#(a... shelf fell in the basement)

[cookinguptales]

"you know," I say, staring into space, "I do still have all those supplies for making wax melts. and I am incapable of leaving the house much over the next two weeks."

[prokopetz]

The thing about the popularity of Dungeons & Dragons is that this isn't the first time we've been here. There was a stretch of several years in the 1980s where it was practically mainstream. There was a syndicated Saturday morning cartoon that dominated its timeslot in viewership, merch on every shelf, and D&D manuals were hot Christmas items that could be purchased in regular bookstores. (It also sparked a nationwide moral panic in the US, but that's a whole other thing!)

When D&D subsequently fell off a cliff due to gross mismanagement, it nearly took the the entire tabletop roleplaying hobby with it, and probably would have if games about sexy vampires hadn't stepped in to fill the void. The transformation was so rapid and complete that by the mid 1990s, the popular stereotype of the roleplayer had shifted from a bunch of highschoolers rolling dice in the GM's mom's basement to a bunch of oddly dressed weirdos hanging around shopping mall food courts pretending they were in Interview With the Vampire.

And that's the thing I wonder about. If or when D&D trips over its own dick again, unless it manages to tank the entire hobby this time around it's almost certainly not going to result in the flowering of diversity in game design that many folks in the indie sphere are hoping for; more likely, we'll simply shift from one weirdly specific dominant paradigm of What Tabletop Roeplaying Is to another, equally weirdly specific dominant paradigm. What's it going to be next time?

[contentloadingandstuff]

Halloween Special: Basement Secrets | Hu Tao x Male!Werewolf!Reader

A/N: I know it's late, and I'm sorry for it. I'll still call it a special, since that was my original intention. Enjoy, and sorry for being late again. CW: Smut, sedatives (drugging I guess?), reader in heat, non-human genitalia.

A flick of the wrist causes the lamps to spark to life, illuminating the corridor. The Director stops to appreciate her surroundings. She guides her hand across the wall ornament, feeling the smooth, cold texture. Hu Tao hums in appreciation. The carpenter did splendidly. Maybe she should have the coffin wood polished as well? 

Her eyes gravitate towards the other end of the hallway, where a large bookcase stands. Approaching it, she puts the paper bag under her arm and reaches for one of the books. A firm tug moves the lever, allowing the furniture to be moved to the side. She doesn't need much effort - her ancestors were smart in installing rails into the floor. A gust of cold air hits her through the iron bars, causing her hair to sway slightly. The air carries a hint of fur, sweat and… 

“Ah~” She breathes it in, enjoying the scent thoroughly. Anger. Frustration. Hate. Desperation. 

Without a moment of further delay, Hu Tao slides the key into the slot and turns it twice, opening the gate. The lamps behind it, already lit by the chain reaction she started earlier, cast golden light on the many stone stairs leading downwards. She secures her entrance, pressing a button to slide the shelf back into place. It's best not to spark curiosity, even of her consultant Zhongli. 

“The ninth fell down and cried aloud, the tenth asked ‘Why?’~” She hums, going down with lively steps. She matches her feet to the increasing rhythm of her heart. It demands her to go faster, but she doesn't listen - after all, good things come to those who wait… “For the fifth won't ever come back.”

Another door, made of thick iron. There's a viewport, but she knows well what it hudes. This time, all she has to do is lift the hook and pull the handle to get in. When she does, she makes sure it doesn't close fully. 

“What do you want?” A deep, sharp voice comes from the other end of the room and Hu Tao turns to face it. The room is lit just by the dim flame of the gas lamp, leaving most of the room in complete darkness. A pair of big, yellow eyes stood out on the black backdrop. 

Hu Tao placed the bag on the desk and approached the lamp. “Do I need a reason to visit you, hm?” she says as she turns the dial of the lamp, letting the flame grow bigger. “Can't a girl check up on her-”

“I'M NOT YOUR DAMN DOG!” You lunge forward, but the thick collar around your neck stops you from slamming your body against the bars. Your captor chuckles, not even bothering to turn around. 

“... puppy~?” 

Hearing this, you let out a growl of annoyance. You would have broken out already, got rid of her and ran free if not for this damn inhibitor stuck around your throat. Not only was it forcing you into this unwieldy, overgrown form, but it was also spiked and chained to the wall - any attempt at breaking free resulted in discomfort, turning into pain. 

You back away from the bars to stop it from stinging your neck. Hu Tao withdraws a small, mesh bag of something brown. Your sensitive nose picks up the scent of jerky right away. That traitorous tail of yours starts swaying left and right as the woman presents it to you. 

“Something tasty for you, Y/N. You were such a good boy this week, weren't you?” The bag is moved close enough to the bars for you to extend your arm and hook your claw through the fabric. 

You rip it open as soon as you can, and stuff a handful into your snout. The salty, powerful, smokey taste of meat fills your mouth, finally providing something simulating. You don't notice it, but there's a slightly unusual aftertaste to the meat. You don't notice Hu Tao smiling either. 

“Thank you, Hu Tao.” You sigh in satisfaction. A little distraction was very welcome, even if it was temporary. At least you weren't thinking about the h- 

She rattles her rings on the iron bars, interrupting your thoughts. “Ah, no need to thank me, Y/N. I'm in charge of you after all.” Hu Tao scans your cell, her ember eyes coming to rest over your pillow. You follow her gaze. 

It's… a mess. The innocent fabric was torn in places and thoroughly stained with dark patches of fluid. A thick scent of musk was all over it, contributing to the stuffy air in your cell. You can't help but look down in slight embarrassment. 

“Aiya Aiya~ You've been quite a naughty boy in here, looks like. Hmph, and I have already given you treats…” She scoffs in mock disappointment. “How are you feeling, pup?”

Although your fists tighten at being referred to like a dog, again, you're too tired of it to butt heads with her. “Why are you even asking? Do you enjoy seeing me embarrassing myself here?”

As luck would have it, the Liyue people decided to catch you right before the mating season of wolves. Because of your lycanthropy, you were just as horny and snappy as them - but most of the time it wasn't a problem. You could easily find yourself a seasonal fuck buddy or visit Ying’er for a few hours each week, but with no mate to nut inside of, your instinct remained at an all time high. You had to relieve yourself through any means necessary as the need was maddening, making your cock constantly, painfully erect. The pillow had the bad luck to be around and became the victim of violent, shameless humping as you imagined it to be a welcoming pussy of a she-werewolf. But it still wasn't enough. 

What didn't help either was the fact that your captor was female. A female that, as your nose told you, fingered herself regularly, teasing your nose with her pleasure pheromones. You were almost sure she was completely aware of how big your desire to bend her over was, surely making it all the more entertaining to see you struggle. 

“Ugh. Fine, I'll play along. I'm horny all the damn time, hence the… the state of the pillow.” You clear your throat. “Yeah. And you being here doesn't help it in any way.”

Hu Tao smirks at your embarrassment. “Oh, I see~! But how could that be when you're so happy to see me, hm?” 

Your anger flares up again as she theatrically taps her chin, shamelessly looking between your legs, making you bare your teeth in response. You weren't exactly expecting to get caught, so you didn't bring along spare clothing. Clothing that was made to stretch and fit your werewolf self. It was very expensive and tailor made, so Hu Tao obviously didn't have anything like it, at the end of the day forcing you to talk to her like  the steel bar you call a werewolf cock wasn't always in her face. Guessing by the sheer amount of times she stared at it, she didn't seem to mind. 

Which pissed you off even more. She could really give you a hand right now. Or a throat. Or a cunt. You grab the bars and groan - intimidating, but tired. “Look, please, just… don't make it worse for me. Please?”

Surprisingly, she nods. Hu Tao reaches for the paper bag and pulls out a fresh, pristinely white pillow. Without a word, she passes it on to you. You eagerly swap the old one for it. As your mind anticipates the coming moment of her departure, instead of leaving, Hu Tao continues to stand in front of you. 

Before you can say anything, she moves closer to the bars. “My dear Y/N~ You may not believe me, but I do know how awful you must feel…” Her fingernails tap the steel as she speaks. “All that energy, all that need, all that lust with nowhere to deposit it all feels simply terrible.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “What's your point?”

“My point is, my dear doggy, that I have been feeling something quite similar.” There's a small tint of red on her cheeks as she says it out loud. Upon noticing the smirk on your face, she pouts. “Don't look at me like that! Us girls have needs too, I'll have you know.”

This is the last thing you expected to hear. Your mind opposed taking up the opportunity at, but luckily for you, all the blood supplied to it was quickly directed south as soon as you picked up the implication. 

You push against the bars with one hand, and - as much as the chain would allow you - lean forward. 

“Tsk. And what are you going to do about it, huh?” You ask. Hu Tao now needs to look up to see your eyes, sapping just a little of her confidence. 

“I was thinking we could make a little deal. Just a friendly agreement between pals, hm?” She points at your groin. “You lend me that slimy…” she says, stretching out the word with deliberation, “...smelly thing between your legs, and in return I let you play with my pussy. Are you up for it, big boy?”

By this point, your cock has swelled from its frustrated, semi-hard state to its proper, impressive form. Just the mention of a snatch makes the tip moisten with precum, your feral body already preparing for the mating to come. It may be a trick, though. Why would she-

Your reconsideration is cut short by Hu Tao sneaking her hand through the bars, placing it flat against your furry chest. She trails it down, caressing the bulbous pecs underneath the gray hair. You watch on as she continues, traversing the thickening line of fur as it leads downwards, her finger soon lost in the dense bush of pubes covering your groin. She lightly grazed your cock with her fingernail, dragging it from the base, over the knot and right to the tip of your canine dick, throbbing at her touch. 

“I agree…” You say with a sigh. “Just don't tease me, alright?”

You would swear her eyes sparkled when you gave in, her lips forming into a satisfied, sly smile. “Wonderful~! Good boy.”

Hu Tao walks back to the table and returns with a pair of handcuffs in her hand. Handcuffs… They are more like shackles, made of thick steel and connected with a sturdy chain. Hu Tao throws them at you, perfectly passing between the bars separating you and her. You catch it without issue. “There are only a few ‘buts’, doggie. First, the cuffs stay on. Second, you don’t cum inside. Got it?” You open your mouth to reply. to no avail. “Good. Now cuff yourself to the chair…” Turning around, your eyes lock onto the piece of furniture. You slide it from under the desk and move it to face the door, back against the wall to allow the maximum slack of your steel leash that’s possible. The shoddy wood creaks as you sit your animalistic form down, arms reaching around the headrest. Feeling your way through the process, you secure both loops around your wrists, looping the chain around the beams of the chair’s support. A tug confirms you did well. Her eyes don’t leave you for a moment. Once she sees you’re done, Hu Tao grabs the key from her pocket, as well as something from the nearby shelf you can’t quite make out, and opens up the cell. She cautiously steps in, just in case you tried to pull a funny on her. You grit your teeth in frustration… Why can’t she get it over with? It’s not like you’ll bite her. 

“Hold still.” She raises the object she took earlier, bringing it closer to your wolf snout. It’s a muzzle. As much as you’d love to lash out and bite her, this is not the time. You lower your face, submitting to her safety measures. 

“Nice! And they say werewolves are ‘bad’ and ‘rebellious’. Looks like a little enticement goes a long way, hm?”

You shift in your seat, your lust growing and patience waning. “Get on with it already!”

She sends you a mock offended look, but relents. She snatches the newly brought pillow from your bed and puts it on the stone floor before slowly kneeling down.

Your dick now eye level with her, she wraps her hand around it, feeling the heat against her skin. It's shaped starkly different from your human form’s manhood, being thick, bulbous with a knot near the base. Hu Tao glides her hand over its length, causing you to groan as she touches it. It's been swollen for far too long to be comfortable and, on top of that, it aches more with every throb of your impatient cock. Hu Tao doesn't care, focusing her attention on the bulging veins, dark blue against the furious red of the shaft. Her other hand finds its way down to your sack, cupping the furry, cum swollen balls hanging below. She rolls them between her fingers as if weighing the unspent cum inside. They're heavy, she thinks, perfectly heavy. Bringing her nose closer to the tip, her nostrils fill with the musky stink of your juices, with tangy hints of still fresh cum stuck in your fur. 

“Fufu~ That thing is even more impressive up close…” Looking you in the eye, she giggles as she flicks the tip of your cockhead. You squirm in response, instinctually baring your teeth. “I’m afraid to ask what kind of plans you had for me~”

Soon you feel the slick, hot tongue of the director flick curiously against your head, lapping up the precum leaking from the slit. It tickles more than anything, so you try to inch your hips a bit closer, as much as the chair would allow. But she didn't listen, even if you didn't have to wait long to feel the flat of her small tongue rub against your shaft. It feels good, but it's nowhere near enough. You move your hips backwards, trying to bring the tip closer to her lips, but she grips the base tightly, keeping it in place as she continues to worship your shaft. It's slow, but eventually the consistent grinding of her wet tongue stirs some pleasure in you. You focus your attention on the feeling, praying for it to be enough to make you cum. She feels you throb in appreciation, eliciting a satisfied hum from her. Suddenly, she stops, switching her tongue for her hand and wrapping her lips around your tip. You whine at the sudden stimulation. Finally…! As her speeds up and her wet mouth sucks you deeper inside, pressure starts to build in your knot. A moan escapes your lips as she sucks and strokes, your orgasm drawing closer by the second. Each throb makes her take you deeper, you can feel the back of her throat rub against you when her head bobs up and down. Your thighs tense up in expectation. Almost… Almost… Almost…!

She stops. Hu Tao takes her hand away from you and spits your cock out of her mouth’s warmth, letting it flop down, sad and unsatisfied. You can only whine in confusion as you feel your orgasm fading slowly. 

“W-what…? Why did you stop…” You stutter out, your voice turning angry at her smile. “Oh you-”

“Heh, did I say anything about you finishing?” She dismissively throws her twintails behind her shoulders. “Good things come to boys who wait. And I bet you'll be the best boy, won't you Y/N?”

This. Little. Nasty. Witch. Your thoughts buzz with both anger and desperation as you feel your release slipping away. “I'll be good, just let me cum… I need it…”

She takes off her hat and reverently places it on the bed. “Mm~ Say it, doggie! I want to hear it, and if I like it, I might just give you something better~”

With that, she reaches to the strings of her coat, undoing them with little issue. Your impatience is temporarily replaced by excitement, your tail swishing as she strips her jacket, revealing a short-sleeved red shirt underneath. You can see two points poking through the fabric on opposite sides of her chest.  She looks at you, waiting. 

“I want to see more, please…” You plead, feeling a heat on your face as you say it. 

“You can do better.” She reaches for her coat, now thrown on the bed, causing the beast inside you to flare up in alarm. You try to spring up, only to be dropped by the cuffs. 

“Wait! Please, Hu Tao, I want to see them…” Desperate and horny, you swallow your pride and continue. “I want to s-see your tits, please!”

Just moments ago, you were ready to tear into her. Now, you plead with her for some boobs. And she'll make you beg for her cunt to - you'll do as she wants and you know it. The animalistic heat is too strong to ignore, forcing you to give in to its demands.  

Clearly satisfied with your words, she undoes the buttons holding her cover together. Her hands pull it open, revealing an exceptionally flat chest with two perky, rock-hard nipples. You twitch in excitement, harder still when she guides her hand down to her shorts. She pulls them down, revealing a pristine white pair of panties, decorated with a pink ribbon near the band. Her finger sneaks underneath it and pulls it down just enough to reveal a small patch of brown hair, dense yet neatly trimmed. 

She was preparing for this, wasn't she…

Hu Tao steps out of her pants and approaches you, sitting her half-bare ass on your lap. Teasing, she props your dick against her clothed slit. She presses it down, letting your precum soak into the silk and feel the warmth underneath. She rocks her hips against you, grinding at a slow and deliberate pace. Your eyes are fixed on her steady movements, the words slipping out of your lips going unnoticed by your lust-filled brain. “Please…” You beg. “Please put it in already…!” She smirks. “No way this will fit inside me, pretty boy. Do you see how big it is?” Hu Tao presses it against her stomach. The hefty cock really does look quite intimidating, the tip going way above her belly button. “But I bet you’d like to fuck me regardless, hm?”

