#I may be a bit burnt on the game now

[dyke-pollinator]

(this ask is a get-out-of-jail-free card to infodump about osrs)

OSRS is by far the best mmo as far as I'm concerned. You can do literally anything in it. It's so simple. Its just a little medieval fantasy point and click RNG simulator. But that simplicity is what makes it so addicting.

You can literally just do whatever the fuck you want on it. The game doesnt hold your hand at all, and while I can see how that would be overwhelming for new folks getting into the game, its an aspect that keeps me coming back.

It's kind of a single player mmo. Like sure there's content to do with other folks, and it can be social at times, but like your account is yours. Everything takes such a long fucking time in that game, especially if you're playing as any type of Ironman account, that the game feels more personal.

Like I don't play nearly as much as some folks that I know and I still have nearly 5000 hours of in game time on a single account and its not even in the late game yet.

Like sure these stats are pretty decent for an iron, but I haven't even started going most of the end game content like Raids, CG, Nightmare, ect.

No only that but I legitimately that the osrs content creators are some of the absolute best gaming content on Youtube. By far. It is insane what some of these people do with the game, all because of how much of a sandbox it is.

Even if you know nothing about osrs or Runescape in general, I would HIGHLY recommend checking our SoupRS on Youtube and watch his Gielinor Games series. All of them. Start with the first season, and watch them all if you like it. Its like a survivor style game with challenges, voting, bannings, and testimonies, all through the lens of osrs.

Settled is one of the funniest motherfuckers on Youtube and has multiple videos about region locked accounts that are still easy to understand for folks who have never played the game.

Jeporite has a NorthernUIM series that leaves me in hysterics every video.

J1mmy is one of those content creators that turns everything he touches into something good. I cannot praise all of his videos enough, including the ones he makes that arent related to osrs. However, his osrs F2P series is one of my favorites.

Hannanie is a trans woman content creator that just makes some of the most off the wall insane videos I've ever seen. Seriously, she made a fucking 21 part series about cutting fucking trees in this game and managed to make every installment a banger. Hannanie is a treasure and everyone should know her content.

Imo the only gaming content on YT that comes even close to osrs is probably Minecraft, but that is mostly because you can do so much modding that the content stays fresh.

Also look at my silly little pets:

I promise you I spooned the shit out of every single one of them.

Rock Golem at 89 mining, Groot at 86 farming, TWO fucking rex pets before 140kc, 42kc thermy.

Plus with the RuneLite client, you can make your in game interaction as customizable as you want. My whole client is fucking Miku themed lmao. The community has made so many amazing plug ins for this game including a full HD client with dynamic lighting effects, increased GPU distance rendering, ect.

OSRS is a great fucking game and you should definitely be playing it. I will take full responsibility for the thousands of hours that you lose to it. I could go on but this post is already a lot longer than I was expecting it to be.

As an aside: Ironman does something to you. Why do I have 117k Light Orbs in my bank? Idfk might need em. 20k gold tiaras? Just in case. 10k snake skin? You never know when something might pop up. Hoard Everything.

[altruistic-meme]

WIP Saturday!!!

from: chapter 9 of (why is there) joy in this poison

[oh look im not dead! go figure]

[melzula]

Ok hear me out. Reader and Zuko go on a run for supplies .Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Zuko gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Zuko later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

a/n: ty for requesting and hope you enjoy anon !

summary: zuko apologizes and receives something in return

What was meant to be a simple trip into town for supplies had quickly turned into a disaster, and Zuko believed it was your recklessness to blame.

You’d been too preoccupied in admiring a local merchant’s vast collection of sea shells to notice the Fire Nation soldier creeping up behind you, and if not for Zuko shoving you out of the way to take on the man himself you surely would have been burnt alive. Your failure to stay aware of your surroundings and lackadaisical attitude had almost gotten you killed, and the Prince made sure to point this out to you afterward.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” He scolds you after dragging you out of the marketplace by the arm and back towards camp.

“I was looking at shells, actually, before you so rudely interrupted,” you correct with an impatient roll of your eyes, but the act only seems to annoy him further.

“This isn’t a game, y/n! We didn’t come here to mess around, we came to quickly get more food and go, and we couldn’t even do that because you were too busy looking at stupid shells to notice your surroundings! You could have been hurt or worse!”

“Relax, ‘your highness,’” you dismiss him defensively, harshly yanking your arm away from his grasp. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not dead. I’m fine. You need to stop overreacting and leave me alone!”

Zuko watches with a scowl as you stomp away from him and towards your tent, ignoring the quizzical looks your friends send your way as you shut the flaps closed.

“What’s her problem?” Toph asks with a raised brow from her spot beside the campfire.

“What did you do?” Katara snaps at the boy with an accusatory glare.

“I didn’t do anything!” Zuko exclaims defensively. “As a matter of fact, I just saved her life and now she’s mad at me!”

“Saved her life? What happened out there?” Aang questions with a worried frown. “Was anyone hurt?”

“A Fire Nation soldier snuck up on her while she was distracted and was about to strike before I pushed y/n out of the way and fought him myself.”

“So… what you’re saying is you guys didn’t get any food?” Sokka notes dejectedly only to receive a scolding smack upside the head from his sister.

“If you saved her life, then why is she so upset?”

“I may have been a bit harsh with her after,” Zuko admits reluctantly, awkwardly grasping at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to snap at her, but I was just frustrated that she wasn’t taking her own safety seriously.”

