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bethanysnow · 3 months

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So me and @lonelystczennie have been working on a project for a while now that is both of our babies. Around the time the Korea Elle shoot happened for Hyunjin, we both showed interest in this concept. I wouldn't have been able to write this without @lonelystczennie she is one of the best writers I have seen and I love her dearly. Everyone should follow her BTS account @7ndipity

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★Yandere!Hyunjin x Fem! Reader.★

---slow burn, obsession, College AU!, pinning, eventual stalker, Fluff/eventual smut????/there is a sprinkle of angst. ---

3.3k wrds. CHAPTER ONE

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Y/n sat in a chair in the theatre hall of SNU between classes. The room was large, and the red plush seats were a sight to behold at least in comparison to the underfunded American theatre she was accustomed to. They had just finished Romeo and Juliet for the fall and far on a facade balcony was where their Juliet stood and uttered the famous line “where for art thou Romeo-” Of course in Y/ns opinion she could have done it better.

That was the problem with the South Korean society, or more so any society as far as she was concerned. It was about who looked the part, not that they did it well.

Getting up on stage Y/n started to gather. A music stand, a chair, a folder of monologues she had put together. Holding her imaginary audience captive she readied herself…

“To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,”

It was here in this soft moment that Y/n could be herself, be loud, be obnoxious, be in her own little corner of the world where no one would see. She meandered around the stage, using its size to her advantage. Her mind cast back to the years at theatre camps, high school productions, anything to get her hands on stage…where she could be anyone she wanted to be. At least in theory.

“-No more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub: For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,”

While she wasn’t insane, she knew where she stood in the world. She knew what people thought when they looked at her. It was hard to miss, but somewhere in the mean girls brimstone there were glimmers. Glimmers of what might be, what could be..what should be.

“Must give us pause—there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns that patient merit of th'unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.”

The crowd was silent, jaws agape at the performance that befell them. Until it was a trickled down noise, starting as a low hum, but grew to a roar of applause, A tony! One shouted, Encore!! Brava Brava!! Another yelled from their seats. In the space between classes Y/n got to hold onto her dreams.

Silly Y/n, dreaming big dreams…

The door to the theatre opened and like a lightbulb flickering out. Y/n turned finding the head director of the art department walking in.

“Ah! Y/n, you here to pick up some costumes?”

“Oh uh- yea! Just making sure folks didn’t just leave them behind after last show…” Quickly taking the music stand to the side of the stage, it was in reality where Y/n had to stand her ground. So, she batted the stars away and swallowed the butterflies, getting off the stage to grab her bag. Maybe this year’s Musical would be more fun…

Hyunjin slowly followed Jisung across campus towards the art building, watching the dry, faded leaves skitter across the pavement ahead of them, caught in the wind, his hands stuffed in his pockets in an attempt to fight off the growing autumn chill.

Why had he agreed to this?

When he joined the drama department, he hadn’t realized just how much time and effort it actually entailed from him. He didn’t know much about how any of it worked actually, he had signed up mainly just to appease his friends and to get them to stop worrying about him so fucking much…

“I didn’t know this place was here.” He’d commented as they’d navigated their way through the crowded cafe, sitting down at one of the few available tables.

“How have you not noticed it, it’s like two blocks from our place?” Changbin asked.

“I don't know, I just haven't.” He mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee. It was surprisingly good.

“You need to get out of the house more.” Changbin commented.

He didn’t argue with his roommate, though he didn’t necessarily agree with him. Nowadays he spent most of his time holed up in his room, painting, but he was okay with that. That seemed to be the only thing that made him happy anymore, the only thing that held any real spark for him.

It was quiet for the briefest moment before Jisung suddenly piped up.

“Hey, why don’t you sign up for the theatre department? Most of the guys are already involved in some way, so it’s not like you won’t know anybody." Jisung suggested, referring to the rest of their group of friends.

“I’m not an actor.” Hyunjin said flatly.

“You look like one though, that goes a long way.” Changbin stated, swiping a cookie from Jisungs plate. “The rest, you can learn.”

“And there’s more than just acting involved.” Jisung adds. “There’s writing and production, wardrobe and set dressing, music-”

“You could paint sets!” Changbin offered, earning a side-long glare from Jisung.

“We just finished the Shakespeare production too, so it’d be a good time to join before we start planning for the spring show,” Jisung added.

“Why do I feel like you rehearsed this?” Hyunjin asked. They glanced between each other guiltily.

He knew what they were doing, they just wanted to get him out of his room, out of his apartment, out of the headspace that he’d been living in these past few months. They’d tried a few similar tactics in the past, and while he appreciated the gesture, he really didn’t see much point to it. He didn’t see much point to anything anymore if he was being honest. Still, he knew they wouldn’t relent until he agreed to something.

“I’ll think about it.” He offered, satisfying them for the moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, as he trailed behind his friend, he felt a weak flutter in his chest. Anxiety? Probably, but there was also something else, something faint, more pleasant. Excited? He hadn’t felt excited by much since-

No, no. We’re not thinking about that anymore.

He shook his head, quickly following Jisung through the door of the auditorium. Maybe they were right, maybe a change of scenery would be good…

The auditorium was abuzz at SNU. That winter was to be the planning and prep phase for the spring musical, and every theatre geek on campus was somewhere in that room trying to live out their slice of life anime dreams.

Y/n was in the back of the theatre typing on her laptop, busy working herself away already for what she had planned this quarter. Her theatre friends, Chan, Seungmin, Felix, Han, Jeongin, Changbin, and Minho all tended to arrive late. Leaving her to babysit the freshmen if the art director wasn’t in.

This year as part of his senior project Seungmin was going to direct and produce the Musical with the help of his friends. She was glad to be part of it; just didn’t think being late necessarily set a good example for everyone that was new.

The doors to the side stage opened and sauntering in was her band of misfits. Or at least that's what the group chat was called.

With a…new person in tow. His shoulders risen to his ears and yet his gate was sluggish. Shuffling and looking at the ground. Y/n found herself walking down the aisle to the white fold out table with stuff for the crew putting her bag down.

“So glad you cared to join us- oh great leaders~” She bowed dramatically to Seungmin and Chan. She laughed and rolled her eyes at Seungmin flipping her off.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get on with this.” He said, trailing after her down the aisle.

