to me and my brothers and the damn angels, everyone!

You scrolled not much further before he started confessing…

-MC I LOVE YOU OKAY? ITS ONLY BEEN A FEW HOURS WHATS GONNA HAPPEN WHEN YOUR YEAR IS UP HUH?!

Tears. Tears quickly flowed, your eyes burning. The dam had finally burst, flowing over. You didn’t know how much more you could take.

Beel was next.

Beelzebub - 1 month ago

-Mc, I hope you’re okay. We’ll be okay as long as you are. Even if you don’t answer yet, if you ever do, I’ll be waiting. It’s because I’m immortal .. so I can wait a while. I don’t know what’s going to happen to Belphie if you don’t come back, but I know it’s not good. I hope Lucifer does something. Maybe they’ll go and retrieve you before deciding. Maybe they won’t because you’ll be on Belphie’s side. But whatever happens, stay safe cupcake :)

-He's been taken away. Again. I feel so hopeless and angry. I have no one, everyone is hiding in their rooms and can't control themselves in public. Demons have noticed you're gone and rumours are spreading that we did something. It’s going to get bad

-I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a meal. With you? It feels like I’m drowning entirely.

It hurts. Badly. The grief for him, yourself, the others. Why!! Why can’t things go back..

Satan took some time to create a calculated message to you and it made your heart sink further than you thought it could.

Satan - 3 weeks ago

-It’s been a week, MC. I’m not stupid. I’ve said it to you before, knowledge is power. But how much power can you really have when all you behold is just knowledge. I can’t time travel. I only have so many resources until I’ve run out and have to buy new ones.

-I chose to put our pact marks over our hearts because even though it’s been short, you’ve shown me how to feel other emotions other than wrath. Kindness, empathy, love. Adoration - for you, MC, you’re special to me.

-Typically I can feel what you’re feeling through our pact like the others can too, when you’re hangry when we don’t have food because Beel raided the fridge, when you’re crying with Levi watching TSL for the 105th time. But, I can’t feel it anymore, none of us can, don’t tell me that you’re… nevermind. I hope it’s just the time barriers. Otherwise, I don’t think I can hold back any longer. I’ve already destroyed my room and the library.. parts of the Lord’s castle and RAD..

-Well to distract myself, I’ve finally started writing that book. I’ll let you know how that goes. I’d love to hear what you think of it. Please.

Asmo’s messages killed you to read, because you knew he wouldn’t be handling the situation well just like the others

Asmodeus- 3 weeks ago

-DARLING HAVE YOU SEEN WHERE I PUT MY SHAMPOO??!!

-Oh dear it didn’t work. I was hoping you’d reply but that was a stupid idea.

-Hehe, you’re so cheeky by ignoring me~

-I bought over some of your items before the others had a chance

-I miss your smile.

-Photos aren’t the same..

-I can’t look in the mirror anymore, I covered them all up.

-your scent is completely gone, I hate myself from hugging your clothes and blankets

-I want to hear your voice tell me that you love me.. just one more time.

-don’t leave me all alone!!!

-I can’t sleep.

“Can you come to my room?~” you knew that would be typically his next message.

-i can’t stop crying because I know you can’t comfort me anymore.

You quickly swiped up and away from his messages onto the next before you would stop entirely. Which happened to be Levi’s. He had improved so much through the year, but knowing how sensitive to change he could be, he would’ve reverted to old ways in a matter of days.

Leviathan - 3 weeks ago

-Henry, I made a new slot in Mononoke land for when you come back! Then we can binge play it all night and the day after that and after that and after that! And then watch all the new anime’s that I’ve seen but I know you haven’t so then we can watch it and I can just watch your reactions becuase I know all the scenes since they’re engraved into my head!!!!!!!! Next is TSL! We cankdkkkddkdkskl3’xkskkaopuro843890-$#(;-.@‘a2]¥]2]]¥{}}}}€<€>£!_~]’sjm:$’sksk’elakzkNabsjdkfhrkknskksx

-oops

-I fell asleep. I’m really sleep deprived. You’d think a TSL marathon professional like me could handle being awake every night.

-I’ve been staying up, waiting for you. I can’t close my eyes without horrible thoughts flooding my head about where you are and what might’ve happened to you. Did… belphie… no he couldn’t have. I knew he was frustrated but it was out of spite for Lucifer not listening. I’ve heard them argue once about it all.

- I just .. keep waiting to see your account come online. I miss your presence and comfort, that you would put up with ME a disgusting otaku !!

-heh you would’ve scolded me for saying that. It’s not even the worst I’ve been thinking.

-Until now I didn’t realise how long you’ve been gone for...

Lucifer - 2 weeks ago

-MC, I need to confess something. During these weeks you’ve been gone my brothers have left to act on their own devices, avoiding having to attend RAD or do their council member duties. Cooped up in their rooms. But I have too. More so doing the loads of paperwork that I’ve taken on for them and dealing with… your family's and friends' concerns. We’ve been in contact with them. They want you home. Now. But what can I do when you’re lost into space and time itself?! If you were here beside me, you would’ve dragged me by the ear away from this mess, going on about how I need to rest and how you have this covered. Only you would have the courage to do that, it's something that is so endearing about you, my love.

-However, Lord Diavolo couldn’t leave Belphie unpunished, assuming the worst of the worst. He had him serve him and not give into his sin as the Avatar of Sloth, all the while Barbatos tried to reach you time and time again. But it seems that you’ve engraved yourself, physical being and soul, in a timeline that is unrecognisable to us now. I wonder what happened with him and yourself in this random timeline. Only you know.

-I only wish you the best, if you see this. Hopefully I can sort this out. But it might come down to something even worse. Unimaginable.

-I apologise, I was drinking severely last night. But those words were nothing but the truth. We miss you. I miss you. I can’t believe I’d let myself feel this vulnerable toward a human nonetheless. I was so angry at you I could’ve killed you myself when you told me you were assisting Belphie. But I know it came from the unstoppable kindness of your heart. I hope it beats still, and hopefully for me.

Those were the only messages Lucifer had wrote to you but it was enough to wrack a heaving sob through your body. It was a mistake. A mistake to keep this D.D.D. It was a mistake to look at it. It’s not fair - that’s what Levi would’ve said, regardless of which version of him. It made you let out a wet, sad chuckle in between your hysterics.

As you scrolled through the newer messages, you pressed on a notification by accident and it opened your D.D.D fully to this message.

You threw it in fear. But of what exactly? Well, you had just opened Mammon’s latest message, the one from only 2 hours ago.

What you had underestimated from the Avatar of Greed, is that he constantly checked to see if you had replied, let alone read his messages as he had nothing else to keep him occupied other than wallowing in his own despair of losing someone so deeply important to him. And you assumed as soon as he saw the tick next to that said message that it was the cause of your D.D.D. vibrating violently and silently, indicating that it was one; still on silent and two; that Mammon was calling you.

Wait, Mammon was calling you! Could this cause a catastrophe?! A rip in space and time itself as you knew it? If you pressed the answer button, you knew it’d be unfair for the rest of the others who awaited your answer, if there was one truly coming or not. You came to your senses and thought of what Barbatos would say to you. “Do not answer that in any circumstance-”.. and so you let it ring out, then crawled to the D.D.D. and shakily picked it up. Your eyes glossed over but you fought it by blinking furiously.

You swiped to your messages and went onto your group chat that had Solomon, the angels, demon brothers, demon Lord and his butler. Maybe a message would do. They wouldn’t hear a guilty temor in your voice. You typed a drafted message of a simple “Hi.” But dwelled on if this was the right thing to do. Mammon had already caught you, as he must’ve seen you typing on the chat, and quickly spammed your name over and over, asking if this was some sort of sick joke. This caused you to delete the two letters out of fear.

Lucifer - Mammon if you don’t stop repeatedly messaging right now, so help me if I hear this group chat go off once more, you WILL be hung on the staircase.

Mammon - NO!

Mammon - NO NO LOOK MC’S JS TYPIGN LOOKKKKKKKJD

Satan - A glitch perhaps?

Luke - MC?!!!

Leviathan - OMD OMD OMDDDDDDD MCCCCCC

Beelzebub - no way…

Asmodeus - DARLING??? PLEASE CALL ME I NEED TO HEAR YOUR VOICE I MISS YOU

Solomon - Lets just think here with at least some logic

Satan - As much as I hate to agree in this situation, we must.

Leviathan - Okay well .. I thought they left their D.D.D here

Simeon - If one of you has their D.D.D I will not hesitate.

Luke - YEAH!!

Lord Diavolo - I think it’s a glitch, why else would they be taking so long to answer?

Barbatos - It would be disappointing if it were a glitch.

Satan - I’ll go check their room to see if I can find it then. Levi, can you help me fix the glitch?

Leviathan - Yup.

Mammon - NO NO THERE HAS TO BE SOME SORT OF EXPLANATION

Mammon - PLEASE COME BACKKKKKK!

Lucifer - MAMMOOOOOOOOOON!

…

MC- I met Lilith.

Goddamnit why would you start off with that?! After thinking of what to type, thumbs twiddling over the keyboard unsure on what to start off with-

She’s quite pretty, you guys never really told me what she looked like but I could never blame you. Those.. memories..

Beelzebub - What!? What do you mean you met her?

Mammon - MCCCCCCC!!!!! COME BACK HOME TO ME PLEASE

Mammon - Wait what

Lucifer - Excuse me?

MC - more or less, the other MC from this timeline was killed. By… you could probably guess. I saw it through their eyes, after that I met her. She told me what happened, Lucifer, you don’t need to keep that burden to yourself anymore.

-And then I took their place since I couldn’t really get back. No matter how many times I tried opening that door. Sometimes I can’t even walk through it Barbs.. heh. I guess this timeline liked the looks of me y'know. And really ever since that, I’ve been mending your relationships with Belphie.

-I’m a descendant of Lilith, which explains a lot too.

-I’ll settle everything with my friends and family from your timeline so don’t worry. I must’ve brought my D.D.D through the door.

-Honestly, I don’t really know what else to say, ahah. Do I say a forever goodbye?

——

You felt horrible. Your eyes let out another wave of warm tears flowing down your dried ones. You had been on a phone call to your friends and lastly your family after clearing everything up with the other timeline, making every excuse in the book and reassuring you’d be in contact soon.

They probably had a weight lifted off their shoulders even though they’d never have you return but that weight felt tenfold as it slammed down on you so suddenly after being sort of resolved. At least they could rest knowing you were truly alive. And you hoped Belphie could be freed.

But you took quite a while to solve this situation for the time being, way longer than you imagined, because rapid worried knocks on your door startled you. You covered your sobbing hiccups with your hand but once you saw Beel’s and Belphie’s bright purple eyes filled with worry you wailed loudly. It beckoned them in because in a heartbeat they were sitting in front of you asking if it was okay to touch you. You gave them permission immediately and they wrapped you in between them in their arms, their larger forms shielding you from reality you didn’t know how to fully face. Your vision cleared after a few blinks and you looked around the room, still secured in their arms and their words of comfort, warming and calming you down by the second even if they didn’t know what had happened in the past… hours. How had it been that long? Maybe Belphie fell asleep on Beel and they only just got up. You’d hope so. Otherwise the feeling of loneliness and guilt would continue to fester inside you whether you liked it or not.

Your devildom bedroom, your friends, your childhood home, these versions of the brothers, it’s all still the same. The world still is. It’s identical to the other timeline. Everything is. So why was it so hard to move on? You would soon become a long gone memory for the other universe in no time. You had said your last dreadful goodbyes to them all, whether they realised or not, before deciding later that week to get Barbatos to destroy that D.D.D to sever all ties and hardships that were pulling you back for weeks and onwards. But you had done this knowing that you had the same versions of all them here, but that they had lost the only one they had of you.

————————————————————————

~reblogs and comments are appreciated 🫶~

leave suggestions or ideas for me to write in my asks !!

please do not steal, copy, or provide to generative ai.

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sanguinarysanguinity · 2 months ago

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🪄what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you've finished a fic?

🧿what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to?

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Thank you for the questions!

🪄what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you've finished a fic?

1) Post to Write Every Day that I published a thing! Then the host (and sometimes others) do a celebratory dance with me, yay!

2) Ditto the friends who held my hand while I was writing and/or workshopping all the necessary meta-info. They all congratulate me, yay!

3) Tell my wife I published the thing. She congratulates me, yay!

4) Remind myself that the rest of the fandom is asleep or at work (or has never heard of me, or straight-up doesn't exist), and go find something else to do, preferably not online: Go for a walk. Read a book. Hang out with my wife. Art. Piano. Cook. TV. Sleep. Anything that qualifies as "moving on with my life", "having other interests", "being a well-rounded individual", "getting happiness from more than one place," etc.

5) If, at some point, I find myself fretting over whether people like my story (almost inevitable!), or if I'm still waiting for my regular commenters to show up, I pull out a different WIP and work on that. After all, the main reason I write stories is because I really enjoy writing stories. Sure, I also really like getting comments! But I have no control over those: they come when they come, if they come at all. But I do have control over whether I'm writing a story or not! And I really enjoy writing stories.

🧿what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to?

So, the thing about my main fandoms being a half-dozen people each, is that I no longer have a decent frame of reference for how many comments a work "ought" to get. There's two-to-three people who I can count on to comment on every story (blessings on your houses!) and after that, every comment is a bolt out of the blue. Unlooked for. Gravy. I had no idea you were even IN this fandom, welcome, are you just passing through? So generally speaking, it's pretty hard for a story to underperform my expectations anymore.

Where I do get into trouble, though, is when I write for an exchange, and then the recipient does not comment. (It's a customized work! To your letter and tastes, as much as I could divine them! Even if I missed the mark, I would still like my good faith effort acknowledged. Were you never taught to write a thank you note?) When that happens, I go to my fandom confidantes and dramatically catastrophize about how OBVIOUSLY my recipient HATES my story. For the first few days, my confidante usually pats me on the head, tells me I'm being a silly, and helps distract me with something fun. But should we get to the end of the anon period and my recip still hasn't commented, usually my confidante gets protectively judgey on my behalf, especially if it proves the recip has a history of this kind of thing. Which doesn't cut the disappointment, but does help me externalize it.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

The one I'm REALLY excited about right now I can't share, because it's for an anonymous exchange.

But that said, I am really really wanting to get Langstroth on Bees out into the world. (Eleven years and counting!) I want you all to read it so bad! Here's a scene from the chapter I'm rewriting:

I heard a few quick steps inside. The door opened.

He was in disguise. I had not expected that, although the false name should have tipped me off. A black goatee disfigured his chin. His hair, too, was altered, waving loose over his forehead instead of pomaded back. But, oh, his eyes! His eyes, quick and intent, were just the same.

"Come in," he urged, motioning me past. He put his head into the corridor, quickly glancing right and left. Then he shut the door and put his back to it.

We stood there, with the space of two years between us.

He had lost weight; I was grieved to see that. The last two years had worked him hard: there was a gauntness to his cheek that had not been there before. He had aged, as well; it rent my heart to see the evidence of the time we had been apart, there in the lines around his eyes, the creases framing his mouth, the softness of his jaw. But he was still beautiful. Even with that regrettable goatee, he was still beautiful.

His eyes ran over me in turn, no doubt plucking the history of my own last two years from me. Undoubtedly he would know the details of today's drive: the haste with which I had locked the cottage behind me and the names of the towns where I had stopped for petrol. What birds I had seen, what people I had spoken to. I wanted to laugh with the giddy, ridiculous absurdity of it.

"Sherlock," I said, having no other words for the fullness of feeling in me -- the wonder of it, and the strangeness, too. He was too dear and familiar to ever be a stranger to me. And yet stranger he had become. But not for long -- no, no, not for long. But as I stepped forward, he stopped me with a raised hand.

#my writing #langstroth on bees

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thelongestway · 12 days ago

Text

At this point in the story, I am very much unused to two things: 1) writing action/feed sequences from a point of view that has zero comprehension of said sequences; 2) of calling anything that's a full AI anything but "it"; 3) ye gods lack of pronouns is annoying to edit for, but that's not new. :P

Not entirely happy with the action sequence here, but not sure with what yet. But--as always, things resolve in the writing. So without further ado...

Chapter 7: Monster

It was uncanny, the way the Friend silently fell in line with our preparations for departure. The moment things were decided (and our two available patients prioritized for rescue before its own operation), it let Zaharije call the shots, carrying out his every command with absolutely no complaint, like it was nothing more than a scalpel in Zaharije's practiced hand. I didn't mind--more than that, it was a relief to have it along. On our own, we would never have managed to get Pirro and our own patient down to the beat-up little shuttle and stock it with our food and medical supplies. (Not to mention that we wouldn't have had a shuttle.)

We worked in that silent camaraderie I usually enjoyed with Zaharije alone, with only Ghostwheel occasionally providing status updates to the Friend. I understood nothing about their exchanges, save that the hacker was getting progressively more worried, but it was almost like the Friend absorbed that worry into itself. It steadily continued to chip away at the mountain of tasks we presented it with, not shying away even from the most menial ones, and refused to move up the hacker's timeline at the expense of our patients.

When our workload lessened somewhat and Zaharije went to retrieve the patient's family, the Friend also made ample use of that time, preparing its weapons and inquiring with me about the Encephalon patient, what we'd been able to find out about them, and how our knowledge could be applied to its rescue mission. It turned out to be very good at guiding the conversation--now that I was sure that it really did work for the good of our patients, and for the good of the poor souls Encephalon was experimenting on, I found myself answering its questions to the best of my ability, because most of what it wanted to know was to how to keep those patients alive if they were to be moved.

(Even though I still wasn't sure why exactly the Friends and Encephalon were at odds--after all, they did very similar things! But at the very least this Friend, right now, was helping us, and I could live with that.)

I did not have good answers for the Friend, though. With the data Ghostwheel brought us, it became obvious that even though we did not know how many… I couldn't call them patients, not with what Encephalon was doing to them. We did not know how many experimental subjects Encephalon had, but it was obvious we would need a much bigger ship. Preferably one that was well equipped, medically speaking.

(A rescue ship. I only knew one rescue ship, and that name had been on the tip of my tongue the whole time, but I refused to give it countenance. What was the point? Even if that ship somehow decided to drop whatever she was doing and decide to help evacuate random victims of Encephalon monstrosities, Trellin was thousands of light years away. And if I let on that I knew her, the Friend might put two and two together, and then…

Well, it probably wouldn't shoot me until we were out of here and our patients were safe. But all bets were off after that.)

"From what I can see, at least half the people in the data Ghostwheel dredged up cannot be disconnected outright without it killing them." I said to the Friend as we sat waiting for Zaharije to come back and drinking terrible stimulants.

(I didn't know about the Friend, but I was closing in on almost twenty hours without proper sleep. Quick naps that I learned from continuing to practice medicine in the Rim--which often had the kind of barbaric 24-hour shifts old Earth allegedly used to have--and stimulants helped me keep functional, but it was getting difficult.)

(At least the tiredness helped me not to process the horror of those nervous systems fused together. That was just about the only benefit.)

The Friend nodded, unsurprised.

"Understood. So what's the solution here, doc?"

"There are only two that I can see. Move the system they're connected into together with them, or be ready to reconnect them into a compatible life support system. The latter is probably more plausible, but you'd still need a very large and well-equipped ship for this."

The Friend processed this information as it clicked the components of its rifle back into place. I felt myself tense. But then it leered at me and said, "This Friend likes people who are good at options, doc. If they can't be disconnected--what happens then? Are they suffering?"