“Look, that’s just how y/n is sometimes. She’s too trusting of her surroundings sometimes, but you have to gently remind her to be careful,” Sokka explains to his friend. “Maybe if you hadn’t yelled at her she would have taken you seriously.”

“Just give her some time to cool off and apologize later,” Katara advises the fire bender. “She just needs her space.”

Frustrated, Zuko lets out a long sigh before ultimately relenting. Katara is right. He just needs to give you some space to process before bothering you again.

By nightfall the moon has risen in the sky and the rest of your group has called it a day, retreating to their tents to sleep and rest for whatever tomorrow may bring. You still haven’t set foot out of yours since Zuko yelled at you, and the Prince has spent the better half of his day groveling outside waiting for you to emerge. He’s beginning to grow impatient, but he’s also extremely worried. You missed dinner, and no one has been able to get you to come out.

Deciding enough is enough, Zuko takes it upon himself to barge into your tent and check on you. Better you be mad at him for invading your space without permission than for something to be wrong with you without anyone knowing.

When he enters your tent the last thing he expects to find is your figure curled up in your sleeping bag crying. Your body trembles under the blankets and your quiet sniffles are the only sound in the space. If you notice his presence you don’t acknowledge it, and Zuko hesitates before carefully sitting himself beside you.

“Y/n?” He calls out softly, gently pulling the covers back to get a look at your face. Water marks line across your cheeks from tears that had managed to dry off your skin, and it takes you a moment to finally meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry for making you mad,” you whisper meekly, voice cracking with effort after hours of minimal use.

“No, you don’t have to apologize. I should be apologizing for how I acted,” he assures you sincerely, carefully wiping away your remaining tears. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was just worried about your safety- I’m not sure what I would have done if something bad had happened to you.”

“You really mean that?” You sniffle, looking up at him with doubt clear in your eyes.

“Of course I do. I know it probably didn’t seem that way when I was yelling at you, but I’ve come to care a lot for you, and I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

“I didn’t know…” you murmur quietly as you carefully sit up from your sleeping bag to reach eye level with the Prince. “I always figured you just saw me as some annoying girl you had to babysit.”

“Well, maybe at first,” he admits with a sheepish chuckle only to immediately stop when he catches your unamused glare, “but now I look forward to being sent to the market with you. I enjoy your company even if it means having to be more vigilant of our surroundings on your behalf. Can you just promise me that next time you’ll be a little more careful?”

“I promise,” you nod earnestly and, much to Zuko’s surprise, pull him in for a tight hug. He stiffens at first, unsure how to react to the close contact, but eventually he’s able to allow himself a chance to enjoy your warmth and reciprocate your embrace.

Only you could have the grumpy Prince wrapped so tightly around your finger.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

[atlabeth]

true luck's kiss

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of tyche!reader

summary: luke is stuck with a streak of bad luck. what better way to get rid of it than with a child of tyche?

a/n: so this was supposed to come out on st patrick's day but unfortunately im the slowest writer in the world and ive also been doing nothing but watch basketball because we sleep in may. anyways here's a short fluffy blurb because it is getting way too sad in here with my hurricane fics lmao

wc: 1.2k

warning(s): none, this is all fluff. i know crazy coming from me

You grimaced as you pulled the arrow back. Sweat dripped down your forehead and you itched to brush it away, but you ignored the urge as you let out a deep breath. 

“Just like that.” Kimia nodded as she stopped behind you. “Perfect angle—now let it fly.” 

You did, and the weight lifted off your shoulders once the arrow embedded itself in the center of the target. 

“Ending on a bullseye,” she said with a grin. “Great work.” 

“Only way to do it,” you said, smiling at her. “Am I a worthy opponent yet?” 

She chuckled and patted your shoulder as she moved on. “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as Cabin Seven. Today’s not that day.” 

You shook your head with a laugh and took your quiver off your back. “Keep telling yourself that!”

A bow and arrow had become your weapon of choice since the moment you stepped foot into camp, and you’d gotten good over the years—so much so that it was a surprise when your mother claimed you. One day, though, you would get an Apollo kid to admit you were better than them. 

You’d just finished putting all your equipment away, and when you turned back, you were met with a mess of brown curls and shining eyes.

“Luke,” you said, pleasantly surprised. “Didn’t know you were in archery today.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I didn’t come here for archery—I came here for you.”

You chuckled as you gestured with your head, and he got the hint as you started walking together. “How forward of you.”

“It’s a living,” he said with a smile. “How was practice?”

“And small talk?” You pressed a hand to your heart and shook your head. “It must be my lucky day.”

Luke’s smile widened as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. I do wanna hear about your day, though.”

You shrugged. “It was boring. Killed it at archery, nearly got killed on the climbing wall—I was gonna head back to the cabin to chill for a few hours before dinner, but it looks like you’ve taken that slot.” 

He chuckled. “So you are free?” 

“I’ve always got some time to listen to Luke Castellan,” you mused. “What’ve you got?” 

“I’m cursed,” Luke said. 

You stopped in your tracks and looked him right in the eye. “...Cursed.” 

He nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, but it’s gotta be true. I mean, nothing is going right for me. I’ve been off my groove with my sword, I’ve lost every canoe race, I nearly burnt my eyebrows off last time I was in the forge, and my team hasn’t won a game of capture the flag this entire month—” 

“I know,” you interrupted. “I’m in your cabin.” 