The light peal of laughter drew Hyunjin’s attention, his eyes flicking up from the floor, quickly scanning the group until he found its owner. She was turned partially away from him, but he could still make out part of her features. Round apple cheeks, bright eyes that disappeared into half crescents as she smiled, her whole body moving as she spoke animatedly with Seungmin about something. He didn’t realize he had frozen, staring at her, until she looked up and met his gaze.

“Um, hi?” She offered, looking at him curiously.

“Oh, Y/n, this is our friend, Hyunjin. He just joined the group. Hyunjin, this is Y/n. She’s in charge of keeping us from accidentally setting the building on fire.” Han said, gesturing between the two of them before quickly snagging the chair closest to Minho’s, as per usual.

“Don’t pin that kind of responsibility on me!” She shot back before offering a warm smile to Hyunjin. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you.” He said quietly, finding himself unable to look away from her.

“Alright, should we get started?” She nodded slightly before turning back to the rest of the group.

After rousing games of zip, zap, zop, freeze and change, and traditional ice breakers for the lonely extrovert, Y/n found herself sitting in the audience scrolling her phone while the rest of the crew bickered over what to do in earnest. Her eyes drifted to the new boy.

…Hyunjin?

His face was a lack luster pale like he hadn’t seen the sun in over two weeks. But his eyes were an abyss. No real emotion, seemed to be dragged here by their friends. Which- was how they got her to come in the first place; now it's their 3rd show season all together. His clothes hung on his body like a wire frame in a department store. Out of place, but far more expensive than the financial aid in her bank account could dream of. Catching his eyes, her own fell back to the screen in her hand. Maybe her cheeks were red from the smut she was reading earlier, or just being stared down by a dark prince type.

Y/n had gotten used to living in and around very attractive people. It was the land of the Idol.

There were enough plastic surgeons to go toe to toe with the number of Walmart’s back home. Everyone had someone they wanted to be, to look like, to sound like, to replace.

There just was no one like Hyunjin…He was who boys put up on their wall as inspiration, and girls put on their wall to admire. She dreaded to think what came to mind when she was caught looking.

~~~~~

“Beautiful, ethereal, the human incarnation of a Renaissance Goddess.” Every word or phrase that came to mind didn’t seem to do justice to the woman sitting just a few seats away from Hyunjin. ‘Y/n.’ Her name danced around the inside of his head like a lyric from a forgotten song, foreign and yet somehow familiar. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying several times to redirect his attention towards his friends, who were clearly in the middle of some heated argument, Jisungs voice echoing loudly through the hall in frustration, but each time, he found himself drawn back to her.

He couldn’t understand it, every little thing she did seemed to hypnotize him. The way her fingers danced lightly across the screen of her phone, brow creased in concentration as she read, sending occasional curious glances in his direction, sending a small jolt of electricity through his system every time her eyes locked with his, even for the briefest moment.

His heart thundered in his chest; mouth dry as his mind raced to figure out what he should do. Should he try to strike up another conversation with her? What would he even say? Every time she glanced in his direction, his mind went completely blank. Maybe it would be better for him to keep his distance? He didn’t know how long he sat there like that, observing her from afar, before Chan suddenly spoke up.

“Y/n, I need another adult!”

She jumped slightly at the sudden use of her name, making the glasses she was wearing slip a little further down her nose. Cute. He bit back a grin, watching as his friend approached her.

“Can you please explain to them why Dracula is a severely overdone production right now and how-”

“Actually I really like Dracula,” She interjected, stopping Chan in his tracks. “I think it’d be a great idea for the spring production. “What do you think, Hyunjin?” He froze as she suddenly glanced over at him.

“I-” He stuttered, his stomach doing somersaults at the way his name sounded slipping from her lips. “I think it would be good.” He managed to agree, causing her face to light up in a triumphant grin as she turned back to Chan.

“See? Majority vote wins.”

“What do you mean you wanna do Dracula? It’s cringey-” Chan exclaimed.

“Says the man who at my birthday went on a tirade about how aegyo is cute and it should be embraced…sir you are a master of cringe- embrace ego death it wouldn’t be that bad for you” Y/n laughed. Still, her eyes glanced at Hyunjin, hoping he didn’t mind that she brought him more into the conversation. Her hand reached up and pinched his hyungs cheek. “-plus, vampires are hot- if you don’t think you could pull off being a sexy vampire just say so”

Chan's eyes widened and he gasped in faux horror. Y/n smiled triumphantly looking to Seungmin with a raised brow, silently asking for his thoughts.

“Director!!” Han yelled clinging onto Seungmin's arm trying to force him into receiving his love and affection “Mom said it's okay! Let’s do sexy vampire show!”

“I told you to stop calling me that!” Y/n yelled back pulling Han off.

While they all ended up bickering about the ethics of sexy vampires, Changbin’s eyes found Hyunjins. Staring at Y/n as she manhandled Han to get off their mutual friend. Was…that a blush on his cheeks?

There was a light in his eyes that Changbin hadn’t seen in so long.

It was a welcome change, maybe with some encouragement, Hyunjin could find his way back to himself again. Or- that was the hope at least.

Hyunjin looked up from his middle-distance stare to see Han chasing Y/n around the stage and her dodging his antics.

“!would-” “-yoU” “QUIT-” “IT?!” She shrieked bobbing and weaving from the younger’s attempts to grapple (he would say hug) her. A small smile teased at the corner of his lips as he watched her interact with his friend, admiring the grace and agility she moved with. I wonder if she dances-

“Alright that’s enough, Han!” Chan called, finally managing to capture the hyper younger man in a tight bear hug, allowing rehearsal to get underway at last. Chan eventually catches Han, and play rehearsal could truly start.

Y/n sat in an auditorium seat in the front row, while the rest of the boys spoke to the incoming freshmen for that year. Explaining Dracula, what it entailed and if they were uncomfortable with it to go now, no hard feelings, but best for them to see just who they could work with.

~~~~

It was a rather daunting undertaking, but Y/n planned to be in charge of costumes and wardrobe for the year's productions at SNU, and hopefully for the coming seasons as well.

Not by choice of course, but rather had resigned herself to the fact that the cost of auditioning, the cost of being good, but not good enough, the cost of being ensemble as great as ensemble is, was too much. She had a skill set that was fit for behind the scenes work, might as well embrace it. The boys were getting names, contact information, and the like as Hyunjin decided to test the waters, coming over to sit near Y/n, keeping an empty seat between the two of them so as to avoid potentially making her feel crowded.

“So,” He cleared his throat awkwardly, catching her attention. “How do these things usually go?”