"I can't tell that from a bunch of logs and pictures!"

"It is good, then, that you are going together with this Friend. It will want an assessment on that."

I was about to ask what exactly it was planning to do with that assessment, but I didn't get the chance to. Because Ghostwheel spoke up in our shared workspace, their voice urgent.

Zaharije? Zaharije, Friend, you've gotta cut--

And then they screamed.

Both the Friend and I were on our feet, and the Friend yelled in its feed voice, Ghostwheel? Zaharije? Status?

Silence, from both of them, in which the only sounds were the Friend clicking something on its gun and the quickening pulse in my ears.

Then a long, keening whimper.

Shit. Shitshitshitshit. We have to go. We have to go now.

"We're not going anywhere," I snarled. "What about Zahar--"

It's dead! Ghostwheel snapped. And if you don't go, we'll all be dead! Start the fucking departure sequence!

The Friend wasn't listening. Instead it was moving towards the airlock, weapon at the ready, and exchanging data with Ghostwheel at a speed I couldn't follow. All I could do was grab a medkit and trail behind it, until it turned right before exiting back onto the station.

"Doc," it said, sounding for all in the world like an emergency responder talking to a clueless civilian. "This Friend needs you to do several things if we are to live. First, you must remove your feed interface. Do not put it back on, no matter what happens. Use shuttle radio only."

That, I didn't need to be convinced of. I pulled the electrodes off my skull, and the sudden silence was deafening.

"Good. Now, this Friend has initiated a communications lockdown mode on the shuttle. You will need to prepare it for launch without communicating with the station. The bot pilot will do most of the work. Your job is to ensure that nothing breaks through the lockdown."

"I--I'm not a pilot! Or a feed technician!"

"You don't need to be one. Ghostwheel will help you, but they are easier to compromise than you are. Follow their instructions."

"And you're not a doctor!"

"No," it said, "but this Friend needs to do this anyway. It will do what it can for your friend, and will return here as soon as possible. But if it doesn't come back, you must remember: your patients won't survive without you. The shuttle will launch if contact is lost with this Friend, and there is a course laid in. It will be your responsibility to get them to safety."

To this day, I don't know why I listened, why I hadn't insisted on going with the Friend. Was I too much of a coward to argue, to just follow it out of the airlock, no matter what it told me, to go save my friend? Or did I listen because the Friend knew what it was doing, and I did not, and I knew how much harm patients or bystanders that didn't listen to doctors could do? Because if things were this bad, it wouldn't matter if the Friend got Zaharije out or not, not if we didn't have a ship?

It didn't matter. The airlock closed behind it, and I went back to the shuttle terminal.

I had no idea what I was doing.

"Ghostwheel?"

"Yeah," they said, terrified voice crackling through the speakers. "First, keyboard to your right. Input the following…"

I followed the instructions, and then the next ones that followed for the next couple of minutes, until the bot pilot said, "Launch ready. Awaiting captain's orders."

There was nothing on the radio, so I said, "You're monitoring the Friend, right?"

"Fuck no, I'm not. It was so fucking stupid to go back in there with how they're all augmented. I'm not that stupid."

"What? But you said you'd cover--"

"I said I'd cover your launch from station authorities! Not from whatever the fuck just got into the Friends' augments, and nearly fucking erased me, and--"

They cut off.

"Ghostwheel?"

"Fuck," they said, voice choked up. And fell silent.

"Contact lost," the bot pilot said. "Launch sequence initiated."

#the nameless fanfic #time to orbit unknown #ttou #tmbd #horrible crossover thoughts #my writing #rough draft

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vacantgodling · 7 months ago

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1, 3, 4, 8, 15 for the end of year ask game!! :3

hewwo thank you for the ask <3<3

1. what was your writing-highlight this year? what made it special and how will you reflect on it next year?

mentioned this in my writing in review for this year but finishing cage earlier this year really set me on a high note for the rest of the year. i really proved to myself that i can write 80k+ words in a single project; i can finish and fully flesh out a narrative, my dreams are achievable if i really put myself to it.

for a really long time i didn't think i could do it. there's a lot of reasons why i felt that way, but having people who kept up with every chapter, my partner and other friends like valen and multi listening to me rant ad nauseum about my ideas and thoughts, and giving myself permission to do something 'silly' turned out to be such a good decision. so i think next year i'm trying to take that energy into it. i'm writing for myself, my friends and my dick LMAO. but i'm also taking the strategies that i learned (ie: i need a long outline to finish something or i won't p much lol). so next year is really gonna be a planning year! i wanna have more outlines that i can go back and reread and become obsessed about sEUOSDJ

3. did you achieve everything you wanted to this year? if not, how will you go about it?

nah! but tbh i'm okay with it. getting distracted by other wips is just par for the course for me and my brain pfff so i'm not miffed that i got distracted by other things and paramour got put off to the side. i still think about paramour a LOT don't get me wrong; but khizzy and sjaak giving me brain rot is a welcome change.

i also could've never predicted i would get into conlanging--i barely knew what it was (outside of lotr really) but here i am a few months later with a whole baby language on my hands HAHA. i think i'm finally of the mindset that yeah writing is my life's purpose bc it would be meaningless without it, but its also a hobby and i wanna have fun with it <3

4. what is your favourite line you wrote this year?

this is so hard OSCJK thank god multiple people have asked this bc its definitely not just one. perusing through the things i wrote this year, i think one that stands out to me is from draft 3 of btaf (which is the actual Real Prose draft 1 attempt lol. its a whole tier system of me drawing this wip out) but its the first sentence kinda hits and i don't think i wanna change it cuz it sets the tone well:

The cruelest and craftiest of all the Devil’s handiwork—darkness—had descended upon and laid waste to the countryside.

something something, speaks of the savagery that is yet to be revealed later on, makes the wip super moody (the equivalent of the tried and true "dark and stormy night"), and alludes to the time period (cuz we're talking about the devil in deadass the first sentence PFF)

8. what are three things you're looking forward to next year?

i'm gonna be optimistic and say draft 2 (the elongated outline) of btaf will be done--i've been taking a break from it but multi's very sweet sweep of draft 1 has reinvigorated me with brain worms.

i also want to work more on he who smites the sun bc... khizzy beloved. and with that all of the wips from ph -> paramour i want to figure out how they're linked and their outlines etc

and then i think i'm just excited to just be more silly with what i write next year. i wanna get back into my art wips (tmc and broken clouds for instance) and write more smutty shenanigans with bruno and his mess. :D

15. time for shameless self-promotion! answer with a piece of writing you want others to see/read! (if you have nothing posted/published this year, any other year is fine too ^^)

this lore post about tcol which details MIZDARR and MUINENS's first meeting and how the harvest god KIBARUM was born. idk i really love the gods and mythos tcol has i should talk about it more. its not really writing writing but i want people to see it anyway :D

#about renjamin

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maislovebot · 2 years ago

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Top 10 bsd characters oral scenarios: Francis Scott-Key

Welcome to the chapter of my 4th fav Fitzy:3

Contains: afab reader, no pronouns, fuck me till I forget trope, overstim, they’re married and have a kid, silly, reader is 30-35, some au where reader takes Zelda’s place and their daughter isn’t dead but he’s somehow still attacking the ADA??, idk just imagine he goes against them for a different but still noble reason, domestic, vaginal fingering, praise kink, come eating, overstim, p in v at the end, service top Francis

Everything seemed to be going wrong lately. Your beloved daughter was struggling with her school work, even though Francis had hired the best tutors available. You didn’t mind helping her with her homework, in fact you enjoyed the bonding time, but it was like talking to a wall a majority of the time.

Let’s not even get started on work. While the Guild wasn’t technically your group, you were practically the co-leader, as to be expected of Francis’ wife. Some members were beginning to show some hostility towards Francis, especially one specific farm boy, and it was getting tiring. You knew he wouldn’t ever actually harm Francis, as he was the man in charge of his payroll, but it was still exhausting.

Technically speaking, Francis is powerful enough to just punch John's lights out if he ever became too much of a threat, but you knew Francis couldn’t do that. As vain as he may seem, he is fiercely loyal to any and all members of the Guild, even Lucy who got kicked out some time ago. She was no longer a member, but she was still receiving many of the benefits, along with a new payroll from some coffee shop near the Armed Detective Agency’s office. And if worse comes to worse, she would still be allowed back with open arms if anything were to get too difficult for her, or if she was dealing with an ongoing threat.

Pretty much, she was still a member, but she wasn’t doing any of the dirty work anymore. Francis claimed he simply couldn’t bear to let her go out there all alone, which you understood. Lucy was a delight after all. She was polite, and honestly quite fun to be around. If you were younger, you could see yourself being genuine friends with her. You agreed to continue giving Lucy a payroll, under the condition that if she ever betrayed the Guild, all those remaining assets would be cut off.

To sum it up, things weren’t going very smoothly at the moment. You knew this would all pass once everything with the Armed Detective Agency passed, but as of right now..

You were stressed. Very stressed.

You haven't confided in Francis with your feelings, as you could tell he already had a lot on his plate. If you were stressed, you can’t even fathom how nervous he must be right now. The succession of this mission will result in either prosperity, or the end of the Guild as a whole if he doesn’t play his cards right.

Even among all this stress, Francis still managed to make time for you and your daughter to eat dinner every night at the luxurious dinner table.

“Francis, I’m sorry I didn’t make dinner tonight, I’m incredibly tired. At least the chef is available.” You apologized, as you normally make dinner, even if you don’t need to. He has over thirty-five chefs working under him, it’s a nice hobby though, so you make dinner. Francis says that even if it’s not professional grade, it has a home-esque feeling no other chef has been able to replicate.

“Don’t apologize, dear. Everyone needs a break sometimes.”

Francis brought his hand to your knee, and rubbed circles along it. His hand trailed up a little, just enough to tease, but he quickly pulled away as your daughter bursted through the door, presumably finished with her tutoring.

“Hey, sweetie. Have you finished your homework?”

She nodded boldly.

“Alright..tell me three things you learned. You’re studying ecosystems, correct?”

“Mhm!” She nodded again.

You gave her a look she knew all too well.

“Alright, well then, tell me three things you learned.”

Francis looked at you knowingly, knowing all too well she was having problems processing the information given to her.

“Uhhh..I learned about..precipitation?”

“Wasn’t that last unit?” You chuckled.

She looked to the floor, defeated.

Well, that’s a dead topic.

“Alright. I’ll quiz you again tomorrow, but you better remember something in that big head of yours!” You knocked her head gently and she frowned.

“Alright, I’ll try, I promise!”

As much of a face as you were putting on, you were beyond stressed. You were worried about her test scores. Even if she was only in fifth grade, she is going to a private school. Grades work differently there. Anything below a B- and you legally have to retake the class. What’s even the point of all the other grades, then? you wonder. Private school nonsense, is the answer you come to.

Just as you were about to let out an accidental sigh, you were cut off by the chef walking in with a large tray with dinner on it, along with a dessert (mainly for you and your daughter, as Francis preferred simplicities like tea). Francis, however, noticed your cut off sigh, and raised an eyebrow at you, unbeknownst to you. He decided to put it aside for now, and he looked at the plate of food in front of him, along with the cup of tea that was brought to him while he wasn’t looking.

“This looks good!” Francis looked at your daughter and pet her almost like a dog before grabbing her cheek gently, making her frown.

“Right, doll?” Francis questioned your daughter, obviously teasing her.

“Dad!” She yelled out, “I’m not a little kid anymore! I’m ten!”

He raised his hands in the air.

“Alright, alright. It does look good though right?”

She nodded furiously, before grabbing her fork and digging in enthusiastically. You and Francis chuckled, and when you made eye contact, he made a knowing look to you, before you two were cut off.

Your daughter swallowed her bite of food, holding her pointer finger in the air.

“Yum! Alright, so my friends want to sleepover at their house tonight, if that’s okay with you two.”

You looked at her quizzically.

“Which friends?”

“The two sisters.”

Ah, they were good kids. It was only five pm, and she did have her homework done, even if she didn’t remember any of it. It was also a weekend.

And of course, there was Francis. Considering the looks he was giving you, you could tell he wanted something out of you, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t dying to find out what. You were even rubbing your thighs together once he had teased you earlier.

“Alright. You can. But you have to promise you’ll study at their house.”

Once you agreed, Francis smiled and placed his hand on your knee again, although it was rather innocent this time.

“Yes! I’ll call and let them know!” She ran off to her bedroom, before remembering one vital detail.

“Mom.. can I use your phone to call them?”

And now you and Francis were home alone, the only other company being the housekeepers packing up to return home for the day, and they’d be gone any minute.

You and Francis were going steady, with you straddling atop of him and kissing him deeply, ruffling his well kept hair with your hands. Although it was fairly innocent right now, you couldn’t ignore the strain you could feel against your crotch as you straddled him. Just as he couldn’t ignore how you were grinding up against his erection with each passing moment.

“Please, Francis.” You pulled away from his lips.

“Please what?” He teased.

“Please give me more.”

Francis nodded, and began to fondle your chest, rubbing circles along your nipples, pushing you over so you were now on your back with him above you. He trailed his hand down till he was prodding at your underwear, pulling it aside. You were only in your bra and panties now, and he was only in his button up shirt and boxers. So it wasn’t exactly difficult.

He pushed his middle finger inside your cunt, and he quickly moved his finger up to curl against your g-spot. When he dragged his fingers you trembled slightly and whined, making Francis chuckle.

“Looks like you needed this.”

Francis added another finger and thrusted inside faster, feeling you tighten around him. He smiled at your reactions, and kissed your forehead.

“You look stunning like this.”

He added another finger, and curled his fingers up to your g-spot harsher, and as he fucked you on the majority of his hand. Your eyes rolled back from all the intense feelings and you gripped the bedsheets. You gripped his wrist to keep him in place, aware of how much of a tease he could be at times. Francis chuckled, his voice riveting and vibrating against your skin. You couldn’t hold on anymore, and you let go of his wrist.

“Ah, close—I’m close..”

Francis sped up his movement, using his thumb to press your clit and rub circles against it. You arched your back up into his body and you finally came. The loud cry you let out went right to Francis’ ego and he got even harder than before, continuing to rub along your clit, slowing down his movements with his fingers. Allowing you to calm down from your high. Once your body relaxed and your orgasm died down, he pulled his fingers out of you and he licked his fingers clean before leaning down to kiss you again, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

“God, I can’t get enough of you.” Francis said once he pulled away, looking at your breathless face. Francis began to pull down your underwear, smiling at the small gasp you let out from your sensitivity.

Once he pulled your underwear down he continued feeling up your clit, relishing in the way you whined into his mouth as he kissed you. He needed this so bad. He was so tired, and you were proving to be a perfect stress reliever, even if he wasn’t getting all that much stimulation. He reached behind your back with his free hand and undid your bra, pulling it off your shoulders. You turned your head away from him, feeling a little shy. Which Francis wasn’t having at all. He gripped your chin with his dominant hand and looked into your eyes and kissing you yet again.

You were great at comforting him, but he was growing desperate for something that would help the ache on his hard on, so he straddled your thigh and started grinding against it like some teenager. He in turn whined into your mouth and groped you with his free hand. So much was going on at once, all you could do was grip his waist, wrapping your arms around him tenderly.

He was rubbing soft circles into your clit while leaning over you, helping you reach your absolutely ecstatic orgasm, your entire body practically giving out, with the only function left for your body to offer being to arch your back into him. The arching of your back brought your chest closer to him, and he almost instantly began licking at your chest at the opportunity.

It felt amazing, but it sent a wave of shock down your body and you jolted your back down into the bed, forcing his lips to detach from your chest.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking up at your face with worry and regret covering his eyes completely, although he still had that iconic smile on his face

“No—no, it feels great, I’m just sensitive there as is, you going at it right after I come is..” You weakly got out, hoping that despite your underwhelming, tired tone you would get your point across.

That reassurance went straight to his ego, resulting in an aroused jolt (as if he wasn’t already painfully hard) on his end this time.

“Damn—I love you, s-so much—I want to—”

He didn’t even manage to finish his sentence before he was moving himself down between your thighs like a man starved. He tentatively licked at your clit and hole. It hurt a little because it was immediately after your orgasm, but it also felt phenomenal. It felt so good in fact that you rode yourself onto his face briefly before he took a hold on your hips.

“There’s no need to fuck my face, I’ll give you everything you want.”

And oh God did he keep his promise. He noticed how you were desperate for more tension, and pressed his tongue inside your hole as much as he was physically capable, stretching it out as far as he could reach. His thrusts with his tongue were emphasized by the way he tightened his grip on your hips, as he pulled your pussy onto his face as much as possible. Your legs were spread pretty far, considering how his head was separating your thighs, but it soon didn’t matter as you simply wrapped your thighs around his head.

You bucked your hips into his face, allowing his tongue to reach even deeper, and you cried out at your own movements. Francis’ thrusts of his tongue were driving you crazy, and you were starting to really forget about all the problems going on.

You didn’t have to worry about dinner right now, or tucking your daughter into bed, work was out of your mind, and all that you had to focus on was the miraculous way Francis worked with his tongue. No more stress today, Francis was going to make sure of that.

Francis was doing wonders with his tongue, kissing your clit whenever you whined particularly loud. He held your hips down with force, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. He kissed and licked at your clit, taking breaks every so often to kiss and nibble your thighs, it was sweet but you were going crazy with the way he’d switch from eating you out like his life depended on it to tenderly kissing your thighs, and in order to lock his head in place you gripped his hair, messing it up more than it already was from his rather stressful day. He throbbed at your actions and began licking and sucking your clit with even more determination. He moved his right hand up and put two fingers inside of you, curling them towards your g-spot, making you let out a loud whine and finally come all over his face.

You breathed heavily and slowly loosened the grip on his hair before letting go entirely, resting your arms on the bed.

Francis was known for being a man with a lot of self control, but he was absolutely desperate at this point and saved no time in kissing you quickly before pulling his pants down and lining himself up with your currently recovering heat.

“Wait.. Francis, I gotta recover.”

“Please, Dear. You can handle just a little more, just for me right?”

You nodded, unable to resist him. He treated you so well, he should get what he wants as soon as possible, right? You pulled him down by the shoulders and unbuttoned his dress shirt, his tie already long gone. By the time you were done taking off his shirt, he was already halfway inside of you, making you whine and tremble, and the buttons more difficult to undo.

Francis asked if you could handle a ‘little more’, but by the time he was done you were practically passed out. He went at it for such a longtime, you distinctly remember seeing white everytime you came. It was a strangely comforting feeling to fall asleep to. It almost felt airy, despite the aching pain in your hips from him gripping them so hard as he thrust himself into you. It felt like you were going to some second heaven, and it made you fall asleep with a clear head.

You fell asleep in Francis’ arms, holding him tight as he rested his head on yours, not having a care in the world.

You fell asleep with a smile on your face.

Wc - 2.6k

Omg we’re in top three territory now!! Ango will be next:)

#bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd smut #bsd #francis scott key x reader #francis scott key fitzgerald x reader #francis scott fitzgerald x reader #francis bsd #francis scott key #francis scott key fitzgerald #francis scott fitzgerald #francis fitzgerald

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hard-boiled-criminal · 11 months ago

Text

Social Anxiety Really Ruins the Isekai Experience

Previously known as: Brimstone from the Throat

Chapter 4 - I May Be Stupid

< Ch 3 | Ch 5 >

>Ch 1<

Masterlist

Ao3 Mirror

From now on, the successfulness of your actions will be based on real dice rolling, brought to you by my dice collection, indicated by this: {Dice Result}

Also, every time you level up, I will link a pdf to the reader’s new character sheet (mostly to keep track of stats and spells), if you’re interested in looking at it. Instead of charisma, Astaroth’s warlock is dex based because you gotta be at least a little dexterous to play an instrument. There’s also other extraneous information and sources in the folder below if you’re interested in some lore diving.