“So you know how bad my luck’s been lately!” he exclaimed with a gesture. “It— it was embarrassing, but now it’s just pathetic.” 

“You know I can’t fix it, right?” you said wryly. “I’m not my mom.” 

“That’s what Annabeth said,” Luke mumbled. “But— but I’ve seen the way you live—you’ve got luck on tap! Your strawberries are always the ripest, you somehow find drachmas on the ground, and your volleyball serves are better than anyone’s.”

“I play varsity back home,” you said. “No luck needed.”

“Still,” he emphasized, “you’re naturally lucky. You’ve literally got it in your DNA, and I’m fresh out of it. That’s gotta be worth something.” 

“Not really.” You crossed your arms. “So what do you think I can do about this?” 

Luke shrugged. “I dunno. Say something?" 

You barely managed to stifle a laugh. “Like what?” 

“Pray to Tyche,” he said. “You’re her only kid here—she’s gotta be listening.” 

You bit back your smile as you shook your head. “Fine. Just for you.” 

“Thank you,” Luke sighed, watching with bated breath as you cleared your throat, closed your eyes, and pressed your hands together. 

“Tyche, dearest mother, goddess of luck and fortune—I ask you to shine on Luke Castellan on this day. Smile upon my friend and break his very real curse. If you do this for him, in return, he will do all of my cabin chores for the next month.” 

When you opened your eyes, Luke looked quite unimpressed. “Very funny.” 

“Feel any luckier?” you asked with a smile as you started walking again. 

“I don’t think so,” he said, falling into step with you once more. “Especially because you’re putting conditions in your prayers. I didn’t know we could do that.” 

“My mom has a sense of humor,” you mused. “And I also think I might be her favorite.” 

“Not all of us have that privilege,” he said wryly. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed your arm to stop you.  

“I think I’ve got it,” Luke said. “How about a kiss?” 

Your eyebrows rose, but you couldn’t help showing your amusement. “Now it’s a kiss that’ll break your curse?” 

He shrugged. “Like I said—you’ve got luck in your DNA. Maybe you could pass that along.”  

“Really,” you said dryly. 

“I’ve kinda tried everything,” he said. “A kiss from a lucky and pretty girl is far from the worst option.” 

You chuckled. “You really know how to flatter ‘em.” 

“I try,” he grinned. “Are you up to it?” 

You bit your lip as you looked at Luke. Obviously, he was attractive—you’d always held an appreciation for his curls and the way they would constantly get in his eyes. He cut an impressive figure from constant, year-round training, and he even made the camp shirt look good. And gods, that damned smile got you. 

There were worse things than kissing you, and there were certainly worse things than kissing Luke Castellan. 

“Alright,” you sighed, taking a step forward. “Pucker up, Castellan.” 

Before you could really doubt yourself, you leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t really expecting to actually… like it. 

Your first thought was that Luke’s lips were softer than they had any right to be. Your second thought was that his cologne was the scent always floating around the Hermes cabin. You didn’t really mind, though. 

Luke gently put his hand on the back of your head to keep you there, and the moment lasted much longer than you initially planned. You also didn’t mind, though your thoughts were far more muddled than they should’ve been when you finally managed to pull away. He seemed to have a gift for that. 

You felt your cheeks flush as you looked at him, not even trying to hide your smile. Turns out kissing Luke Castellan was actually pretty great. “Feel any luckier?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a soft grin, his eyes twinkling. You wondered if he had the same thought about you. “Yeah. I really do.” 

“I think that means it’s worked, then,” you said. 

Luke nodded with mock austerity. “We should probably stick together for the rest of the week, though. Just to make sure this bad luck goes away for good.” 

“You might be right,” you said. “And uh— you think you need an extra boost?” You glanced away as you bit back your smile. “Just to be safe and all. To really get rid of this curse.” 

“You know,” he drew your attention back to him as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you leaned in closer. “I think I might.” 

[disregardcanon]

this probably seems like a weird question from your end,but why do fanfic writers care so much about comments? aos already tracks hits and likes, sorry ""kudos"", so why are comments such a big deal to the point that people will stop writing?

okay, so i'm going to take this question very seriously and i promise it's not to make you feel bad. this is a comprehensive explanation of reasons that comments are important for me, both as a writer and as a reader

engagement vs numbers game

seeing trends

buy-in

community building

engagement vs numbers game

let's look quickly at two different fics of mine. this is the kudos count for a fic called Of First Kisses and Burnt Lips

it's old. it's been up on ao3 for almost 11 years now. 258 people liked it enough to leave a kudos, 12 people liked it enough for a bookmark, and it's been clicked on 3,859 times.

i have no clue what almost any of these people on ao3 THINK about it. beyond "huh. sure. i'll kudos that". compare this to its crosspost on ffn, where i got 5 reviews

3/5 mention it being cute. 3/5 give appreciation to me for taking the time to write it. 2/5 praise the writing itself from the attention to detail with grammar to the craft. 1/5 is an "um..." which is hard to decipher but appreciate and 1/5 is a silly reaction, but it's a reaction! look, someone felt a felling reading my thing! that made me giggle!

looking at the stats here from a purely numbers perspective, my fic DID better on ao3. it got a lot more kudos than it ever got faves or reviews on ffn. but those ffn comments are still what i think about when i remember this fic.