“Well,” She sat up a little straighter. “Once we figure out the main production team, we start working on things like set designing, auditions, wardrobes-” Hyunjin’s attention began to drift as she spoke, her hands capturing his focus with the way they moved and flitted about as she spoke, leaving him transfixed. “What department are you interested in joining?” Her question shook him out of his daze, his eyes snapping back up to meet hers.

“Uh, I don’t know yet.” He said. “What department are you working in?”

“Costumes.” She answered with a small, amused grin.

“I might try that then.” He said quickly.

She laughed, or more chuckled. Almost one could think she just cleared her throat, but the smile on her face would prevent the assumption. It was enough though. Hyunjin had fireworks in his soul blowing off and he didn’t know how to stop it. Not that he would want too of course.

“You should audition though! Everyone should give it a shot; you won’t know what you don’t try.” Y/n said in an attempt at being encouraging to the newcomer.

“Are you then? Going to Audition?”

“Nah- not this year, It’s Seungmins project, I wanna support him best I can and that is with costumes.” She smiled and leaned back in her chair.

Looking at Hyunjin Y/n couldn’t help but notice the bags under the boys eyes, the flat expression wore thin and the smile he dawned was tired. Her heart ached, but not in pity, it was in recognition. She knew what it was like for the lights to go out behind ones eyes…thats what happened when she moved to South Korea.

The main 7 that adopted her brought her back to life and now there was Hyunjin. In a similar position to where she was, and maybe with some musical theatre shenanigans he would find his way back to wherever he fell off.

“Y/N do you think you could get the phantom costumes from freshman year?!” Seungmin raised his voice above the chatter. Her head whipped to the sound of her name and rolled her eyes. “What do you think?!” She shouted back only to bow her head at Hyunjin briefly to go join his friends little circle that had been made. Leaving him, to watch her walk away.

Hyunjin watched her join their other friends with a faint pull in his chest as she went. “Y/n”, everything about her seem to draw him in, though he couldn’t quite place the reason why. Was it the bright flash in her eyes as she spoke? The warmth that colored her cheeks as she laughed? Her very being seemed to exude a warm, calming quality that he hadn’t experienced in another person before. He shook his head, looking away from the others as he tried to collect himself.

Was he seriously this infatuated with her after only a half hour?

It wasn’t impossible, he knew he tended to be rather intense when it came to these types of things, he’d been told that more than once in the past, but something about her seemed to strike a different chord within him.

thank you @lonelystczennie for being my writing partner.

Tag List: Open

@kaciidubs @itsseohannbin @ldysmfrst @frenchkisstheabyss @daydreams-after-dark

#Hyunjin x reader #yandere!Hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids #college AU #slow burn #Dracula #phantom of the opera #Hyunjin x plus size reader #Hwang hyunjin x reader #plus size reader #fat reader #chubby reader

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celticcatgirl2 · 6 months

Text

“…To be, or not to be, that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause—there's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn

No traveller returns, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry

And lose the name of action….”

“Uh that’s nice Luna but all we’re doing for English homework today is verb conjugations…I need your help with that….”

#shut up alex #personal #sailor moon #usagi tsukino #luna #alice watches sailor moon #luna sailor moon #princess serenity #sailor moon r

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a-echo-of-gotham · 1 month

Text

Hamlet Soliloquy under cut

To be, or not to be, that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause—there's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn

No traveller returns, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry

And lose the name of action.

#echo of gotham #the snake shed arc

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shakespearenews · 7 months

Text

This compression of the play’s peaks and chasms into a flatter, more manageable package is also a matter of adaptation. Mark Izzard’s cut is heavy on paraphrase. Less familiar words are regularly replaced with modern synonyms, and though the intention is honorable (Izzard has spoken of wanting the show to be accessible to “the people who don’t find Shakespeare easy, like I didn’t when I was a dyslexic kid”), the substitutions clank and clunk. “For who would bear the whips and scorns of time … / When he himself might his quietus make / With a bare bodkin?” becomes “When he himself might his departure make / With a mere dagger”; “the rank sweat of an enseamed bed” becomes “grease-covered bed.” It’s not as if the Izzards are alone here — people have been throwing resources into “translating” Shakespeare for centuries. But what these ventures always miss is this: Poetry isn’t just about immediate, literal understanding, and it is the job of the actor and the director, as much as it is the job of the text itself, to stimulate both comprehension and revelation. Poetry uses many tools to convey meaning: We may never have heard the word “enseamed,” but when we hear an actor—wild with distress, disgusted to the point of nausea—stretch and hiss its syllables as if retching poison, then we learn something by feeling it. Whether or not you change the vocabulary, this fully embodied investment in the text—this savoring and sharing of its every nuance—is still the job. When we update the text and then fail to do the job, all we do is throw fuel on the facile notion that perhaps these plays are too elitist and crusty for us after all.

#shakespeare #william shakespeare #sara holdren #eddie izzard #hamlet #theater #theatre

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uselessthebroccoli · 6 months

Note

to be or not to be, that is the question. whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them. to die, to sleep. and by a sleep to say we end the heartaches and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. tis a consummation, devoutly to be wished. to die, to sleep. to sleep, perchance to dream, ay theres the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffed off this mortal coil must give us pause, theres the respect that makes calamity of so long life. for who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressors wrong, the proud mans contumely, the pangs of disprized love, the laws delay, the insolence of office, and the spurns the patient merit of the unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? who would fardles bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that dread of something after death, that undiscovered country from whose borne no traveler returns, makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others we know not of? thus conscience doth make cowards of us all. and thus the native hie of resolution is sickled oer by the pale cast of thought and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.

good morning

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fishoutoflovebeach · 17 days

Text

To be, or not to be, that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause—there's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn

No traveller returns, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry

And lose the name of action.

from Hamlet by William Shakespeare, Act III i, lines 59-61

#i can’t tell you how or why this soliloquy is etched into my brain #but it is #ghostposting

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leninisms · 8 months

Text

just a reminder that to be, or not to be, that is the question: whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them. to die— to sleep, no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to: ‘tis a consummation devoutly to be wish’d. to die— to sleep; to sleep, perchance to dream— ay, there’s the rub. for in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause— there’s the respect that makes calamity of so long life. for who would bear the whips and scorns of time, th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay, the insolence of office, and the spurns that patient merit of th'unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? thus conscience doth make cowards of us all, and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.