Her hand undoes the string holding her panties together, letting them fall open. They are promptly tossed aside, letting you finally see her heat in its full glory, her lips swollen and sticky with lust. Blushing, she continues rubbing herself with your dick and you can painfully feel her swollen, pretty clit gliding on you and her own juice. 

Each stroke of her lips makes you hurt. She’s so close, but so far… Your heart beats faster and faster and faster and faster still as your body writhes in anger. You try to sit still, try to enjoy the feeling as much as you can but the wolf within you demands her. Your canine mind feels the insignificant weight on your lap and feels the cuffs are just a little malleable… How easy it would be to break out and take her properly… It wants it, relentlessly, and your mind soon succumbs. 

Gritting your teeth, you focus your attention on your wrists. You grasp the cuffs with your thumbs and pull with all your strength. Hu Tao is blushed, too focused on pleasing herself to notice the tension in your arms. You feel the steel bending and stretching, doubling your efforts. The edges of the metal dig painfully into your furred flesh, surely leaving painful welts that will last for days, but you don’t care. You almost… can… feel…

Snap!

Hu Tao’s face snaps up to look at you. Her eyes go wide. 

“W-wha-?!” The word gets stuck in her throat as your massive left hand snatches her neck, the other pushing you up as you raise. Your form stands tall, ears nearly touching the ceiling, obscuring the light of the lamp inside and casting an ominous shadow over Hu Tao, currently dangling from your outstretched arm. 

“L-let go of… me!” You don’t choke her tightly, but her words still come out raspy. She hits her small fists on your hand, but they do little against rippling werewolf muscle. Her legs are far too small to reach your chest or stomach, even if those meat stilts could do any damage. “You… b-brute…!”

You lift her higher, bringing up her pussy to your nose. The salty, musky scent of her sex overwhelms your sensitive nose, making your eyes water. There’s no fear amongst the smell, just eagerness, lust and… fertility. 

“Ngah~!” She whines as your rough tongue reaches out and gives her a probing lick, feeling up the willing cunt in front of you. You slide it from her clit down to her entrance. A whimper flees her lips as you push your way in, her mock struggles ceasing as she feels you tasting her. “Mhm…”  

She tastes delicious, making you push yourself further inside. Your hand goes from her throat to her ass, tilting her to the side to allow you better access. With an effortless move, you rip off your muzzle, letting it fall to the floor with a loud clunk. You waste no time and press your nose between her pussy lips, drawing in more of her scent. Her arms drift from your wrist and land on your head, fingers digging into the fur as her legs lock over your neck for support. Hu Tao rocks her hips, enticing you to explore deeper. You oblige and soon you feel her flesh pulsate around your intrusion as she clings onto you for dear life. You take it all in, scent, taste, slick and bumpy texture of her hole… But you can’t take it much longer. It wasn’t made for your tongue. 

You pull back, leaving a string of saliva connecting you to her. She squeaks in surpise as unceremoniously toss her on the bed. When she lands, her eyes immediately turn to you as she flips on her back. “A-ayia ayia…” She stutters out, flushed, watching you slowly approach her. She opens her legs, hoping to buy your mercy. “Please be gentle…” But you have no plans for that. Even if you did, your heat doesn’t give a damn. You grab her waist and flip her around. Before she can regain her balance, you clasp your claws around her ass and pull her closer, dragging the sheet that she’s desperately holding along with her. When she feels your talon drag between her cheeks, you feel her skin crawl and shudder in response. Her back is arched as you examine your prey. You groan as soon as you notice and deliver a rough open palm on her ass. “Waah!” She whimpers, feeling the sting on her skin. She fixes her posture, making proper space for your full length. 

Your tail starts swishing in excitement as you lift up your leg and stomp it down next to her face. You grab your cock and guide it towards her entrance. In a bit of vengeance, you rub the tip between her hungry lips, smearing them with thick precum. Before she can get comfortable though, your ram into her, burying yourself balls deep inside her. 

Both of you moan in joint ecstasy as you fill her to the brim. Unable to control yourself, you start moving. Dictating the pace, all Hu Tao can do is clench the blanket for dear life as you begin pistoning in and out of her. The room fills with a symphony of triumphant growls, desperate whimpers and obscene sounds of your nuts repeatedly slapping against her wet slit. Her eyes roll back as she endures your violent coupling, her eyes crying tears of mixed pain and pleasure. She feels her small pussy being stretched to its absolute limits, feeling herself throb as her body, confused between fear and mindless lust, fights back against the too big intrusion. Her tries to meet you halfway are met with no result as every snap of your hips pushes her back. She can’t think straight with a cock impaled into her so deep, so any thoughts quickly leave her mind with the many moans she shamelessly lets sound out. 

Feeling your much needed release draw closer, you dig your claws into her small ass, eliciting a whine from your mate. You shift into a merciless pace that sends bruising ripples across her body, the beast inside you caring only for the tension in his nuts. At last you strike forward, forcing the knot into her tight hole. She wails, arching her head backwards to meet your eyes. You lean forward and wrap your arms around her torso, keeping her close as you unload, each throb of your cock flooding her ravaged insides. 

Slowly, your mating fury dies down, and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion sets in. Hu Tao remains still under you, still too blazed by the intensity of your fuck. Her pleasure rotted mind still sits between her legs when the clarity hits you, relaxing your muscles and letting your exhausted cock finally soften. With a groan, you pull yourself out with a small noise from her to go along with it. A moment later dense cream emerges from inside her, starting to lazily drip out. 

You feel your head spin, soon followed by a trembling of your arms and knees. You move Hu Tao closer to the wall and collapse next to her, large arms pulling her close to your furry chest. 

A moment later, thoughts start to sprout back in Hu Tao’s fucked out mind. She groans - everything either hurts, is sore, or can’t be felt at all. Especially her hips. “D-damn you..” She mumbles, rubbing the tears from her eyes. Well, she thinks, she deserved it. Could she not have provoked you? Maybe. Was it totally worth it? Hell yes. 

Hu Tao reaches her hand around to touch your nose. No response. She breathes a sigh of relief, thanking herself for sneaking that sedative into your snacks. Looks like she still had some sense in her when her panties were soaked. 

Your arm is quite comfortable. She snuggles her head into the crook of your arm, enjoying the softness of your monstrous form’s fur. Absent-mindedly, her hand glides over her belly. Hopefully lycanthropy isn’t hereditary…

Thanks for reading!

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Tainted

Steddie || wc: 6k || rating: E || cws: DEAD DOVE DNE, steve harrington whump, Vampire!Eddie, post break up second chance, sexually explicit, blood (like a lot of blood), chronic pain and illness, recreational and prescription drug use/abuse, heavy angst, EVENTUAL HAPPY ENDING THE COMFORT IS COMING!! || ao3

Steve pulls the needle from his arm, long since used to the sensation. He expertly applies a cotton ball and bandage over the puncture wound he'll remove as soon as Robin leaves.

She's giving him that look again. The one she always gives him when he's draining. Her lip is swollen from biting, and she won't meet his eyes as he wraps the tubing up and seals the heavy, red medical bag.

He knows she won't say anything. She's done arguing with him about it, mostly because she knows he's done caring what she has to say. So he heads to the garage, where the lone, tall, white freezer stands with a sharpie taped to the side and a log sheet hanging next to it. 

It's only logged a few months back to January. The rest of the monthly sheets are meticulously filed away in his office, going back nine years now. 

Robin's good at bookkeeping, took it upon herself so he could drain at home without having to go into The Lab. She's even better at scheduling his monthly check-ups at the clinic, coordinating his medications, and all-around keeping him upright and arguably functional.

All Steve has to do is bleed, log, and ship.

He doesn't even have to pay for shipping. Eddie takes care of all of those little details– well, Paige does.

Which is nice, since apparently shipping bodily fluids like blood requires a shit ton of caveats for a civilian. But it was pretty easy to heap the exorbitant costs his way, since Eddie's got enough rockstar money and guilt to spare.

Not that Steve blames him. How was Eddie supposed to know that every time he sunk his fangs into Steve's neck, it boiled his blood with a cocktail of toxins? There's no way they could've predicted that their first feeding would doom them both. A love ruined before it even started.

It wasn't a problem for Steve. He tries not to dwell after so many years, but when the nights are long and the pain thrums in his limbs, Steve thinks they could've made it work.

Everyone told him it was the venom, like Eddie was pumping some kind of stupid fucking love poison into his veins, that Steve didn't have real control over his emotions. Eddie was bad for Steve, and everyone agreed– even Eddie.

Steve didn’t, but that didn’t seem to matter in the end. He fell in line, like he always did. Still does.

Steve grabs a styrofoam box from the stack and fills it with dry ice Robin bought at the grocery earlier today. He adds the fresh bag to the "new" shelf, and puts the two bags on top of the "old" shelf into the box, sealing it shut with packing tape and sticking a prepaid shipping label on the top.

According to Robin, it's all monitored by the government and Owens’ team. Steve’s not sure the man's very involved in the whole Hawkins used to be actual hell bullshit anymore, since there's not much left. Beyond his and El's– and presumably Eddie's– annual appointments, there's not much left for him to do.

The world fell apart. Monsters decimated the town. They won, eventually. So Owens and the government fucks off like everything’s back to normal. Except El murdered a man she had once considered a brother, and then unraveled with grief. Max lived, but refused to use her wheelchair, refused to admit she’s blind, refused to get out of bed. And Eddie...

Eddie was the one good thing to happen in the aftermath– once they purged him of Kas. Steve thought he saved Eddie when he captured Kas stalking around in the woods at night. He locked him in the basement, tossing down raw meat and boxes of live rats until Kas became little flashes of Eddie.

Until Steve could figure out what he really needed to become Eddie again. What's a little blood when he's risked so much more in such worse circumstances?

Apparently a lot. Because it fucking ruined his life.

“Wait–” Eddie interrupted Owens’ speech about unknown variables and additional testing– “you’re telling me that his weird bruises and the aches and the awful fucking migraines are because I poisoned him?”

Owens sighed, looking between the floor, Steve tucked into the hospital bed, and Eddie perched next to him, like he could come up with a better answer other than a simple ‘yes’. He couldn’t.

Eddie tried and failed not to cry as Owens explained how the venom in Eddie’s bite wasn’t an aphrodisiac, like they had childishly chalked it up to be. It permanently altered Steve’s kidneys, fucking up some shit in his bones to make him produce too much blood. “Most likely evolved as a permanent, reliable source of feeding–” Owens rambled, until Eddie vomited right onto the floor.

On the plus side, it turned out it was a condition pretty similar to one that already exists, which meant other than his annual appointment with the lab, Steve could do his normal check-ups at the hospital. “You’ll have to take a rigorous schedule of medications, along with at least one blood draw a week– unless Mr. Munson is around to, ah… assist.”

The blood disorder, according to Owens’ results, was a lost cause after the first bite. The bone-deep pain, however, “could’ve been mitigated had Mr. Munson not continued his feedings,” with an unsaid ‘like I suggested’ hanging off the end of his accusation. 

When they’d first brought Eddie in to be checked out, they’d been warned about continuing to feed, something about unknown prognosis, and possible long-term side effects. Steve had fought Eddie hard, and eventually convinced him that it didn’t matter. As long as it meant they kept feeding.

“How could something that feels so right be bad for us, Eds?” Steve whispered into the quiet dark of their room, Eddie curled up naked next to him. He didn’t respond.

Steve should’ve known it was the beginning of the end. Almost two beautiful years together, until the guilt ate Eddie alive. He saved Steve by leaving him and ran as far away as he could.

They haven’t spoken since.

Steve sets the box down on the coffee table only for Robin to scoop it up, with boots on and keys in hand. "It's only two bags this time," Steve says, "Owens took–"

“– the rest for testing. Yes, they already know." He knows she's not irritated, but the pity in her eyes grates on his nerves even though she’s still not looking at him. He knows it's there. The smell of pity is as ripe as the metallic tang in the air.

He walks her to the door. She spins back around to face him, lips pursed with a finger in the air. "I forgot to mention," she lightly taps him on the nose, and she giggles when he shakes her off like an annoyed dog, "I put the new bottle of serum Paige sent yesterday in the fridge for you. I saw you were low and figured it'd save time on thawing a new one."

She turns back towards the foyer, on her way out the door when Steve calls out "The fresh one? What about the one from last week, won't that expire?"

His concern is waved off with a shrug and not even a glance over her shoulder. "Christmas is only three days away, you deserve the good stuff." Steve's thin laugh barely has time to sour when she shouts, "I'll be back with Vickie in a few hours for dinner," as she closes the door behind her. 

Steve considers holding off on his next dose until Robin and Vickie leave for the night. Instead, he heads into the kitchen, pulling the small, brown, glass vial out to warm in his hand. Steve hasn't dosed venom– serum, as Robin calls it, like a name means all the difference– cold since the first time, and he'll never do it again.

The chronic pain of withdrawal from Eddie's toxin isn't nearly as bad as the permanent blood disorder because of it, but it's not easy. On the best days, it's an annoying ache in his limbs. The worst days leave him immobile in bed, burning from the inside out.

Steve misses the heavy blossom of euphoria coursing through him with each bite, almost two bottles worth of doses equal to one feeding. He misses the sudden relief of tension, leaving his body molten, unfiltered lust filling out his cock so fast he almost passes out.

Except nine years ago today, Eddie curled up next to him in the back of Steve's new pick up. The sky was dark but clear, the air frigid with a light snowfall. Hot little puffs of weed smoke poured from between their lips. It was one moment of a thousand between them where the electricity was so palpable it left him buzzing. The only difference, however, was that Eddie finally closed the distance with a kiss. 

His lips felt like coming home. The slide of his soft, warm tongue against Steve's was a claim of not just hunger or desire. It was love, companionship. Life. 

They lasted five minutes before they fed and fucked. But then later Eddie crawled into his bed, moved all his stuff in the next day, and never left.

Until he did, of course.

Steve calls Robin to tell her he's tired. She must know he's lying, but Steve argues and she caves, agreeing to see him tomorrow instead. Robin knows what today means to him. Normally, he’d be thankful for how much she cares, how much she worries about him. It’s still nice to finally spend today, of all days, alone.

Steve props the small bottle, now warmed to room temp, on the coffee table in front of him as he settles into the couch. He did as much as he could to change out everything in his apartment when Eddie left. Not that it was contaminated, just tainted– like everything they once shared is now. 

The couch is Steve's favorite by far. Nothing fancy, only a simple blue sofa with fluffy armrest for him to lay his head on. He sleeps better here than his own bed most nights. It's a love seat, but he's always slept curled up anyway.

There are two little drawers in the old, wooden coffee table—the one on the right holds just enough storage for remotes and other small trinkets. Steve opens the one on the left. He sets a black box next to the large rubber tie next to the syringe next to the unwrapped needle next to the little brown vial.

But Robin's right. It's almost Christmas. It's his ex-anniversary. He's doing so well at the firm that his dad clapped him on the shoulder and offered him a glass of his personal whiskey. And he hates all of it.

Steve doses half the vial. It's not lethal, not even dangerous. The venom can't do more damage than it already has. It only layers more and more blankets of relief over him until he’s lulled back into the euphoria-filled lust he's craved for years.

The buzz hits him instantly. Steve knows what's coming, so he strips off his clothes and moves to the floor. His skin glistens with sweat before he pulls his last sock off, tossing it on the couch. Desperate heat rolls through his chest, settles in his gut. 

Steve’s cock twitches, untouched, as he fumbles to open the black box. A pathetic whine escapes him looking at the set of homemade toys inside, nothing like the basic dildo and cockrings upstairs in his nightstand.

You always were a sad little slut for me, sweetheart.