sure, a shear number like hits or kudos can be comforting and motivating. i'm definitely not telling you to NOT leave kudos! but the fics that i've come back to, recently, are the ones where i don't have a lot of kudos but i do have a few people who are invested in the stories and leaving comments to tell me

2. seeing trends

lets look at a few of the comments on my fic The Maid of Honor Made Them Do It

so just in these two comments, we see both commenters hone in on the same detail: my choice to include a special christian music playlist that this characters' friends made for her. a few other people in this thread mentioned that same detail, so i know this bit really worked well! it's great feedback that lets me know that a good chunk of readers agree with my characterization here.

these readers zoom in on specific details that they really liked! things that made them laugh, the absurdity of the concept, enjoying reading it, and that they could see it staged, which is a HUGE compliment for a work in a fandom for theater.

i've always had trouble with imaging where characters are in a space, how they're occupying it and moving, and how to use that for characterization purposes. however, i got more than one comment on this fic about how people could see it staged! that means that i'm improving in an area that i've always struggled with. that's huge. it makes me want to keep working on this thing! it makes me feel like what i'm doing here matters, because lots of people are picking up on similar things! they're invested enough to give me a comment! and it makes me want to keep writing for the hatchetfield fandom because some people are invested in my work here. that is BIG! seeing trends in the way that readers experience your story helps a lot with writer buy-in for a project and also for writers self-analysis.

as a commenter: this helps me JUST as much. when i really dig into what i enjoyed about a fic to tell the writer about it, that helps me analyze and articulate the strengths and things i might want to take away from the storytelling, and that makes my writing better too!

3. buy-in

this is a comment on a series that has less than 100 kudos across three fics, but has thoughtful, appreciative comments on each work. it's called Melting Pot

the commenter deleted their ao3 account. they may be one of the people who commented on the next fic, which i posted recently. they might NOT have been! honestly, it doesn't matter that much to me. this person gave me a gentle and nudge about a fic that matters to me and mattered to them at the time, and they were part of the push i needed to get back to it.

from a commenter perspective, i know that hearing a kind word can help someone keep up their motivation to write, even when i can't write in depth comments the way that i like to!

just recently i only had the time to comment "nice update" on a favorite fic of mine called Teeth That Turn. but they know that i come and i read and they know and talk to me by (user)name. because they know i care about this thing they care about! and it's way more fun to do something like this when i know i can chat with the author about theories and thoughts and ideas. and this isn't a "wow aren't i so cool other writers like me! tehehe" bragging thing, it's just evidence for the case of why comments matter?

if i didn't want this to be a two way buy-in, i'd ONLY read published fiction, you know? we're all playing in the sandbox on the playground and i like what they made. they like that i like what they made :) we're scheduling a play date to fight with sticks after school my mom said it's okay!

4. community building

now i know that i just mentioned above here why i like being a commenter and how it helps authors, as well as why i like HAVING commenters as an author. i'm still arguing those things as a lead up to this section, where i have two other points to make about community building here too.

1. you can comment on OTHER comments! if you go through and read to see what other people are saying, you can agree with them. you can add some commentary! sometimes you can make a joke! and i've only ever had fun responses from something like that. authors tend to love that their fics are getting such a response that people are talking to each other about it! like look!!!!!! my thing got you to talk to someone else about it holy shit?!??!

2. commenting on fics in your fandom builds you a good reputation and makes other authors you comment on more likely to read YOUR fic. i'm not going to post any screenshots on this one because it would be embarrassing for everyone involved, but there have been authors that i really admired who gave my stuff a try after i commented on theirs. and they've told me that's why they tried it! like obviously it's not just networking or whatever, but it's really nice to have someone give your stuff a try because you've been enthusiastic and thoughtful about theirs.

and you make friends this way! fandom friends! who want to talk about your blorbos! you get to go on little play dates in cyberspace with cool people who like what you like. you don't ever HAVE to be a writer, of course. if you don't want to throw your hat into the ring or make art or edits or gif sets or anything, that's cool. no one ever has to participate in fandom outside of their comfort zone! but if you want to, you know that you'll feel more welcomed if you have some people in your corner for it, and making friends in a space, screaming about how much you love the characters you love, and remembering that fic authors especially are just fans too will help you feel like you "deserve" to exist in the space. maybe you don't write, but you go here too. you've got a space in the fandom and your comments don't have to be, like, perfect literary essays for authors to appreciate them and get a motivation boost from them still existing and us being able to go back to them and go!!! look!!! i don't suck!!! this person liked what i did so i'm okay! :)

[cellbitupdates]

May/Future updates (aka what Cellbit discussed at the start of stream today)

Figured I'd do a summary post with some of the stuff he talked about today, particularly schedule changes & length of streams, where he'll be streaming, etc. etc.

Because his contract will be up and he's feeling really stressed with ordem & enigma do medo work (and needs personal time with loved ones), he's going to be doing shorter streams, like he's been saying for a while now. He said he'll be aiming for 4 hours but it'll depend, sometimes it'll be longer, sometimes shorter.

He also plans to take more breaks and will likely take more days off during the week.

Again, since his contract will be up with Twitch, he might stream elsewhere, but he will continue to stream on Twitch, he just might simulcast on YouTube etc. to feel things out.

He's feeling really stressed, like I already said, and doesn't want to get to a point of being completely burnt out or getting upset with his audience. He said he thought about taking a two week break once his contract is over but he decided he probably won't (although if he does take a break sometime in the next couple months or so, I would not be surprised).