Character sheet + ex info: brimstone from the throat

Your sleep isn’t very restful, to say the least. You’re not used to sleeping on such hard, uneven ground with rocks poking into you through the bedroll. You wake up with your body sore and aching, understandably so considering your latest experiences. You blink groggily, staring up at your tent’s ceiling.

‘Yep. Still here. On an alien planet I didn’t even think was real.’ You groan when you sit up, your back complaining at the movement. ‘Oof, fuck, and definitely not a dream.’

« Good morning. »

“Ah–!” You yelp, but quickly cut yourself off.

“(Y/n)?” You hear Tav outside your tent. “Are you alright?”

“Yep! I’m fineee–you can’t understand me… right… um…” you answer her, your ‘fine’ slurring into ‘you’ as you remember the language barrier. You stick your hand outside your tent flap and give her a thumbs up. [S’all good]! {Persuasion = 13, Success}.

“Well, when you’re ready, would you help out with breakfast?

[Okay]. You pull your hand back inside and sigh, ‘I’m still gonna have to get used to hearing your voice in my head.’

« Of course. Might I suggest preparing some charaded excuses for why you’re so jumpy in the meantime? »

‘...You just wanna laugh at my own expense, don’t you.’

« Guilty as charged. » You feel fondness through your shared mental bond. « On another note, I should let you know that I won’t be able to be as constant a presence in your mind for a while. »

‘What? Why?’

« I siphoned most of my power towards contacting you, the rest now towards channeling into you to provide you with powers and abilities– which reminds me, since you’ve become a bit more acclimated to magic, I’ve deemed it safe enough to grant you with some new spells. »

New information seeps into your brain– more powerful spells, though limited in their uses.

« Having a constant presence across planes drains a fair bit of what little energy I have left, and my reserves have now almost been depleted. I’ll still be watching over you, but I must preserve my strength for now. In the meantime, I shall be working on more translation spellcraft for you. »

You pout.

He huffs amusedly. « Don’t worry, I will be able to consistently speak with you like this again in due time. You’ll know when my powers have sufficiently recharged. »

‘Yeah, because you’ll pop into my head out of nowhere and scare the living shit out of me.’

He laughs– a genuine, full-bodied laugh. « Can you blame me when your reactions are so entertaining? »

Your pout depends, playfully this time instead of with sadness. ‘You sound like my friends when they convince me to play a horror game.’

« You will be alright, young one. Besides, you now have quite the company around you. Some ‘snacks,’ I believe you’d call them, if my updated lexicon is to be believed? »

You blush furiously. ‘Astaroth! You can’t just hit me with that out of nowhere! God, that’s so embarrassing,’ you bury your face in your hands.

He chuckles in mirth. « I jest, I jest. Though, truly, it would not hurt to gain the trust of some capable companions. »

‘I know, I know, but talking –well, interacting, since I can’t actually talk to them –with people is scary,’ you “say” as you lift your face from your palms.

« I know, my dear. I know. I must go now, but I promise that should you call for me, I will answer. »

‘Okay… see– or uh, talk to you later, then?’

Even though you can’t see him, you can still sense his warm smile. « Yes, I’ll talk to you later. »

His presence fades, the comforting warmth you’ve already gotten used to leaving along with him. The void left by him is instead filled with the feeling of the tadpole churning in your head, more prominent now than ever. Astaroth’s presence either overrided the tadpole’s, or he was actively preventing you from feeling it. It’s uncomfortable, like the barest beginnings of a headache that won’t go away, but you can deal with it. You’ve dealt with worse pains.

Yawning, you stretch out your sore limbs before crawling out of your tent. The only ones who seem to be awake, or are outside of their tents at the very least, are Tav, Lae’zel, and Astarion.

“Good morning, (y/n)!” Tav smiles her customer service smile at you as soon as you leave your tent.

[Morning], you wave back with your own tired customer smile on your face. Your stomach growls loudly, clearly audible as Tav giggles a bit.

“Ah, the food is in the pack next to my tent. If you want to get started on breakfast, feel free! I’ll join you after I wake and check up on the others.” She walks off in the direction of Shadowheart’s tent.

You walk over to Tav’s tent, going straight for the pack sitting outside. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got.’ Kneeling down in front of the beige pack, you first pull out a very fragrant purple pouch; you would get a headache if you tried to distinguish all the different smells. ‘Okay, herb and spice pouch. I’ll look inside that later.’ You rifle through what little variety of provisions you have. ‘Cheese, bread, meat, more cheese, apples, mint? I think? Smells like it. I’ll move that to the herb bag. Mushrooms, carrots, alcohol, more bread, more apples… wow, we are really lacking variety. I guess I’ll look through the herbs and spices. Hopefully I’ll find something that’ll go well with something we have. I’m thinking rosemary could be good.

You move your attention back towards the smaller pouch and rifle through it. You pull out a stalk of something with spiky leaves. ‘Oh hey, I know this! It’s mugwort! I think? Or a mugwort look-alike? One way to find out.’ Staying true to the stereotypical tired mind who just woke up, you don’t think before acting. You pluck a leaf off the stem and place it on your tongue…and immediately remove it, sticking out your tongue in disgust and shaking your head. ‘Blegh, ew, yuck. Yep. That’s mugwort. Bitter and gross. Not using that. Maybe I’ll put it in some tea if I feel like dreaming.’

You hear a muffled snicker come from behind you. Turning around, you see Astarion, hand over his mouth, looking very amused. Ignoring him, you turn back to the spice bag and pull out the next thing. You pause. It’s a leafy plant with drooping purple flowers. You recognize this one –how could you not?

“...Who the fuck put belladonna in the spice bag?!” You whisper to yourself, incredulously. ‘I can’t use any of this stuff! It could all be contaminated! Shit, I gotta go wash out my mouth,’ you stand and speed walk over to the water’s edge, trying not to draw too much attention.

You kneel at the edge and scoop up some water in your hands. You bring it to your lips and fill your mouth, swishing it around before spitting it out. You repeat this a few times for good measure, rubbing at your tongue to make sure there’s no trace of anything left over.

When you walk back over, you see Tav back at her tent, looking confused at the mugwort and belladonna you pulled out. You make your way over and poke Tav in the arm. She looks at you. You pick up the belladonna and gesture to it, [why in the nine hells was there poison in the spice bag]?

“Belladonna? Were you the one who… Please don’t tell me you were planning on cooking with that,” Tav’s tone went from confused to scared and concerned.

[What? No]! You look at her weird. ‘Why would I want to do that?’ You gesture between the dangerous plant and the spice bag. [I’m asking why it was in the spice bag].

“Yeah, it belongs in the alchemy pouch,” Tav states what she knows to be obvious. “Was it mixed in with the food?” She begins to look more frightened.

[No! No]. You shake your head. ‘Wait…Alchemy pouch?’ You look at her blankly, feeling like an idiot. “...Oh.”

You hear more laughter, louder this time. Astarion wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“I believe they thought there was food in the pouch,” Astarion inputs, slightly clearing up the confusion. “You should have seen their face when they put mugwort in their mouth.”

Tav looks at you in disbelief, “Why would you look for ingredients in the alchemy pouch?”

[I thought there were spices in there]! You rub your fingers together, as if sprinkling salt on something. {Performance = 4, Failure}.

“Gods, I really wish I could understand you; I really haven’t a clue what you’re trying to say.”

You sigh. ‘This is getting us nowhere. Let’s just say I’m stupid and call it a day.’ You tap at your skull then shake your head, [I wasn’t thinking because I’m an idiot]. {Performance = natural 1, critical failure}.

Tav suddenly becomes guarded. “Are you saying your mind and thoughts are fading? That the tadpole is already influencing you?”

At the mention of the tadpole, Lae’zel’s gaze halts her sword maintenance in favor of wielding it and turns to you with a glare.

You rapidly shake your head, [No! No, that’s not it either]! You flail around with your arms a bit, trying to figure out how to better explain. You give up. You groan and drag your hand down your face. You wave her off, [Just…forget it. Doesn’t matter anymore].

Tav’s stance relaxes, “Well, I’m glad to hear you aren’t transforming already.” She turns to rifle through the provisions pack. “Hmm, we don’t have much, do we? Guess we’ll have to settle for meat and cheese sandwiches.”

You and tav work on slicing the baguettes, cheeses, and meats, assembling a sandwich for each party member. Luckily, breakfast was uneventful after your embarrassing performance. The only bad part was that the bread was tough and the sandwich was just bland in general.

‘We need to buy some spices and seasonings, especially salt, as soon as we get the chance.’

Shortly after everything gets cleaned up, courtesy of Gale’s prestidigitation, everyone begins to pack up their tents and belongings, getting ready to head out. You feel like your eyes bulge out of your head as you see things that definitely should not all fit in their packs go in one by one. Are they all bags of holding? How big are they on the inside? Could you fit a coat rack in them? Like Mary Poppins? That would be fun. Then you’d just need an umbrella enchanted with featherfall. Or fly? Would that even be possible? Probably? Maybe? Did umbrellas even exist here? As in ones for rain, not parasols for sunlight. Umbrellas don’t really scream ‘high fantasy’ so who knows if they have them here.

“Everyone ready to head out?” Tav, the de facto leader, asks everyone.

Nods and affirmations are shared among the group, all ready to leave the campsite. With no objections, Tav leads the group back the way you came from the day before, intent on continuing up the path near where Gale and Lae’zel were found.

“It’s quite unfortunate the tadpole has robbed us of our abilities,” Gale began, breaking the silence after a few minutes since leaving camp. He turned to you, “If it hadn’t, I’d have been able to cast ‘comprehend languages’ or ‘tongues.’ Then we would be able to have a proper conversation together.”

[Yes, unfortunate indeed], you nodded. ‘Except not really because having an excuse to not talk to people is amazing.’

“I take it you’re from overseas, then?” Shadowheart asked, gesturing to your entirety.

You nod. [Sure, let’s go with that].

“Seeing as there’s not much else to do, how about we continue our guessing game?” Tav suggested. “I don’t know much about lands outside of Faerûn, so I am quite curious about yours.”

You internally groan. ‘I thought we could finally forget about that, because I can’t-slash-won’t tell any of you the truth.’ You look at Tav, blankly. [How? We already know charades aren’t gonna get us anywhere]. ‘Nevermind the fact that this is a different planet and signs or gestures that are familiar to me can mean something entirely different to all of you.’

“Hmm…” Tav holds her chin in thought, “Since it’ll be hard to guess a specific name, we can try the cultural route, as in objects, gestures, customs and the like from your home. Based on those, one of us might be able to pinpoint where you’re from.”

[Be my guest]. ‘Good fucking luck guessing outer space, not like I was even gonna tell you that. Though, I don’t know anything about the overseas culture on Toril so oh fucking well. Guess I’ll do what I do best: bullshit my way through this. Maybe if I just confuse them they’ll drop it.’

You place your hands in front of you and mime typing on a keyboard. [Typing is an essential skill where I’m from].

“Piano?”

[Well, not what I was going for, but yes, we have pianos].

“Well, it seems our friend here is of some social importance afterall,” Astarion chimed in.

“Huh?” You tilt your head, a bit puzzled.

“Darling, everyone knows that only the rich can afford pianos.”

‘Oh shit this is like medieval time stuff. I forgot about that.’

“Oh!” Tav’s eyes light up like she just came to a realization. “Were you trying to say that you could play us something from your hometown?”

You go to refute but she doesn’t give you a chance

“You have your viol, yes? I’m sure you can use that instead of a piano.”

You deadpan. [I don’t know if you’re aware, but there’s a reason marching orchestra isn’t a thing. Also I’m clumsy and this terrain is very uneven and my music could alert any beings nearby that there’s a group of idiots dumb enough to give away their location wandering about. Also, if I was going to play a piano piece on my violin we’d be left without the entire bass section of the song, so it’ll sound sad and disappointing]. You had given up on accurately gesturing anything halfway through, settling for frustrated and exasperated hand movements. ‘Also no thanks, I hate giving solo performances in front of other people. I’m either in an orchestra or playing to myself alone in my room.’

It seems nobody understood you besides the fact that you really didn’t want to play for them.

Tav sighs, disappointed. “Fine, I’ll leave it be for now. Next time we make camp though, I’d really like to hear you play.”

You relax a bit at that. ‘Thank fuck. How the hell am I supposed to give a personal solo performance to a group of strangers I’m gonna be stuck with for who knows how long? I’ll tell you how: by not giving them one. Let’s see how long I can put it off until they completely forget about it.’

Not interested in having to converse anymore, you instead turn to admiring your surroundings. Despite the less than ideal situation you’re in, it's actually quite beautiful here. The embers from the crash have died down over the past day, the air now clear of smoke and smog. It’s refreshing. You’re not sure if you’ve ever smelled such clean air before. The flora around you is vibrant, sharing many characteristics with the greenery you’re familiar with on Earth. And then there’s the foreign species. Different colors and patterns, shapes and structures; there are similarities, but definitely different from what you know.

‘It’s probably best to be cautious around these plants,’ you surmise. ‘Who knows which ones are dangerous, especially towards an alien human… Oh shit, am I gonna have to worry about illnesses and diseases? …Fuck it, whatever. They got magic and I have Astaroth so I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

Your group approaches some familiar scenery: it's the same area where you found Lae’zel suspended in a cage. Walking past it, you notice some stonework through the natural rock archway. The remains of some type of abandoned stone building lies past, and you can see more crumbling walls behind it, hinting at an even larger structure awaiting to be explored.

You poke at Tav’s arm to get her attention, [Look, there’s some ruins over there].

“Hmm, interesting… I would like to check it out, but I doubt there’s a cure for the tadpoles in there. Probably best to avoid it for now, just in case.”

[Fair point].

Ignoring the ruins that your curiosity is just begging to explore, you all continue uphill, entering unexplored territory. Cresting above the top of the hill, the land flattens out, your muscles thankful for the reprieve from the uphill climbing.

Tav halts in her tracks, all of you following suit. “I hear shouting up ahead.”

Not one to waste time, she quickly moves ahead, skirting around a large rock formation, not dissimilar to the small rocky outcrop you woke up on. She soon stops in her tracks, and as you round the edge of the formation, you see why: There are three humans standing in front of a vine-covered wooden wall built into the cliff face further ahead, shouting at a tiefling standing atop the cliff.

“Open the bloody gate!” One of the human men shouts.

“Nobody gets in. Zevlor’s orders,” the tiefling replies.

“That pack of goblins will be on us any second!”

Another tiefling, older than the other, judging by his looks, comes up next to the tiefling who shouted before, “What’s going on?”

The same human man continues to shout, getting angrier each time, “Goblins are on our tail. Open the gate, Zevlor. Now.”

“You led goblins here? Where is the Druid?”

“Please! There’s no time!”

You hear some commotion from your left and see a horde of short creatures, all with olive-green skin tones, accompanied by semi-hairless beasts. They looked almost like wolves but their faces were too… wrong. There was no distinction between the skull and the snout: It was all just one piece, rectangular in shape, almost like a bull terrier’s facial structure.

“By the Nine Hells,” the older Tiefling, Zevlor, if you heard correctly, exclaims as he sees the horde approach. “Open the gate!”

You watch the other tiefling that had first responded to the humans turn towards a contraption which had what seemed to be a ship’s wheel attached. He grabbed said wheel and began turning it, the gate, which you had just assumed to be a wall at first, started to lift from the ground. It doesn’t last long as an arrow from the creatures, goblins, flies through the air, striking the tiefling in the chest. As he falls to the ground, the gate begins to close as well.

“Kanon! No!” Zevlor cries out.

As the gate starts to fall shut, the three humans rush to grab it and keep it from closing, but it’s weight is too much, and they have no choice but to release it and watch it fall, leaving no space between it and the ground.

“Shit,” the angry human curses. “Form a line!”

The goblins rush forward to begin melee combat with the three humans. It doesn’t take long for Tav to rush forward, intent to enter the fray, the other tieflings upon the cliff also begin to ready their crossbows. A human man, not part of the three by the gate, jumps down from the cliff, landing in front of a goblin.

“Damnable roach. Provoke the blade–” he stabs the goblin through the chest with a rapier, killing it instantly, then practically flicks the now corpse off his blade “–and suffer its sting.”

You feel a an inexplicable distaste for the man who seems to be on your side, all things considered. You furrow your brows slightly in confusion.

« A fiend’s puppet. Be careful around that one. »

‘I don’t know what a fiend’s puppet is, but okay, I’ll be careful. But, please explain after this!’

Now in the throes of battle, the melee attackers in your party rush forward, following Tav’s lead. Lae’zel, the most enthusiastic, immediately swings her greatsword down on the nearest goblin as Tav runs forward to another one, delivering a series of staff strikes and unarmed blows to it. You lose sight of Astarion, but Shadowheart also moves forward, shield and healing spells at the ready. Gale stays back with you, preparing to fire spells himself.

You hold your hands out and summon your fiddle and bow, “Bamf!” They appear in your hands, and you immediately bring them to your shoulder and strings respectively.

Stress.

So much stress.

This is your first battle where you’ll actually have to fight.

No time to think, only do.

So you cope the only way you know how to in high-stress situations: you make it a joke.

You whip out that song you learned years ago as a meme that will forever be ingrained into you in both regular and muscle memory.

‘My friends would be so disappointed in me if they could see me now, but I know they’d do the same thing. I miss those dumb fucks.’

D0, D0, A3, A0.

The years it has lived as a meme have, despite its intensity, altered your brain to find the song quite amusing.

Megalo-fucking-vania.

Along with the first note flew an eldritch blast from your instrument, hitting the goblin archer that had clambered up to the top of the rock formation next to you. {Attack Roll = 20, Critical Hit}, {Force Damage = 12}.

The goblin staggers back a few steps, looking quite hurt, but still standing. Their attention now on you, they ready their bow, aiming to fire at you. You keep playing, hoping for another eldritch blast to come out, but to no avail.

‘Fuck, fucK, fuCK FUCK– quick, gazelle maneuvers, go!’

You try your best to zigzag about, but it is much more difficult to do while playing an instrument. Just as you take a step to the left, the goblin releases the arrow, lodging itself into the ground behind you after grazing your leg, leaving a sizable gash. You hiss at the sting, but don’t stop playing.

‘National Geographic, you fucking liars! This doesn’t help at all! I know I’m not a gazelle but I’m just as terrified as one right now!’

Your perseverance is rewarded when but a second later you feel the familiar gathering of energy as you fling another eldritch blast at the archer, though your forced spiccato, courtesy of your graceful movements, makes your notes come out a bit wonky. This one, perhaps due to your dodgy performance, goes high, arcing over the goblin’s head. {Attack Roll = 9, Miss}.

‘Shit.’

As the goblin reaches to ready another arrow, you skirt back around the outcrop, losing sight of the archer, hoping they’ll also lose sight of you. You don’t bother trying to hide, afterall, your music would immediately give away your location. You instead switch targets to another goblin in combat with the human who had jumped down. This time, when your attack goes off, it hits the far goblin and knocks them to the ground. They don’t get back up. {Attack Roll = 17, Hit}, {Force Damage = 8}.