#thus conscience doth make cowards of us all #hamlet #this has been stuck in my head for 3 days #carley’s soliloquy

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a-whispering-echo · 1 month

Text

The Massage

a oneshot i have already posted on my AO3 for my Band Au, though i thought i'd post here, in case anyone on here would like to read it without being on AO3 <3

Horror + Cross - background BSP - human Au.

The night was quiet, the quiet hum of the air conditioning soothing in the darkness that enveloped the living room. Horror sat in his wheelchair, his legs stretched out in front of him, but his face contorted with pain. His fisted hands clenched and unclenched as he took deep breaths.

Cross noticed the pained expression on Horror's face from where he was sitting on the couch, and concern filled his eyes. He had known about Horror's chronic pain, of course he did, how could he not, but seeing him in distress always tugged at his heartstrings. Without a second thought, he got up from the couch and made his way over to his partner.

"Hey, you okay, Horror?"

Horror glanced at Cross, his big brown eye meeting Cross's gaze. "It's okay just... leg cramps, nothing new, I'll be fine." His smile was forced, clearly a put-up mask to hide his pain.

"You don't have to pretend with me," The blond frowned, upset that his partner felt the need to lie to him.

"It's just... it's frustrating," Horror admitted, his voice soft. "I hate feeling like a burden, and I hate that my body won't cooperate with me. I can't do the things I used to, and it's hard not to feel useless sometimes."

He looked away, his eye welling up with tears. "I don't understand why you even care for me," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I'm not pretty like the others, I can't even fucking walk properly."

The bassist knelt down in front of him, gently taking his partner's hands in his own. "Hey, listen to me," he said, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "You are so much more than your ability to walk. You are talented, beautiful in every way, and so SO strong. "

He leaned in closer, his soft pink eyes locking onto Horror's brown one. "This face of yours?" He paused, and Horror tensed in preparation for the scorn that would surely come out of his mouth.

"It's beautiful," Cross said, his voice firm and genuine. "It always has been, and it always will, because the person who wears it is beautiful ."

It was a revelation for the drummer. He blinked in surprise, his heart pounding in his chest. No one had ever called his face beautiful before, not since it shattered like his self-worth. His eye filled with tears, yet this time; tears of gratitude.

"You really mean that?" Horror asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Cross nodded, his fingers gently brushing against Horror's cheeks, caressing the scars and whipping away the tears. "I mean it with all my heart," he replied. "To me, you are the most beautiful person in the world, inside and out."

His heart tightened with emotions. He had spent so much of his life feeling self-conscious about his scars and his appearance, always trying to hide behind pretty fabrics and long auburn hair, he never thought someone could look past that and see the beauty he felt he lacked.

"Thank you...I - Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, Teddy Bear. " The bassist smiled, his thumb gently whipping away another tear as it escaped Horror's eye. "I'm just telling you the truth you need to hear."

"Now," He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Horror's forehead, "Will you let me help you?"

Horror hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching Cross's face for any signs of pity or condescension. But all he saw in the blond's eyes was love and genuine concern.

"Okay," he whispered, his voice filled with vulnerability.

Cross smiled, relief evident in his expression. "Let's get you on the sofa, can you stand on your own right now, or do you need a hand?"

Horror took a deep breath, his muscles tensing as he attempted to stand on his own. He managed to push himself up, wincing at the pain shooting through his legs. However, he knew that he couldn't risk pushing himself too far, so he shook his head slightly.

"I'll... need some help," he admitted, voice tinged with embarrassment.

"Of course," Cross said softly, his arms gently wrapping around Horror's waist to support him. Together, Cross and Horror carefully manoeuvred to get the drummer out of his wheelchair and onto the sofa. With each step, Horror winced, his legs protesting against the movement. Cross supported most of his weight, making sure not to strain him further.

Once they finally settled on the sofa, Cross helped prop up pillows to make Horror more comfortable. "How does a massage sound, big guy?"

Horror's tense shoulders relaxed at the suggestion, and he nodded gratefully. "That sounds amazing right now," he replied, a small smile gracing his lips.

Cross gently positioned the taller on his side, propped up with pillows so that his legs wouldn't be too strained. The bassist took a moment to grab some massage oil and warm it between his hands before he started working on Horror's cramping legs.

At first, Horror winced with each touch, his muscles protesting against the pressure. But as Cross continued to work his magic, applying just the right amount of pressure and care, the pain slowly began to ebb away. The drummer's body melted into the touch, and he found himself sinking into the sensation of relief and comfort.

Cross worked his way up from Horror's legs to his back and shoulders, kneading the tense muscles with skilful hands. Horror let out soft sighs and moans of relief, feeling the pain slowly ease under Cross's touch.

"Feels good?" The blond asked, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"So good." The drummer slurred, his eye half-lidded in bliss.

"Good. You deserve this," Cross murmured, his fingers working their magic on Horror's back. "You deserve to be pampered and cared for, Teddy Bear. Don't ever think otherwise."

Horror's eye glistened with unshed tears, touched by Cross's words. He had spent so long feeling inadequate and self-conscious about his scars and his disability, but in that moment, he felt truly seen and loved.

As Cross continued the massage, the room was filled with a sense of intimacy and tenderness. The darkness outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own little world. The hum of the air conditioning became a soothing melody, and the pain that had once gnawed at Horror's body was now just a distant memory.

"Listen to me, love: You are extraordinary," Cross whispered, his voice a gentle caress. "Your strength, your resilience, your beauty, both inside and out, it's all part of what makes you who you are. And I wouldn't change a single thing about you."

"...You know, when I first met you, all those years ago, I thought you were an angel," Horror confessed, his tone hushed, like a secret shared only between them, "And every day since then, you've only ever continued to prove me right."

Cross's heart swelled with emotion at Horror's words. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the drummer's forehead. "If I'm an angel, you're my guardian," Cross whispered back, his lips brushing against Horror's skin. "And I'll always be here to take care of you, no matter what."

Their love was a sanctuary, a place of acceptance and tenderness where scars and pain didn't define them. In each other's arms, they found solace, and in their love, they found strength.

The night continued to envelop them in its quiet embrace, the darkness outside a stark contrast to the warmth and love that filled the living room.

#undertale au #undertale #horror sans #human horror #horror!sans #horrortale sans #human cross #cross sans #xtale sans #xtale cross #xtale!sans #Horror X Cross #dont think they actually really HAVE a ship name #which sucks #but its a rare pair so-#fanfiction #undertale fanfiction #sanscest #sans x sans

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viaheavensandorhells · 9 months

Text

Hamlet

'For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

(.)