He does not want people to baby him over this. He's an adult, he chooses what to put on his own plate, and it's his decision to make his schedule so busy, which is why he's now adjusting things to make everything less stressful. He does not want people telling him off for it or acting like they personally know him and need to be super worried about him. Don't be parasocial.

In terms of other content coming up, he's going to announce something tomorrow (not a new ordem season or anything that big, just something they've been working on for a bit). He also is going to be in a friend's let's play series of some kind of game, and he said it was really fun and he's looking forward to people seeing it. He'll wait to talk about it until they announce it.

He basically did a little Q&A about Enigma do Medo and talked a little about development stuff, I believe it started about 4 hours into the stream.

I think that's all the important things, but if you have any clarifying questions, you can let me know. Tl;dr he's stressed as hell and wants to do less streams for his own health and to lessen the load of everything he has going on.

[harmonictechnicality]

Right - so we all know and love, ‘can you teach me how to shotgun?’ Steve and Eddie makeout scenes.

But may I suggest, ‘there’s a heatwave in Hawkins so we should freeze-kiss each other’ Steve and Eddie makeout scenes.

Like it’s so damn hot in Hawkins, even the air conditioning unit in Steve Harrington’s rich, suburban home isn’t working.

Steve and Eddie planned to hang out all day. Swimming in the pool or watching reruns of whatever is on tv that afternoon…

But the scorching heat is making it impossible to do anything besides laying flat on the floor.

As the day goes on, Eddie gets badly burnt and Steve tries to cheer him up.

“The redness just makes your tattoos look way more badass.” He tells him, while grabbing extra ice packets out of the cooler.

“This is hopeless, Harrington.” Eddie takes the ice, setting it over the burn on his thigh.

“What’s hopeless?”

“Savoring the chill hangout we were supposed to have today. It’s fucking brutal out there.”

But Steve doesn’t want to stop hanging out with Eddie. His hair is sticking to the back of his neck and his clothes are a pound heavier from how drenched he is.

So yeah, he feels gross as hell. But he wants Eddie to stay so they can be cranky and miserable together.

Eddie downs another water bottle, let’s it crackle into his fist.

“I hate summer.” He grumbles tossing the empty bottle aimlessly.

“You hate all of summer, just because of one heatwave?” Steve teases.

Eddie rolls onto his stomach and scoffs. “Yeah - because practically every day has been hot and sticky and gross.”

“Yeah well…” Steve shrugs. “That’s how this season typically goes.”

“It just sucks because I had plans.”

“Plans?”

“Yeah.” Eddie gets up, inspects their drink supply. “And they were good too - you would’ve loved them.”

“How do you know that I - personally - would’ve loved these mysterious plans?”

Eddie hides a smile through tucked lips. “Cause they heavily involved you. And I know just how self-absorbed you can be.”

“I do love shit that involves me.” Steve can’t deny it even a little. Loves to be the center-sun of everyone else’s solar system.

Hates the actual sun right now though.

“Out with it, Munson.” He kicks at Eddie’s bare foot with his own. Because socks of any kind during this weather would’ve be outrageous.

Eddie walks back over, tossing his hair into a messy ponytail.

“I was finally gonna put my moves on you.”

“Put your moves on me? Who are you - John Travolta?”

“Would you be into that?” Eddie snaps back with a grin.

Steve attempts to swat away how flustered that just made him. Stampers his words a bit before recovering. “So what was your move gonna be?”

Eddie tilts his head to the side. “I was gonna ask if you wanted me to teach you how to shotgun smoke to each other.”

Oh shit. Steve already knows how to do that - he learned after homecoming freshman year.

But he totally would’ve played dumb so that he’d have an excuse to kiss Eddie.

“However, there’s no way in hell I’m smoking a joint right now - it’s way too hot for that shit.” Eddie determines, sorta saddened by that fact.

Steve glances at the ice pack on Eddie’s thigh (okay, he was looking at Eddie’s thigh and the ice pack just happened to be there - but whatever).

He gets an idea.

“I have a game to help us cool off maybe.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie looks mildly interested again. “Spill it, Harrington.”

Steve sits next to the cooler, motioning for Eddie to join him. “It’s called freeze-kiss.”

Eddie blinks hard. “What are the rules?”

Steve takes in a breath, letting it out as he explains:

“You set a timer. Put a piece of ice in your mouth and pass it back-and-forth to the other person’s mouth until melts. Then you check the timer to see how long it lasted.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, tries to cover the goofy smile on his face with his hand. “That sounds a lot like a make-out game.”

“Oh, and shotgunning isn’t a make-out game?”

“You got me there.” Eddie admits. He picks up a piece of ice from the cooler, placing it between his teeth. “Are we’re doing this or what?”

Steve sets the timer on his watch and leans in.

“We’re definitely doing this.”

Eddie closes his mouth around the ice and bends lower to meet Steve in the middle.

At first, Eddie let’s it be just that. A kiss.

No ice. No game. Just their lips that are damp from sweat and the lingering bits of water off the ice.

But after they explore what the just-kiss feels like, Eddie opens his mouth and dips Steve’s chin to pass the ice at a better angle.

The coolness of the ice is mixing with the warmth of Eddie’s tongue. Steve can’t compute which temperature feels better anymore. Just needs more of both sensations.