The man looks at you and gives a short nod of appreciation before setting his sights on another enemy to go after. An arrow shoots into the ground in front of you from above, the shock making your bowing stutter. You look up and see the goblin archer you were aiming at before now standing on the outcrop directly above you, eyes glaring into your own. You leap away and move your bow harshly, ignoring any mistakes you make. Now’s not the time to worry about intonation. This time, your attack hits them right between the eyes. They’re flung backwards and don’t reappear. Another dead. {Attack Roll = 15, Hit}, (Force Damage = 5}.

The battlefield is a cacophony of steel meeting steel, battle cries, screams of anguish, and your frantic melody.

“Guaaagh!”

You jump and spin around when you hear a gurgling cry behind you. You aim the scroll of your violin towards them, but quickly halt your bow when you’re met with Astarion pulling a dagger out of the neck of a goblin that had snuck up behind you.

“Careful now,” he playfully chides. “I’d hate to see you lose that darling neck of yours so soon.”

You purse your lips, but don’t say or do anything. ‘Says the man who was planning on holding a knife to said neck when we first met.’

The sounds of the battle around you begin to die out, the fight finally over. Muttering a small poof under your breath once you made sure all the enemies were dead, you let your violin vanish back into whatever storage dimension it now called home.

“That was the last of them,” you hear Zevlor from atop the cliff, reaffirming the fact that the battle was over. “Inside–all of you. More may follow. Open the gate!”

This time, the gate is able to fully open. The three humans who were yelling before, all dressed in matching green outfits, are quick to get inside, followed by the darker skinned man who had nodded at you during the fight.

Thoroughly drained, you trail after Astarion and rejoin the rest of your party in front of the gate.

“Everyone all right?” Tav checks up on everyone, handing out healing potions to everyone in your group who needs one, yourself included.

Uncorking the bottle, you take a quick whiff. It’s a sweet smell, almost fruity, but not quite. You shrug and down it. That sweet aroma is also seen in its flavor, along with an earthy bitter undertone that lingered in your mouth afterwards.

Tav starts speaking to Shadowheart about something, but you don’t hear it, busy with your own thoughts.

‘Why the fuck did I play megalovania? Why am I such a disappointment? It’s a great song, honestly, but… I could’ve saved it for a boss battle at least.’

Still wallowing in your own shame and despair, Tav turns and heads into the fort, the rest of your group following her.

Gale falls into step beside you, “Are you all right? You’re looking quite a bit more dour than before. Are you not used to combat? If this is about your performance in the fight, I can assure you, you did quite well and pulled your own weight; no need to worry.”

His words don’t do much to reassure you.

“Oh, I also noticed that song you were playing. I don’t believe I’ve heard any melodies like that before; is it a style unique to your hometown?”

“…Is there a good place to kill myself around here?”

Gale squints and tilts his head, “pardon?”

You wave him off. [Nevermind, it’s nothing].

‘C’mon me, it’s okay. Nobody here knows. You don’t have to wallow in shame,’ you think to yourself before another thought pops into your head. ‘But, If I focus on my own shame I won’t have to unpack all these distressing emotions I got from my newly found trauma of committing murder! …Both options are pretty bad, aren’t they…’

“There are children here, you fool!” A very angry voice distracts you from your thoughts.

‘Oooh, drama~ Looks like I don’t need to worry about introspection anymore! If only I had some popcorn…’

“We was running… for our lives.”

Tav leads your entourage up to the heated argument happening between a tiefling you remember shouting from atop the gate and one of the humans who was stranded outside with all of you.

“You led them straight to us, and you let them take the druid, too. Unbelievable!” The tiefling continues to yell, paying your party no mind.

“One fight just ended, and now you’re picking another? Relax,” Tav tries to diffuse the argument.

‘Oh yeah, Tav was definitely in customer service. Looks like they also get de-escalation training here.’

“Tell that to the dead at the gate,” the tiefling responds to Tav, no longer yelling but just as upset.

“Shut it, horns,” the human leans forward, face slightly scrunched in a pseudo-snarl. “I’d be lying dead next to the goblins if you’d stalled any longer.”

“My duty is to this camp.”

“God forbid you risk your precious tail. But I shouldn’t be surprised. Foulbloods ain’t known for courage.”

You flinch away, taken aback. ‘Yo, I don’t have to be from here to recognize that was a slur. Uncloseted racists, huh…yeesh.’

You see the tiefling’s eyes narrow, expression going dark. He raises a fist and slugs him, hitting him directly in the temple. The human falls to the ground, unconscious.

‘Nice,’ You nod in approval at his actions. ‘Fuck racists. Or would it be specist? Speciecist? Ah, who cares. Same difference. Still, sad to know that it seems people are much the same here as they are back home: Hating those who are different from themselves.’

The tiefling sighs and shakes out his fist. “Enough. The goblins have found us. No doubt, the beasts will be back. We need to pack up and leave. Immediately,” these words he spoke out, more so towards the other tieflings in the camp. He crosses his arms and gives the unconscious human another look of disdain. “Seems his skull isn’t as thick as I thought,” he says to himself.

“Now that’s settled,” he looks up, locking eyes with Tav, “I wouldn’t have looked to a drow for help, but I’m grateful all the same. I’m Zevlor.”

‘Aw, come on, man! You’ve got discrimination in you too? I know that in D&D lore, drows aren’t looked upon favorably, but I was hoping for better since nobody in our party seemed to mind.’

“I’m Tav,” she replies, unfazed. You feel a bit sad, thinking that maybe Tav has had no choice but to get used to it.`

“Well met. I should warn you– visitors are no longer welcome in this grove,” Zevlor cautions. “Whatever your business, I’d see to it quickly– the druids are forcing everyone out. This attack will only strengthen their resolve.”

“Why are they forcing you out?”

“There have been several attacks by different monsters. The druids blame us ‘outsiders’ for drawing them here. Nobody’s welcome anymore. They’ve started a ritual to cut the grove off from the world outside. We can’t stay, but we’ll be slaughtered if we leave- we’re no fighters.”

“So, what even brought you all here in the first place?”

“We’re refugees from Elturel– we took shelter here after gnolls attacked us on the road. We were bound for Baldur’s Gate, and it was too late to turn back. Elturel had no place for tieflings after the Descent.”

‘I have no idea what they’re talking about now.’

“Hmm, if your people survived that, they’ll survive anything.”

‘That? What’s that? This is starting to sound like it’s about to get dark, and I already have enough shit to worry about right now. I wanna know so bad because I’m too curious for my own good, but I know that I’ve got a raging guilt complex that’ll make me worry about them way too much if I find out what happened… Step away, (y/n), just step away. You’re in a land of monsters and magic, you can’t afford to worry about others.’

Steeling your resolve, you step away, the group not noticing your departure as you were already lingering towards the back. Behind you and to your right, you spot a comfortable-looking shaded area across a log bridge. Devoid of any people, it looks like the perfect place for you to take a break, because now that your adrenaline rush is over, you can feel the exhaustion setting in. You quietly walk over, your years of practice of silencing your footsteps coming in handy to stay out of anyone’s notice. The large lone tree that stood near the cliff’s edge looked quite inviting, something you could lean your back against.

‘So. “Fiend’s Puppet?” What’s that?’

«Put simply, someone who’s made a pact with a fiend. That one in particular reeks of cambion.»

‘You can tell what type of devil they made a pact with just by their smell?’

«Yes? Oh, right, I had forgotten. Mortals like yourself don’t have a sense of smell as acute as demons such as myself and the like.»

‘Wait, so, since I made a pact with you, does that mean I smell like you?’

«Only when you channel my powers or cast magic. For a brief moment, you will smell of brimstone.»

‘Brimstone, huh? I thought that was more of a ‘hells and devils’ thing, not an abyssal demon thing.’

«Well… I don’t quite have a smell anymore other than brimstone, since, well, you know. In fact, if any were to notice the smell, they would probably assume you’ve made a pact with a devil rather than me. Outside of that though, no mortals should be able to tell you’ve made a pact since most gods or patrons do not actively converse as we do.»

I pursed my lips, reminded of the suffering Astaroth must be going through. ‘Well, I suppose smelling like a freshly struck match isn’t so bad. In fact, I kinda like the smell’** You feel Astaroth’s desire to fondly tussle your hair.

You’re just a few steps away from the tree now, fully ready to take a moment to rest and breathe. What you were not expecting was for a squirrel to lunge at you and bite at your toes. At least, it was biting at where it thought your toes were. Since your newly acquired boots were too big, your feet didn’t reach that far. You squeak and try to shake the creature off your foot while maintaining your balance. Thankfully, it quickly let go, so you took a step back, watching as it stanced up.

“Are even the squirrels out to kill me? Why are you like this, Faerûn?”

“I was so interested to see what our little bard-who’s-not-a-bard was up to, sneaking away like that, but I wasn’t expecting to see you in a fight with a squirrel of all things.”

You whip your head around to see Astarion. ‘I don’t think I like being the one who is getting snuck up on.’

“Oh, don’t mind me–I’d much rather see how this plays out, especially since it seems the squirrel is winning,” he crosses his arms, smirking at you.

You pout and deadpan. ‘I’m too tired to put up with this.’

“Oh, fine, fine– you’re no fun. There’s an apprentice healer in the grove and our fearless leader thinks we should go see them,” he says as he begins inspecting his nails. “Not that they’ll actually be able to do anything about these worms, but I suppose any information could be useful.”

He turns around, a silent gesture to follow him. You do so, fully turning your back to the squirrel who thankfully doesn’t give chase. You find Tav and the rest waiting for your return, making you feel a bit bad for being the reason for the delay.

“There you are,” Tav says with that same smile on her face, “Let’s all go meet that healer, shall we?”

You passed by a group of three tieflings arguing over whether they should leave or stay. Using her expert de-escalation skills, Tav said naught but one sentence to them: “To leave is a heavy choice– it will weigh on whatever path you walk next.” And just like that, they were convinced to stay and ceased arguing. You can’t help but wonder why she stepped in– was it perhaps just an automatic response, as if out of habit? ‘Well, doesn’t matter, I guess.’

A few meters ahead was a small training ground with children wielding swords against dummies made of wood and cloth. Instructing them was the man who had jumped down from the wall during the fight with the goblins: the fiend’s puppet. You feel Astaroth’s distaste rise up in the back of your throat but don’t let it show. As the man notices you all approaching, he gives the child he’s currently helping a bit of encouragement before turning to face Tav.

“Well met. The Blade of Frontiers at your–” his introduction is cut short as you’re connected to his tadpole, much like how it was when you met Astarion.

The distaste is forgotten as you see a wasteland, ravaged by flames and countless battles. There’s yelling and the clashing of metal. All is chaos and blood, and then you see her: She’s tall and muscular–red skin, one curled horn, and lit ablaze, though the flames do not hurt her. Her black hair with streaks of red– whether it’s dyed or just an illusion from the fire, you can’t tell– is styled in a mohawk, her hair falling over the side of her head without any gel to hold it up. She turns to the side and you catch a glimpse of her face.

‘Hello, 911 emergency? There’s a handsome girl in my brain.’

And then it’s over. The connection is severed and the woman's visage is gone.

‘Wait, no, come back, I wasn’t done staring!’

“Hells’ great fires– you were on the ship,” he looked at you all in realization after the memory sharing ended.

“Yes– and we both carry parasites,” Tav replies, voice carrying a slight grim undertone.

“Mm, doomed to shed our skin and become illithid, or so the stories go, but we haven’t sprouted any tentacles– not yet, anyway. Could just be good luck. I’m not so…”

He’s cut off again as the mind link resurfaces and you see her again. ‘Whoohoo! Pretty lady! She’s back!’ This time however, it’s not as pleasant as you feel the man’s emotions towards her: she’s evil incarnate. His emotions stir the beginnings of nausea in your gut. His emotions don’t meld well within you, unlike Astaroth’s. You don’t like it. This connection is shorter than the last, and she’s gone once more, bringing relief as the man’s emotions are gone with it. ‘Yep, that checks out… another villain who’s super hot– literally this time.’

“Shit,” he blurts out, “you saw her: advocatus diaboli.

‘...why did that translate into latin?’

“Her name is Karlach. An archdevil’s soldier I swore on my good eye to kill. I tracked her through the Hells to the mind flayer ship, but the damned illithids infected me before I could end her. She’s out there now, preying on the innocent. I don't kill her, she’ll leave behind nothing but a trail of corpses.”

“Well, we’re looking for a cure to this infection. I’d imagine you’d also be interested in getting cured, so I suggest we partner up,” Tav offers.

“Chk! A worthy ally, perhaps, but I’ll waste no time chasing devils while a tadpole feasts on our skulls,” Lae’zel inputs, unclear if she’s on board with the idea of him joining the party or not.

“I’ve seen your people in battle,” the man follows up. “I reckon you are no mere warrior, but a godsdamned army. I’d be a fool to let you turn your back. Pledge me your talents, and I’ll pledge you mine.”

Lae’zel responds with another “chk.”

“I’ll presume that’s githyanki for ‘yes.’ Now let’s move.”

“Shadowheart huffs amusedly, “The famous Blade of Frontiers, in the flesh. Clever, this hero act you’ve got going.”

“Hero, blade– names strangers gave me. My friends call me Wyll.”

“Excellent. If we ever become friends, I’ll know what to call you.”

You can feel your eyes open comically wide. ‘Holy shit, Shadowheart, that was brutal.’

“I’m Tav. These are Lae’zel, Shadowheart, (y/n), Gale, and Astarion.”

You nod your head in greeting.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” Wyll smiles. Unlike Tav, his smile is genuine.

‘Holy shit, a genuine nice person. First one of those I’ve met in a while.’

“I hope you don’t mind accompanying us to see the healer first,” Tav comments. “We are already here after all.”

“By all means,” Wyll acquiesces. “I’m also not too keen on the idea of becoming a mind flayer.”

As Wyll begins to take the lead with Tav next to him, you retreat into your mind to speak with Astaroth once again.

‘So, normally, when we see a devil, your hatred kinda flows into me, right? Why didn’t it when we saw that woman in the mindlink?’

«Simply put, I could not quite tell if she truly was a devil. As it was a memory, I could not verily tell what she was. Memories cannot always be trusted.»

‘That’s true. If someone tries hard enough, they can gaslight themselves to the point of misremembering something and being convinced that the memory they altered themselves is the truth.’

«”Gaslight?” That is a term I am unfamiliar with. I must study your vernacular more.»

‘One of the three “g’s”: Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. Handy terms to know.’

The party is led down some stone steps, Tav and Wyll still heading the party: Tav for being the de facto leader and Wyll for already knowing the layout of the grove. At the bottom of the stairs is a crowd of tieflings facing off against a few steadfast druids.

“Let my daughter go right now!” One of the tieflings yells. She’s enraged and worried to the point that she sounds as if she might begin to cry.

“She’s a thief, hellspawn, and you will wait for Kagha’s judgement. Now get back.” The druid is unyielding in her reply.

‘What is up with these people and being racist towards tieflings? Typical time period racism I guess?’

“Argh, let me through, mragreshem, or I’ll rip your damned throat out!” The same tiefling as before takes a few steps closer towards the druids.

One of said druids lets out a guttural roar as they shapeshift into a bear, effectively forcing the tieflings back.

‘...I completely forgot that it’s normal for people to shapeshift here… well, turning into a bear is definitely an effective intimidation tactic. I would take notes except for the fact that I’m not a shapeshifter.’

With the tieflings no longer blocking the stairs, Tav steps down. The now-bear growls in attempts to discourage your party’s approach.

“You! Step back,” the druid who was warning the tiefling before had now turned her attention to Tav. “We’ll not tolerate drow in here.”

Tav smiles that wide smile of hers with concealed irritation. “We were told we could find a healer here. We’ll be brief, so please allow us through.”

“Keep back. Force my hand, and I’ll show you its claws.”

“A moment, Jeorna,” the last of the three druids speaks up, gesturing for Jeorna to lean down and listen as he whispers in her ear.

“What…? Why would she allow one of them? I… I suppose so, yes.” She leans back up and glares at Tav. “You– apparently Kagha wants to see you. Go ahead.” As Tav starts to walk past, Jeorna speaks again, making Tav pause briefly, “A word of warning. One wrong move and every single animal here will tear you apart.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing you any wrong, don’t worry,” she replies, never losing her wide smile before she continues with her normal pace.

You follow Tav past the druids, looking at the strange sight of what was obviously a ritual going on in the center of the area: druids chanting and channeling their magic into a small statue on a pedestal.

‘This feels very cultish… I don’t know if I want any part in this.’ You all walk towards a patterned stone wall, which automatically lowers as you approach. ‘Huh… how uncharacteristically modern of them.’

The first thing you notice as you enter is just how much cooler it is inside, pleasantly so at that. Cool and dark, but not too humid despite the pools below: a perfect place to relax, especially if you can find a small nook to be alone in. The potential peace of this place is kept at bay by the cries of a terrified child, however.

“Please, I’m sorry!”

As you go down the stairs, you come across the sight of a woman and a man on either side of a frightened tiefling child. And on the stone table behind her is–

‘It’s a baby!’ A snake, a viper judging by its head's structure, slithers up behind the girl, silently threatening her. ‘Dangerous, yes, but gods do I want to pet it, but I know I can’t, oh, this is torture.’

“This is madness Kagha. She’s just a-” The man standing next to the child protests but is cut off.

“A what, Rath? A thief? A poison? A threat?” The woman, Kagha, you presume, stands firm, unaffected by his words. “I will imprison the devil, and I will cast out every stranger.”

“Thief? Poison? What’s this girl’s actual crime?” Tav steps forward and asks, warily eyeing the viper.

“Girl? You mean parasite,” Kagha spits out. “She eats our food, drinks our water, then steals our most holy idol in thanks!”

‘...I mean, it’s more of a competitive symbiotic relationship rather than a parasitic one, unless they need to idol to survive; if that’s the case, then yes it’d be parasitic, but seeing as they’re all still alive after the kid stole it, I doubt that’s the case.’

“Rath, lock her up,” Kagha commands. “She remains here until the rite is complete.” She leans down to eye level with the tiefling child, “And keep still, devil. Teela is restless.”

The snake hisses in response, baring its fangs.

‘Oh my god, Teela is such a cute name… I know, not the time, not the place, but come on, it’s a relatively tame venomous snake, who knows if I’ll ever get a chance to safely pet a venomous reptile other than now?’

“Come, Kagha,” Rath tries to dissuade her, “We took back the idol. Surely–”

“Do it,” she cuts him off, leaving no room for negotiation.

There’s a brief second of silence before Tav speaks again, “You’ve proven your authority. Now prove your mercy.”

Kagha looks at Tav, a thoughtful expression coating her features, considering Tav’s words. “Fair words.” She turns back to the tiefling, “Child, take to the others word of my grace.” She then glances back to Teela, “Ssifisv– Teela, to me.”

The snake obeys, slithering away from the child and towards Kagha. As soon as the snake is far enough away, the child makes a break for it, rushing past your party and out the door you had just entered. You turn your body to the side to dodge the kid as she nearly shoulder checks you in order to get out.

Shadowheart takes a step to the side as the child passes her, then winces and looks at her hand. “Ngh… it hurts…” she mutters under her breath.

“Thank you , Kagha,” Rath says, thoroughly relieved. “Master Halsin would–”

“Halsin isn’t here. Keep his name off your tongue, lest Teela pierce it.”