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience doth make cowards of YOU all,

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry

And lose the name of action.' #Shakespeare #Hamlet

Shakespeare: "To be or not to be" from Hamlet (with the Adagio from Vivaldi's "Autumn") | Lee Sellars Lyrics, Meaning & Videos (sonichits.com)

#hamlet #tobeornottobe #to be or not to be #shakespeare

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alphabetcompletionist · 1 year

Text

To be, or not to be: that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause: there's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office and the spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscover'd country from whose bourn

No traveller returns, puzzles the will

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,

And lose the name of action.—Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons

Be all my sins remember'd.

ABCDEFGHI KLMNOPQRSTUVW YZ

24/26

#>75%

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tavyliasin · 7 months

Text

ATG 14 - Fury? Scorned.

In which an enemy becomes a bedfellow...

Pairing: Mizora/Tav SPICE Rating: 4/5 Content Warnings: Oral sex, light Bondage, rough sex, mild hate-fucking, mild neck grab, light whipping, tail whipping, manipulation, temperature play

Spoilers Act 3, Wyll's storyline Canon Compliance Canon adjacent with Mizora's offer though some divergence in the scene and what happens after. Other Notes The names and descriptions of the hells are mostly canon, the feelings when they are used may vary in some ways from the game descriptions but hopefully that is forgivable to just indulge in a little fun with it all. I also headcanon Mizora as feeling cool to the touch in general, both from personality and from her skin being blue to be honest it's just a simple shorthand for "thing is cold colour therefore feels cold". Click here to read the same chapter on AO3 if you prefer~

Mood/Song Freak Like Me by Halestorm "I'm on the train that's pullin' the sick and twisted Makin' the most of the ride before we get arrested We're all wasted And we're not going home tonight

Covered in black, we lack the social graces Just like an animal, we crawl out of our cages They can't tame us So if you're one of us, get on the bus

If you're a freak like me"

--- --- Full Chapter below the cut! --- ---

Tav paced back and forth across the empty room, floorboards creaking beneath her feet. Was it a mistake? Had she finally made a decision that couldn’t be taken back? She paused. Shaking the thoughts loose from her head, resuming her restless footsteps once more, she turned her mind away from problems and towards solutions. Every devil has a catch, they stick to their laws so you simply have to read between the lines and- “FUCK!” Her own voice surprised her as she cursed the chair that dared to get in the way of where her toes were supposed to be. “Fucking Mizora…”

“Well, there’s an idea~” That horrible voice that Tav had been trying to avoid crept into her ear.

“Speak of the devil and she shall appear?” Tav turned on her heel, staring daggers at the intruder and sorely tempted to throw some too.

“Oh hush now, there’s no need for hostilities. I’m not here about Wyll, let the pup run and play while he still has the time - we shall call that one a mercy. See? I can be nice, if I want to.” Mizora’s smile was unnerving as she spread her hands and wings in a disarming gesture.

“Then why the fuck are you here, devil?” Tav made no attempt to disguise the disdain in her voice. The others had left to fetch supplies and to begin looking for more signs of the prison that held Wyll’s father. She had remained behind - “to plan” she had told them - but in truth she couldn’t bear to look at the conflict in the Warlock’s eyes any longer. Karlach would look after him, along with the others, but she had been the one to push him too far, to make a decision she knew he would see as selfish.

In the moment of silence, Mizora had stepped closer, circling around the rogue with interest, clawed blue fingers reaching out but stopping short of her shoulder. “Truth is, I’ve had my eye on you.” The smile beneath blazing eyes was ever more unnerving as she continued. “You’re a fascinating little thing, and you’ve been on quite the adventures now haven’t you?”

Tav bristled as she felt herself being undressed by the cambion’s gaze, and not the one she might usually prefer to imagine her naked…although… “Reading my diary, are you? That’s considered poor form, I thought you demons liked your rules.”

“Devils.” Mizora corrected her. “Fiends, if you must. But who has need of your precious little words when I can simply watch ?” With one clawed nail, the devil indicated an eye that burned just a touch brighter for a moment.

“Wyll…his eye.”

“Obviously. I must keep track of the pup lest he wander in front of a carriage or into the jaws of a stray dragon. But enough of him - it’s you I’m here to see.” The fiend’s hand reached out again towards Tav’s cheek, and when she didn’t pull away the cool touch caressed her with a gesture somewhere between a lover and the prospective owner of a prized animal examining the quality of the livestock. Tav gritted her teeth and smiled. This was a game she could play, and she couldn’t deny that - at least on a purely physical level - the bitch did have some level of allure. “Tell me then, Mizora, what is it you think you see in me?” “I knew you were curious, pet.” The smirk that accompanied the mocking term of endearment betrayed the hint of fangs behind soft lips. “Don’t you feel it? There’s something missing. You’re hungry for pleasures beyond this plane, something more satisfying than mortal flesh, blood and bone.” “And that something is you?” Her eyebrow raised, pretending to take the bait. “How very observant! Quick little thing, but not quite. I am your key to that door, if you’re brave enough to open it, of course.” Blue wings stretched up for a moment as she withdrew her hand. “Although, if you’d rather I just leave you to your brooding-”

“I didn’t say to go, yet.” Tav was wondering if being poetic and overly-dramatic was a specific cambion trait, or if it was instead just coincidence that Mizora shared a few things in common with Raphael. She chased off the thought, Raphael usually had the good grace to play fair even when he obscured the rules of the game. “If you really think there’s something I’m missing, why don’t you show me?”

“An excellent choice, pet.” Mizora’s wings spread wide this time, the circle appearing beneath them both - that familiar and horrifying bubbling tar seemingly made of darkness itself. It was simultaneously boiling and freezing, the essence of every level of the hells distilled into an infernal pool at their feet.

The liquid rose, climbing and surrounding them, enveloping the pair in an instant before falling away and leaving them in a space between worlds.

—

Tav wasn’t sure where they were, or what to make of it. Everything seemed coloured with a hue she didn’t recognise, something beyond her comprehension, the echoes of music she had never heard tickling the edge of her senses. She couldn’t tell if it was singing or screaming, but there was something hauntingly beautiful.

“There, you see? Can you smell it?” Mizora breathed deeply, as if inhaling the most delicious scent imaginable.