Steve takes the ice fully, closing his mouth around it and chasing Eddie’s lips back over his own. The kiss is extra wet now from how melty it’s all getting from this heat.

The summer heat, sure. But right now, it’s mostly their heat.

Eddie tugs at Steve’s shirt, impatient to get him closer - even if they’re both sweaty messes. Steve opens his mouth just slightly, yet Eddie’s tongue is already pushing it further. Greedy to take the ice back with no help.

And because Steve is a brat, he closes his mouth over the ice. Refusing to let Eddie take it.

“No fair.” Eddie whines, mouth hovering over Steve’s. Coaxing him to open back up with small little pecks at the corners of his mouth.

Steve holds Eddie by the neck, keeping him still to share the piece again. Eddie opens, taking it quickly, but keeping his tongue over Steve’s longer than the transfer really needed.

There’s not much left to the ice, it’s just a thin layer now being swapped around by tongues and lips and spit. The brief chill moving with it - each of them fighting to feel that polarizing mix of hot and cold back in their mouth.

The ice is long gone by now, but they’re still kissing the same way - as if it were still there. Open mouths and swirling tongues. Nothing has changed except for the point of the kiss in the first.

Now it’s just kissing to kiss.

Steve never even stopped the timer on his watch.

So even though their excuse to kiss has melted away, this moment together is very much frozen in time.

[friendship-ditch]

Katniss x reader where r is coins daughter?

Anywhere

(Katniss Everdeen x Fem Reader) ❀

Summary: Being the daughter of President Coin herself, you have a bit more freedom than others to do what you want. And after meeting District 13's newcomer, Katniss Everdeen, you use that freedom to make her feel at home.

Warnings/Notes: None! Also, I loved this request, thanks for sending it!

Word Count: 3240

  “Then you should’ve saved Peeta.”

  You heard the unfamiliar, angry voice from far down the hall, echoing off the metallic walls.  It was cut off by someone else speaking, and then the sound of a door slamming open.

  Right when you reached the end of the hall, you collided with her.

  She smacked into you and then jumped back, clearly just as startled as you were.  She wasn’t from around here, that was for sure.  

  Her District 13 attire was new and hung loosely from her thin, underfed body.  Her dark hair was borderline out of control and she had this distinct smell of forests and nature that you’d never known below ground. 

  She stared at you through eyes that were a grayish blue, teary, and hollow in a way, then she stalked off in the direction of the elevator.  Boggs hurried out of the room on her trail seconds afterward.

  Once they’d both disappeared down the hallway, you waited a moment and then stepped into the meeting room.  

  You saw Beetee off to the side, thinking over his own problems in his intelligent mind, and on the other side of the table were the man you’d come to know as Plutarch, and President Coin, who you would usually just call ‘Mom.’

  “Who was that?”  You asked, casting a side glance to the doorway and reimagining that girl.  

  “That–that was Katniss Everdeen.”  Plutarch responded as he stood up.  “Our Mockingjay.”

  “She is not fit to be the Mockingjay,” snapped Coin as she turned in her chair to face you.  She gave you a soft smile that didn’t meet her eyes and then looked over her shoulder at Plutarch.  “That girl is broken.  She does not feel at home here.  She has nobody.  She’s been destroyed by the games.”

  You watched the two converse quietly.  This had happened a lot in the past few days, you hadn’t seen this much activity down here in ages.  Your mother, of course, denied letting you help, but Plutarch seemed to notice your willingness as he suddenly looked at you.

  “Then let's make her feel at home.”  He said, meeting your eyes with a smile.  “Y/n?”

  You blinked in surprise.  “You want me to be her friend?”

  “No.”  Coin interrupted before any sort of plan could be made.  “Y/n, I appreciate your willingness to help, but it’s not necessary.  Katniss Everdeen, as brave as she may have been before, is a fire burnt out.  We will find somebody capable to take the job.”

  You scowled.  

  There were two sides to your mother; the kind, caring and gentle one that you’d come to know best as had the District, and the super controlling one that grew bitter when things spiraled in a direction that was not hers.  You were the only thing that could roam wild without much more than a sigh, and you used that to your advantage, often.

  “She’s my age.”  You sat on the edge of the table.  “I could be her friend, then maybe she’d trust us more.”  You’d heard of Katniss, heard of what she’d done, and seen her multiple times on the TV, you just couldn’t recognize her now.  But now that the idea was in your head… you wanted to get to know her.  “You can’t just give up on her.”

  “Your daughter is right, Madam President.”  Plutarch flashed you a quick smile.  “Katniss has built too many walls and her fire has no oxygen, we just need somebody to break them down, then we can reignite her.”

  You silently rolled your eyes at the amount of analogies being used but turned to your mother with insistent eyes, silently begging her to agree.  You could use a new friend, and it sure looked like Katniss could too.

  Coin looked between the two of you with narrowed eyes, and then she heaved that heavy sigh that usually meant she had no choice but to agree.  

  “Okay.”  She said slowly, reaching to grab your hand.  “You’ll only have a few days, at least to convince her to work with us.  We’re running out of time.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”  You assured her with a big grin.  “How hard could it be?”

  Coin just squeezed your hand and nodded with a tentative expression.

  You found out a few hours later that it was much harder than you thought, even just to find this Katniss.  She was elusive, as if she didn’t exist at all.  

  You eventually resorted to finding Primrose, her sister, who told you where she’d be: her living quarters.  She hardly ever left them unless dragged out.