Rath backs off, moving to sit down instead as Kagha approaches you all, her gaze fixed on Tav. “A deep elf in our grove, on this day. A sign, or rather, a gift.”

‘...I’m sorry, what?’ You were expecting a much harsher welcome from Kagha, considering the druid guard you had just met was so hostile to Tav for being a drow.

“Who better to understand a watchful broodmother than a beloved child of Lolth?”

Tav’s eyes narrow in distaste, her smile faltering. “I have no love for the Queen of Spiders.”

“Indeed?” Kagha takes it in stride, not bothered by the fact she may have just severely offended Tav, if you believe your own observations. “But you do exhibit a talent for self-preservation. A viper bares her fangs defending her brood. Is it not her nature to strike at invaders?” Tav doesn’t give her a response. “No matter. I took back the Idol of Silvanus and the rite has resumed. We will seal the grove. Free from harm. Free of intruders.”

“This rite must be born of powerful magic.”

“The Rite of Thorns. It is the Treefather’s gift, that none come to harm. When we speak the final prayer, the Great Vine will sprout forth. The grove will be cloaked in bramble and thorn. No one enters, no one leaves. Sanctuary. None of this can happen while outlanders inject us. Silvanus demands that we choke them out.”

‘Um, I may not know much about druidcraft, but choking people out doesn’t sound very druid-y. Aren’t they supposed to be all “one with nature” and stuff?’

Tav just gives a nod to Kagha, whether it was one of agreement or just acknowledgement, well, that’s up to interpretation… you really hope it’s the latter.

With a small but satisfied grin, Kagha walks off to one of the inner chambers, Teela in tow. Your eyes watch Teela, a bit disappointed you didn’t get a chance to pet it.

Once she’s out of earshot, Gale can no longer hold back his distaste, “That woman has more venom in her heart than a snake in its fangs, but at least the child is safe. What is youth if not a time to be forgiven for one’s transgressions?”

Tav nods, “I’m glad we intervened.”

“Couldn’t agree more. The girl wasn’t innocent, but that doesn’t mean she was guilty.”

She then looks at Shadowheart, concerned– no doubt she also heard her hiss of pain earlier.

“I know that look– you’re wondering why I was in pain before. Let’s just clear the air about that now,” Shadowheart says with a sigh. “It’s just an old wound that hurts me from time to time. Nothing to be concerned about. It’s nothing to do with the tadpoles at least, in case your imagination is in danger of getting away from you. It’s just…something I have to live with. It always passes quickly though, so I can manage.”

“All right. Just make sure to tell us if it’s bothering you too much,” Tav says, still mildly concerned. “Nothing good comes from ignoring pain for too long.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

With no one else besides Rath around to ask for directions to the healer, Tav approaches him.

“You did well to speak up for the girl,” Rath thanks as he notices your party approaching him. “That snake is fickle. A tragedy prevented.”

“That Kagha seems dangerous,” Tav comments.

‘Oh, thank goodness. Looks like I don’t need to worry about her agreeing with what Kagha said.’

“Well seen. Well spotted. We’ve let a snake replace our leader.”

“Kagha seems happy to rule the roost. Your real leader is Halsin, I’m guessing?”

“Aye. Perhaps goblin-caught, perhaps dead now. He’d set… Mistress Kagha back in line,” his face scrunches in disdain when he used Kagha’s new title. “Hold her to task. Stop this damned ritual. More will die if the rite is finished. So many more, sent into a world gone mad…” He ends with a solemn tone and expression.

“If no one’s looking for Halsin, I could do it,” Tav offers.

‘Wait, what? I mean, yeah that’s probably what I would have done, but can’t you, oh, I don’t know, ask for our input first since your “I” definitely means “we”?’

“Would you? I would give anything to see Halsin return home.”

“No need to fret. I’ll find him.”

“Silvanus’ blessings upon you, and my gratitude as well. Halsin is an elf with the presence of a bear. He left west, with the adventurers. You won’t mistake the First Druid for anyone else.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime, I heard there was a healer here, Nettie, I believe. Could we meet her?”

“Ah, I see. You will find her deeper in the caves,” Rath points towards a nearby stone archway.

“Thank you,” she says, receiving a nod in response from Rath.

The archway gives way to a round chamber, where you can see a dwarf fussing over an injured bluejay. Tav walks up and pauses in front of the dwarf.

“I see you. Just give me a moment,” the dwarven woman says. Tav remains silent, waiting. “Vis medicatrix…” The dwarf chants, white strands of magic leaving her hands and surrounding the bird, which stands up. “There. It’s up to her now. Life or death. Now, what–” she cuts herself off as she sees Tav for the first time. “Drow. Last time I saw one of you folk, he tried to slit me open. I hope you’re more agreeable.”

“Where did you see another drow?” Tav asks, curious.

“That’s neither here nor there,” she brushes off the question. “Look, you obviously want something. What is it?”

“Healing. Looks like I came to the right person.”

“I do what I can. For most folks, that’s enough. Come here. Let’s have a look at you.” Tav leans down so that she’s eye-level with who you presume to be Nettie. “You seem healthy enough. A bit tired ‘round the eyes, maybe.

“More than tired. Something crawled into my eye.”

“Crawled in? Some sort of bug or–wait…” she takes a step back. “Did it look like a tadpole? But from your worst nightmare? All slime, teeth, and tentacles?”

“You know of them? Can you help me?”

“I–I’ll do what I can. Follow me. I might be able to help.” She turns around, gesturing for your party to follow. “We need to be quick. This way.”

She leads you to another stone door, which you did not realize was such until it too lowered like the one at the entrance. This chamber is smaller, with statues of wolves decorated with glowing blue markings. There are two stone tables to the left: one holds candles and what looks to be medicinal plants and substances, and the other is being used as a final resting place for a dead drow.

“Don’t worry about him on the table. I’m not in the habit of killing drow,” Nettie explains. “He attacked Master Halsin and I in the woods, leading a pack of goblins. Tadpole crawled out of his head soon after.”

“He and I have the same kind of parasite?” Tav asks, seemingly unbothered by her dead kin.

“Seems so. Gave Master Halsin a right start. It’s why he joined the adventurers on their expedition. To find out what was happening. A pity you got me instead of him. He understands these things– studied them. Still, we have two options.” She pulls out a thorny stick, holding it in her hand. Her arm is lax but her grip is tight.

“What’s that plant? Will it help?”

Nettie shifts her weight. “It might, but first things first. Tell me about your symptoms– have you noticed anything strange happening?”

Tav’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “It ‘might’? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m telling you everything you need to know. Believe me on that.”

‘“Everything we need to know,” huh? That’s a red flag if I’ve ever heard one.’ You glance around you, making sure there’s nobody hiding nearby and that the stone door is still open. You go to lean against the wall, trying to stay casual. You don’t trust this, and having your back facing an open doorway is a bad idea.

“I want to help you,” Nettie continues, “but I can’t unless you work with me. So, has anything unusual happened to you?”

“I can merge my mind with anyone else that’s infected,” Tav says, ending on a downwards intonation, implying that that’s all, not about to offer up any other information.

“Victims can identify each other? Not that the others know they’re victims, of course. How’d you pick up the parasite? Halsin was desperate to find where all this was happening.”

“Look, are you going to cure me or not?”

“I’m trying to help you, but I need to be sure. So tell me, where'd you get that thing?”

“I don’t know, I just woke up with it.”

“All right. I suppose that makes things easier. Give me your arm, please.”

Tav hesitates, then slowly holds out her arm. Nettie grabs Tav’s arm and quickly pierces her with the stick’s thorns.

“There. Be careful. Your legs’ll probably give out first.”

With narrowed eyes, Tav reaches to grab the branch from her, but Nettie steps out of her immediate reach.

“It’s too late. It’s already in your system. I’m truly, truly sorry. For what it’s worth, the poison is painless. It’ll be like going to sleep.”

“You poisoned me huh?” Tav scoffed, not sounding all too surprised. “Heh, should’ve known…” Her face fell to a scowl as she gazed at her pricked arm.

“Please, try to relax. This doesn’t have to be hard.”

“Is there an antidote?” Tav flickered her eyes up to Nettie.

“You can’t have it. I can’t risk you turning– you’d kill us all.”

She turned her head to face Nettie fully. “Give. Me. The. Antidote.”

“I won’t. I can’t.”

“But I don’t have symptoms– I’m not changing.”

Nettie fidgets, her face squinched in reluctance. A few seconds of what you assume is a mental debate later, she relents. “Gods above. It’s a risk, but maybe you deserve a chance…” She sighs, “All right. Master Halsin did say the drow’s tadpole was dormant. Maybe yours is too.” She places the branch down and instead pulls out a bottle filled with a radioactive-green liquid. “Now, this is a vial of wyvern poison. It’s quick and painless. Swear to me you’ll swallow it if you feel any symptoms.”

“All right. Hand it over.”

“Swear it.”

“...I swear.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that but… thank you. Here,” she hands Tav the poison. “And here’s the antidote. Do not mix those two up.” Tav takes it and pops the cork off, wasting no time before she starts drinking. “I’ve spent my life treating folk and never once saw a mind flayer infection. Then suddenly there’s dozens of you– maybe more. Master Halsin and I were tracking them, studying them, trying to figure out what the hells was going on, because you should all be changing; there should be a small army of mind flayers out there! But you’re not. Weird powers aside, you seem perfectly normal.”

Tav wipes her mouth with her arm once she finishes off the antidote. “Cure aside, you must’ve learned something from studying them, at least.”

“For one, that thing in your head is like nothing we’ve ever seen from mind flayers. It’s one of their worms, for sure, but this one gives you powers– telepathic connections– and it doesn’t turn you into one of them. Not yet, anyhow.”

“You said you were tracking other victims. Did they change?”

“Hard to say, but there’s a lot we don’t know. Infected– folks like you– have been converging on an old temple of Selûne, and I’ve no idea why. When Master Halsin heard the adventurers were heading that way, he saw a chance to get answers. Joined on the spot. Whatever he found there, he didn’t make it back.”

“You think he’s still alive?

“I think so. I hope so. I’ve sent birds to find him, but they can’t get close without goblins trying to shoot them down. You though? You’re one of them–technically speaking I mean; they won’t kill someone carrying their parasite. If you can find Halsin and get him out of there, we can discover what he learned, and perhaps he can save your life. How’s that sound?”

“You’re sure he can cure me?”

“I can’t make any promises. This is like nothing we’ve seen before, but I know this for sure: master Halsin is the only one close to understanding these things. He’s your best bet to survive. Otherwise, that vial’s your only option.”

“All right, I’ll find Halsin.”

“Thank you. It would mean everything to the grove. To me. I wish I could tell you what happened out there, but those adventurers were the only witnesses, and they’re long gone. All I can say for sure is they all went to the old temple of Selûne and Master Halsin didn’t make it back. Good luck out there, and if things start to go bad, remember the vial. Remember your oath.” With that, Nettie leaves the room, going back to tending to the now-healed bird.

“I can’t believe she poisoned you, tried to put you down like a dying dog without as much as a whisper of consent!” Gale exclaims after the stone door rises shut behind Nettie.

“It was one hell of a surprise, but Nettie came around.”

“Yes– against her will, without rhyme or reason! How dare she snuff out life with as much thought as snuffing out a bloody candle?”

You look at Gale, concerned. You might not have known him for long, but you’d have never expected just how livid he sounded.

“Are you all right, Gale?” Tav asked him. Looks like she feels the same way as you.

“Yes…Yes, I am,” he tries to calm himself down, and it works for the most part, but you can still hear that underlying anger when he continues, “It’s just that– had it been me…had it been…” He trails off, and you can see a faint trace of fear in his eyes that vanishes as quickly as it appeared. “But you handled it, and you handled it well! As for myself, I could quite do with a tumbler full of Waterdeep Whiskey. Anyway, we live. For the moment. How about we go find that chap Halsin little miss Poison Ivy mentioned? With a bit of luck, he has the means to offer us a cure rather than a coffin.” And just like that, he’s back to his upbeat self.

‘I know trauma when I see it, and that man definitely has trauma.’

“Chk, I knew this would lead to nowhere,” Lae’zel speaks up, fed up. “The only cure is to have the tadpoles removed by my people. We must find this ‘Zorru’ those ‘teeth-lings’ spoke of and get answers.”

You quickly cover your mouth and stifle yourself after you realize you let out an involuntary chuckle at hearing Lae’zel say ‘teeth-ling.’ You see Lae’zel cross her arms and roll her eyes after Tav corrects her mispronunciation.

“They saw one of my people. That means a crèche is nearby.”

“How about we split up?” Tav offers. “Three groups: one to find Zorru, one to ask around for information on Karlach, and the last for any other information on the area.”

Nobody felt any need to object so you sorted yourselves into groups: Lae’zel’s group, consisting of her and Tav, Wyll’s group consisting of him and Shadowheart, and your group of you, Astarion, and Gale. Tav would have the best chance of convincing Lae’zel if something went wrong, Shadowheart would be able to be more harsh when Wyll could not, and Gale and Astarion would probably have the best chance at communicating with you at the moment, so the groups were decided on those premises. Also because Gale is less likely to rub people the wrong way than Astarion.

‘I’ve only known this man for one day and I can already tell he’s a bastard, in a likable sense,’ you think to yourself, grateful that you won’t have to manage Astarion by yourself, since you’re essentially mute.

The groups split off after you get back to the surface, out in the sun. Your group stays behind in this area of the grove while the other two groups head back towards the tiefling camp.

“Ugh, this is going to be so boring,” Astarion whines.

You mime patting him on the back, not wanting to touch without permission. [There, there, I’m sure it won’t be all that bad].

“Hmm, perhaps it’ll be more entertaining if you do the talking,” he smirks at you. “Yes, I’d say that sounds quite amusing.”

“Wow, very funny– come up with that idea all by yourself? “ you deadpan. Hopefully they’ll at least understand your unamused tone. “Sure, let’s have the basically mute one do the conversing when we have to others perfectly capable of speech; I’m sure that’ll go perfectly well indeed.”

“I think I’m with them on this one, Astarion, assuming they’re saying that we should probably do the talking,” Gale says, looking to you for confirmation, smiling when you nod at him.

“Neither of you are any fun at all,” Astarion pouts.

‘Sorry man, but my social anxiety has returned now that the adrenaline is gone, so I’m back to being way too scared of people.’ [Oh well].

“Fine, fine. I guess we’ll just have to be boring for now.” His face scrunched with a pout as he crossed his arms.

“Wonderful. Let’s get started, shall we?” Gale says, looking around for someone who isn’t busy chanting.

There were really only three or so druids who were free, so you all started with them. Unfortunately, none of them had much to say besides their distaste for either outsiders or the ritual underway. Your next target was a rather eccentric man dressed in blue and talking with a bear. Normally, this wouldn’t be so odd in a druid grove, except for the fact that he looked extremely out of place.

“Oh! Why hello,” the boisterous man clad in blue exclaimed as soon as Gale walked up, not giving Gale a chance to even greet him. “You were the ones with the drow, weren’t you? I must say, I was quite surprised when I first saw them here, of all places. It’s rare to come across one of them above ground, you know. Rare and intriguing on a day already packed with intrigue!”

Gale opened his mouth to speak but the man kept talking, leaving no room for interruption. “You were at the gates just now, no? When the goblins came? You saw them up close? A few questions, if you please. There’s no overstating my interest.”

“Would you answer some of ours in return?” Gale extends an offer.

“But of course! Now, then: How would you describe that particular batch of goblins? Size? Nature? Distinguishing qualities?”

You start to check out of the conversation as Gale begins to give an exact and detailed description of the goblins. ‘Not really much for me to do here.’ Out of habit, you reach for your phone, but catch yourself before you bring it out. ‘Ah. Right. I can’t do that here.’

“I do believe it’s our turn to ask some questions of you now, yes?” Gale asks, his answering time finished.

“Go right ahead,” Volo says, tucking away his journal and quill.

“I was hoping you could tell us a bit about the area, what to expect, places of interest, unusual occurrences, and the like.”

“Of course there’s that ship that just crashed, but I doubt you need me to tell you about that; it was practically impossible to miss. There’s also some old ruins south of here– I’m almost positive I heard a bit of a commotion coming from it when I passed by. I’m afraid I’ve not seen much else besides that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must be on my way to the goblin camp. Until we meet again!” And just like that he left, not allowing any follow up questions to be asked.

“Well, he was certainly a character,” Astarion mutters.

You find yourself absentmindedly nodding in agreement– music. You freeze. You can faintly hear some singing and the plucking of a stringed instrument. Your head snaps to the side towards the direction it's coming from.

“(Y/n)? Is something the matter?” Gale looks at you with a mix of intrigue and concern.

You point in the direction of the music and hum the melody you’ve heard repeat a few times.

Astarion grumbles, “We are not going over there. That singing is downright awful.”

You shrug. [Up to you guys]. ‘Not like I’ll ever suggest we talk to people; my anxiety isn’t called a disorder for nothing.’

“Oh, I’m sure you’re just exaggerating,” Gale says. “The more information we have, the better, so why not at least ask?”

You follow behind Gale as he begins to head in the direction you pointed to. Astarion huffs in annoyance, but ultimately doesn’t stray from the group; he still pouts the entire way, though. Soon, you’re close enough to actually clearly make out the singing of a woman. Her singing is… admittedly not the best to your ears, but definitely not as awful as Astarion was making it out to be. Who knows, maybe it’s a stylistic thing that you’re just not used to since you’re an alien. For all you know, she could be an expert singer and that’s just how it’s supposed to sound. Plus, considering your taste in music sometimes, you’re really not in a place to judge others.

“Dance upon the stars tonight. Smile and pain will fade away. Words of mine will change–no. Become–ugh.” A blue-purple tiefling– it was hard to tell exactly what color her skin was in the spotty shade she sat beneath– was singing alongside her lute on top of a small rocky hill overlooking the grove, performing for a couple of critters. Her singing was warbly at points, as if she were trying to hold back tears.

‘Is she trying to come up with lyrics after she made the melody? No wonder it sounds like she’s struggling.’

“Change? No. Damn it!”

“Are you all right?” Gale asked her as your group of three strode up to her, understandably worried as she both looked and sounded frustrated enough to throw her lute to the ground.

“No. I’m moments away from a grisly death…at the hands of this bloody song. I can’t… nothing fits, you know?”

“Well, luckily for you, we happen to have a bard in our party. Perhaps they’ll be able to be of some help?” Gale nods towards you.

“Oh, yes, I’m sure our bard would love to help,” Astarion gives you a smirk, knowing fully well that you are, in fact, not a bard.

Your eyes dart between the two of them who oh-so-kindly just threw you under the bus. ‘...You fucking assholes.’ [Fuck you guys].

“Hm. It can’t hurt. I have her… I have an extra lute, if you want?”

You make no move to help, but Astarion oh-so-kindly nudges (Read: pushes) you forward. You give him a glare over your shoulder, to which he only smiles smugly at, his face reminding you of a satisfied cat who just pushed something off of a ledge.

She holds out the lute for you to grab, “I’m Alfira.”

“(y/n).” You awkwardly pick up the lute and hold it like a guitar. ‘I don’t know how to play the lute.’ You look over the lute you were handed. ‘Four strings, early medieval-style, huh? I wonder if–’ You pluck each open string. “G-D-A-G? Well, I suppose it’s close enough to a violin, even if some of the strings are an octave off. Guess I can shoddily transpose.’