He moans in the quiet of his living room. Fingers trembling, he sets the box down and pulls out his first indulgence. An oversized dildo, almost an exact replica. Pale, matching skin-tone at the balls and base, fading up into a dark black at the swollen tip. It even includes the silver, metal ball pierced just under the head.

A gift. Steve tries not to cry just looking at it.

One of the first things Eddie spent his big-time rockstar money, having his giant fucking monster dick molded just for Steve. It was one of the last gifts he ever gave him. Except the weekly shipments of venom, which Steve doesn't count. 

It's a toy he rarely uses but fails to forget about. 

He mounts it on the side of the coffee table before he preps himself. It taunts him, mocking his desperation as he hastily shoves two fingers into where he’s hollow. The angle’s all wrong, lube spilling over his wrist, dripping down his forearm and onto the carpet beneath him. 

He should get comfortable, lay down on his back instead of staying on all fours, but Steve’s skin is too tight for his bones. He’s shaking, sweating with lust and he just needs some fucking relief. Just needs something for once in his fucking life to feel good again, to go right again, after everything went so fucking wrong.

A tear slips free as he lines up and spears himself on a toy that isn’t Eddie, but feels so painfully close. Rocking himself back until he feels the balls pressed against him, he rides the toy hard enough to jostle the table with each thrust. 

It’s not the easiest position. He should’ve pushed the table up against the couch next to him, or laid a soft blanket on the floor to protect his now burning hands and knees from the carpet. Steve knows he should slow down. He's not relaxed enough, hasn’t prepped well enough if the pain means anything. 

It doesn't. Pain means nothing when drops of Eddie course through his veins.

You're so tight, baby. Feel so fucking good on my cock. Look at you Stevie, crying, you're so desperate for me.

Steve swipes the back of his hand across his damp cheeks. It leaves a streak of lube he hadn't seen through his blurred vision, but he doesn't care. Better than tears, anyway.

Frustrated, Steve rummages the box again and pulls out a similarly colored fleshlight. Fingers shaking, he barely manages to keep hold of the bottle as he coats the inside with an excessive amount of lube. He closes his eyes, slows his fingers into a firm roll.

Fuck Stevie, love your fingers deep inside me.

Steve tries to remind himself this isn't real. It's all plastic and silicone and a ghost of a voice in his head.

The sentiment is lost as he slips the swollen, red tip of his cock inside. He curls forward, bracing his weight on his head and shoulder. Steve screams as the dildo finally punches his prostate. Lightning sparks down his spine, sending him into a frenzy.

It's everything he denies himself because no one feels like this. How can anyone ever wonder why Steve's relationships always fail when this pathetic display is better than any fuck he can find? Because there is no moving on from Eddie, not really.

So Steve revels in Eddie's name on his tongue and the metal ball driving into his prostate and the wet, slick sound of fucking into what he pretends is Eddie's tight little hole until he's sobbing. He's close. Tension coils deep in his gut. Snot drips from Steve’s nose as his sobs echo in an empty home, but it's no use. It’s not enough. He needs more, knows exactly what he needs, and he hates himself for it.

Relief still sits in the box. A small metal contraption Steve managed to create all on his own, lost in the worst of his depression. It looks back at him with the same disappointment it does every year.

Two old mouth guards he wore for football, wired together at the back and molded just big enough for Steve to slip his fingers into the teeth-shaped grooves. He rubs the pads of his fingers over the smooth, metal nail heads, sharp tips pierced through the other side. 

He keeps trying to remind himself it's not real. They're not his fangs. There's no swipe of a tongue across his skin or lips suckling at his neck. It's not Eddie. But he can pretend it is, just for tonight. 

Writhing with anticipation, he pours a bit of the venom in the bottom of the box. Steve opens the fanged-jaws wide and coats the two nails fused into the top and the two on the bottom. He jostles the box as he fucks Edd– the dildo– faster, drops of venom splashing the carpet. Tension coils low in his gut and it takes all of Steve’s willpower to wait. Wait until the nails are completely covered, dripping fat, clear drops into the box. 

Tongue lolling out of his mouth, Steve holds the fangs above him, head tipped back as the venom drips down into his mouth. Another sob morphs into a guttural moan and he knows he’s out of time.

It’s been almost a decade but Steve still knows where his favorite place to feed was, so he lines up the bite. Except just the tips of the nails against his skin sends Steve careening over the edge.

The empty house is filled with Steve's screams as he comes . With his last remaining brain cells and a firm grip, he closes the metal contraption into his throat, plunging the nails inside.

Mine to bite, to drink, to love. Only mine, forever.

"Fuck, Eddie, yes. Only yours. Fuck–"

The injected venom rips out another orgasm, almost painful in its intensity. Come spills out of the warm, hollow toy that isn't Eddie and onto the floor, adding to the mess of lube that drips from his throbbing hole as he pulls out the other toy that also isn't Eddie. 