  “Hello?”  You peered into the room, scanning for some sort of dark shape, a body sunken into rough gray clothing, a face hidden behind untamed hair.  When you finally saw her sitting in the corner, it was as if your heart skipped a beat.

  Katniss stared at you like a cornered stray, nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed.  She didn’t speak or move, almost like a rock.

  “I’m uh, I’m Y/n.”  You stammered.  Had this been a mistake?  You were too far in to back down now.  “You’re Katniss, right?”

  The rock of a girl stared back at you.  “What does it matter?”  Her voice was grave, grumpy.  Adjusting to District 13 wasn’t very easy for anyone from the surface but she was clearly struggling harder than most.

  “I’m your…” you bit your lip, thinking of something to say, “tour guide.  Yeah, your tour guide, of District 13.  Formally sent by President Coin herself.”

  The lie, as stupid as it was, seemed to intrigue her ever so slightly as she sat up a little straighter.

  “What?”

  Okay, maybe she wasn’t that accepting of the idea yet.

  “They figured that if you got to know the place a little bit better, you could maybe feel more at home here.”  You explained, finally stepping fully into the room.  “Boggs was going to do it, but they thought maybe if I, someone your age, did, you’d feel better.”

  “Nothing will make me feel better.  And nothing will make this feel like home.”  Katniss muttered with a heavy sigh.  

  She seemed to regret the bitterness of her words though as she turned to look at you once more, her tone softer.  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s alright.”  You shrugged.  Back still pressed into the wall, you took a step closer to her.  “I’d.. probably be the same way if I was in your situation.  I understand that District 13 is not the coziest place in the world, but once you get used to it, it’s not too bad.”

  “Do you ever see the sun?”  Katniss stiffly stood up as if her body really was made of rocks.

  You paused.  “I do, a lot more than the others do.”  

  Sneaking up to the surface was a forbidden practice but you’d found a way up and didn’t tell anyone else.  It’s not like your mother would care anyway, she was often too busy to inflict any punishments on you.

  “But sometimes we go up in big groups, when the weather is nice.”  You add.  “We’re not complete cave dwellers.  Of course, there are some that are scared of the surface, but it’s not taboo.”

  Katniss slowly approached you now.  She towered over you by a few inches but her stature was uneasy.  “They seem very strict down here.”

  “They are.”  You shrugged and opened the door for her.  “But, you’re special, so that doesn’t matter.”

  “Special?”  She followed you into the hallway.  “I’m not special… if anything, I'm taking up more space.”

  This drew a spurt of laughter from your lips and a surprised expression on her face.

  “You’re like a legend down here.”  You chuckled.  “Most citizens will probably ignore you, but everybody knows who you are.  And then there are people like Plutarch and my mom who you’re really important to, even if they won’t admit it.”

  “Your mom?”  Katniss seemed surprised by this.  “Who’s your mom?”

  “That’s not important.”

  She scrunched her nose.  “Come on, tell me.”  

  The banter brought a small smile to your face.  You were breaking through to her, slowly, but surely.  

  “I’ll give you a hint.  You know her.”

  “I know a lot of people.”

  “But not a lot of people down here.”

  Katniss groaned.  She followed you into the elevator and leaned into the wall.  “I hardly know anybody down here.”

  You shrugged, smirking a little at her sudden annoyance.  Once the two of you landed on the floor you wanted, you showed her the cafeteria, and then took a left down another seemingly endless hallway in this metallic maze.

  “Think through the people you do know.”

  “Are you sure I know her?”

  “Very.  She told me she met you.”  Guiding her up a staircase tucked away to the side, you showed her some of the meeting rooms and offices in the government wing.

  Katniss bit her lip and studied you, looking at your features intently and trying to piece it together.  You didn’t look like anybody…

  “One more hint.”

  “The grayest person you’ve ever seen.”

  Bingo.  Katniss stopped and stared.

  “President Coin?”

  You grinned and whirled to face her.  “No, I’m y/n Coin.”

  If Katniss’s jaw wasn’t attached to her head, it would’ve fallen off.  She stared at you for a few moments, then shook off the shock.  She’d been friends with the Mayor's daughter back home, this wasn’t any different.  But still…

  “You seem shocked.”  You observed teasingly.

  Katniss’s pale face flushed a little and she quietly followed you down the hall once more.  “Sorry.  I just.. I don’t know, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to have children.  At least… not ones around my age.”

  You laughed softly.  “Well, I’m not her..  biological daughter.  She had one that was a few years older than me, but she died a little while back in an epidemic, so did my Dad.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”  Katniss’s shock softened into sympathy.  “I couldn’t imagine losing my sister…”

  “It’s alright.  She was kind of an asshole.”  You smiled weakly.  “It hit my mother much harder than it hit me, though.” 

  Katniss solemnly nodded and the two of you walked in a gentle silence before she spoke again.  “I lost my dad too.”

  “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”  

  The two of you exchanged a knowing glance, both silently acknowledging the quiet bond that was forming between you.  It was something both of you had been lacking for a while, but it felt good.

  Maybe she could be your friend.

  You just smiled gently at her and continued to walk.  “Well, we’re still here.”

  “Yeah…”  Katniss’s voice trailed off as she nodded once more.  She fiddled with a small black pearl as the two of you walked through the empty hall.  “Where… are we going anyway?”

  “Somewhere cool.”

  “I don’t really like surprises.”