Tav tentatively followed suit, noting something very familiar.

“Avernus,” Mizora confirmed her suspicions, “home of the river Styx, the sweet aroma of spiced wine and rotting offal. Forget the heavens, pet, this is paradise .”

Tav wasn’t certain she agreed with the sentiments, but as she looked around, trying to make sense of the endless void around her she felt the fiend step in closer behind her.

“ Home .” The cambion’s voice carried a note of pride to it, purpose and belonging stirring a loyalty that no living being would ever hear directed towards themselves. “Take your time, take it all in - let me show you the true wages of your sin.”

Wings drew in around her shoulders as Tav felt the stirring of an undeniable lust in her core. Much as she loathed the woman behind her, the feeling of talons caressing her throat, running along her sides and following the curve of her hips… Even the tip of the cambion’s powder-blue tail teasing at her wrist was enchanting her senses.

“I can offer a taste of any of the hells you wish, you know.” The voice in her ear purred with sweet warmth, eloquently suggesting far more salacious ideas than the words alone would suggest. “The blackened elysium of Dis, Minauros the rotting bog, Phlegethos with its molten seas and soil, the frozen oceans of Stygia...”

Tav shivered as Mizora’s hands continued to travel across her body, cool lips pressing deceptively soft kisses along the line of her neck. Sharp teeth and claws nipped and pricked her exposed skin, gentle for now, but the edge of threat lingering. The decidedly unwise rush of adrenaline only served to increase her curiosity and arousal. Each hell that was named came with a swirl of different coloured flames at the cambion’s fingertips, licking at Tav’s senses not with heat but the very essence that each contained. “The infinite desolation of Malbolge, Maladomini’s long forgotten ruins, the mountains of ice across Cania, and finally Nessus, the seat of infernal power that rules over all of them.” Mizora withdrew her touch, wrapping her arms around Tav instead, hands cupped in front now with the illusion of all 9 fires dancing in her palms. “Take your choice, and I will allow you a taste of the satisfaction you have been denied for so long.” Tav reached up, bringing her hands around Mizora’s, letting her fingers drift through the flames as she considered the proposal. “This is…quite the feast.” “A buffet the likes of which most mortals never even get to witness, let alone sample.” The fiend chuckled, kissing her ear and dropping to a seductive whisper. “Go on then, pet, the decision is yours.” “All of them.” She made her decision easily, enclosing her hands around cool blue fingers. “If I have truly been so starved, then I should taste every single one.”

“You are such a bold little thing, but very well. If you believe yourself able to handle every agony of countless tortured souls, I will show you a bliss beyond that suffering that your frail mortal mind could never conceive of alone.” It was the work of a simple gesture from the fiend to dissolve the clothes from both of their bodies into nothing. “Can you feel it? The heat of Avernus, the fires that consume countless lost souls that stray from the river.”

Tav closed her eyes as the fiend’s hand snaked across them, Mizora’s other hand dancing along the nerves of her skin with heated flames just on the edge of burning. She could hear - almost sense - the Styx, bare toes just touching the water’s surface and finding it to be neither warm nor cold, yet just as intense as if it were scalding her. Pain linked arms with adrenaline, pulling a hint of lust along for the ride as her senses filled with everything that was Avernus.

Tugging at the very edge of her mind, for just a fraction of a second, she felt the slightest hint of cherry and cinnamon like a far off memory that vanished the moment she tried to catch hold of it.

“You wished to taste everything, so let me reward your avarice.” Mizora’s claws raked a line across Tav’s abdomen next, drawing pinpricks of blood to the surface as their surroundings shifted. “Dis, can you feel the darkness now?” Tav nodded silently. Even without Mizora’s hand over her eyes, she could sense the complete lack of light, something deeper than darkness itself. Her skin prickled with the shadows crawling over her like living beings, the fiend’s fingertips chasing the sensations with a teasingly light tough that rose to cup her chest. “The iced mountains of Cania - fitting, don’t you think?” The chill accompanying her words was painful, freezing Tav’s own peak in an instant before thawing her again with a warmer palm massaging across frost-seared skin. “Phlegethos, the molten soils…” The sudden change in temperature drew a gasp from her lungs, words long since forgotten, listening only to the voice in her ear, feeling only the embrace of the hells and the hellspawn who brought her to each one in turn. Mizora lifted her hand away from Tav’s eyes, leaving the vanishing warmth of her palm and the unspoken command to keep them closed. She also withdrew the rest of her touch, stepping back as the atmosphere shifted once again. “The desolation of Malbolge… Can you feel it, pet? The unbearable longing , the yearning for anything but the emptiness.” The fiend was teasing, using the essence of the hells themselves to make Tav needy, to make her desire whatever it was the devil could offer - and it was beginning to work. She almost moaned when those devious hands returned to her body, taking hold of her hips and sliding around behind to dig vicious claws into soft flesh. “Maladomini’s forgotten ruins - ah but you are no ruin, are you? And you certainly won’t be forgetting this.” Indelicate touch shifted, raking lines into her skin and leaving deeper marks. “The rotting bog of Minauros, like the petulant souls of mortal pets who do not know their place.” The breath whispering on the back of Tav’s neck was growing hotter, just as her own body grew more heated with desire. “Stygia’s frozen ocean…” Wicked fingers found her own ocean, slipping inside with a hint of that same cold as Tav felt the bitterly cold air sting her face with mist whipped up from the waves somewhere beneath her feet. “Though far from frozen here. That’s it, sweet little thing, give yourself over to the infernal~” Honeyed poison coated salacious words, fingers beginning to press inside with well practiced motion. Tav felt her strength waning a little, leaning back against the fiend without a second thought. Her head rested against cool skin that carried a bitter scent - something between soured citrus and the hiss of lightning. “And last but never least,” Mizora’s other hand drifted down the rogue’s stomach, her destination matched to her words, “the seat of infernal power itself. Nessus, the most intense, where all rule is decided and control is held.”