Exhausted, Steve has just enough of mind to grab the blanket draped across the couch behind him before he passes out.

~~~

Part 2 || ao3

Header graphic kudos!

[theamazingmaddyas]

Apollo Cabin Camper headcanons

Lee was an avid writer, and was planning to go for a Creative Writing before he, you know, kicked the bucket. Michael and Will ended up posthumously publishing his diary as a fiction story (because monsters and all) so that he could have his dream of being a published author. Nico brought Lee a copy in the Underworld.

Michael would only ever call his younger siblings his "little siblings" despite the fact that most of them passed him in height at like 9 or 10.

Will has Michael and Lee's names tattooed on his wrist in their handwriting, as well as a quote from one of Lee's poems on his forearm.

Kayla's known she was a demigod since she was really young, since her father had to explain why she has no mother. Darren could see through the mist, and would just shoot the monsters that came because of Kayla's stronger sent.

Kayla was brought to camp by Hedge when he was in Toronto in TLO (is this a common hc? I feel like it should be)

Austin could play any instrument, except the kazoo. For some reason, he sucked at playing the kazoo.

Jerry's accent was so strong his first summer at camp no one could understand him except for the other internationals.

Yan would hide in the armory with their book so that they didn't have to do sword-fighting or archery practice

Gracie would make rainbow loom bracelets for literally everyone. Even though she came to camp after the Battle of Manhattan and the Battle of the Labrynth, she still made bracelets for her deceased siblings based on Will, Kayla, and Austin's description of them.

Will was protective of the chariot in TLH not because he cared about it, but because Michael cared about it

Lee was born in Connecticut, but lived practically his whole life in NYC, and Michael was from Maine.

The cabin has a world map with push pins indicating where everyone is from. Every camper has also signed the wall around it on the day they were claimed, so there's well over a thousand names by the time PJO takes place.

Cabin 7 has a music room in it's basement, that has every single instrument you can imagine. (Austin is banned from playing the kazoo of course)

The only way the cabin can be cleaned is if It's A Hard Knock Life (Broadway version) (and the reprise as well) are playing. The youngest kid sings at Molly, and they play rock paper scissor to figure out who jumps in the laundry basket like Annie (one time Michael accidently fell asleep and was brought to the laundry room by the harpies. He did not let Lee hear the end of it) (The same thing almost happened to Gracie, but Will found her before the harpies could)

It's tradition that the last day of camp the younger campers write a song for their counselor and play it before bed. There's a binder of all the lyrics of every song dated back to the 1940s on the shelf, when the tradition was started

I'm not even sorry about how many there are, I'm just a tad bit obsessed with Cabin 7 (as indicative of my ao3 fics dedicated to them all)

(Octavian's a legacy and I'm only 150 pages into my reread of Son of Neptune, I can't remember if there are any canon Apollo kids barring Octavian's ancestors.)

[lazywitchling]

[This is a fictionalized account of something that was communicated between myself and J, my familiar spirit. For storytelling / convenience / communication's sake, I will write it out as a conversation with words as if he were a person standing next to me, but the reality of it was less tangible and more... woo-woo. While dialog is fictional, the message that was communicated is accurate.]

--

I had my recently purchased copper pendulum in the pocket of my work jacket, and was fiddling with it in stolen moments in between stocking the walk-in cooler. I wasn't divining with it, just playing with it like a fidget toy. I had a theory about the conductivity of copper being good for communication with spirits, and judging by how apparent J was making himself, the theory was pretty sound.

"Some materials are easier for me to touch than others," he said. "Metal, stones, sticks, feathers, seeds..."

"Natural materials," I summarized.

"Sort of, but not always." It didn't exactly explain much, and my confusion was evident. So J continued with an explanation. "Show me what's in your pockets."

I pulled out two of my pocket trinkets, knowing which ones he meant. In one pocket, a small potato that had fallen onto the deli floor. A good thing to have on me to absorb unwanted 'bad vibes', of which there were many in retail. In the other pocket, a plastic d20. Not a nice one, just the generic blue one from the starter kit, so that I wouldn't be sad if it fell out of my pocket.

J 'pinged' the potato first. A nice spiritual reverberation, a sharp crack like a heeled shoe hitting a marble floor. Then he pinged the d20. A dull thud, more like a boot in mud.

"So... natural materials," I repeated.

Head shake. He indicated a wooden crate on the shelf I was stocking, then gave me an image of one of the plastic action figures on my bookshelf at home. "The action figure is easier to touch than the crate."

He'd lost me now. I was trying to figure out what the copper pendulum had to do with an action figure.

"It isn't necessarily the materials," he explained. "Natural material is one factor, yes. But narrative is also a material."

"So... my Caduceus Clay figure isn't magically resonant because he's made of plastic, but is beause he's also made of story?"

Somewhere in woo-woo land, I got the sensation of the little bell and woosh sound of a character level up in an RPG, and approval from J. The idea started clicking into place less like a slow conversation now and more like a file upload.

I had a plastic Yoda figurine that I found in my basement. He had long ago lost his robe and walking stick. The painted details on him had started to fade a long time ago. But I decided he was my Lucky Yoda, and I carried him in my pocket for every theatrical production I was part of all throughout college. When one of my cast mates was nervous about their role, I would pass Lucky Yoda off to them. 'Here, take Lucky Yoda. He'll help.' Soon enough, people would ask for him for comfort, or start asking about him during tech week to make sure I was going to remember to bring him. On days when I forgot him, the production was worse, even when I didn't mention to anyone that I hadn't brought him.

Was Lucky Yoda more or less powerful than a four leaf clover would have been? Common advice I had seen from other witchy sources said that the closer an item is to its natural state, the more powerful it will be. A tree has more power than a log which has more power than lumber which has more power than a picnic table. By this logic, Lucky Yoda should have been far removed from any sort of magic. But there was no denying that he had an effect on myself and my cast mates. (Whether or not this effect was magical or psychological is not something I'm here to debate. Believe me or don't. I'm not your priest.) A clover would have had more 'nature' magic to it, sure. But Yoda had story, and that story gave him power. J might not have been able to 'ping' Lucky Yoda as well as a clover just by nature of its materials, but the narrative of him was something that J could ping.

The ethereal concept of 'story' seemed to have a more concrete physical substance in the world of spirits. And I am reminded of the folklore that angels or fairies cannot be creative, and that the ability to create is uniquely human, a little spark of the divine in us. And in the world of spirits where everything is intangible, why wouldn't the intangible nature of a story be just as concrete as everything else in their world?

"Now you're getting it."

I found myself standing stock-still in the cooler at work, staring blankly at a half-unloaded cardboard box of packaged soup while the vaguely blob-like form of a spirit bounced happily at his student's understanding.

I shook my head off and got back to unloading. "So... story: good conductor. Copper: good conductor. Plastic: bad conductor."

"Plastic without care and creativity, yes." J gave me the image of a flimsy, shitty, plain dollar store pencil box. One of those ones where the plastic didn't form correctly, so there's little bits of sharp plastic that you can break off of the edges. "If there's anything you don't want me to touch, you can put it in one of these. But don't put stickers on it, otherwise it starts to get easier."

"I think I get it. Thanks! Here, would you like some soup?" I place a plain plastic container of soup up on the shelf.

"Ha ha."

[jaxinkh]

Fathers and Sons

Eugene & Rapunzel are visiting Varian. 

The Brotherhood is visiting as well. Quirin has invited everyone so Varian could learn more about his heritage, and Varian had in turn invited Eugene & Rapunzel. As the couple was welcomed inside, Varian asked if anyone else came to visit too. Eugene answers him:

“Sorry buddy, but it’s just us. Cass isn’t back for her visits yet and Lance had to figure things out with Kiera & Catalina’s school.”

Everyone had a nice time catching up over tea & apple pie. Edmund had explained many things about the Dark Kingdom., like its religion and the culture that formed in a Kingdom plagued by Black Rocks. Rapunzel was very interested:

“You know, we have the ‘Good Will Gopher Grab’ and ‘the Day of Hearts’ in Corona. Did the Dark Kingdom have any traditions like that?”

Hector says there were several Dark Kingdom traditions. For instance, there was the annual sword-fighting tournament, the harvest festival & the Summer Dance! Rapunzel is excited: 

“Is there anything they might be able to do here in Old Corona?” 

“Well, there is the Father-Son Contest!” 

Adira explains that once a year, teams of fathers & sons would compete in several different challenges. They would hunt, build, fish, shoot a bow & show their physical prowess in a friendly competition. Coincidentally, that contest would be this week! Rapunzel jumps up excitedly: 

“We could totally do that! We even have 2 father-son duo’s right here! Right guys?”

Edmund agrees. 

“That sounds like a great idea! What do you think, Quirin? Would you and your boy like to challenge us?” 

Quirin turns to Varian and asks if he would be ok with that. Varian is happy to join: 

“Sure! It sounds like fun!”

After a week of building & setting things up, the course is ready! There are 2 boats, targets, building materials & 2 identical obstacle courses. Rapunzel high-fives Varian & Eugene, happy about a job well done. After a quick check Rapunzel realizes that they don’t have any bows ready. Quirin remembers he has a couple of them. He heads into the house to look for bows. Meanwhile Rapunzel gets curious about the other members of the Brotherhood.

“So how do you like the Kingdom of Corona? It must be strange to be here after 20 years of not leaving your home!”

Edmund agrees, but he does like it here. It’s very colorful and lively! He hopes that one day the Dark Kingdom will be just as lively. Hector disagrees, he actually quite liked the solitude. Eugene asks him if he truly spent 20 years in that Tree without any human contact. Hector denies this:

“I mean, for most of it. Not counting any intruders I chased off, the only people to actually visit were Quirin & his wife. But that was 15, 16 years ago so they could-”

CRASH!!!

Suddenly the group hears a loud noise coming from the house! Worried for Quirin, they rush inside. They find Quirin at the bottom on the stairs, surrounded by fallen books & a toppled over shelf. Unable to stand on his left foot, Edmund & Eugene help him up the stairs and onto a chair. While Adira takes off the boot, Rapunzel asks what happened. Quirin tells her that he tripped and knocked over his bookcase. He’s hurt his ankle though. Adira & Varian look after him while Eugene & Edmund go get the doctor & some ice. Rapunzel offers to clean up the mess in the basement. When she gets down there, she finds Pascal reading one of the books that fell.

“Pascal? What are you doing?”

The little chameleon seems panicked. He points towards the book and he tries to get Rapunzel to read it. Picking it up, Rapunzel realizes this is Quirin’s old diary! She scolds Pascal, saying he shouldn’t read other people’s dairy’s. Pascal still urges her to read it, pointing to a specific page. Rapunzel relents, but still feels bad about it:

“August: Ulla tries to stay optimistic, but I can tell she is only trying to spare my feelings. We have been trying for a few years and she is still not with child. The doctor examined her and she should be more than capable of getting pregnant, so I can only assume the problem lies with me. We both want a baby so badly, I must think of a solution for this. For Ulla. For our family.”

“December: I have discussed it with Ulla, and we finally found a way to have the family we always wanted. She even agreed with my suggestion of who could help us. As soon as the snow clears we will head out. It’s a long journey, but it will be worth it.”

“July: We finally arrived. We pretended this journey was a sort of second honeymoon, but I can tell Ulla is getting nervous now that we are here. I am nervous too. I just hope Hector is willing to hear us out instead of immediately attacking.”

“November: It worked! Ulla has begun showing a bump! She is pregnant! I am so happy, I cannot thank Hector enough! Will it be a boy or a girl? Maybe twins? Ulla vetoed my suggestion of naming the child after the prince, So we will name her Alexis if she’s a girl, and Varian if he is a boy! Even if Hector is the baby’s father, I swear I will raise our child with all the love in the world!”

“RAPS? ARE YOU STILL IN THE BASEMENT? THE DOCTOR IS HERE!”

Eugene calls out to Rapunzel, startling her. She quickly shoves the dairy under the table to hide it. Shaken up, she answers him, saying she’ll be up in a minute. When Eugene leaves, she turns to Pascal:

“Hector is Varian’s actual father? How… Why… Pascal, what are we going to do?”

Pascal turns himself pink like Rapunzel’s dress, and mimes telling to Varian, who he mimes by turning himself wine-red like Varian’s shirt and a blue streak on his head. He urges Rapunzel to tell Varian this. Rapunzel shakes her head vehemently.

“We can’t tell Varian! You know how much he cares about his dad! I mean, about Quirin! He did everything for Quirin, This would break him!”

She slumps down a bit, recalling how she felt when she realized Gothel wasn’t her real mother. Back then, she felt confused, betrayed, hurt, angry! But most of all she felt sad. Everything in her life had been a lie. She doesn’t want to do that to Varian. Rapunzel decides to hide the dairy under the table and forget about it.

Upstairs, the doctor has left. It turns out that Quirin has sprained his ankle and it will take a few weeks to heal. He is upset that he and Varian won’t be able to compete with Eugene & Edmund. Quirin was excited to share something from his homeland with Varian, but it seems like that won’t be possible now. Seeing Varian’s sad look, Quirin turns to Hector:

“Hector, could you perhaps join Varian’s team? I really want him to experience this part of our culture, and I’m not sure he’ll get another chance!”

A little later the group is outside. Quirin has joined Rapunzel & Adira, sitting in a chair Varian has put wheels under. Adira volunteers to be the referee, claiming to be the most impartial of the group.

“Alright! Time for the first contest: the Hunt! Whoever can bring back the biggest-”

Rapunzel whispers something in Adira’s ear. Looking at Varian, Adira sighs and starts over:

“The first contest is TAMING and bringing back the biggest animal. ALIVE, since the princess felt bad.”

The teams head to the starting line near the edge of the forest. At Rapunzel’s signal they run into the woods, searching for the biggest beast! Petting Ruddiger behind the ears, Quirin is a bit nervous. Hunting is easy since you can shoot an animal from afar, but taming one requires you to get close. Adira reassures him. Surely Hector can keep his son safe! Meanwhile in the woods, Hector is following some tracks he found. Varian is following close behind.

“Uncle Hector, you know King Edmund better: Do you think we’ll have a chance of winning?”

“Relax kid, I’m the best tracker of the Brotherhood! As long as what we find has a warrior spirit we’ll be fine!”

This confuses Varian. He asks what Hector means by ‘warrior spirit’?

“Well, I tamed my bearcats & my rhino by beating them in battle! They respected me and accepted me as their leader since they recognized a fellow warrior. Let’s hope this beastie is the same. Speaking of which…”

Varian looks in front of Hector. They found the source of the tracks, and it’s growling with its tail between the legs.

“Uncle Hector, wait! I don’t think this one has a ‘warrior spirit’ like you said! Can I try something first?”

Hector looks at Varian & the wolf & thinks for a bit. Sheathing his swords, he steps aside.

“Kay!”

On the other side of the forest are Edmund & Eugene. They too are following tracks. They are pretty big tracks, so Eugene is pretty sure they will be able to win if they can tame this one. After a while they find the animal that made them. While checking it out from a distance, Eugene expresses his doubts about this:

“What do you think, pops? Do you reckon we can get to be buddy-buddy with a bear?”

“Don’t worry, son! I actually had a pet bear named Petunia when I was young!”

Eugene looks at Edmund incredulously.

“Really? An actual bear, or a teddy bear? Cuz I’d prefer not to get mauled by 600 pounds of angry animal!” 

Edmund steps out of the bushes, and shows himself to the bear, which immediately starts to growl.

“Have no fear, Eugene! I’ll show you why they used to call me the Bear-King!”

Meanwhile, Adira & Quirin are having some tea, and Rapunzel has just retrieved some fresh ice for Quirin’s ankle. Sitting down and getting some tea herself, Raps wonders who will return first. Adira isn’t sure.

“Well, Hector will probably find something first but I doubt he’ll win. He’s far more likely to wrestle whatever he finds here. Turning this into a ‘taming-competition’ is a real handicap for him.”

Quirin on the other hand thanks Rapunzel & Adira for it. He was worried, since Varian isn’t good with blood. Suddenly they hear rustling coming from the trees. Adira stands up, ready to judge.

A stick is thrown out of the woods. Immediately after that a wolf comes jumping out of the trees! It’s wagging its tail and looking quite pleased! Hector & Varian follow it out of the woods. Varian quickly calls the wolf back before it goes after Rudiger.

“Bernadette! Come back, girl!”

The wolf bounces back to Varian, stick in its mouth. Varian takes the stick and throws it again, playing fetch with the wolf he named Bernadette. Hector walks up to the group.

“Well? How’s that? I’d say that’s a beauty of a wolf right there! Do you think she’ll be enough to win?”

Adira is surprised. She didn’t expect Hector to actually tame something that friendly. Hector admits it wasn’t him:

“It was actually Varian who tamed her. He noticed she was more scared than aggressive and calmed her down. He’s pretty good with beasties! I didn’t expect that from the kid.”

Varian guides the wolf back to Adira so she can have a good look.

“I guess animals just like me. I’m not sure why, but when I first met Rudiger he would constantly try to break into my lab just to see me. I only started feeding him when we were already friends. If it’s ok with you I’d like to let Bernadette go now, she should be with her pack instead of in town.”

Adira says it’s ok, and Bernadette trots back into the woods with her stick. Quirin is very happy Varian didn’t decide to keep her. He got a headache just thinking about looking after a wolf! They suddenly hear 2 shouts of surprise coming from the woods! Edmund and Eugene have returned as well. Eugene waves at the group:

“We’re back! So can I assume that the wolf that nearly ran into us was your catch?”

Eugene & Edmund look terrible! They are dirty & their clothes are slightly torn. Rapunzel starts plucking the twigs out of Eugene’s hair.

“Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Well, Sunshine. Turns out that some bears like wrestling. Who’d have thought?” 

Rapunzel smiles at him. She assures him it’s not a problem if they didn’t manage to tame a bear, that would be really difficult, especially since Edmund was wearing a bearskin as a cape. That doesn’t exactly invite friendship! 

Suddenly she hears a growl. The bear rushes towards Edmund! Adira & Rapunzel get ready for a fight, but Edmund tackles the bear into a hug:

“There she is! Isn’t she a beauty? I shall name you Petunia II, and we will be partners for life!”

The bear starts licking Edmunds face, clearly agreeing with him. Everyone is surprised, except Eugene.

“Like I said, apparently she likes to wrestle. I thought we were goners, but it worked out in the end!”

While Bernadette the wolf was impressive, everyone agrees that Petunia II the bear is the clear winner. Adira declares Edmund & Eugene victorious and the group gets ready for the next challenge.

“Next up is archery! Grab your bows and head for the target please!!”