Taking your little note test as you ready to begin, Alfira brings her own lute into ready position, “I’ll start from the beginning. We’ll take it slow.”

Dance upon the stars tonight.

Smile and pain will fade away.

‘Abwpfft–ah shit we’re already goin’! Well, I don’t know chords so you’re gettin’ some pizzicato!’

You start plucking at the strings, sticking to open notes since you don’t know how fretboards are set up for lutes. Despite your anxiety, you pluck them confidently, because if you don’t play with confidence, it’ll sound like shit no matter what.*

Alfira smiles, encouraged by your playing. She continues.

Word of mine will turn to ash.

When you call the last light down.

‘Why am I the only one playing? Why aren’t you playing your lute with me?!’ You continue to play, though Alfira just holds her lute while she sings, not bothering to play it. ‘I can’t just play the same four notes forever! I was planning on watching where you placed your fingers so I can mimic it but nooooo you only want to sing. Well don’t blame me if this doesn’t work,’ you place your fingers down onto the second fret of the A string and thank god it was in key.’

Moon reminds me of your grace.

All the love I can’t repay.

Rest and know that I will pray.

Farewell, my dear old friend.

As Alfira trails off, so does your playing. ‘I’m free! Finally!’

Alfira places her lute to the side as she starts to cry. “Sorry.”

You see Gale begin to fret with a slight panic as she starts to cry. You flash him a grin with a hint of smugness. ‘You gotta do damage control now because I can’t talk. Serves you right for throwing me under the bus.’

“Don’t worry. Cry as much as you need,” Gale placates her, giving no sign of having noticed your self-satisfied expression.

“Heh. She’d have said the same thing,” she sniffled, wiping the tears from her eyes. “That’s the first time I’ve played since Lihala died. My teacher. She was playing her lute. We…didn’t hear the gnolls coming. There was so much blood. I–I can still smell it.”

“Well, you’ve come up with a fine tribute to her.”

“Lihala said that’s why eulogies were important. They were for the living as well as the dead. I’d forgotten what it was like: that itch to perfect a song. Keep the lute. Please. You’ve earned it. The Weeping Dawn will be my gift to Lihala. I’ve a long way to go, but thank you. I…I needed this.”

‘...Guess I’ve got a lute now… where am I supposed to put this?’

“If you don’t mind my asking, where did your group run into the gnolls?” Gale asks.

“Northeast of here. If you’re going that way, be careful,” Alfira warns.

Gale thanked her for the information and turned around, nodding at Astarion to follow him back towards the way we came, leaving Alfira to her own devices.

‘I feel like we watched her go through the five stages of grief all within the span of five minutes.’

“See? Now we know there are gnolls about,” Gale says, looking satisfied that we got useful information despite Astarion’s initial reluctance to approach Alfira.

Astarion crosses his arms and looks to the side, away from Gale. “Fine, I suppose this wasn’t too useless of an endeavor.”

“And, our bard received a gift as well!” Gale looks at you with a smile.

Your face remains cold as you place your fingers at the sixth fret of the first G, the fifth fret of the D string, and fifth fret of the A string, but leave the last string open: C#-G-C#-G. You lift your right hand and strike down across all the strings. Astarion and Gale both cringe at the awful tritone you chord you made.

“Good gods, what is wrong with you?” Astarion asks incredulously, covering his ears.

You cross your arms as best you can while holding the lute and puff out your cheeks. [You made me do an impromptu duet! With an instrument I don’t even know how to play!] {Performance = 11, Success}

‘That was an awful experience, forcing me to do a public performance! The two of them deserve to be at the mercy of the diabolus in musica at the very least.’

“My apologies,” Gale sheepishly apologizes, “all the bards I’ve ever come across usually jump at the chance to perform, so I assumed you’d be the same.”

[No, I hate public performances.]{Performance = 15, Success} [Also, not a bard.] {Performance = 7, Failure}

Gale scratches his head in confusion, “Forgive me for being confused, but why go down the path of a bard if you don’t enjoy performing?”

You throw your head back with a dramatic groan. ‘How many more times am I going to have to explain this?’ Bringing your head back down, you take a breath to calm yourself before trying again. [I am not a bard.] {Performance = 5, Failure}

Gale just looks at you in confusion, not understanding.

You turn to Astarion with wide, urging eyes and jerk your head towards Gale. [Can you just tell him? I’m sick of this game.] {Persuasion = 9, Success}

“Well, it was starting to lose its amusement, so, all right,” Astarion accepts and explains to Gale, “We had a little conversation yesterday and, turns out, they’re not a bard.”

“Truly?” Gale looks at you, intrigued. “But you use an instrument as an arcane focus, do you not?”

[Well, yes, but… I don’t know. Not a bard, though. Remember that.]

“Hmm, that’s quite interesting, isn’t it? Would you mind if I asked some questions? I’m very curious,” Gale looks at you with intrigue sparkling in his eyes.

[Um, maybe later.] ‘Really don’t want to discuss it though. I need to keep Astaroth a secret.’

“Perhaps we’ll have a chance when we next make camp.”

[Yeah, sure, sounds great.] ‘Please forget by the time we set up camp.'

“There doesn’t seem to be many other people to talk to, so shall we meet up with the others and see if they’ve had any luck?”

You didn’t have any reason to object and Astarion seemed glad to get as far away from Alfira’s music as possible, readily agreeing. And so, your group of three started heading back towards the stairs leading up into the tiefling camp half of the grove.

‘…Okay, for real though, where am I gonna put this lute?’

*Best advice I’ve ever gotten from my conductor. Play with confidence. Even if you’re not, play as if you are. Someone who’s playing confidently but hitting the wrong notes will always sound better than somebody who is hitting all the correct notes but playing meekly.

Whether it’s true confidence or false bravado, it doesn’t matter. The end result will almost always be better if you embody it. Same thing goes for art. Strong confident lines tend to look better, especially for line art.

**If you ever wondered what brimstone smells like, it that slightly sweet, smoky, and acrid smell when a match is first struck, not the eggy smell of straight up sulfur. While brimstone does mean sulfur, the smell of brimstone refers to the acrid odor of sulfur dioxide.

If you smell burnt matches in your house and you have not been constantly striking matches, there is good chance that something in your house has started to burn, such as the insulation. Please call emergency services if you smell sulfur dioxide. Don’t just go “huh. Brimstone. Neat!”

Fun fact, when I first started writing this chapter all the way back in…*checks notes*...January… the name of this chapter was “Is this foreshadowing or a red herring?” but now, 7 months later, I cannot remember why.

Next Chapter >

#astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bftt #sarrtie

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graveyard-party666 · 1 year ago

Text

BLOOD & WINE

Fears and thoughts

This chapter is pretty short, next one might be a bit bigger. I already have 3 other chapters ready but i thought I'll wait before posting.

I'm like one of those AO3 writers that disappear for some time and then come back with the craziest explanations. I have one too, but it's too much to explain. But I'm back. Working on a few other projects. A few demos are ready. Maybe even full cover will come out soon, who knows...

P. S. Yes, I'm still in my Schmalgauzen era, bless their souls.

Red is scared. Red is terrified even. Who wouldn't be in her place, when a big masked soldier follows you in a dimly lit military base? She knows she just needs to go see Captain Price, give him a few profiles she made, and leave, go home, drink some tea, cry a bit, eat something, cry a bit more.

Ghost is an enigma. He is a mystery in every meaning of the word. He doesn't speak much; he's just... there. He roams through the corridors of the base as he pleases, doing his thing. Not that Red knows what exactly Ghost is doing. And now they're going the same direction, probably to Price's office.

The woman was okay with interacting with Soap and Gaz. They are really sweet. They don't make it a challenge to talk to them nor do they make her walk on eggshells, afraid to say something that wasn't supposed to be said. Ghost, on the other hand...

He is a challenge. Red knew it from the beginning. He's not mean nor is he disrespectful in any way, no. Quite the opposite actually. Even his mask seems cool to Red. He is a responsible lieutenant, doesn't roll his eyes at Red when she gets lost on the base and asks him for help. He is reserved and closed off but never disrespectful. That's what makes it a challenge. A personal challenge.

Red is absolutely terrified. Soap has already joked that Lieutenant Ghost is too kind to the new psychologist.

"Why? You have a soft spot for civilian women? Maybe even for redheaded psychologists?" Soap's unbothered smile is still present on his handsome face, winking at the confused psychologist who now tries to blend in with the environment.

"If you were a newbie and a civvie woman at that, I would treat you the same," barked back Ghost, rolling his eyes. His accent is strong. Red feels like she isn't supposed to be here in the same room, listening to the soldiers' banter.

"I have a soft spot for people who don't bother me and are respectful," sighed Ghost, looking straight at Soap.

"Oh, so our lass here..." Soap started enthusiastically only to be cut off by Lieutenant.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, MacTavish."

Soap only chuckled, shaking his head, not leaving the idea of being a bit of a wingman for his best friend.

So yes, Red is terrified. She and Ghost are both going to the Captain's office. He follows her not too far away from her, and she feels the whole awkwardness of the situation. When you want to know your colleague but don't know how to start the conversation. She feels stupid right now. Why is she afraid if he never was mean to her?

She looks behind where he is following; their eyes meet. The man probably was thinking the same question as her: are they both heading to Price?

"You are going to Captain?" Red asks the masked British soldier softly, not wanting to scare him away. Which is funny in a way because it is him who could scare her and a few others away.

"Yes, last report for today." his answer is short but not in a 'please, shut up, I don't want to talk to you' way.

"Isn't it a bit too much paperwork for soldiers on active duty?" The girl waits for the man to catch up with her.

"You get it, Red. Governments? Not so much." The answer came out oddly soft for the reserved lieutenant. "We need to fight the most dangerous terrorists on earth and then come back to base and write a bunch of reports. Well, me at least. Captain still has it worse."

Red chuckled, remembering seeing Captain with a big glass of whiskey outside working hours trying to fill all the needed reports.

"You are still the coolest soldiers, you know that, Ghost?"

Ghost's eyes met hers again. The small wrinkles around his eyes tell her enough about the fact that the masked man is smiling too right now. Well, isn't that a big win?

"You and your compliments..." Ghost chuckles, elbowing the girl slightly.

Red is terrified. But also really happy.

Tag list: @cloudofbutterflies92 @chloekistune @justasmolbard

#oc:red #cod self insert (maybe)#self insert: red #a bit of a self insert #self insert #blood & wine series #blood & wine

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whoficky · 1 year ago

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Until Morning

Rating: T

Pairing: 10th Doctor X Rose Tyler

Work Summary: As a weary Doctor, Martha Jones and Jack Harkness prepare to take on the Master, they find their hideout isn't as secure as they thought.

In a burst of blue light, a dimension hopping Rose Tyler finally finds the Doctor, but time is still not on their side.

What if you only had one night to spend with the love of your life?

Chapter summary: Rose has a decision to make.

Chapter 3

After a moment the Doctor broke Rose’s gaze to address Jack and Martha, “Er, we need a minute. Could you…”

“I’ll go get dinner,” Martha mumbled, ducking out of the warehouse before anyone else could speak.

Jack looked after Martha’s retreat and sighed, “Theres an office in the front. I’ll work on figuring out the Master’s game plan in there,” he said, picking up the laptop and heading to the office with a sad look at Rose and the Doctor. “Call me when Martha gets back. I’m starving.”

With fading footsteps and then the click of the office door, the Doctor and Rose were alone.

“Have a seat?” the Doctor offered, referring to a few beat up chairs and crates situated around a small fire.

“Yeah,” she said numbly.

He led her over to their makeshift camp and then took a seat facing her. They were so close that their knees touched and he kept a tight hold on one of her hands.

While he collected his thoughts, she stared at their entwined fingers and focused on the warmth she felt as his thumb rubbed against hers. How was it that in the span of a minute or so she’d had her wildest dream fulfilled only to be crushed at its impermanence?

“You’ll notice…not my usual digs,” he finally said, glancing around at the grimy building.

She looked back up to meet his eyes. “Yeah, bit of a downgrade, this,” Rose tried to smile, tried to match the forced lightness in his tone.

“Yep. I’m sort of…on the run. Public Enemy Number One,” he began to explain. And damn that Time Lord, he somehow managed to sound a little proud of the designation.

“Yeah, I heard,” she said, “Jack told me.”

Rose thought back to a horrible white room with dread, “Torchwood again?” she asked.

The Doctor shook his head, “No, not this time, no. They’re largely out of commission now anyway. No, it’s…”

He trailed off and seemed to decide on a different angle.

“You know I was the last Time Lord…” he said finally.

It took only a moment to pick up on his careful phrasing and her heart sped up, “Was?” she asked.

“Yep,” he popped the P. “Was. Found another survivor. At the end of the universe of all places.”

“But Doctor, that’s good, yeah?” Rose asked cautiously, “It means you aren’t the last anymore. You don’t have to be…alone.” As much as she wanted to give him forever, to be a true partner to him, she knew she only had a short human life to offer. But if there was another Time Lord…the thought comforted her as much as it made her burn with jealousy.

“Eh, I wasn’t alone, Rose Tyler. I had you, for a time. Better with two,” he smiled and squeezed her hand, “And a few friends after that. But I know what you mean. It should be brilliant, finding another Time Lord. And that’s why this is so…” he sighed and ran a hand down his face, “bloody complicated.”

“The Time Lord you found - it’s the Master bloke you mentioned, isn’t it?” Rose asked with a sinking feeling.

The Doctor nodded.

“And he really has it out for you?”

“Yep.”

“Why? Did you know each other…before?” she asked. She was hesitant to directly reference Gallifrey or the war. Talking about his past could be like navigating a minefield. It was best to keep things vague and let him decide how much he wanted to say.

“Oh we go way back, me and him,” the Doctor sighed, “We grew up together. He was my first friend. My best friend…when we were young.”

Rose cocked her head, “And now he’s out to get you? Why? What changed?”

The Doctor leaned back in the chair and ran a hand through his hair in agitation, “Oh, time, politics, childhood trauma. The usual,” he said flippantly. “Time Lords weren’t a barrel of laughs in general, you know. They committed their share of atrocities in The Time War. And the Master…Well by the time Gallifrey fell, he was among the worst of them.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose said, giving his hand a little squeeze. She tried to reconcile this new information with the peaceful, beautiful world the Doctor had told her about one night over hot chocolate in the TARDIS library. Though, once she thought about it, she supposed both versions could be true. Earth in her time was sort of the same. There was plenty of beauty out there, plenty of lovely people, but there was also far too much need and cruelty and greed.

��Thanks,” he smiled sadly at her before shaking his head, “I tried for so long to bring him back from…from madness I guess you could call it. But all he could ever see it as was me trying to hold him back.”

“Dumbledore and Grindelwald,” Rose mused, and then instantly wished she could take it back in case he thought she was making light of things.

But the Doctor just nodded with a small smile, “Pretty much, yeah. You’ve read the seventh book then?” When they’d traveled together he’d insisted on her waiting the full two years instead of “cheating” by jumping ahead to the book’s launch. She’d only given in because he promised her a live reading and signed copy if she waited and “did the thing properly.” Then she had been torn away from him before they could take that trip.

“Nicked it on one of my dimension jumps,” Rose confessed, then gently brought him back to the issue at hand, “As you were saying…”

“Right,” the Doctor said, “Anyway, in the end, all his madness and rage sort of became fixated on me. When he wasn’t busy wreaking havoc across time and space in general, that is.”

“Then you’re not safe either, if he’s back,” Rose worried.

“Eh, it’s not as bad as you’d think. I’m certainly not in as much danger as you’d be,” the Doctor assured her.

“How’s that?”

“Well, he doesn’t want to kill me. Not really. He doesn’t even really want to hurt me, physically I mean. At least not in a permanent way. What he wants…” the Doctor thought for a moment, “What I reckon he wants is to break me. To make me like him. He’d love nothing more than to tear the Universe apart piece by piece with me at his side.”

“Oh,” she said lamely, far from reassured.

“And now he’s started his latest campaign on Earth. He’s infiltrated your government, has amassed vast amounts of power, probably has access to nearly any of Earth’s resources he could wish for…I don’t know what he’s planning, but I do know it will be catastrophic.”

“Then you need my help,” Rose said firmly.

The Doctor looked at her solemnly, “Not this time,” he leaned forward to cup her face, “You are the bravest person I know and bloody good in a crisis, Rose Tyler. You’ve saved me more times then I could count. But it wouldn’t be like that this time. With the Master it’s a whole different game.” He dropped his hand to her knee and sighed.

“If you stayed, there wouldn’t be anywhere you could hide from him. And once he had you, he’d kill you, but…not quickly. He’d use you to manipulate me, to get me to do whatever he wants. And I honestly don’t know if I could stand up to that. Not that it would matter for you. Even if I did all he wanted, even if I became his bloody slave, he’d still kill you in the end. That’s who he is, Rose. That’s what the Earth is facing right now. I need to stop him. He’s my responsibility. And I can’t do that if he has you,” the Doctor shook his head, “Can you see now? Why you have to go back? He can’t get his hands on you, Rose. Because I know he would’ve done his research on me. He’d know how I -” The Doctor took a deep breath and let the sentence hang for a second before continuing, “He knows that if anything happened to you - Rose, it would destroy me.”

She sucked in a breath at the emotion she saw in his eyes. He’d never been so open, so frank with her. She saw the choice he had to make, saw how much it killed him.

“But I could help,” she pleaded, selfishly.

He shook his head and repeated, “Not this time.”

And with a horrible sinking feeling in her gut, she knew he was right.

Rose felt her face crumple and went easily to him when he pulled her onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his waist and curled into him with her head tucked under his chin. For a long time they just held each other, both silent apart from her uneven breaths as she fought back sobs.

She couldn’t imagine what the Doctor was feeling right now. It wasn’t just losing her again - they shared that pain. It was everything - being on the run, his friends in danger, having to face the memories of the war, finding another survivor only for it to be the Doctor’s old enemy…and Rose could be wrong, but she got the feeling that the Doctor also loved his old friend at the same time he feared him. What a mess, she thought.

“A mess indeed,” the Doctor said. Apparently she’d said that last bit out loud. God, she was exhausted.

Rose uncurled herself enough to meet his eyes for one last try, “So what if I stayed? I could help, I could - “

“Rose, please,” he all but begged, “If this were anything else, if I were facing anything else, I’d never let you go. I promise. But it’s the Master. He’d hurt you. He’d hurt you over and over again. And he’d make me watch.”

Rose shivered at the certainty in his voice. She thought about how she’d feel if their positions were reversed. How she couldn’t let herself be just another burden to him. How she couldn’t, she’d never put herself before the billions of people who needed him.

“Ok,” she finally said with bitter resignation.

“Thank you,” he drew her back to his chest for a tight embrace. “Thank you, Rose.”

She returned his desperate grip. From where her face was pressed into the damp wool of his coat she said, “But not forever.”

“What?” he asked, loosing his grip so they could face each other again.

“I said, it’s not forever,” she replied, “I’ll go back to Pete’s World, yeah, but only until you sort this like I know you will. Then I’ll just have to come find you again.”

“And Rose Tyler, I don’t doubt you for a second,” he smiled at her, but she could see the lie beneath his words. He couldn’t let himself have that hope. She let it go, knowing that she’d just have to hold on to it for the both of them.