Tav whimpered from the intensity. Held in the arms of the devil, her nerves being mercilessly stimulated as the sensations of all nine hells rushed around her like a monsoon. She clung to her fraying sanity like a liferaft, focusing on every whisper and movement, picking apart everything she could use. It was becoming a battle of wills, with only one knowing that she was in the fight, the other just indulging in idle curiosity tainted by a fiendish ego that had a need to prove that none could compare. It would be easy to lose herself, to let Mizora completely take her over, but that essence of Nessus…the power itself coursed through her consciousness, the hint of ambition that drove her to seize the chance. Holding back the edge of her climax by biting the inside of her cheek, Tav let the taste of blood whet her appetite for that same power, the control, the chance to get the upper hand over a fiend who was hellbent on winning. And that started with a lower hand. While Mizora was focusing on Tav’s body, she slipped her hand behind her, tracing along the path of the cambion’s hip to the top of a warm thigh, finding that the woman was not quite as calm and unaffected as she wanted Tav to believe.

“Cheeky little pup,” Mizora’s voice was coloured by a tint of lust, as Tav felt the response to her touch. “Are you certain you want to play this game?”

She leaned her head back further, finding a deeper well of hunger for power, lips reaching Mizora’s ear. “Are you going to let me taste all the hells have to offer, or are you going to hold back?” Tav withdrew her fingers and brought them to her lips, finding the cambion’s taste to be complex, almost burning but with a feeling more of ice than fire. It was…intriguing.

“If you insist, pet, I will indulge your thirst.” Mizora withdrew the touch that had been working so hard to bring her to an overwhelming climax, hands moving to Tav’s hips, turning her around so they were facing one another.

Tav couldn’t tell if they had begun to float or if the ground beneath them had simply fallen away. They were weightless, drifting, the cambion’s wings closing around her like a trap.

“Is this what you want? To resist the pleasure I could give you?” Mizora sounded on the edge of frustration and curiosity, sharpened claws raking across Tav’s skin - a challenge met.

“You think me so selfish as to not make this a fair trade?” She pushed her luck as far as she thought safe, lifting her leg to wrap it around pale blue hips, pressing their bodies together as the sensations of the hells continued to lick across her own body with invisible flames. “Or are you afraid you might want me back?”

“I should have put you on a shorter leash.” The fiend growled, pulling her in closer, tail coiling around her knee with a snake-like grip. “Foolish creature, even as prey you’re barely an ant to the appetite of a wolf.”

“So it’s my appetite you’re afraid of?” Tav smirked.

“Fear, pet, is not in my vocabulary.” Mizora swiftly pulled Tav’s leg away and threw her with a sharp motion of a tail that was stronger than it seemed. Tav felt the rush of air, adrenaline spiking through her body as she was powerlessly flung through the empty space. She didn’t have long to worry for where she might land, however, as the cambion was swooping through the air with wings back like a diving bird of prey. The wicked grin might as well have been a razor sharp beak, the glint of danger shining on the edge of painted lips.

Mizora caught Tav easily in mid air, arms curling around her thighs and parting her legs. Likewise, she found a grip on cool blue hips, locking the two of them in a new battle of wits. Although this time, sharp tongues were turned to new purpose…

Tav wasted no time, quickly getting another taste of the cambion while feeling the fiend’s hunger already finding a feast between her own thighs. Mizora was relentless from the start, lavishing her senses with more of the essence of the hells. Heat, cold, and even some trying to drain away the strength from her body…but she pulled back to Nessus, using the same power against the woman who was so desperate to bring her to ruin. Sparks of the Weave flickered at the tip of her tongue as she directed the magic into her “attack”. She brought her hand around to thrust inside, curling to find any further weak points in the only part of the cambion that could truly be described as either soft or warm. Tav kept a brutal pace, not concerned for the comfort of a woman who was just as merciless in sex as in the contracts that bound foolish souls to her whims. Mizora almost paused for a moment, tail curling around to take hold of Tav’s arm. Though instead of pulling her hand back, the cambion seemed to encourage her to press deeper, rougher motions. Just like her… Tav thought to herself, redoubling her efforts, digging the nails of her other hand into the base of the fiend’s tail hard to make her point. She felt the grip on her forearm release, but quickly followed by a swift strike to her upper back from the arrow-tip appendage. There was a pleased chuckle that vibrated through Mizora’s tongue as Tav moaned at the sting of pain. The contrast between the pain and the ecstasy kept the ebb and flow of pleasure’s tides moving through both of them as neither was willing to cede defeat. There was nothing but the sensations, the experience, the overwhelming combination of the essences of all the hells distilled into a battle that was more of pride than of flesh. Neither cambion nor elf knew which one broke first - both biting back the sound of their climax, though unable to hide it completely.

Before she had even a chance to regain her breath, Tav felt Mizora’s tail slide around her waist, pulling the two apart and whipping her around face to face again. Taloned narrow blue fingers gripped her throat with just enough pressure to make the point without crushing. “You play with fire, pet. I like that.”

“Fire? This is a matchstick to a furnace. Is that all you are, Mizora? A sputtering flame?” Tav pushed her luck, licking the taste of herself from the cambion’s own lips, following with a kiss that shared like for like, ensuring Mizora could swallow her own ‘medicine’. “Hm. Perhaps you are merely a rabid beast who needs taming after all.” Mizora caught Tav’s lip in sharp teeth, drawing hot blood as the elf’s pale wrists were twisted behind her back, quickly bound by a coiling blue tail. She struggled momentarily, but with her arms behind her Tav didn’t have the strength to get free. Not that she was particularly inclined to.

Mizora’s fingers flickered with a myriad of colours, the flames licking around her whole hand, summoning the essences of the hells once more, tracing along Tav’s body. “That’s right, pet, writhe and whine, for the rest of our time your body is mine.” The part of the rogue that wanted to argue was silenced and overpowered by the lust and intrigue that still burned hot. Blue wings enclosed around her as they continued to float in…she wasn’t sure it even mattered. “That’s it, surrender.” Mizora had no intention of being gentle. Continuing to bind her hands with the strength of her tail alone, three fingers thrust inside Tav without warning.

She whined at the intrusion, unsure if the burn was from the stretch or the hells weaving around wicked fingers. The cambion clearly had experience and was willing to play her every nerve to tease out the little gasps that left her mouth hanging open, eyes closed as the sensations threatened to devour her whole. Even the copper-sweet taste of her own blood trickling from her lip onto her tongue was doing little to reduce the heat building deep within her again with the memory of her lover’s sanguine kiss. Although…there was the shadow of something else, the phantom feel of lips where Mizora’s most certainly were not. The quiet echo of her own laugh in her mind, a sending without the stone. “Interesting game, Little Thief, to steal from one such as her… Say the word and we stop, or nothing and we will give you more.”25 words in her own voice, the simple sending betraying the incubus and their game - somewhere in Avernus they had taken her form, and they weren’t alone. She could even feel the edge of the devil’s greed as she pointedly answered the spell with her silence. Mizora had no idea that Tav was leaning back into pure self indulgence, her mind drifting to other tails that could bind her, other lips that could press against her neck, other hands that could thrust with a merciless pace inside her, another thumb that could circle overstimulated nerves-

The cry that left her lips was not for the woman driving her over the brink, nor even the games of two fiends in Avernus; it was one born from the decision to just take what she could from the experience. It mattered little if Mizora thought she had won, that her sharp voice rang out with a mocking laugh, whispering the gloating of a false victory. Tav had what she wanted, and then some.