Adira shows the group the target and instructs everyone to stay behind the line. Everyone gets 3 shots, and the team that scores the most points will win! After a coin toss, Varian & Hector are up first. Hector takes aim, and manages to hit 2 of them in the center of the target, with the last arrow ending up in the second ring instead. Varian cheers for his uncle.

“Amazing! You’re really good at this, uncle Hector!”

Hector stands proud, clearly taking in the praise. But when Varian tries to shoot, Hector stops him.

“Kid, your stance is all wrong. You’re going to poke someone’s eye out that way. Did Quirin never teach you how to use a bow or something?”

Varian shakes his head. He never used a bow before, since Quirin didn’t think it was necessary for him to learn. Varian never wanted to be a hunter and he faints at the sight of blood, so it never came up. Hector scoffs at that:

“What the heck, Quirin! He needs to know stuff like this, you can’t shelter kids! Next thing you’re going to tell me you didn’t teach him how to fight!”

Seeing Varian’s sheepish look, Hector sighs. 

“Of course the last knight of the Brotherhood didn’t teach you that. Ok kid, first I’m going to teach you how to shoot, then I’ll teach you how to fight. You have to be able to defend yourself!”

Maneuvering Varian into a proper stance, Hector gives a quick rundown of how to aim and when to shoot. Following the instructions, Varian manages to hit the target. Sure, none of the arrows hit the center, but 1 hits the smaller ring while the other 2 hit the outer one. Varian is happy with this, and he gets a compliment from Hector. Quirin cheers from the sideline.

“Good job, son! You did great!”

Varian waves back to Quirin. He’s very happy he managed to hit the target at all. As Eugene approaches the target, Varian asks Hector if it will be enough to win. Hector tells Varian that it depends entirely on how Eugene shoots. Eugene aims, and shoots:

“Yes! One dead center and 2 inner rings! Lucky shot!”

Eugene celebrates, high fiving Edmund. He did better than he thought he would! Hector groans:

“Well, there goes the win. We’ve lost this one, kid.”

“What? Why? King Edmund only has one arm, how can he even shoot with that?”

While Varian is confused, Edmund takes his place. Using his foot and his one arm, he shoots all 3 arrows dead in the middle of the target. They are so well aimed the arrows pierce each other down the middle! Eugene whistles in amazement.

“Dang, pops! How in the world did you get so good at that?”

Edmund admits that even before the kingdom was evacuated he was the best archer in the Dark Kingdom. When he guarded the Moonstone he would practice with his one arm whenever he got bored, which was often. Varian & Hector didn’t stand a chance!

Next up is the building competition. While Adira moves the target further away, Rapunzel explains the rules:

“Ok, teams! You’re both doing great! For this competition both teams need to make a catapult! You can use whatever items are in the piles next to you, and no stealing from the other’s pile! I can guarantee they have the exact same stuff in them, so it’s 100% fair!”

Eugene whines a bit, claiming it’s not really fair if the Royal Engineer is competing, but since he had the Dark Kingdom’s best archer last round Hector tells him to suck it up. Varian smugly says since Edmund only had one arm he will only use one arm as well, to make it fair for Eugene. The group gets 1 hour to make the best catapult, judged by who can get a pumpkin the closest to the target. While the teams are building away, Rapunzel goes to get some drinks for everyone. While pouring the drinks she sees Pascal trying to drag the diary out of the basement.

“Pascal! Stop that! I know you really want me to tell Varian, but I… I just can’t. Not yet at least. Can we wait until after the Brotherhood has left? I want Varian to be able to bond with his family without this hanging over his head.”

Pascal relents and Rapunzel takes the diary. She hides it in her pocket and takes the drinks outside. When she gets back to the group both teams are ready to show off their catapults. Rapunzel is impressed by both teams:

“Wow! These look amazing, guys! So sophisticated! Varian, are you sure you only used one hand?”

Varian shows he indeed had his hand tied around his back. As it turns out, Hector is quite handy too! He had designed and created the mechanism to extend and retract his swords into their gauntlets himself:

“I had to be able to repair these things myself, after all. Who knows? If I had applied myself to engineering instead of the sword I might have been half as good as the kid!”

Varian laughs claiming they have a lot in common, but Rapunzel gets nervous. She begins to worry that Varian might start to notice their similarities. Meanwhile, Adira looks over the catapults. Edmund & Eugene’s looks like a standard, but well-constructed catapult. Hector & Varian’s looks more like a cannon than a catapult, but since it doesn’t use gun-powder it is allowed. Instead it uses a mechanism similar to Hector’s swords. Adira hands Eugene a pumpkin for their attempt. He loads up the pumpkin while Edmund aims. Satisfied, Edmund starts to count down:

“Alright, stand back everyone! 3… 2… 1… LAUNCH!”

With a big arc, the pumpkin soars through the air! Following it with their eyes, they see it comes pretty close! Rapunzel & Adira head to the target and measure the distance from where the pumpkin hit the ground to the target. Rapunzel shouts the distance to Quirin to write down.

“Only 9 feet from the target! Great job, guys!”

Edmund & Eugene high five. They did very well for a target that was 150 feet away. Rapunzel gives Varian the next pumpkin. They load it up, aim and Varian begins their own countdown:

“1… 2… 3… SHOOT!”

Hector pulls the lever and activates their catapult. It shoots the pumpkin much faster and in a straight line! It zooms across the field and hits the target dead on, knocking it over! Hector & Varian celebrate:

“Yes! It worked! Good job, kiddo!”

“It worked PERFECTLY! Using your swords as a reference was a great idea!”

Quirin holds Ruddiger back from chasing the tasty pumpkin. He smiles at the teams. 

“Good job everyone. I don’t think measuring will be necessary this time, though!”

Giving Eugene a kiss on the check, Rapunzel assures him their catapult was also amazing. Besides, Edmund & Eugene are still in the lead. They only need to win once more to be crowned champions!

“You’re right, Sunshine! We still got this! Alright, let’s get fishing! To the boats!”

Both teams are fishing on opposite sides of the lake. It’s been about 30 minutes, and neither side has gotten any bites yet. Neither team wants to scare away the fish. Eugene is worried since it’s taking so long. He leans back to whisper to Edmund:

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to also secretly be the best fisher of the Dark Kingdom? Because it’s been half an hour and I’m not sure I’m trusting my luck here.”

“Don’t worry son. If I know Hector, and I do, he will be eating himself up with frustration right about now. Despite guarding a Tree for 20 years, he isn’t actually a very patient person. He will act up soon, we just have to out-wait him.”

Eugene looks carefully at Hector & Varian’s boat. Sure enough, Hector is angrily tapping his feet. Beside him, Varian is also drumming his fingers on his fishing rod with impatience. Suddenly Hector stands up and growls in anger:

“THAT’S IT. I’M SPEARING ONE OF THESE STUPID FISHES!”

“Uncle Hector, please calm down! You’re scaring away the fish!”

Unsheathing his sword, he leans over the edge. Varian also stands up to get him to calm down, but the way they are pulling on each other rocks the boat heavily! 

SPLASH!

They accidentally tip the boat and both Hector & Varian fall into the water! With the boat turned over both swim to shore. In the next boat Edmund turns to Eugene:

“See? This always happens. If Hector cannot train while he is waiting he just works himself into a frenzy!”

Eugene watches as the 2 swimmers head for land. He feels bad for them since they got soaked. Just as he is about to suggest getting back to shore themselves, he feels a tugging on his rod. Eugene has a bite! Edmund cheers for him:

“Well done, son! Reel it in!”

“I got it, I got it!”

Eugene & Edmund work together and reel in a trout! They row back to shore, and arrive a few moments before Varian & Hector. While Adira measures their fish, Varian suddenly starts to swim erratically.

“MWUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

The group looks at Varian, who is laughing like an evil villain. Pulling him out of the water, Varian is shaking with laughter:

“HAHAHAHAHA GET OUT!!! THAT TICKLES!!!”

Reaching down his shirt, Varian pulls out a fish. It’s a bass, and it’s much bigger than Eugene’s trout! Varian sighs in relief. Quirin worriedly asks Varian if he is ok.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It just felt really weird! Oh! Aunt Adira, does this fish count? It’s really big!”

Adira laughs, telling him it does. Varian high fives Hector for their victory. Raps wonders if it should count, since they didn’t catch it the way it was intended. Quirin laughs at this:

“Well, it’s Adira’s call. Besides, this way the final competition will be much more exciting, won’t it?”

Adira agrees. But before they can compete, Hector & Varian must dry off. She sends them inside to get ready for the final competition, the obstacle course. Quirin asks her who she thinks will win. Adira thinks for a bit:

“If you want my honest guess, I think it will be Fishskin and King Edmund. Hector is faster than both of them, but Goggles has no practice running over difficult terrain. Besides, you and I both know that King Edmund and Fish-Skin being related makes them more in sync. We’ve seen it times and times again back in the Dark Kingdom. There is no substitute for that kind of compatibility!”

Quirin looks surprised at this.

“Adira, did I never tell you? Hector is-”

Rapunzel cuts him off:

“Hey! I think Hector and Varian need some help finding towels inside! Why don’t you two go and help them, while Pascal and I check over the course again? Ok?”

Startled by Rapunzel’s sudden request, Quirin and Adira head inside. Rapunzel sighs in relief. She then looks worriedly at the course before turning to Pascal:

“That was really close, Quirin almost told Adira! This is bad, Pascal. You heard Adira, right? If Hector and Varian win the competition she’ll be suspicious about their compatibility! If she starts to ask questions, it will only be a matter of time until Varian finds out, he’s too smart for that! They can’t win, we have to…we’ll have to sabotage them, so Eugene & Edmund win!”

Pascal looks at her disapprovingly. He is not ok with that, but Raps is so scared of causing Varian grief that she powers through her guilt. Looking over the course, she sees a part that she can alter.

“If I sabotage this part of the final tower climb, it will fall off the side! They won’t be able to complete the climb to catch the flag. At least Varian will be able to have fun with the rest of the course…”

When Hector & Varian are dried off, everyone heads outside again. Rapunzel is putting lots of hay around the towers. Eugene asks her what she is doing. Rapunzel responds that the hay is to cushion any falls. She doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, after all. The group heads to the starting line, and Adira goes over the course, explaining the obstacles to Varian and Eugene as they never participated before.

“Ok, everyone! There are two identical courses, one for each team. First you swing over the lake to the landing platform and then you make your way over the smaller platforms to the balancing section and lastly you climb the tower. The father must stay on the tower while the son goes for the flag. Whoever grabs the flag first wins! Simple enough, right?”

The teams get ready. Varian looks nervous, but Hector gives him an encouraging grin. Eugene and Edmund give each other a confident look. Adira starts the countdown:

“3… 2… 1… GO!”

Both teams race off! Hector and Eugene reach their ropes first and swing onto the platform with ease. Eugene throws back the rope and makes room for his father to land. Hector on the other hand stays put and catches Varian as he swings. 

Eugene is jumping from one tiny platform to the other and making his way to the balancing beam. Looking back he sees Edmund do the same, but he is slower due to his weight. Eugene asks if Edmund is ok, but Edmund says he will manage.

“I shouldn’t have worn my armor for this!”

Hector and Varian are not far behind them. Hector expertly jumps from one platform to the next, years of living in a tree showing their results. Varian however is lagging behind. He never did much parkour, unlike the Brotherhood members and the former thief. He barely makes it over the balancing beam without falling into the water. 

Rapunzel is running around the lake to keep up with them, they are fast! Adira is struggling to keep up while pushing Quirin’s chair, falling behind. Rapunzel tells her she will keep an eye on who wins and runs after the men. Both teams made it to the other side of the lake and reached the towers. Raps gets nervous, hoping her sabotage will work as she planned. She sees both teams climb to the top, with Eugene and Edmund in the lead. They start to climb, and reach the final stretch: A pole straight up, with the flag on top. Eugene is a third of the way up, and Hector realizes Varian won’t be able to outclimb him.

“Kid, he’s fast! You got any ideas?”

Varian looks determined at the flag, and turns to Hector:

“Throw me!”

Hector picks Varian up and throws him up the pole! He flies past Eugene and makes it halfway to the top before he grabs hold to climb himself. Suddenly they hear a crack!

To Rapunzel’s horror, the pole she sabotaged starts to topple with Varian on it! With a scream, Varian holds on as parts of the tower come down. Luckily, the pole fell into the ropes holding up the flags and stayed put, precariously suspended over the edge. One part of the tower has fallen into the hay at the bottom, sticking straight up and having dangerous points. If Varian falls on it he would be skewered!

“Help me!”

Varian is hanging from the pole, halfway out. Hector tries to reach for him, but he is too far. Hector tries to stand on the pole to get to Varian, but it cracks even more, making him stop. The men are so busy trying to get to Varian that they haven’t noticed the dangerous spike below. Eugene and Edmund are trying to help, throwing a rope to Varian. Varian tries to grab it, but his hands slip, and he falls! Hector jumps after him, grabbing Varian with one hand while grabbing & holding on to the tower with the other. The weight is too much, and the pole starts to break further! 

Rapunzel runs near the catapults made earlier and gets an idea. She runs up to the one made by Varian and Hector and aims it at the hay pile. Realizing she has no ammo, she searches around and in her pockets, finding Quirin’s diary. She loads it up and fires it! The diary shoots across the field, and hits the spike dead-on! It dislodges from the hay and gets knocked out of the way.

The pole gives way completely, and Hector and Varian fall into the hay. Eugene & Edmund start digging them out, fearing the worst. After a few moments, both of them emerge from the pile, unhurt. Rapunzel runs up to them and hugs Varian.

“Are you ok? I’m so sorry, Varian! I never should’ve messed with your course, I swear I didn’t think you would get hurt! Are you hurt? Oh, what did I do? I’m sorry!”

Varian is confused.

“Wait, you sabotaged our course? You caused the pole to fall? Why?”

Adira and Quirin caught up, and heard Rapunzel’s confession. They are very angry with her. While Quirin fusses over Varian, Adira scolds the princess.

“That was very dangerous, Princess. I’m very disappointed in you. I understand you want Fish-skin to win, but that’s no-”

“That’s not… I didn’t want Eugene to win, I needed Hector and Varian to lose! I-”

Eugene looks disappointed, while Varian looks hurt.

“You wanted us to lose? Why?”

While the others are trying to understand, Quirin sees something in the hay:

“What is… Is this my old diary? What is it doing here?”

Rapunzel looks down with guilt.

“Pascal found it after you fell. I… read part of it. I’m sorry… I know the truth.”

Quirin is confused. Varian is getting upset. He asks what she is talking about. Eugene asks if it’s why she sabotaged the course. Under the barrage of questions, Rapunzel can no longer stay silent.

“I’m sorry, Varian. The diary… Quirin… Quirin is not your father. Hector is. I sabotaged the course because I was afraid that, if you won, you’d realize how much you and Hector have in common and would find out you’re his son!”

Eugene is shocked. Adira’s eyes open wide in surprise. Rapunzel is starting to tear up, feeling awful about the whole situation. All three are looking at Varian, worried about his reaction. After a few moments, Varian speaks up:

“You… you sabotaged us, to hide that?”

“Raps, I… uh...”

“I already knew that?”

Rapunzel’s eyes snap open again. She looks at Varian, confused.

“WHAT?”

Varian rubs his head, a bit sheepish:

“Yeah… mom and dad told me I was “an uncle’s kid” when I was 4 years old. I had noticed I didn’t look anything like dad, so I asked mom why. She was never one to lie about stuff and just told me. Dad gave me a lollipop after, I think. It was never a big deal.”

Rapunzel finally relaxes, all tension leaving her body. She is so relieved that Varian isn’t upset! But she asks if Varian knew, why did he still call Quirin his dad? Varian first looks at her strangely for that question, but remembering Rapunzel’s history with parental figures he sighs.

“Dad raised me since the day I was born, with nothing but love! I’m his son no matter what, and he is my dad! No offense, Uncle Hector.”

“None taken, kid. I never wanted a kid and Lord knows I have no business raising one. You’re fun now that you’re older, but when kids are small I need to be able to give ‘em back to someone else. I need my ‘me’ time!”

The group laughs at that, mostly in relief though. Standing up, Rapunzel asks what they should do now. Adira puts her hand on Raps’s shoulder, and gives her a friendly yet stern look.

“First, as punishment, you are going to repair the course. Then we can have a proper race and crown the winner! Meanwhile, the rest will have some apple pie!”

END

[slushie5544]

Love is Literally Blind

Ok Im tired but because I haven't stopped thinking about this trope since a handful of mutuals and I thought of a 'reverse face recognition' type of trope between Perry and Heinz and it's just too good of an idea not to put out there! Personally don't have the motivation for more writing but this concept is too funny! @your-dad-in-the-basement and @yearnsforwips

Ok so imagine Perry had his glasses but they were on the verge of breaking, but hey getting new frames is expensive so he's like 'Eh, it's not like I use them on missions so they'll last a bit longer!' However a day Linda or Candace or even both take 'Uncle Perry on a Makeover trip!' as Candace calls it- In reality Linda was thinking of antique shopping at a thrift shop or something and might need an extra hand while Candace is on about 'vintage style' being so in and is determined to find the next big outfit to impress Jeremy! While the trio are at the shop, they disperse briefly to see if anything catches anyone's eye. Perry decides to look at the DVD sections for any old soaps that look even mildly entertaining..

However, unfortunately and unbeknownst to him he's within a 10-foot radius of either the clumsies or even the downright unluckiest person alive. Heinz not feeling the best (likely barely getting over a cold or allergies his voice is congested) just so happened to be thrifting for some parts for an inator he's. What he didn't expect was the abundance of old-fashioned Telanovas that were scattered in a corner of the shop. So maybe he got a bit distracted when going through the bookshelves of movies and shows, and so what his basket was becoming more of a library of cheesy black and white films, he figured maybe he could spin this some intaor.. Maybe one where he turn Roger's life into a actual drama.

Eventually the twohave a cliche moment of them grabbing the same move from a shelf on opposite sides so they can't see the other. Now listen.. Could Perry just let go of the film? Probably.. But this was the very last VHS of the only episode or season of a show that Heinz had talked about but mentioned he never got to finish with it being canceled or something like that..Not to mention with Heinz being sick Perry figured it would be a nice gift when he goes to check on him later. On the other side Heinz noticed a glimpse of the cover of the VHS and grabbed it to check it but realizes someone else is grabbing it too. Now listen.. He's petty, and evil, but was it worth fighting someone over.. WAIT IS THAT [Insert character he instant recognizes from his drama when he got a good yank on the VHS]!? Oh now he had to get this! And thus both are struggling with one another to get this movie, with Heinz trying to use a foot against the shelf while still pulling the film, and Perry is on the other side leaning back, that is until a screw in his glasses frames pops out (It happened to me at work and the lens literally just popped out of the frame and the frame is still taped together) Well once the lens basically pops out Perry loses his train of thought and ends up falling completely back and letting go of the book.