They held each other for a long time. Rose basked in the feel of his arms around her and took slow deep breaths of his scent. She wanted to catalogue every aspect of him to carry with her until they could be together again. She was so focused on him, on the double beats of his hearts and the not quite human time in between his breaths that again, all her surroundings faded away. She felt like she was in a dream. A good dream, although there was a nightmare brewing on the horizon.

When Martha came back carrying a hefty stash of food, Rose was brought back to reality. After one last squeeze, the Doctor and she untangled themselves and walked over to where Martha was setting out paper plates and opening takeaway boxes.

#ficandchips #doctor x rose #rose tyler #tenth doctor #10th doctor #doctor who #fanfic #jack harkness #martha jones #dimension hopping rose tyler

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ja0-s-blank-canvas-fic · 1 year ago

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Part 3 - Chapter 44 - Kamino: Knock Out

Blank Canvas Part 3

AO3 - here

Fanfiction.net - here

And we're back! Just got of work and came home to a tasty meal of artichokes! Boil 'em and nom on the leaves (petals?) in melted butter mixed with garlic. MmMmm! Delicious. Alrighty, let us continue on the journey through the Kamino fight. Stay strong, All Might! Big baddy All For One wants to kick your butt.

Warning for a lot of mentions of blood but I do not at all go into any actual gore other than that. Not the biggest fan of going super realistic and detailed with it comes to that part of violence.

Linktree to all the things!

End notes for the chapter are under the line.

All Might has prevailed! :D But of course he would. Can't let All For One have his way now could we? Though I gotta say I had a lot of fun writing All For One's dialogue in this chapter. He's just so manipulative and evil.

A little more interaction with Izuku and Gran Torino! Gotta check in with the green bean. I know, he's still stuck there but the fight is over now so he's safe. And again, reasons to be revealed in the future.

So All For One said it. Izuku is his son. Oof. How will All Might react to that in the aftermath? We'll see! Btw, going through this part in canon, with All For One listing off the quirks he used, all I could think of was DBZ abridged. The part where Goku is fighting Vegeta.

Goku: Kaioken...! Vegeta: No. Goku: ...times... Vegeta: No, no, no. Goku: ...FOUR! Vegeta: FUUUUUUUUUUUck! -blown away-

(If you haven't seen DBZ abridged, please do. Still hilarious. XD For me without having watched it and even more so after I watched the whole show.)

Fun Facts About Japan:

There are many ways to say goodbye in Japanese. With All Might saying goodbye to All For One I thought we'd talk about it now. And to show we haven't said goodbye to this section. :P Nope! No sayonara to FFAJ as it exists in my notes. XD

Speaking of sayonara (さよなら), it isn't actually the standard way to say goodbye to someone. Reason being is it doesn't just mean goodbye but more goodbye forever or an extended period of time. Kind of like 'I don't know when I will see you again' feel. Kids will use it growing up but adults typically don't preferring to use ones not so formal.

So how else can you say goodbye? At the work, I would greet the teachers with an osaki ni shitsurei shimasu ( おさきにしつれいします , お先に失礼します ) which essentially means pardon me/forgive me for leaving before you'. In Japan, they are very work focused and the teachers put a lot of extra hours in past when school let's out. Then the reciprocated response is otsukaresama deshita ( おつかれさまでした , お疲れ様でした ) which is them thanking you for all your hard work for the day. It doesn't have a direct translation into English though. It uses the verb tsukareru ( つかれる , 疲れる ) which means 'to be tired' and is used in a way to say 'you look tired from working so hard'. A show of appreciation for your efforts essentially.

Then with family and good friends you can use jyaa/jyaa ne ( じゃあ/じゃあね) or mata/mata ne ( また/またね ) which are both short for jyaa, mata ne ( じゃあまたね ). The more formal version is sore dewa mata ne ( それでわまたね ) meaning 'see you later then' and jyaa is just a casual sound between close friends and those younger than you. Essentially saying jyaa ne serves as 'bye-bye'.

There's a bunch more ways so if you're interested you can check these links out if you're interested. :) About sayonara and goodbye greetings in general then otsukaresama deshita and jyaa ne specifically. Enjoy!

There ya have it! The Kamino fight has come to an end but we're not done yet. Come on, it's me! :P The fight may have been won but now there's the aftermath to deal with. Oof. Lots to unpack after all this. ;) We'll see what's up with that next time. じゃあね！

#bnha #mha #fanfic #quirkless au #blankcanvasfic #blankcanvasheritage #midoriya izuku #mha all might #mha all for one #gran torino #pro hero endeavor #edgeshot #mha pro heroes

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tmwcs · 2 years ago

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Masterlist (Not for minors)

- Heeseung-

My Girlfriends Roommate / MGR (1st arc of series) Chapter 1 - Mmkay Chapter 2 - Oooooookaaaaay Chapter 3 - Getting there Chapter 4 - Almost Chapter 5 -Oh damn Chapter 6 - ........ Chapter 7 - Here we go Chapter 8 - Omg theres fluff Chapter 9 - Fluff, fluff, fluff, and fluff. Chapter 10 - OMFG Its finally happening!!! 18+ Only Chapter 11 - ...THE HELL!?!! O...M...G 18+ Only Chapter 12 - DAFUQ!!!? ERMAHGAWD!! JDASHWGEI!!!!! 18+ Only --End-

MGR SMAUS:

Vicky's Roommate

Knowing me, Knowing you Part 1

Knowing me, Knowing you Part 2

Its not enough Part 1

Its not enough Part 2

Frustration

Wont you say my name?

!!!!!!!!Netflix and Chill SMAU should be the very last smau to read after reading all the other smaus (to include in MRE and HHP) because the references in it will be too confusing. I highly recommending reading MGR at the very least before reading this SMAU as well. it's very sentimental and also..there's tension that hits deep that can only be felt once you read MGR. Enjoy.

Netflix and Chill Part 1 - Read after all SMAUS in all arcs first and MGR

Netflix and Chill Part 2 -Read after all SMAUS in all arcs first and MGR

Netflix and Chill Part 3 - Read after all SMAUS in all arcs first and MGR

My Roommates Ex / MRE (Sequel to MGR, 2nd arc of the same series/universe)

Chapter 1 - Oooooh the fluff be strong in this chapter

Chapter 2 - Drama, drama, drama.

Chapter 3 - Let the juiciness commence. 18+ only.

Chapter 4 - This made y'all go crazy a little bit, huh?

Chapter 5 - Don't say I didn't warn you. Let me know what you guys think of this chapter, its one of my favorites actually. (18+ only)

Chapter 6 - Let me know what you guys think of this one. This is the last chapter for this arc, working on the third arc of the same series as we speak along with MT. (18+ Only)

MRE SMAUS:

Olive Juice Part 1

Olive Juice Part 2

Say it again and move with me

What is "it" ??

Send me a selfie or else...

I worship you.

Why are you not answering?

I need you

You really wanna know?

One and Only...

Give and take back

Unknown Number

Group Chat Part 1

Group Chat Part 2

Car Door

His and Her Perspectives / HHP (Sequel to MGR/MRE, 3rd arc of the same series/universe)

Chapter 1 - Yay first chapter! (18+ Only)

Chapter 2 - Heeseung/Ethan POV on you, omg such a beautiful chapter. (18+ only)

Chapter 3 - Just another day in the life of you and MGR/MRE/HHP Heeseung. Only for those that are 18+ older. Adults, enjoy!

Chapter 4 - Enter beotch Tiff, you guys aren't going to like her at all and she is based off of a very unpleasant person that was rude to a friend of mine back in HS. so yeah. 18+ only for this chapter so minors, pass over on this one pls.

Chapter 5 Part(s) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10. - sorry this is divided into so many parts, tumblr was acting up and would not let me paste anything beyond 1k words at a time for some reason.

Chapter 6 Part(s) 1 , 2, 3, 4,

Chapter 7 -

Chapter 8 -

Chapter 9 -

Chapter 10 Part(s) 1, 2, 3

Chapter 11 Part(s) 1 , 2 , 3, 4 OMG......This chapter i swear to God.

Chapter 12 Part(s) 1, 2 .....aaaah...redemption.

Chapter 13 Part(s) 1 , 2, 3. (Part is adult rated MDNI)

Chapter 14 Part(s) 1, 2, 3. - PLEASE understand that this is a very dark and twisted chapter. Heethan is PISSED and he's not in the right mind and shit just got real. but read the warnings bc Eden even gets back at Tiff....in a very brutal way. (recall her warning to her in earlier chapter when Tiff tried to confront her in the campus building) so please read at your own risk (it's still a good read)

HHP SMAUS:

Come rain or shine

Vegan Food

Good at acting :P

The Sun and the Flower

Ethan's hungry

Jealous

Feeling a little lonely

Freaks

Blood and Carnage

MGR/MRE/HHP One shots

Halloween Part 1

Halloween Part 2 - coming soon

Jealous - coming soon

Needy

Shark Week

Mermaids Tale (New series)

Chapter 1 - Slay! You are the Daughter of the Seven Seas

Chapter 2 - Whoo hoo! Chapter 2! I really like this story guys.

Chapter 3 - Yay its finally here! there's alot to this chapter, please feel free to send anon asks or message me if you need me to explain because alot of historical (made up, mythological) references are in this one.

Chapter 4 - Coming 05/31

Upcoming:

You're a fan. I'm a fan. - One shot (maybe a couple chapters long) but is going to be good. Smut writers, this one is for you guys. (hintity hint hint)

#heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #enha x reader #enhypen smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enhypen hard hours #enha heeseung #heeseung fanfic

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pxrxcxa · 3 years ago

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Opposite Ends

Chapter Five - Brown Eyes & Too Much Weed

C1 | C2 | C3 | C4 | C6 | C7 | C8 | C9 | C10 | C11 | C12 | C13 pt1 | C13 pt 2 |

Chapter Six is out now, enjoy Sunflowers x 🌻

Pairing | Eddie x Female reader 18+. Steve x Robin x Female reader platonic friendship

Series summary | Dustins older sister got brought into the group during the events of Starcourt mall, 3 months on she's in her senior year and the kids are starting high school. After everything that went down she feels that she has to keep them safe at all costs, that includes keeping them way from the charismatic 'freak' Eddie Munson that runs a club based on their favourite game. They've both hated each other since freshman year -with good reason-, but when keeping distance between the kids and Eddie means putting herself in the firing line, boundaries get blurred, intentions get lost & the heart speaks louder than the brain.

The story is told from both Y/N & Eddies point of view.

What to expect | Slow burn enemies to lovers, Angst - with a happy ending, fluff & smut (in the later chapters). 18+ to read this story.

Series Warnings | Mentions of abuse, drug use, 18+ smut content

Chapter word count | 6.2 K Word Count.

Chapter warnings | Mention of Drug use, mention of masturbation.

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Love, P. x 🌿

Authors Note | As always, if you read the entire chapter then thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! I was wrong when I said the last chapter was the favourite, this is definitely sitting at number one right now. Those of you that are looking forward to the saucier chapters, stay tuned for chapter six, I have a treat for you. Love you Sunflowers 🌻 P. x

Y/N | October 1985

The terror filled scream frozen on my lips, ripped me from the depths of sleep. I clutched the damp tangled sheets around me as I gasped for air, my racing heartbeat pounding in my ears. I squinted across the dark room to the alarm clock on my dresser, the luminous face read ‘04.58’. Sinking back down onto the mattress, I pulled a sweaty strand of hair from my mouth as my breathing slowed to its normal pace. I had the opening weekend shift at Family video this morning. It was one of the few shifts that Steve, Robin and I were all working, given that it was a Saturday and our busiest hours. Over the past few months, working the weekend had become one of my favourite pastimes, keeping track with Robin over how many girls Steve struck out with, fighting over who got to pick the morning movie and challenging each other to stacking competitions. Steve would be here soon after daybreak, in his deep maroon BMW to pick me up. We carpooled together since Robin couldn’t drive.

Giving up on sleep entirely, knowing that it eluded me and there was no point in staring at my grey peeling ceiling for the next three hours, I rolled out of bed, the cold morning air hitting my exposed thighs and sending goosebumps up my whole figure. The thick carpet muted my footsteps as I made my way to my closet, pulling a dressing gown off the hanger. It was one of the only items of clothing that wasn’t currently decorating my floor. The house was dead silent except for Dustin’s soft snores echoing down the hallway. I peeked out my open door to watch his relaxed frame sprawled across his duvet, half sliding off of the bed. His Walkie Talkie was laying askew on the floor, next to his open twitching hand, like he had fallen asleep with it still clutched in his grasp. I tip toed quietly into his room to pick it up gently and place it upright on his desk, sliding down the antenna. Knowing that if the crackly voices of his friends shrieked though it, it would scare the living day lights out of him and cause him to topple right out of bed, waking up the whole neighbourhood with his profanities. I gently brushed his overgrown hair out of his eyes as his hot breath hit my hand, he looked so incredibly young in sleep, much like the baby-faced 11-year-old that would follow me and Nancy around as we laughed and ran away. My heart clenched painfully as I reflected on how complicated life was now, I had thought Dad leaving was the biggest curveball life would throw at us. God was I wrong.

Dustin had come to apologise to me after showing Eddie to the front door, by the time his incessant knocking had annoyed me enough to let him in, I was too buzzed to even care about the ordeal. He scrutinized me up and down concerningly, confused how I had gone from bat shit crazy to super mellowed out so fast as I spread across my floor. The fresh rain hammering against the half-opened window, washing away any lingering smell the weed had left in the air.

In the blatant rawness of the cold morning air, guilt washed over me as I remembered my behaviour last night. What had happened with Jason wasn’t Dustin’s fault, nor was it even Eddies. As unnatural as it felt to feel bad over my reaction to his presence in my room, the moment where we had been standing toe-to-toe, practically breathing in each other, hadn’t stopped replaying over in my head since I had shoved him through my bedroom door. He had even made a guest appearance in my dream last night, sitting on the end of my bed just watching me with those dark soulful eyes of his, making me feel very vulnerable as I burrowed beneath the flimsy sheets of my bed in just my underwear. Before my suffocating nightmare dragged me beneath its devastating depths, disallowing me to resurface for hours.

I silently left Dustin’s room, pulling his door behind me to submerge him in darkness, one of us deserved a sleep in at least. My feet slapped against the cold tiled floor of our one shared bathroom as I headed to splash my face, hopefully washing the remaining traces of my nightmare away with it. Remembering last night at the gas station, it took me a beat longer than necessary to look in the mirror. I sighed with relief as my own red ringed eyes stared back sadly at me, no black lines lurking anywhere on my face. I twisted the cold tap on, damping a washcloth to hold to my eyes in the pathetic hopes of diminishing the puffiness there.

Waves of nausea crippled my body and I curled over, grabbing the sides of the basin. I watched the whiteness of my knuckles increase as I tried to ride out the tell-tale signs of withdrawals. I knew it was only a matter of time before my debt caught up with me. Smoking left over old, stale joints wasn’t going to give me the relief I craved. I retched, like my body was sending me a message to give it what I owed. Flipping my head under the running tap to wash the sour taste from my mouth, I made my way back to my room.

Dread filled through me I walked over to my open window, in my groggy state last night I had forgotten to close it. Rain that had long since moved on leaving the sky a nice cloudless dark blue as dawn started to break, had soaked my entire side table. Great puddles of water had waterlogged the stained wood, sending my belongings off the side of the tabletop and -with a deep groan of realisation– filled my ashtray, soaking the left-over cigarette buts and joints.

Without pausing to second guess my decision, I picked it up and shook it outside, littering the ground below my windowsill and sending up a great cloud of ash. Covering my mouth with my hand I wretched the window shut, pulling open the top draw to hide the ashtray away. I stopped in my tracks; my hand still clutched to the handle. There, sitting above the mounting pile of empty bags, was a quarter bag full of glistening green bud. Slowly, I pulled it out of the draw, turning it over slightly to analyse it from every angle. The image of Eddie standing in this exact spot last night flashed in front of my eyes.

There’s no way. I objected to myself, considering all options as I opened the bag to sniff inside. It didn’t smell tampered with, only the stench of pure overpowering weed. I placed it back carefully, still convinced that this surely had to be a joke. I knew I hadn’t brought it because I only picked up in 50’s, I also hadn’t had the chance to talk to Steve yet. The only explanation was that Eddie had left it here, it wasn’t in his nature – hell, any drug dealers’ nature – to be kind. Which is what the gesture appeared to be, saving me the embarrassment of slinking to Eddie for help anytime soon, definitely hurting my pride in the process. With a bag this size I would be set for weeks. I let it fall through my fingertips and slammed the draw shut to remove the temptation out of my sight. I ran back to the bathroom, turning the shower’s hot tap on full blast, letting the steam saturate the room and drown the enticing smell out of my nose. There were strings attached to this gift, there had to be if Eddie was involved. I wanted no part of it - of him. I planned on throwing the bag straight at his smug face – along with a few carefully chosen colourful words - the next time I was alone with him.

I might have had an easier time convincing myself, if the thought of being alone in his intimidating presence didn’t send unfamiliar stabs of wanting through my core. I plunged my face under the boiling water to suffocate the unwelcome, intrusive thoughts.

Eddie | October 1985

Saturday started off like every other, my uncle was asleep soundly in his room, still dressed in his uniform from his shift last night. He seemed to have just fallen straight headfirst into bed on top of the covers and stayed there, turning his face to the side slightly so he didn’t choke. I strummed my sweet-sounding guitar, sending a low murmur throughout my room. I was half raised against the bed head, a cigarette dropping from the corner of my mouth as I hummed along with the tune. The sun was well and truly hung in the sky now, its unrelenting heat baring down through the window, burning patterns across my chest. I leaned across the jumble of sheets to put out my smoke, switching it for a freshly rolled joint, and pushed open the window, letting a cool breeze spill across my face and rifle the Tomb of Horrors posters pinned above my head . Strands of my knotted hair were plastered to my sweaty skin as I placed my sweetheart back in her rightful place on the wall behind my bed, stroking her lightly to hear one more seductive sound purr from her strings.

As I brought the nearly empty lighter to my lips my thoughts wandered to y/n, wondering if she had found the gift I’d left in her nightstand yet. Like I was a metal version of Santa clause, I laughed to myself. Knowing her, she had probably thought it was a cruel joke I was playing, since there was not a single nice thing I’d ever done for her before. Our relationship with each other consisted of loud frustrated sighs, violent thoughts and mutual detestation. Not conscientious actions towards each other. I still wasn’t sure why I had done it. It was a pretty sizeable chunk of change I had left in her possession. But before I knew it, as I stood in her room surrounded by pieces of herself, I had my hands in my pants at the thought of y/n, quicker than I could blink. Laughing outwardly as I made my way to the bathroom, I shook my head, dislodging some of my stuck curls.

Not like that. I corrected myself, although admittedly she had been the star of some of my wet dreams from time to time. That was all biological male stuff though, she was an extremely attractive girl, I couldn’t help which way my dick pointed. But then she’d open her mouth and my cock would become softer than her lips looked. When she had pressed her willowy frame against me last night, heat – warranted it was rage filled – was rolling off her with every breath she expelled, my dick had twitched as she brought her face closer to mine, the pressure struggling against the fabric of my jeans and for a wild moment, I had fantasised about crushing my lips against hers and acting out one of my many dreams. But, like how she ruined most things, her shrill voice had broken through my focus, causing rage to rise from my stomach to match hers.