—

It was some time before Mizora was satisfied, and Tav’s legs were barely able to stagger as the cambion brought the ground rushing back up beneath them, the circle of magic bubbling up with the unsettling tar-like liquid that washed over them. While the cambion had ensured her own clothes were returned, Tav was left bare, her outfit appearing instead in a heap next to her bed Mizora deposited her on the ground beside them.

“Really? That is where you were?” Astarion’s voice cut through the silence, though thankfully his was the only presence in the room besides Tav and the gloating devil stood above her.

“Oh don’t you fret now, I have returned your little toy unharmed. Mostly .” She grinned, sharp teeth bared at the pale elf who continued to pointedly ignore her presence. “Well, I hope it was worth it, darling. Did you enjoy yourself?” He continued only addressing Tav, helping pull a blanket around her shoulders before the cold could bite through to her bones.

“Trust me, pet, she won’t be forgetting me any time soon~” Mizora crooned, her wings spreading slightly with pride.

“It was…acceptable.” Tav shrugged, equally ignoring the devil in favour of her lover. “I admit I couldn’t resist trying at least once. She did offer me a taste of the hells, after all.”

“And that was not something that your other cambion lover would provide?” He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing at the edge of his expression. “Or the incubus? They seem more than willing to let you experiment, after all.”

A pleased shiver ran down Tav’s spine. “I don’t doubt that, but what’s life without some variety? You did tell me to sample anything on offer, after all. It would’ve been a waste of a chance.” She finally turned to Mizora. “Although, I can’t see what all the fuss was about, honestly. A fun evening, but I shan’t be pining after your touch for the rest of my mortal days. You can leave.”

“I can WHAT?! ” Mizora snapped, wings rising and flames gathering around her fingers. “Oh, you impudent little-”

“What in the hells is going on in here?” Wyll’s voice cut across the room like a blade, stopping the cambion before her spell could unleash itself. “Maybe I will leave, I’m sure you’ll have fun explaining to my little pup why you reek of his mistress~” Mizora’s smile returned, cruel and cold, as she turned her back on the two elves now sitting on the edge of the bed. She stalked across the room, clawed fingers tracing along Wyll’s chest as he stood motionless and furious. “Ta ta, pet. Have fun playing with your friends, while you still can.” With a laugh and a swirl of acrid smoke, she was gone. A moment later, Astarion and Tav were laughing so hard they nearly fell to the floor. “You think this is funny? That you were foolish enough to cavort with a devil who would devour your soul faster than you can snap your fingers?” Wyll stormed across the room, eye blazing with anger. “I thought we were at least friends and here you are sleeping with my enemy after convincing me to…to…”

“Wyll…gods…no it’s not like that. I’m sorry. Astarion, please-” Tav wiped the tears from her eyes struggling to regain her composure as her lover took over the explanation. It took a moment longer for the pale elf to find the words himself, even as Wyll glared down a the pair. “Listen… You should have seen her face. This darling little thing over here looked the bitch in the eye and told her she was forgettable .”

“You… I’m sorry, you said what? ” Wyll’s anger was mixing with pure confusion, the emotions fighting for control over his expression and neither one winning. “She actually thought,” Tav took another few breaths to calm herself. “She truly believed I was going to be some pathetic whining thing desperate for more. I won’t lie, it was unique, but the best part wasn’t anything we did while undressed. It was stripping off her pride and watching her completely lose it.” “She could have killed you!” The anger was winning again, this time with concern rather than rage.

“No, she wouldn’t.” She steadied herself. “Even Mizora has a healthy fear of what we’re up against, she’s not willing to put that at risk. Once it’s over…well, we might have a problem on our hands. But it was still worth it to see that look on her face!” “You are an absolute menace.” Wyll shook his head. “And you shouldn’t encourage this either! Gods, the pair of you…” His frustration, however, was beginning to ease a little. “She really did look more unsettled than I’ve ever seen her before.”

Tav grinned. “Right? That’s not even the best part, when I-” “Alright, I get it. Spare me the details, please. I don’t need more nightmares.” The warlock seemed at least willing to let it go for now, turning around to leave the pair to their own devices for now.

“Suit yourself,” Astarion smirked. “Now, about those delicious details…” “At least let me leave the room first!” Wyll complained, quickening his pace to the door. Once it had closed, and the footsteps receded, Tav nudged her lover. “Maybe we should’ve said less, at least while he was here.” “When he realises that you just managed to get right to the heart of his greatest enemy’s weakness, I’m sure he will see the greater good in your heroic sacrifice.” Astarion put his arm around her, reaching down for the book and quill. “Care to fill some more pages, my love?”

---------- ---------- ENDING NOTES ---------- ----------

I am so sorry it has taken me this long to update ATG - I may have been a little distracted by events, one shots, requests, and other series that leapt to my mind from nowhere. I hadn't forgotten, and in all honestly I found this chapter more challenging to write. But it is here, and more will follow again in a few weeks~

I shan't promise a regular schedule, but I do promise that it will continue again. The next chapters will bring Astarion back in as the main romance, and begin to resolve our remaining plotlines to find our way to the ending.

To those who haven't been following my other works, there are a couple of side stories tied to this continuity, and I would love to go back and work in some things like Abdirak who I missed the first time through, and likely some more side stories. The FicFeb works, both the SFW and NSFW ones, contain more of the ATG Tav's backstory and alternate scenarios which I might copy in here at the end as an "extra lore" chapter, and in the series version of ATG as well.

And honestly to those of you who have been on this journey with me since the beginning, I want you to know how very much I appreciate every interaction, every kudos, comment, and piece of encouragement that brings me back to this story not out of duty but out of a very real love and adoration for it~

#mizora #tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #a tav's guide #ao3 fanfic #ao3fic #fanfic #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #nsft #wlw nsft #Spotify

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