However he was the only thing that fell, he just barely opened his eyes to see the shelf screening towards him--Is the bookshelf screaming? Being his last thought until he's hit by an avalanche of DVDs, CDs, and VHS'.. Oh and the wooden shelf crushing him more than an average shelf should.. Thankfully its taken off of him and he's helps up but he realizes he can barely distinguish some of the faces around him unless he squinted extra hard. All He could really make out were the colors of people's eyes and where their noses and mouths should be.. He tried to look for his glassed but they're Gone, broken, shattered, or something.. Someone is apologizing to him asking if he's alright, but it sounds familiar. Yet it couldn't be, Heinz was sick and he wasn't suppose to be out?

When he looks up at the person above him he slightly recognizes the person but he wasn't quite sure if his blind eyes were merely playing tricks on him. He probably got a concussion from the fall or something.. Surely that was the logical reasoning why the figure looked familiar.. FInally, getting back to his feet Perry dusts himself off and is still trying to get a look at the person addressing him, but just barely being a couple of feet way, his face was merely a blurred out pale face with abstract details that he couldn't place his finger on. His jawline was definitely more prominent from the looks of it, but that was a guess as he tried to squint slightly.

However as Perry or The Stranger as Heinz thinks it is, is studying him, he's thinking that the other is glaring at him! So he's trying to defend himself through his raspier than usual voice or maybe it's more stuffy. However he can't talk much as he fights every so often from coughing. Mostly because that's how..

"Dad! There you are I was looking for you all over the store!"

Oh did I tell you Vanessa came along with him because she knew he was going to the store no matter if he was feeling well or not and thought she might as well tag along to find any 'og gotihic thrifts'. She also knew something like this would probably happen and at least she could get him out of there before they sent Pe- Wait..

Before she could ask what Perry the Platypus was already doing here, she hears a familiar squeal from her friend. Candace was already running over to Vanessa asking what happened when she spots uncle Perry and calls for her mom. Taking in the sudden events Vanessa maybe already had a talk with Perry previously about OWCA's strict rules about his family and work mixing together. So while the man is seemingly still reeling and more focused on trying to calm down his frantic niece, Vanessa decides its time for them to dip. So she takes her dad away from the scene without notice despite him saying they never got the VHS!

Blah blah anyways later Linda admits there wasn't much at the store she wanted, but she did get a record disc of some abstract 80s music band like 'Bees Gnees' or 'Quince'. Candace may not had found any outfits but did find a nice locket she could give to jeremy maybe.. Oh and even though Perry lost the movie he was looking for (Candace and Linda tried to help him find it but it was lost to the piles of movies) but he at least finds a new series that he could show to the scientist..

[choppersconfirmedkills]

the first time i recall shifting

So I have finished my homework and as the votes would have it, you all get a storytime of the first time I ever shifted (that I can recall).

I affectionately like to refer to this as the crying baby incident (lord knows why, I'm just screwed up in the head).

Let me set the scene...

The year is 2021. I am living with my older sister as the live in nanny for my then 10-month-old+ niece (she's now nearly 5, someone sedate me). During this time I was shifting to my very old MCU DR, and was still majorly under the influence of 2020 shiftok.

I was dear friends with the person who coined the original ADHD method (the one with 8D audio), she told me stories of how much it worked for her so I decided to try it. I managed to do all the steps right (which I now know does not matter one bit), and during the subliminal section of the method, I was floating in and out of consciousness rapidly.

I have sleep issues and night terrors so this was not unheard of for me. However, during one of these moments of consciousness, I am awoken, from the opposite side of the bed I fell asleep, to the sound of a baby crying, and an exorbitant level. So I immediately jump into action. I say something like "Don't worry ____, AT is coming, just give me a second." Again this is all while I'm half asleep.

I go to grab my phone to turn on my flashlight as it is dark in the room and I realize, the shelf next to my bed isn't there. The room I'm in looks like a combination of the room I fell asleep in and my DR bedroom.

The baby cries again and that is when it hits me. My niece is asleep soundly, 2 floors above me.

I lay back down, knowing I've shifted, and have the mentality of "fuck that" and I close my eyes and immediately slip back in and out of consciousness rapidly. I then woke up the next morning in reality, where I had initially fallen asleep.

Even though while I was there I knew I had shifted, I still tried to find an explanation for what I experienced.

1st it was a dream, but that made 0 sense as everything was moving in real time and I experienced all my senses.

Next, it was sleep paralysis, but I obviously could move so it wasn't sleep paralysis.

Maybe I heard my niece actually crying? Not in the basement when she was on the second floor.

So I determined it was a shift, and allowed myself to bask in the excitement of doing it even though it was weird.

[gardenwalrus]

The view from Wimpole Street, London, 1964 © Paul McCartney

The Ashers’ house in Wimpole Street. A very small attic room with one window. A garret. Perfect for an artist. There wasn’t any room for me to keep my records — many of which had been mailed to me from the US before they were available in the UK — in there. They had to be kept on the landing. But somehow I had a piano in there — a small, sawn-off piano that stood by my bed.

— Paul McCartney, The Lyrics (2021)

+

The [Asher] family lived in a large town house in Wimpole Street in the West End of London. It was a Georgian terrace house with six floors, including a rambling basement. On the top floor, in the old servants' quarters, were Peter's bedroom and a little music room. Sometimes, late at night, Paul would be invited to stay over rather than go back to Green Street. Then one day, in the course of conversation, Jane suggested that he could live at Wimpole Street if he hated the Green Street flat so much. Her mother would let him have the attic room. [...] Paul's room was next to Peter's, in the back of the house, next to the top bathroom. It was a small, square room with a single window overlooking Browning Mews, where horses and carriages were once kept. The view of rooftops and chimneys gave him a sense of living in an artist's garret. A large brown wardrobe and a single bed occupied most of the room. There was a wall shelf with some bric-a-brac in a jumble - a couple of Jean Cocteau Opium drawings, one in a cracked frame, a stack of first editions - while the space under the bed rapidly filled with a haphazard pile of gold records and trophies to which was added his MBE, awarded to the Beatles by the Queen at an investiture at Buckingham Palace on 6 October 1965. There was little to show that the room belonged to anyone much richer than the servants it had been originally designed for, despite Paul's rapidly accumulating wealth. [...] PAUL: 'I eventually got a piano of my own up in the top garret. Very artistic. That was the piano that I fell out of bed and got the chords to "Yesterday" on. I dreamed it when I was staying there. I wrote quite a lot of stuff up in that room actually. "I'm Looking Through You" I seem to remember after an argument with Jane. There were a few of those moments.'

— Barry Miles, Many Years From Now (1997) II

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 4

Ao3 | 2.7k words | Darlin's POV

Home sweet home. Scrambled eggs, new phones, and unchanged offices.

TW: Conflict, arguments, mentions of abuse and manipulation, non-consensual tattooing.

You lost time somewhere along the stretch of road between the 10-19 and David’s uncomfortably plush suburban house. If you focused really hard, you could piece together where you’d been, the moments you’d brushed up against others. David’s spouse did surprise you a bit. Small. Sweet. Smiling. Somehow, that nickname sounded so familiar in their mouth. You wanted to pull the strings of it out from between their teeth. 

Instead, you went to bed. You didn’t stop at the adjoining guest bathroom, you didn’t shuck off the outer layers of clothes that were sticking to you with sweat in the balmy, heated house, you didn’t even untie your boots.

The guest room was lowly lit by a single, shaded lamp on the bedside table. A soft, lavender bedspread was laid out over the biggest bed you’d ever seen. There was a shelf on one wall full of decorative, leather bound books and knick-knacks you had no context for. A piece of dried driftwood. A mug advertising a local coffee shop. A half-burnt scented candle, vanilla sugar. You rubbed your hands over your face, your fingers catching over your scar-curled lip, trying to scrub away the exhaustion. 

You wanted nothing more than to strip out of your uncomfortable, DFD clothes and climb under those pretty lavender sheets and never emerge. 

But you were dirty. You still had dried blood and sweat everywhere. Your boots were laced so tightly you couldn’t kick them off, and you weren’t sure you could bend reliably at the moment. The idea of trying to undress was enough to make you shiver. Not to mention the fact that you might have to run in the middle of the night. You didn’t want to have to redress before you did. 

In the end, you sat heavily in the velveteen arm chair that was set next to the bed. You kept your boots on the ground, dusting off mud and blood on the hardwood floors. You had barely rested your head back against the back of the chair when you fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep. 

The moment something shifted in the house you jolted awake. Even this exhausted and bogged down by your injuries, you were a light sleeper. Quinn used to wake you in the middle of the night, drag you out to bars and hovels, to stranger’s houses and dingy basement apartments. 

Sometimes, you’d wake up with him on top of you, your arms pinned. He moved so fast or so quietly that he didn’t wake you. 

You scrunched up your brow to the memory of a tattoo needle carving through your skin, Quinn tutting at you for ruining his line when you startled awake. You scrubbed a finger over the raised, blown out word and tried to put that particular memory out of your mind.

Your legs were asleep, but you stood anyway, your ribs protesting as you forced yourself into a crouch. The door to the guest room creaked as you opened it. You held your breath. The shifting sounds deeper in the house didn’t let up. You hadn’t announced yourself. 

The door to the bedroom across from yours was ajar. The gentle light of the hallway fell on a sleeping form, bundled up in blankets on one side of the giant bed. You could see in the dents of the mussed sheets where David had lain, wrapped around them. 

You moved through the house silently, rolling your steps through your feet across the shiny, hardwood floors. Christ, this was the nicest place you’d stepped muddy boot in in literal years. You tucked your hands close to your body, rested your shaking palms against your thighs. You were afraid that, if you touched anything, you’d ruin it. 

David was in the kitchen, clinking away with some pots and pans as the coffee pot brewed. A knot of tension eased in your gut. He wasn’t here. He hadn’t found you. 

“On the table,” David pointed over his shoulder without looking at you. You turned slowly, your back stiff. There was a little white box next to a bag from Verizon on the Shaws’ quaint breakfast nook table. 

“Showing off your new toy?” You grunted. Your throat was hoarse and cracking. 

“Your new toy.” David replied. The coffee pot finished brewing. He poured two mugs, one left black, the other smothered in sugar. He held it out for you. “You need a phone.” 

“I have a phone.” You said. Your hand drifted to the pocket of your sweatpants. 

“You have a burner phone.” David said, his voice dangerously close to a laugh. He pulled a handful of ingredients from the fridge. “Like a drug dealer on Law and Order. You need something up to date.” You eyed it with suspicion. “I won’t take yours from you. Just… take that one, okay?” 

“So you can keep tabs on me?” You sipped at the coffee. It was perfect. How the fuck did he remember how you took your coffee? You didn’t think that David had ever given you a second thought. But he knew how you laced your boots and how much sugar you needed to make coffee drinkable and that you needed to hear he wouldn’t take your stupid burner to feel secure. 

“Kind of.” David shrugged. He cracked eight eggs into a bowl before whisking them together. A dash of garlic salt, some pepper, paprika. “I’m worried you’ll run again. I’m not trying to force you to stay here or anything, but… I’d feel better if I had a way to contact you if you decide to.” 

“So I’m not being held against my will in your guest room?” 

“No.” David sighed. “Although, if you were, pretty nice digs for a hostage.” 

“Hostage implies you intend to use me for leverage.” You grinned. “I’m not worth much as a bargaining chip.”

David looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes narrowed. He sliced through his scrambled eggs forcefully with his spatula. You were half convince that could be considered a deadly weapon in his hands. 

“I don’t like it when you say shit like that.” He grumbled. 

“What?” You laughed. 

“‘I’m not worth much.’” David growled. “That pisses me off.” 

You didn’t reply. Instead, you moved across the kitchen and snatched the phone from the table. You sat heavily and rested your head against the cool wood. You drifted while David cooked. Somehow, it was easier to sleep here, bent uncomfortably over the breakfast table, than in the secure, lockable bedroom on the delta wall of the house. You didn’t want to think too hard about the implications of that. 

You woke again when a plate was sat down in front of you. It was piled high with scrambled eggs and bacon, toast spread with soft butter and marmalade. Your stomach announced you loudly, and you ignored the smile that played across David’s lips. You hadn’t put it together before, but looking at him head on, the scar that cut through his lip was on the same side as yours. If you looked at each other head on, you were a mirror image. You wondered where his had come from. 

“What does your spouse do?” You asked around a mouthful of eggs, surprising yourself. David looked up from his own plate and eyed you suspiciously. He took a long swig of his coffee before nodding. 

“Copy editor.” He said simply. “For Vesta. Big company that just started up in town. Although I don’t think they’re even really sure what they do.” 

“Soulless corporate stooge.” You laughed softly. David cocked his head and shrugged. 

“They’re apprenticing as a tattoo artist.” He said, almost defensively. 

“Are they any good?” You asked. David met your eye as he pushed back in his chair and rolled up the hem of his  t-shirt. He twisted to angle his back to you, exposing a complex, beautiful, black and gray tattoo. You’d seen a few pieces like that, rings of eyes and wings spiraling towards a core in the dead center of David’s spine. It was American Traditional, thick, bold lines and stipple shading. The eyes and halos were dotted with highlights of white. 

“They said it was an angel.” David sighed. “I was expecting more choir robes and prayer hands but this is way better.” You nodded, fighting the urge to reach over the table and smooth your hand over his back, feel the healed ridges and test the line weight. It was cold out. The linework was most likely raised and itching like yours. 

“It’s good.” You huffed as David righted his shirt and resumed his breakfast. “I can’t believe they’re just an apprentice.” 

“They’ve been tattooing for years. They’re just doing it officially now.” He eyed you nervously for a moment before adding on; “You could ask them about some coverups.”

You looked away, a hand snapping up to scratch at the ‘Q’ on your cheek. Shame burned in your stomach, bitter and acidic. 

“Coverups for what?” You challenged. You wanted to hear him say it. He didn’t reply. 

You found out, while setting up your shiny new phone, that it was four-thirty in the morning, and this was a perfectly normal time for David to be up and moving. He dug out some of his own clothes from the back of his closet for you. Once upon a time, you and David had the same waist size. Now, he was thickened with healthy muscle, and you had barely been eating. You stole the lace out of one of David’s spare sneakers to cinch the waist of the jeans he gave you and tugged the oversized t-shirt and sweater over your head with only a small protest from your ribs. Across the chest that hung down too low on your chest, the worn logo for Max’s Rustic Pizza caught on your fingers as you brushed them down over it rhythmically. 

David stooped into his bedroom before leaving. You listened to his voice rumble through the walls, deep and indiscernible. His spouse’s high laugh brought a smile to your face, although you didn’t know why. 

Dahlia’s Firehouse 10-19 had changed since you’d last been there. You didn’t remember much of your hour-long visit after David had dragged you out of your apartment. It was all tinged with the fuzzy discomfort that blood loss always gave you. You walked the length of it as the sun rose, ran your fingers over the redone walls, laid out on one of the queen sized bunks for an hour or two, never quite sleeping but close. You passed by a wall of fallen brother’s pretty, dress uniform portraits. Gabe Shaw’s face grinned down at you, the only one of the lot with a smile. 

His office, now David’s, was still mostly the same. The carpet had been redone, and the fluorescent overhead lights were left off for a series of soft, warm lit lamps. You didn’t turn a single one of them on as you entered the unlocked space, let the darkness hide the few changes that had been made and let the memory of it fill in the gaps. 

Gabe raised his son in this fire house, in this office as Captain. And Asher’s dad was his lieutenant. And Milo’s dad was the beat cop who would divert his route to clear a scene when he heard the 1019 was on a call. The house was fill of lineage, full of families of firefighters and their sons. 

It was a lineage that you weren’t a part of. 

Your dad was a gas station attendant who left as soon as you mom fell pregnant. She barely kept food on your plate. As far as anybody knew, you came from nothing. You were just a probie, a fresh faced eighteen-year-old still working out your baby fat who had never touched a rig. You applied with no resume, no references, just the certification that you’d passed the exam. Because you could haul equipment. You could scale a ladder in three seconds flat. You could throw a grown man over your shoulder without hesitation. 

You caught sight of the big, black office chair sitting behind the same cheap desk that had been sitting in that office since you first stepped foot inside. Gabe made that chair look tiny. He made you feel tiny. 

“You’re a good firefighter.” Gabe had said. “You’re ferocious. You’re not afraid to throw yourself into a call.” He grinned that stupid, bright grin. “We all trust that you’ll be the first one into a fire, the first one reaching to save somebody.” 

You remembered how proud you’d felt at that moment. How easy it was for Gabe’s praise to make you feel two feet taller. 

“But I don’t think you trust us.” His smile went soft then, a bit sad. “I don’t think you trust that we’ve got your back. And that’s why you’re so vigilant.”

“I trust you guys,” you had replied so quickly, so defensively. “I just know how to watch my own back.” 

“Trust is essential to what we do.” Gabe said. “When we put on our turnouts, when we put those numbers on our chests, we’re a unit, one machine. When one of the cogs of the machine starts to turn on its own, with no regard or acknowledgment of the others, the whole thing can fall apart.” 

You remember being so angry. You couldn’t put your finger on why. You’d stood, your arms light and body tensed, as though you were going to swing at him. Gabe rose with you, his shoulders relaxed. He knew what you looked like when getting ready for a fight. 

David had walked in on you two, interrupted what was likely to be a career-ending fight. You hadn’t realized until he walked in that you’d been crying. 

Knuckles rapped against the doorframe, jolting you out of the memory. You were in nearly the exact same spot, and when you turned, so was David. You shivered at the familiarity and tried to shake it off of your shoulders. 