I fumbled with my belt as I lined up with the toilet, unzipping my jeans to relieve myself. The sunlight drizzled through the coloured window paned glass, sending bizarre patterns across the linoleum floor. My head lolled to the side as I traced the outlines of objects that weren’t actually there in the pretty display of dancing lights. A blanket of peace settled over me as the weed kicked in, my thoughts drifting down the hall to the kitchen. I extinguished the joint in the ashtray balancing precariously on the bathroom vanity, just one of many that was scattered around our trailer. Stomping louder than I normally would have at this time of day, forgetting that my uncle was deep in slumber down the hall, I headed to the fridge. Trucker hats covered the walls of the living room, the collection had originally started off as a joke I made during one of the work trips with my Uncle Wayne. During school holidays I had no other family to watch after me so I would tag along, sleeping in the bed of his truck and soaking up the foreign views as we drove across country. I had passed comment on how many hats he had laying around in the bed of his truck. After that he would bring a new one back from every state he would visit for his job. When he started at the factory, we decided to hang them up as a sort of memorial to good times passed by.

Expired sauce bottles rattled in the side door as I wrenched the refrigerator open, goosebumps prickled on my skin as I stood in front of the door, spread wide for far too long, not processing what I was seeing. Apart from a jar of pickles that sat alone on the top shelf and mixed sauces squished on the side shelves, there was only a plate of something brown and mushy, I picked it up hesitantly and gave it an examination sniff. Not trusting myself while being high, I let it clatter back onto the bottom shelf, softly closing the fridge. I rubbed my eyes and yawned, it was around this time that I would normally be pulling into Gareth’s driveway, my guitar safely buckled into the passenger seat. We practised with the other members of Corroded Coffin every Saturday, except Gareth had some baby cousins christening that his mom was dragging him to, so this week’s rehearsal had been canned.

My eyes skimmed across the rickety bookshelf under our TV unit, hundreds of tapes sat there, most of them under a layer of years’ worth of dust. Movies were my babysitter growing up, whenever Uncle Wayne had to leave for some reason or another, he’d set me up with a mound of blankets on the contoured couch and turn a movie on, telling me he’d be back before it finished. He was never late.

I’d seen everything in our impressive collection at least twice. Well, I thought, No point in wasting a perfectly good day. I walked back to my bedroom, conscientiously aware to lighten my footsteps as I passed my uncle’s room. I could see dust particles swirling around my room as beams of sunlight shone through the window, it was stifling hot in here now. The thought of getting out of here was becoming more inviting the quicker my arm pits dampened, I grabbed a plain black tee instead of my usual hellfire shirt – not wanting to scare the villagers. Grinning to myself I swiped my vest hanging off my door handle, giving it a confirming shake to hear the rattle of my keys and headed to the van.

Outside the trailer I lit up another cigarette as the wire door snapped closed behind me, I puffed thick clouds of smoke into the humid air, covering my eyes against the glare of the bright sun as I adjusted to the sudden light. A dog across the way barked and whined as I watched Max Mayfield feed it scraps lovingly; her red hair was an intensive difference to her luminous -almost see through – pale skin, she stood out painfully against the dry grass. She must have sensed my eyes on her because she turned quickly to stare back at me, there were dark circles under her eyes like she had more trouble sleeping than I did. I half raised my hand in greeting, but she just scowled back disapprovingly, running back to her trailer across from mine, her oversized navy jumper flapping wildly. Everyone knew Max as the sister of one of the dead Hawkins Highs students.

A few weeks after her and her mom moved into the lot near ours, I noticed that Max seemed to be left alone a lot, apart from when y/n turned up at ungodly hours of the morning to drive her to school. I developed a distant habit of keeping an eye on Max, I knew what it was like to not have a lot of family and be alone more often than not. But it seemed after Y/n’s outburst in the cafeteria yesterday, Max’s opinion of me had dropped rapidly, not that I assumed it was ever glowing.

I flicked the butt of my smoke into neighbouring bushes and jumped from the porch, landing badly and staggering a bit before righting myself. I slid my vest over my t-shirt and swung up into the already unlocked van, switching the a/c on as soon as the engine spluttered to life. I blindly reversed out of our makeshift driveway, speeding off in the direction of the nearest video store, thinking that pizza and movies wasn’t a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon – hell, I might even really treat myself and plan some of the next Hellfire campaign later in the night as well. I beamed uncontrollably as I thought about Little Hendersons reaction to Vecna's return.

Y/N | October 1985

“And then Vicki laughed. And it wasn’t like a cheap, fake laugh either. It was like… It was a real, genuine laugh.” Robin chattered animatedly as she followed Steve around, practically stepping on the backs of his heels as he stacked returned movies back into their rightful place on the shelves.

“Of course.” He replied in a tone like something was obvious “It’s my Muppet joke. It’s hilarious.” I giggled childishly in my corner behind the counter at their banter. After Steve realised I was high out of my mind, he had grabbed my shoulders and steered me onto the stool behind the register. ‘If I found out who you got it off, I’m going to kill them.” Disappointment dripping from his tone, I had been slightly surprised he didn’t immediately assume I had acquired it from Eddie, but I guess since he was well aware of the disgust everyone assumed I held towards him, he thought I’d smoked with someone else.

Robin might have been dense in the best of situations, but after witnessing my exchange with the metal head in the cafeteria yesterday and my delusional state this morning, I was sure she had put two and two together. Thankfully she kept her big trap shut and didn’t clue Steve in, I didn’t need a classic momma Steve lecture about the dangers of smoking marijuana right now. Ironic since Steve had been the first to corrupt me. My willpower had crumbled as I got ready for work in front of my bedroom mirror, my side table reflecting in the corner of it, I swore it had an angelic light radiating it from it, beckoning me to come closer. I had never made it a habit to turn up to work stoned, but when the choice was between feeling a little buzzed or like I was going to throw my guts up every five minutes, I went with the former. I still had every intention of returning Eddies little ‘gift’ to him, since the bag was so big, I figured he wouldn’t notice a little nugget missing. I had, unfortunately overestimated myself and over-indulged quite a lot, in fact I had never been so high out of my mind.

I laughed loudly as I watched the little figurines dance across the tv screen mounted on a pillar in the middle of the store, noticing that one of the other two had already turned on our morning movie. Steve threw me a scornful look – with just a little bit of Platonical love residing in his eyes as well.

“My point is” Robin continued, ignoring me as I rocked back and forth softly, lost in my own world. “that Vicki laughed, and everything was just like… It was perfect.” Her words reflected a pleasant encounter, but her face was telling a different story.

“-But?” Steve questioned, probing Robin to further explain herself. He strolled into the next isle over, the stack of videos in his arms almost at his eye level. Robin handing him a new tape to replace each one he put away.

“But I’m having this problem, where it’s like I should stop talking, I have said everything I need to say. But then I get nervous, and the words keep spilling out, and it’s like my… my brain is moving faster than mouth… or … or rather my … my mouth is moving faster than my brain. And it’s like I’m digging this hole for myself, and I want to stop digging, I’m trying to stop, but I can’t. And I’m doing it right now, aren’t I?” Robin swung back to face Steve as he finished placing the last of the tapes away.

“Yes, you are.” He retorted kindly, crossing his arms. Robin sucked in a big breath and leant against a poster for a new movie, mimicking his body language.

“That sounds dangerous.” I called out between mouthfuls of red liquorice I snagged from an open packet on the counter, they both turned to look at me with mouths slightly opened.

“What?” Robin laughed; I pointed another liquorice stick in their direction.

“Your brain moving faster than your mouth. That sounds dangerous.” I munched on another bite of the lolly slowly. “You should really get that checked out.” Robin grinned awkwardly at me and Steve thew his hand up in the air irritatingly. I nodded at Robin wisely and turned back to my movie, abstinently fiddling with Steve’s carefully stacked tapes near the register.

“What the hell are we supposed to do with her.” Steve placed his hands back on his hips. “I am not babying her today; I have a date with Linda so I’m clocking off early.”

“Well, you are the babysitter.” Robin mumbled, turning away from Steve so he couldn’t see her smile, heading to the back room. Steve followed her, putting up a futile argument and waving his arms about madly.

I was too engrossed in the motions of my hands as I straightened the videos on the countertop, that I missed the sound of the store doorbell twinkling, signalling the arrival of another customer. I also overlooked the familiar sweet cologne invading the store. I didn’t look up from the desk until cold rough hands, with silver rings on each finger, placed themselves over mine, forcing them to be still. I looked up to meet Eddies dark eyes, his eyes always sparkled with untold secrets. My untold secrets. He cocked his head to the side like he was waiting for an answer to an unspoken question. He didn’t look much different outside of school, except his wasn’t repping his usual Hellfire shirt. It was odd, his club merch had become as much a part of him as his thick brown curls. I watched as a hand reached up to lightly tug on a ringlet of his hair, not releasing it was my own, I giggled as the softness of it tickled my fingers tips.

The afternoon sun broke through the clouds for a moment, streaming in through the window and sending beams to shimmer off of his face, his normally black-ish eyes shone brilliantly, and I could see that they were a deep brown. Like golden pots of honey, the gold specks in them glistening spectacularly. The word tumbled from my lips before I had a chance to stop it.

“Pretty…” I murmured, his curl still wrapped around my finger, he jolted slightly, causing it to fall from my hand.

Eddie leant over the counter a little further, staring deeper into my depth. His stretched shirt moved a little as he bent towards me, exposing a chest tattoo I didn’t know he had. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his naked torso, watching a light trail of hair disappear beneath his pant line.

“Are you okay y/n?” He asked forcefully, I got the impression it wasn’t the first time he had tried asking me. His brown eyes searched my face, looking for what, I couldn’t tell. I burst out laughing, rocking back on the three-legged stool almost toppling over. Eddie reached out reflectively, impressively quick, to steady me. He dropped his hand instantly as soon as he righted me. I pursed my lips to stifle another laugh.

“S’all good Edward, just a little high.” His eyes flashed with something, too quick for me to make out what, at the use of his full name. It had slipped past my lips accidently. I pressed my hands to cover my face, meeting his gaze through my spread fingers as I awaited to be reprimanded over it.

“Clearly.” He groaned, sounding just as disappointed as Steve. I didn’t know why he’d care; he was my goddamn dealer for heavens sake. “Just go easy on that stuff I left you, it’s strong.” He looked over my shoulder at something, picking up one of Steve’s tapes, turning over in his hands and examining it too closely. He’s waiting for a thankyou I realised. Well then, he was in for a rude shock.

‘Uh, yeah about that –“ I began, ready to unleash my very carefully rehearsed speech but he cut me off.

“Don’t worry about it, flattery works with me, so first one’s a freebee, should last you a while – as long as you don’t go as hard as you did this morning. Let me know when you need a refill.” He flashed a cheeky smile at me. I scoffed and looked at him like he was insane, but he wouldn’t meet my stare as he placed the movie back. Raised voices wafted over to us, effectively cutting off any response from me.

“Oh, hi there, sorry for the wait. What can I help you wi-“ Steve stopped in his tracks, ogling Eddie up and down. “What are you doing here Munson?” Steve came to stand between us protectively.

“I’m here to rent a movie Harrington.” He gestured widely around him, pointing at the masses of shelves holding every single movie released in the last twenty years. “Obviously.”

Steve looked down at me, examining my face as I refused to meet his observant eyes, knowing there was guilt plastered over my face.

He swerved back to Eddie, solving the puzzle now that he was seeing us in the same room. “Did you do this to her?” He bellowed. God bless Steve, he had never won a fight, well except for that time with the one Russian soldier, but he was still willing to get his ass kicked defending my honour. Robin bumped into a wall of snacks, breaking the tension with a loud crinkle of chips as she somehow managed to step on a pack. Eddie looked back at me once more, appraising me with his attentive eyes, complete uninterest embellishing his face. He ran his tongue wetly over his lips as I peeked up through my eyelashes at him.

“Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He spun on his heels and headed towards the door, slightly shouldering Steve. Steve grunted and stared daggers at his back. Eddie paused at the door and threw me a stunning grin, putting all his teeth on display.

“Oh, by the way, I’ll see you at Hellfire y/n.” He laughed and swaggered out the glass door, setting off the bell again. I clicked my tongue as I felt both Robins and Steve’s heavy glares fall on me, shrinking away from the intensity of them.

“What the hell was the about?” Steve asked me accusingly, spreading his hands on the countertop. Robin raised her eyebrows behind him, seconding his question.

I feigned innocence. “No idea.” I shrugged, fiddling with the hem of my green work vest. Neither of them believed me.

“Freak.” Steve muttered, turning away from me. At that moment the door chimed again, emitting a group of giggling seniors I recognised from school and the attention was effectively off of me for the remainder of the shift. Steve made a beeline for the girls and Robin came to stand by to admire from a distance, I laughed along with her as quizzical expressions surrounded Steve as he repeated his Muppet joke, failing exceptionally.

Eddie | November 1985

Weeks had passed since I had driven Dustin and the others home for the first time from Hellfire club, the freshman fit into Hellfire like there were already perfectly moulded spots for them, eagerly awaiting their arrival. Life continued on as it usually did, with a few variations. Y/n attended all Hellfire meetings, shaping into to her own rightful position. She drove her brother and his friends to the campaign, sometimes she would leave if we were running extremely late and she had a test to study for, trusting me to return them safely to her. She rarely participated in DnD itself, she would say that she just wasn’t as interested in it as the rest of us, but the truth was she was just terribly bad at it, although she’d never admit it. I would catch her placing her book down and siting straight up to watch with unwavering eyes during a particularly exciting moment. She’d gone through seven books since the first meeting – I’d counted. My heart had nearly dropped into my stomach when I saw the battered copy of The Lord of the rings clutched at her side, thinking it was mine. But I dogeared my books and – as perfect y/n did – she had neatly tagged hers with colour coded sticky notes.

I couldn’t comprehend how she concentrated on reading with the noises our campaigns created. I would half mount the table frequently, stomping as I dramatically acted out the images my words painted. I had long gotten over her presence and her judgmental looks, she would quite often look up from whichever book engrossed her, at the sound of my voice and observe me for a few minutes. She thought she was sneaky, but I always sensed her eyes on me, sometimes I would purposefully meet her gaze so I could see the satisfying blush creep at her neck at the indignation of being caught. She still didn’t trust leaving Dustin alone with me, but her company didn’t interrupt the campaigns.

Only my concertation, I was always painfully aware of her, no matter where she sat in the room, I had gone to the lengths of supporting a rubber band and snapping it against my wrist whenever I got too distracted by her. The others had questioned my new fashion statement, but I had brushed them off saying I was trying to kick smoking. ‘It’s bad for business to consume one’s own supply’ I would say, laughing to convince them it wasn’t something serious.

Gareth and Jeff had cornered me at lunch over the apparent obvious tension between y/n and I. I had told them to shut their trap and mind their businesses, but they hadn’t been wrong. We hadn’t spoken once about her catching me in her bedroom or running into her at her job. At first, we just hadn’t been alone together and had the chance to speak. But then as the weeks passed by we seemed to develop an unspoken agreement to act like nothing occurred. I had once had the chance to catch up with her during school hours, about a week after running into her at her job. Principal Higgins had spent a good twenty minutes belittlingly me after he caught me smoking behind the bleachers, so I was running late to my next class. Y/n was alone at her locker, in the hallway I was passing by, fumbling with the code. I had hesitated on the edge of approaching her, something very close to - the fear of rejection – twisted in my stomach. I wasn’t sure how different her reaction to me would be outside of the Hellfire meetings. By the time I’d made my mind up to take the risk anyway, she’d skipped off to her next class.

With our little Hellfire routine settling comfortably into place, the dynamic of our relationship had slightly shifted, almost intangibly. We were by no means best friends, but no longer enemies either. Instead of throwing me death stares in calculus, y/n would shift her position slightly, always out of Mr Mundy’s sight, to expose her test answers to me. I would shoot her a grateful smile and she’d return an uncertain one. My same thoughts reflecting on her face. How did we get here?

My glance flickered over to her now, she was lounging across some spare cafeteria chairs and had her legs crossed and brought up to her chest, a nearby candle sending flickering shadows across her relaxed face as her tongue sat between her lips and she focused on her book.

I snapped the rubber band against my wrist painfully, looking back at the engaged faces of Hellfire.

“It’s Vecnas cult.” Mike yelled; Dustin banged the table anxiously with his fists, next to him.

“Time out, time out.” Jeff called, making a ‘T’ symbol with his hands. I grinned, knowing where this was going. The boys gathered in a circle, crossing their arms over each other’s shoulders and burrowed their heads close together. I brushed a patch of dust that had settled on my end of the table and pulled my hair back from my face, waiting for the team to come to their decision. Dustin’s voice carried over the others as they each fought for control of the decision.

“How many hit points do you guys have left.” A sodden murmur was his response, Dustin’s shoulders sagged in defeat. Crouching in my chair, I caressed my neck, trying to smooth the emerging fire from within. At first, I thought I had just over done it and was losing my voice, but now I suspected a head cold was on it's way. Suddenly wanting to end the game at the standpoint, I croaked out loudly than any of them.

“There is no shame in running.” Dustin, Lucas and Mike’s eyes all flashed to meet mine, surely remembering the first time they’d heard me say that. Y/n snapped her book shut, sending up the dust that covered the ledge behind her, into a smothering cloud. She coughed and waved her hand to clear the air.

“Come on, we have to go home anyway Dustin. Surely you guys can finish later?” She asked pleadingly, her eyes falling to my face for permission. I waved my hand absentmindedly.

“We’ll continue this at another time.” Hellfire’s outrage at my words was quickly overpowered by y/n’s tone.

“I have an exam bright and early tomorrow, and so does Eddie.” Her attitude was unrelenting and left no room for arguments. She threw me a look that said you better have studied. I gave her a quick low bow as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

My suspected head cold turned out to be the full-blown flu, rendering me bed bound for almost two weeks in our stifling hot trailer. My uncle had hesitated at my door every night before he left for work, asking what he could do to help but not wanting to catch it as well. I had smiled appreciatively, ensuring him it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

“Us Munson’s are hard to kill.” I whispered, sweat gleaming on my bare chest. He grinned at my tangent and left me to ride it out, leaving me a glass of water on my bedside, that I gulped down eagerly when I woke up in the early hours of the next morning.

By the time I had made it back to school, I had missed both Mr Mundy’s exam and the next Hellfire meeting. My chains rattled against my pant pocket as I made my way to my locker, my jacket and vest swinging with me as I jostled my arms back and forth. I groaned as the familiar sea of green jersey jackets came thundering down the packed hallway towards me. I refused to part to the side of the walkway.

“Freak.” One of the jocks yelled as I pushed through them, shouldering in between them as strong arms pushed back. Another day in paradise. I thought charmingly. I had only decided to stop into my locker briefly to grab some pain relief for the headache that was taking its sweet ass time to disappear, before meeting the rest of the Hellfire club for lunch. I had already mentally prepared myself for the onslaught of requests for tonight’s meeting. They were like addicts, one missed week of Hellfire and they were already feening, practically tackling me when they saw me in homeroom this morning. You’d think I’d died and come back to life with how happy they were to see me. As much as I liked to complain, I had to admit it was nice to know my presence would be missed if I did vanish. My locker opened up with a loud clang, the door slamming back against the neighbouring one. My lunch plans were quickly derailed as a torn piece of paper fluttered to the ground at my feet. I bent down quickly to pick it up before anyone could take notice. In the neatest, loopiest handwriting I had ever seen, was a message quickly scribbled on the crumpled paper.

Meet me in the woods at lunch.

Chapter Six

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