“Refamiliarizing yourself?” He asked softly. 

“You really should lock your office door.” You replied. 

“My dad never did.” He shrugged and stepped deeper into the space. He looked around slowly, his eyes carrying a heaviness you couldn’t put a name to. “Open door and all that. I take it literally.” 

“You’ve changed everything else about this place. Except his desk. You kept that.” 

David locked eyes with you. The emotion drained from his face very suddenly. His walls slammed up the moment you tapped on them. He closed himself off to you so naturally, like it was his default state around you. 

You’d given him plenty of reasons over the years. 

“I did good by this house.” David said. “But there are some things I can’t…” He pressed his mouth into a tight line, unable to go on. 

“Yeah well… dead dad… makes it a bit more complicated than an office makeover.” You shrugged. It was the wrong thing to say. David huffed out a tight, tense breath. You watched his temple jump as he clenched his jaw. 

“I know the Captain’s death was hard on you.” There was something hollow in the way he said it, like he’d said it a hundred times before. Frustration cut across his closed off features.

“Jesus Christ, David.” You snapped, scrubbing a hand across your face. “Hard? Yeah, no I would say your father’s death was hard.” You tugged on the hem of your shirt nervously. “Getting the call was hard. Recognizing Gabe’s car was hard. Knowing nobody could survive a crash like that was hard!” 

“Stop.” David said resolutely. You pushed through the urge to follow his orders. 

“But it must have been torture for you!” Your voice cracked. “Pulling your father’s body out of a burning wreck must-“ you couldn’t get the words out from around the lump in your throat. You slammed your fist into your thigh. David hung his head. His shoulders slumped. One big hand came up to cover his eyes. 

“Stop.” He said again. His voice was a ghost. 

“You stop.” You replied. “Stop trying to comfort me. God, David.” Your body twitched to hug him, to gather him up in your arms. You didn’t move an inch. “Save some of that for yourself.” 

You turned tail and closed his office door quietly, leaving him alone in the dark, silent room. It was the closest to comfort that you could provide. 

[maraschinomerry]

Sidekick

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: The shelves in the basement collapse on George, and he offers to help you fix them.

Content: fluff, mild injury, more fluff, first kiss

A/N: this is dedicated to my dad, who did actually teach me DIY, and to @oblivious-idiot who encouraged me to write this definitely-not-based-on-real-experiences lil fic ❤️

Word count: 2.2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 (let me know if you want adding or removing!)

The serenity of a morning without work in 35 Portland Row was interrupted by a rather spectacular crash. Concerned, you leapt from your place in the living room, flinging your book onto the sofa and dashing into the hallway with two pairs of thundering footsteps on the stairs above.

“What was that?” Lockwood called, and though you couldn't make out the reply you could tell it was Lucy above him. That just left George, in the basement. Oh god. Not that you wouldn't have been worried if it was either of the others, but you'd had a crush on the boy ever since you joined the agency two months ago and the thought of something happening to him lent a panicked urgency to your movements. You burst through the kitchen door, into the basement and were immediately met with a whirlwind of papers scattered across the floor. In the middle of it all, surrounded by half-empty files and pieces of broken shelf, was George, sitting on the ground looking dazed.

“Shit, George, are you okay?” you rushed down the spiral staircase, dropping to your knees as you frantically checked him over. There was a red mark leading into his hairline and a piece of splintered wood tangled in his curls. He tilted his head, taking in the destruction before turning his gaze up through his eyelashes to you, whose hand was in his hair searching for any hidden injuries. Your breath caught in your throat. You realised this was the first time you'd touched him more than just in passing, and the way he was looking at you had your stomach doing backflips. This wasn't how you'd expected a moment like this to come about. It didn't much matter, because the moment was quickly broken by Lockwood and Lucy scrambling down the stairs. You pulled back, knowing you had no reason to be embarrassed but still feeling vulnerable to be caught so close to him.

“I think the shelves broke,” George stated simply.

“Is he okay?” Lockwood directed the question to you. Probably for the best, you weren't sure the other boy could be trusted to judge his condition too well. “Looks like he got hit in the forehead, and fell of course. Can't find anything serious though.”

“Someone should still keep an eye on him. Luce, do we have any ice?”

Lucy nodded, turning back towards the kitchen while Lockwood made his way further down the stairs. “Come on, mate,” he murmured as he draped one of George's arms over his shoulder, gently helping him to his feet and back upstairs.

You spent the next few hours hovering anxiously. George had settled into an armchair in the library, bag of ice pressed to his head to begin with. Lockwood and Lucy were sorting the spilled papers and came in every so often, bringing painkillers and tea, but you stayed the whole time. He tried to assure you that he was okay, but you knew by the way he occasionally furrowed his brow and grimaced at the book he was trying to read that a headache was brewing.

“Are you sure you're alright? You look like you're in pain, can I do anything to help?”

George hesitated. “I just… no, it's silly.”

“No, please, what is it?”

“I've only got one page left of this chapter, but my head hurts and I can't focus properly. Would you… would you read it?”

You took the book and settled into the other armchair. Once you began to read, George closed his eyes to shut out the lights and leant back with a contented smile.

—

The next day at breakfast, after everyone had checked in on George, Lockwood brought up the basement.

“I'm going to call some contractors today, see if we can get some new shelves installed. Lucy and I have got all the papers stacked, but we need to get them properly organised and we can't do that if the office is still a wreck.”

You frowned. “Or we could just order the supplies and I'll build them? Saves paying someone else to do it.”

“You can do that?”

“I mean, I think so?” You began to doubt yourself a little, but pressed on. “My dad taught me how to do all sorts of DIY stuff. That's how I fixed the rapier stand.”

“That was you?!” Lucy looked at you, baffled. “But how, I didn't think we had any tools?”

You beckoned them to follow you and led them up the stairs to your room. You didn't have much, just a wardrobe for your clothes and a few books on your desk, but there was a wooden storage chest at the end of your bed which you opened and allowed them to look inside. To the left was a metal toolbox, and Lockwood unfolded it to reveal screwdrivers, spanners, pliers, a small hammer and sections of screws, bolts and washers. Behind the box was a saw in its sleeve and a large pair of wire strippers, and in their own cases alongside were a drill and a soldering iron.

“You are so cool,” George grinned.

That weekend, a van pulled up outside the house. A stocky man with a thick ginger beard brought in several sheets of wood and a box, stacking them in the hallway. George helped you carry them down to the basement, and once everything was set he lingered at the bottom of the stairs. His forehead was less swollen now, and his eyes were bright and alert as he watched you set up.

“I know you've got this covered, but do you want a hand? I feel bad that you're fixing my mess.”

You smiled softly at him. It was these glimpses of tenderness underneath the blunt, snarky persona he used with others that had drawn you to him in the first place, but you wondered how many others got to see it besides you. “It wasn’t your fault, but help would be great actually.”

He moved forward with a mock salute. “Just tell me what you need, boss.”

—

You couldn't believe how much you were enjoying your afternoon. At least, you thought it was the afternoon - it was hard to tell how much time passed in the basement, but you weren't on a deadline and didn't much care how much time it took as it meant more time with George. It had turned out to be incredibly helpful having him around - for the most part he let you do what needed to be done, but the instant you needed an extra pair of hands to hold the wood in place or pass you something he was by your side. The best part of it all was being able to talk. The two of you had chatted before, of course, but it being just the two of you in such close proximity meant the conversation went much deeper than it ever had before. George had asked about your dad, based on your comment about him teaching you how to build things, which gave both of you the chance to open up about your families more. It always broke your heart to hear him think of himself as the weirdo of his family; your dad was a little on the eccentric side which had rubbed off on you. That was probably why you and George had connected in the first place.

“I hope you get to meet my dad some day,” you thought aloud. “I think he'd get on well with you.”

“I'd like that,” George flushed a little as he handed you the drill. You'd got the first few shelves put together and on the wall, working your way up until you were now at chest height. You glanced up at the empty space leading to the ceiling.

“Do we have a ladder?”

George pulled a face and gestured to a small set of steps in the corner. That would have to do.

You climbed up, ignoring the slight wobble, and George passed you a pair of brackets which you screwed into place. Then, you picked up the plank of wood for the shelf. Shit. The steps were slightly too close to be able to swing the wood into place easily, but if you moved back you'd only have to bring them closer again to get the screws in. You took a risk and leaned back.

The steps wobbled even more.

You gasped.

The steps stopped wobbling.

George's hand was on the small of your back, keeping you steady, while his foot rested firmly on the lower frame. You swallowed thickly, not wanting to make things weird but trying to savour the sensation.

As soon as it was clear you weren't going to fall, George's hand retracted. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn't mean to…”

“No, it's fine,” you cut in, praying your face was less red than it felt. “That helped, thanks.”

“Well, I did offer,” he chuckled with a shrug and you laughed along, the tension between you dissipating. You felt it return a little when you prepared to make the move again; this time George placed both hands delicately, respectfully, on your waist, but somehow you both settled into it and it felt almost natural. Would this be how it felt if he…? No, not the time.

With the wood in place, George passed you a handful of screws and you clamped them in your teeth to free up your hands for the drill. George was still standing on the bottom of the steps, gazing up at you in wonder.

“I feel like the sidekick to an agent.”

You giggled. “George, you are an agent.”

“No!” He swatted playfully at your arm. “I mean like a secret agent with all the cool gadgets. I'm the Q to your Bond.” He began humming the James Bond theme, miming shooting bad guys with the drill whenever you handed it to him. At one point, you aimed it at him and he dropped dramatically to the ground, making you laugh so much you almost fell off the now unguarded ladder.

The enticing scent of dinner drifting down from the kitchen told you it was getting late, but you were finally finished. Wiping a few flakes of sawdust from your hands, you stepped back to admire your work.

“They're fantastic, y/n,” George was already adding files to the lower shelves. “Really impressive.”

“Thanks,” you replied bashfully.

George stopped, fidgeting anxiously with the corner of the folder he was holding. “I mean it. You're so talented and caring, and I really do appreciate you looking after me the other day and letting me help, I didn't do anywhere near as much as you but I… Well, I liked being able to spend the time with you.”

You felt yourself melting and tensing at the same time. You'd been hoping for so long that he had feelings the way you did, but how could you be sure you weren't misreading things? George seemed to sense your hesitation, and his face fell. He was going to pull back. You were going to lose your chance. You stepped forward, taking the folder and placing it to one side. The action made your fingers brush against George's, and you were pleasantly surprised when his nervous movements transferred to him linking his fingers loosely with yours and running his thumb across your palm. Every brush sent sparks up your arm, and you struggled to focus on what you wanted to say.

“You don't need an excuse to hang out with me, George. I've always got time for you.”

His fingers wove a little tighter, and he scrunched his glasses back up his nose. His face was always so cute when he did that. “How about tomorrow? Coffee after we've been to the Archives?”

Your cheeks were definitely red this time, but you didn't mind. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Depends,” he bit his lip. “Are you saying yes?”

You simply smiled, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips. He blinked at you in surprise for a second, then wrapped his free hand around your waist to pull you in closer. This time the kiss was deeper. He tasted like the tea he'd brought down an hour ago, rich and earthy with a hint of sweetness, an aftertaste of ginger. In the back of your mind you were aware of Lucy calling you both for dinner, but right now there was no taste that could tempt you away. George let out a soft sound from the back of his throat when you wound your hand into the curls at the nape of his neck, his own hand clutching at the fabric of your top like a lifeline. The creak of the basement door forced you to finally break apart and hastily straighten yourselves out.

“Nice work, you two!” Lucy grinned at the new shelves as she poked her head down the stairs. “You should work together more often.”

“I'm sure we will,” George threw you a wink and a quick, hidden squeeze of your hand as he passed you, following Lucy up into the warm glow of the kitchen.

[nessatwene-art]

Before Robyn went to Central High School she attended Ravenwood Academy, a prestigious boarding school, for 2 years until she decided to transfer for junior year.

Theres an old rumor that Ravenwoods basement is haunted by students who went missing many years ago. It became a tradition for freshmen to sneak in to the school at night to explore the haunted basement.

Near the end of freshmen year, Robyn and her Ravenwood friends went to explore the old basement. But it was nothing more than old classrooms and supplies. But the thought ate at Robyns mind “why is Ravenwood haunted? Why so many missing students?”

Robyn came back by herself few days later, wondering if theres could be any sort of clues yet to be found. Just when she was about to give up she discovered a hidden door concealed behind a old bookcase. Robyn pushed the door wide open, astonished at what she found.

An old laboratory, covered in cobwebs, rust, and dust. Old equipment laid toppled over on the tiled floor. Bits of glass cracked as Robyn wandered into the decrepit room. The shelves had cores, the hearts of unnaturals, sitting in tubes of liquid keeping them in stasis. “This lab was left to rot in a hurry...”

All the way across the room was a large glowing tube, and a mysterious specimen floating inside the same stasis liquid hibernating. “Experiment 301-B//: FAILED” the screen at the bottom of the tube read, cracked and glitched.

Suddenly a beaker fell from a shelf, shatter into peieces, startling Robyn. A bright purple shard laid on the floor. Robyn knew it was from a core but purple was a rare core color. Unnaturals with purple cores are extremely powerful and dangerous but extremely rare.

When she picked up the shard the specimen in the tube awakened and broke out of its glass jail, confronting Robyn. Nothing like any monster shes see before, large but amorphous. It chased her out of the lab and back onto the school’s campus. With the need to protect herself Robyn materialized her energy bow and arrow for the first time, shooting the unnatural right in its core, dissipating away.

Since then Robyn has felt sense of unease. Something maybe coming after her for what shes discovered. Maybe looking for the shard that she took from that lab. Suspecting that the rumor of the missing students could be related. And that Ravenwood is dubious. The feeling started to haunt her during her 2nd year. As much as she wanted to investigate this, she was afraid that she may end up like those who went missing.

But Robyn would find another way to solve cases like these at the comfort of a new school to start fresh at.

[lvxybby]

"I still love you" Kai Anderson x Reader

warning! Drug use. Alcohol use. Self Harm. Dark topics. Abuse.

He slammed you against the shelf In the living room, a vase crashing down as you hit it. "Why won't you just shut up! It's always "kai, kai, kai" Just Shut the fuck up!" He yelled at you. Tears streamed down your face.

"Why don't you love me anymore!" I yelled at him. His hand was quick to slap me. "Go upstairs! I better not see you for the rest of the night!" He yelled at me. I quickly ran upstairs and slammed the door on him. Tears fell from my red, puffy eyes. I was ugly. Ruined. I felt like trash.

I scratched my arm at the thoughts. Small dots of blood showing up in my red, irritated skin. It wasn't enough. I needed more relief.

I held my phone in my hand as the familiar number was printed across the screen.

"I thought I wasn't going to hear from you again" she spoke.

I rushed down stairs, grabbing my car keys in my hand. I heard the basement door open. I knew it was Kai. I didn't let him stop me. I opened the front door and slammed it shut as I got into my car. I quickly started it and backed out, I needed relief.

I started doing acid in high school with my best friend Jamie, she was the king pen. We went on the train tracks everyday and did all types of shit. Smoked pot, huffed whipped cream cans, drank, and did acid.

Till I went to college.

I met Kai there, he was sweet, I hung out with him so much, I forgot about Jamie. Soon my addiction stopped.

Me and Kai got together not long after. I've been with him since. But he's changed. He's cold, quiet, and filled with rage.

I pulled up to the park. I walked past the gates and into the back, where the tracks were.

"Hey!!!" I heard as I walked up the small hill to the tracks. A smile plastered across my face. "Hey Jamie!" I said laughing. I sat next to her. She handed me a bottle of vodka and got her a cigarette out.

"Tell me everything"

I did. I told her about how Kai hits me, how he cusses and spits at me. How he's changed.

We passed the bottle back and forth between each other. "He sounds like a pussy to me." She said rolling a joint. I laughed a bit, I was drunk. Super drunk.

She took the joint between her fingers and lit it. She took two puffs before passing it to me.

She talked about her brother and her new job. She was in the middle of a sentence when I cut her off.

"I started harming again..." I blurted out. Her eyes widened "fuck.... Are you serious?" She asked. "Yeah.... Earlier... I... Scratched my arm raw." I said taking a hit from the joint.

She sat in silence before digging in her purse for a moment. She pulled out a computer duster can. "You need more than a joint".

I stuck the can into my mouth. Huffing the contents. I laughed loudly. My head felt heavy. I pushed the can into her chest. "Your turn!" I shouted. She pit the can into her mouth and took her turn. She slapped her thigh as she fell over laughing. "I Hear this Wooooowww sound!" I said as I laughed more I fell over beside her.

"Your-yourr phones ringingg" she slurred I sat up to see my phone lit up. Kai's contact. I picked it up and shushed her. "Yeah?" I asked as I answered the call. "Where are you?! It's been 4 hours since you left!" He shouted through the phone. I couldn't help but laughing. Jamie also bursting out in laughter. I was quick to shush her "shhh shhh be qui- be quiet!" I said going back to my phone.

"I'm sorry-"

"Who are you with"

"Kai... It's.... I'm... An adult... So-" I was cut off by Jamie snatching my phone "IT'S JAMIE, PUSSY BOY" she shouted before hanging up. She handed me back my phone. "Problem solved." She said laughing.

She handed me the can again, I quickly huffed it. I felt numb. I laughed as I reached for the bottle of vodka.

I tipped the bottle into my mouth. I chugged the bitter drink. "Y/N. What the fuck are you doing!" I heard the familiar voice say. I swear only a minute passed. "Oh shit" I hear Jamie shout. I heard her stumble to get up before she took off.

I felt his sharp grip. Suddenly everything came out.

I sobbed.

Loudly.

I tucked my knees to my chest.

Everything. Came. Out.

I snatched my arm from his grip and pulled it to my head. I dropped the bottle of vodka. I felt weak. My stomach burned. I felt pain. But all at once, I felt numb. Like the world stopped. I didnt hear anything. Not a car. Or a leaf falling to the ground

His hand went to my back. He slowly rubbed it. He looked at my arm. It was dark but he could still see where I scratched myself. He let out a sigh.

"Why?" He asked.

I didn't reply. I felt terrible.

"I'm sorry" I mumbled. "For... Being in the way... And bothering you... And.... Being stupid" I cried. More tears flowed down my face. "I'm sorry for being a disgrace. I'm sorry for embarrassing you. I'm sorry for making your life shit!" I shouted.

"But I still love you..." I whispered. "I love you so much..." I cried. I felt him move in front of me. He cupped my face and made me look at him. "You aren't a disgrace. Or embarrassing. Or stupid. You don't make my life shit. You may bother me, you may get in the way. But we can work past that. I love you too... But this...is...we worked so hard to get you over this. And you came right back to it..." He spoke. His hands rubbed my cheeks. He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"You... Could have gotten hurt...i don't want that." He said picking me up. I was limp. I couldn't feel anything. Tears flowed down my face.

He carried me back to the car. He set me in the front seat. "I'll have winter come get your car tomorrow." He said walking around to his side.

Then we drove home.

A/N: this took so long and is probably one of my darkest stories. I will probably make a part 2. It will most likely be smut. Luv u <3

[brattypagansub]

The misadventures of Alpine and why she’s in air jail once again.

One of these days Alpine’s vet is going to call the ASPCA on him

While normally Bucky’s whole world as a single cat dad that is. Alpine is a princess but the incidents just keep up coming. Here’s another list of reasons why Bucky’s furry little ninja tests his sanity.

Got into his art room and decided to recreate the scales and arpeggios scene from The Aristocats

Knocked the mug Nat got him off the coffee table

Chewed through the wiring on his fairy lights and got electrocuted

Un-alived his favorite house plant by knocking it pot and all off the shelf

An entire row of dark romance books got knocked off his shelf

Jumped from her cat tree into the window because she saw a bird

Jumped from the table flew across his pottery wheel and crash landed into his clay tub (Bucky wished he’d video tapped it for tiktok)

Tripped Bucky up who fell down the basement stairs to avoid landing on her because she couldn’t wait two seconds for him to feed her.

Nearly got put through the heat cycle because he didn’t see her climb into the dryer

Freaked out and trashed his bathroom because she fell into the bath while practicing her parkour

Knocked over his stack of work papers freaked out at the sound and shredded them in her fury

Knocked his hair dryer over and nearly under faucet stream

Scratched the shit out of Bucky’s back because she decided to park herself right where he’d been sitting. (He’d answered a work call and didn’t see where she was when he sat back down.)

Almost knocked over the k-cup machine

Singed her tail because she got up onto Bucky’s pagan/witch altar and he didn’t see her (he was too busy looking for his crystals.)

Thought his simmer pot was just another water bowl and drank from it on the stove (she burnt her tongue)

Broke her paw when she jumped from the shed attic and crash landed in the gardening tools.

Went twelve rounds with the angry raccoon that lives in his bushes and almost lost

Bucky is honestly surprised Alpine has lived this long

[mattness]

useful things

Summary: Who knew that in the basements of abandoned houses there are such interesting and very useful things?

Characters: Sylvia Amarië/Astarion Ancunin

Genres: PWP, Humor, Romantic, Fluff

18+

Sorry for stupid mistakes in my translation, but anyway... Have fun reading!

There is full of abandoned basements and long-looted houses in Rivington. But despite this, they still managed to find precious stones or things that could be sold to local merchants. Money and good equipment were sorely lacking. However, she didn't really care about gold when she came across a good book on magic or other useful things among the old dusty junk.

In another basement of an abandoned house, where they had climbed under the pretext of helping some fool find an old magic lamp where gin was supposedly sitting, Sylvia was carefully examining a bookshelf. The shelves were covered with a thick layer of dust. Thin strands of cobwebs stretched from one book to another. Some of the spines have faded paint. Running her finger over them, Sylvia suddenly stopped at a book in a velvet burgundy cover with no title. Curiosity was immediately aroused. She opened the book. The pages have long faded and turned yellow. The ink is worn in places, but, in general, the text can be read. The elf's pointed ears instantly turned red. There was a blush on her cheeks. Scrolling to the very beginning, she was surprised when she saw the title, but she didn't really have time to read anything in more detail, hearing Shadowheart's voice.

“Did you find something?”

“No”, Sylvia said, slamming the book shut. A pile of dust hit her right in the face, unpleasantly tickling her nose. “Nothing special, some junk”, she muttered, sneezing loudly the next minute.

“God bless you, sweetheart”, Astarion's voice rang out from the other end of the basement. “I don't understand why the hell we have to rummage around here. That idiot probably lied to us about the lamp. Because if I were crooks and scoundrels, I would have stolen this lamp and sold it long ago. Before that, of course, using all the desires.”

“Well, he said that no one robbed the house. Only the ghosts came from somewhere”, added Gale, who was rummaging through a shelf with flasks and bottles.

While they chatted casually among themselves, Sylvia carefully stuffed the old book into her backpack, hoping that no one would notice and discover the strange find later. After a little theft, it became an impossible task to focus on finding the gin lamp. Her thoughts kept returning to the book in her backpack, waiting for Sylvia's curious nose to poke into it again. Fortunately, Shadowheart found the lamp, noticing it in a pile of junk next to a bookshelf. However, it turned out to be the same pile of junk, and no genie appeared in front of them when Astarion rubbed the edge of the rusty metal.

They returned the lamp to the unfortunate old man and received the desired money, after which they went to the camp. Dusk fell on the outskirts of the Lower City. A cool wind was blowing from the sea. Sylvia quickly retreated to her tent. There was plenty of time before dinner, so she couldn't wait to get back to the stolen book.

«Notes on pleasures and other love tips for the inhabitants of Faerûn» — that's what the book was called. Sylvia, who knew quite a bit about these very pleasures due to the lack of normal experience, flipped through the pages with the curiosity of a child and felt her cheeks blush every now and then. The author described in detail various caresses and ways how you can give pleasure not only to yourself, but also to your partner. She was reading excitedly, already wanting to check out some things on Astarion, but suddenly her purple eyes caught on a paragraph almost in the middle of the book. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. Cheeks instantly flushed, and the question arose in her head: "Is it possible?", and then another one: "Why didn't I figure it out earlier?"

She hunched over, buried her nose in the book, trying to absorb all the details and remember exactly what to do and how to do it. Without teeth, so as not to cause discomfort. Take your time to prolong the pleasure. Do not forget about the control. Control? Sylvia was embarrassed. It was hardly possible to think of any control in such a situation... If just the thought of it caused such a violent reaction now, then it's scary to imagine what it would be like for her directly in action.

“Are you going to eat?” Jaheira's voice rang out next to the tent.

“Yeah, yeah, now”, Sylvia muttered, but the book had to be immediately slammed shut and hidden under the pillow, because the tent flap opened. Jaheira looked at her reproachfully. “What?”

“Not "yeah, yeah, now," but now. Although we don't know each other very well, I've already thoroughly studied your habit of ignoring meals because of reading books.”

“Mo-om”, Sylvia drawled sarcastically, which made Jaheira snort. “I'm coming.”

Near the campfire where everyone was gathered, she sat down next to Astarion. They exchanged playful glances, and Sylvia poked him lightly on the shoulder. With a grin, he handed her the bowl of soup that Shadowheart had made.

As usual, the conversation was about anything but their most important problem — the tadpole in their heads and the fight against the Absolute. In the evenings, when their strength was running out, they all wanted to relax and not think about the worries that the coming day would bring.

After dinner, Sylvia clung to Astarion's palms and followed him as he led her to his tent. The only thing that bothered her was Gale's tent nearby. As if there wasn't enough free space. She smiled stupidly at the wizard, who noticed them, but didn't react in any way, and sat down on the pillows while Astarion methodically lit candles on a small table. They chatted casually for a couple of hours before bedtime, sometimes interrupting for gentle glances and touches. And with each gentle kiss, she was more and more impatient to come to him at night to conduct a little experiment. However, her stupid shyness didn't allow her to even hint at what dirty thoughts were on her mind.

Just as Sylvia was about to leave, she turned around and tilted her head to one side when Astarion, lounging impressively on the pillows, asked:

“Will I come to you tonight, Sisi?”

“Sure.” She nodded, and then added softly, “Are you hungry?”

“Madly.”

Sylvia, grinning, silently went to her tent.

Desire was slowly but surely creeping up. It inflamed her from the inside, and the book only enhanced the effect. In the tent, she plopped down on a bedroll, enthusiastically reading on and learning more and more details. Biting her lips, Sylvia wondered how it would go, would she ruin their evening with her inept attempts to diversify their leisure time, or would it be one of the best nights?.. Some excitement mixed with anticipation gripped her mind. Waiting only spoils everything. Thoughts were confused in her head, and vulgar images made her squeeze her knees together. At one point, she was ready to lean out of the tent and loudly call Astarion to her. Fortunately, he had already looked in, smiling slyly.

Noticing the book in her hands, he got closer and asked:

“What are you reading?”

Biting her lower lip, she held out the book. Astarion's curious gaze immediately began to study the text. After a moment, a sly grin appeared on his face. Ruby eyes twinkled slyly.

“You're a little mischief, Sisi”, he whispered hoarsely and ran his finger along her chin. Sylvia blushed. “Where did you get this?”

“In that old man's house.”

Astarion raised his eyebrows in surprise. He flipped through a few pages and read it again. Sylvia rested her chin on his shoulder.

“You're not only a mischief, but you're also a bad girl”, he added after a minute, and embarrassed laughter filled the silence. “Who did you get all this from? Hm?”

“I have no idea”, she smiled playfully. Taking the book out of his hands, Sylvia flipped to the right page and timidly admitted, “I want to try this.” Astarion, seeing only one name, chuckled. He doesn't need to read the descriptions and other details. Perhaps this book has nothing to offer him at all. He's too knowledgeable.

Sylvia put down the book, and Astarion stared at her for a long time.

“And how strong is your desire to try?”

After a moment's hesitation, she bent down and gently touched her lips to his neck, where the scar from the bite was. The hot tongue left a wet mark on the skin near the earlobe. Astarion laughed at the slight tickle.

“I really want to make you feel good”, her breath burned his ear. Her fingers gently slid down his neck to the collar of his shirt. Astarion looked into violet eyes full of desire and mischievous curiosity. “Of course, I have no experience at all, but I really want to try everything new with you.”

“How badly I influence you, darling”, Astarion grinned and kissed her on the lips. Sylvia mumbled languidly in response. “But who am I to stop you?”

The next wet kiss almost drove them crazy. Sylvia settled confidently on his hips, feeling how his cold palms immediately got under the fabric of her thin shirt. Goosebumps slid up her back to her neck. She exhaled into Astarion's lips, who pulled her closer to him, placing his palm possessively on her ass.

Without further ado, they leisurely stripped each other of their clothes. With each kiss and touch, Sylvia became more confident. Desire overwhelmed her. And tonight she completely took the initiative into her own hands, and Astarion obediently gave in and patiently waited for what she would do next.

Gently pushing him in the shoulders, she forced him to lie down on the pillows, and she began to make a path of kisses from his chin to his stomach. Methodically and enthusiastically. She enjoyed every inch of his cold, pale skin. The relief of the muscles made her head spin, and a knot tightened in the lower abdomen, requiring discharge. But Sylvia tried to remember what was written in the book, and enthusiastically continued to caress first Astarion's chest, and then his stomach.

His breathing became ragged and hoarse. Soft moans softly touched her ears. Sylvia circled his navel with her tongue and finally began to descend lower until she came across the fabric of his pants.

The besotted gaze of the purple eyes met his playful one.

Astarion, propping himself up on his elbows, watched with special delight as her deft fingers pulled his pants down along with his underpants. She did it carefully, taking her time. Her hands were shaking a little, just like on their very first night. Her excitement didn't allow her to act decisively. Sylvia tossed his pants and underpants aside and suddenly smiled shyly at him. At the last moment, she hesitated, not knowing how to begin.

“You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Sisi”, Astarion said gently, seeing her hesitation. “We can—”

“No. I want to”, she ran her hands over his hips, “just... a little shy.”

He lay back down on the pillows with his hands behind his head.

“Do not rush. You have the whole night before dawn. Maybe your shyness will pass”, he grinned teasingly, and Sylvia, wrinkling her nose, poked him in the side with her finger. “Ouch!”

The look of ruby eyes crossed with violet ones, in which truly devilish sparks danced. Astarion couldn't help but chuckle, and then bit his lower lip as she bent down again and began to cover his lower abdomen with kisses. Sylvia tried to push away all her embarrassment and excitement. Lines from the book popped into her head. Need to be braver. It must be remembered that Astarion will definitely like it. So she pulled back a little, took his aroused flesh in her hand and ran her palm along it a couple of times. In response, there was a languid moan, spurring to more confident caresses.

Sylvia's ears and cheeks were burning with excitement. She ran her tongue along the trunk, feeling how this minor action excited her more, and made Astarion exhale. Another groan rang out throughout the tent. Sylvia took his cock in her mouth and slowly began to move. Finally, the embarrassment receded, and there was nothing left but a burning desire to bring him to intoxicating ecstasy.

Sylvia pulled back to catch her breath. She looked at him blearily and smiled seductively, licking her lips. His chest was heaving heavily. His face was filled with languor, and his eyes shone with bliss. Astarion smiled at her, whispering:

“Don't worry, Sisi, I love it.”

Sylvia bent down, ran her tongue over the head and took the penis back into her mouth, acting more confidently, accelerating. Her fingers gripped his thigh. Everything was burning between her legs, and she wanted to be in a different position as soon as possible. To feel him inside. But she reminded herself with every friction that she needed to please him.

Suddenly, Astarion's soft, confused whisper began to reach her pointy ears. Her name was repeated over and over again, like a mantra. The moans grew louder and longer. His fingers dug into her golden curls, which tickled his hips slightly with every movement.

Instantly, the world around him ceased to exist. She concentrated on the rhythm, which she set herself, closing her eyes. Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest. Astarion's moans, like the most beautiful music in the world, caressed her ears. The knot in her lower abdomen tightened, demanding immediate release, but she tried to ignore her own desire until the last moment.

“Sisi, my sweet...” he whispered haltingly, and pressed his palm a little harder on the back of the elf's head, gathering her golden hair into a fist. “Yes... That's so good...”

Another moan, full of pleasure, escaped from his lips, and it seemed to be heard far beyond the tent. However, the pleasure is so great that Astarion didn't care at all if anyone else would hear them. Pleasant cramps passed through his muscles, causing the body to tremble as Sylvia accelerated. The highest point of ecstasy was inexorably approaching.

“Baby, wait”, Astarion breathed, and Sylvia somehow forced herself to pull away. Her cheeks were flushed, as were her ears, and her lips were seductively shiny. Her gaze is wild, besotted. Just the sight of her right now could drive him crazy. Astarion found the strength and sat down to pull her to him by the neck, biting into her lips with a passionate kiss. It was strange to feel his own taste, but Astarion didn't disdain. He only moaned again when he felt her palm on his cock throbbing with excitement. A few more movements brought him to orgasm. Astarion shuddered as he came. His sweet moan filled the entire tent. His heart skipped a beat.

Sylvia pulled back and looked into his eyes, full of true pleasure.

“Well, did I manage?” she asked slyly in a whisper. She wiped her hand, stained with his seed, on the blanket. Astarion took a deep breath with a blissful groan and smiled.

“It's not bad for the first time, darling”, he pronounced the verdict, as if he were a judge in a tournament, and pulled her to him, sitting her on his hips, which were still trembling a little from the pleasure he received. Sylvia ran her hands over his shoulders, which were covered with beads of sweat. “But practice doesn't hurt.”

She laughed softly.

“You're burning up”, Astarion whispered. His hand slid down her back and slowly moved to her stomach. Sylvia bit her lower lip and pressed her forehead against his. Another timid groan rang through the tent. Astarion's fingers shamelessly slid between her legs, starting to caress her clitoris. “Do you want me, Sisi?”

“Yeah”, she breathed languidly, “badly.”

The next moment, she was on the blanket, pinned down by the weight of Astarion's body, who didn't think to stop for a second. His persistent caresses and kisses made her heart beat faster, and moans burst from her lips again and again. Sylvia lost herself in an overwhelming languor, and she could have sworn that she had never experienced anything better before.

It got hot. Her breath was coming in short gasps. Her cheeks were burning again. A slight tremor ran through her entire body as Astarion showered her lower abdomen and spread her legs wider, digging his nails into the skin of her thighs. He wasn't going to leave her without a reward for such zeal. A hot tongue slid between Sylvia's wet labia, and she shuddered again, moaning.

It didn't take much effort to bring her to orgasm. Astarion watched with special delight as she arched and moaned loudly, for once not shy about being heard. Then, breathing heavily, she relaxed and met his gaze with red, full of passion, eyes.

To top it off, Astarion showered with kisses on the inside of her thighs and only then hovered over her, biting into her swollen lips. Sylvia groaned again. Hands settled on his back, gently stroking the scarred skin.

“I hope you will continue to read this book”, Astarion smiled maliciously, touching her nose with his in a chaste kiss. Sylvia giggled softly. “I really love your eagerness to experiment.”

“I'm ready to explore everything inside and out, just to please you”, she whispered and stroked his chest with her palm.

“You're just precious thing. Well, did you catch your breath?” he asked slyly, and Sylvia raised her eyebrows in surprise. The next moment, another groan filled the tent. The elf smiled languidly. A hot whisper burned her ear: “I suggest we do without experiments now and repeat the old-fashioned way.”

Of course, she didn't refuse and with great pleasure responded to a new passionate kiss, while the book, which had been found completely by accident, lay somewhere at their feet and waited in the wings. Who knew that in the basements of abandoned houses there are such interesting and very useful things.