  “You’ll like this one.”  You assured her, approaching an old door.  The lock had been busted years ago and was covered in rust.  You flashed Katniss a grin and then nudged the door open and entered.

  Inside was a huge, abandoned control room.  There were rows of platforms and forgotten machines left behind.  Half of the lights didn’t work but you’d been repairing them slowly, making them warmer, homier.

  The room looked as if it went on forever through the darkness around the edges.

  A few personal items were scattered around too, some cushions off to one side, some no-light flowers growing in some pots and some other little knick-knacks you preferred to hide rather than keep in your living quarters.  

  Katniss looked around in awe, her eyes chasing up the metal walls to the tall ceiling.  District 13 was impressive in itself, but this was even better.  This was a place that had been inhabited by humans, not the militaristic machines that roamed these halls.

  “What is this place?”  Her voice echoed through the quiet air.

  “It was an old mission control room.  The old president had most things run here, but after my mom took over, they moved closer to the center of the bunker.”  You explained, turning on a few more scattered lights you’d set around to keep out the shadows.  “But now, it’s my hideout.”

  Katniss looked at you with the warmest smile you’d seen on her cold stone face yet, and you knew you were making progress.

  The two of you spent hours in this hideout, talking, laughing, and seemingly forgetting about everything else that lay outside these walls.  It was something you’d both desperately needed and when you left, you felt like real friends.

  Even President Coin and Plutarch were surprised by the changes in Katniss.  She was still a little uneasy about being the Mockingjay, but you’d convinced her and supported her through it.

  After Katniss and her team went to District 12, you bid her goodbye and were going to work when your mother called you aside.

  She looked at you, her gray eyes studying your face as if searching for an answer to a question nobody had ever asked, until she finally spoke.

  “Katniss seems a lot happier.”

  “Yeah, she does.”  You smiled, sitting across from her.  “I’m glad she is.  She’s been through so much, and I know she misses Peeta, but–”

  “You seem happier too.”

  “I do?”

  Coin nodded, leaning towards you a little.  Her hand clasped yours gently and she tilted her head, long, perfect hair falling into her face a little.

  “I haven’t seen you this happy in ages.”  A rare smile softly spread across her lips.  “I know I haven’t been around a lot for you either, but… I haven’t seen you this happy since your father died.  It’s really nice.”   She never said his name, nor the name of your sister, the words were too painful for her, made her feel weak.  You would’ve yelled at her for that in the past but now it didn’t really matter.  You understood in a way, you couldn’t imagine losing…

  “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”  Coin finally said after a long pause.  “We don’t know how long this rebellion is going to last, how long she’s going to be here, what will happen after–”

  “What are you talking about?”  You frowned in confusion.  

  “I know you care about Katniss, a lot,” she said in a lower voice, “maybe you even love her…”

  Love her?  You hadn’t thought about it like that before…  You didn’t love Katniss, you couldn’t.

  But yet you thought about it anyway; how she’d sneak out past curfew and into your room after a nightmare so you could cuddle and lull her back to sleep, how during her propaganda filmings you were always right there and supporting her, how she told you everything, how dearly she missed her friend Peeta, stories from District 12, even the things she’d never spoken before… and you’d done the same.

  Your mother watched the realization dawn on your expression with a calm face.  She squeezed your hand gently and then reached to nudge hair out of your face.

  “You knew?  For… for how long?”  You stammered.

  She chuckled softly.  “Of course I knew.  I knew since you first agreed to be her friend.” 

  You blushed a little and looked away, embarrassed your mother had figured this out before you, but she gently turned your face back in her direction.

  “I’m okay with it, if it makes you happy.”  Coin whispered softly.  “But I really don’t want you to get hurt.  You have to understand that.  I’ll do everything I can to make you happy, but… I don’t know, I’m just worried.”

  Your heart swelled in your chest and you leaned into her hand with a smile.  “I know.  I know you’ll always worry about me… but I think it will be okay.”

  “I do too.”

  “Thank you.”  You whispered softly.  “Really, thank you.”

  The stark president, and your loving mother, chuckled softly again and nodded.  “Of course, y/n.”  She murmured, then glanced at the clock on the wall.  “I believe the team will have returned by now, if you want to talk to her.”

  You were about to run off, then stopped.  “Actually, I have an idea.”

  Later that night, once the sun had set, you’d convinced Plutarch to send Katniss to the surface for… some sort of reason, you’d left that up to him.

  And when Katniss arrived back in the soft dirt of the forest, she found a trail of your flowers.  She picked each one up and followed the trail until she finally found the second surprise she’d ever love.

  You’d set up a small little area in the middle of the forest; lights were strung from tree to tree, flowers were practically everywhere, and there was some actual edible looking food set out on a blanket for the both of you.

  You were sitting at the edge of the shadows, watching softly.

  When Katniss saw you, her new bouquet in her hands, she just stared at you.  Her gray eyes were dark in the night but they were on you, waiting for you to say something.

  “Hi.”  You stuttered, meeting her in the middle of the clearing.  “I uhm… I would’ve invited you here myself, but I was busy setting up and–”

  “How did you do this?”  Katniss looked around in awe, just as she had at your hideout.  You kept pleasantly surprising her and she was more enthralled every time.  “And… why..?”

  “I’m the President's daughter, I can get away with a lot.”  You grinned, fighting the stampede in your chest.  “And because… I don’t know how long you’re going to be here, or how long this is going to last, so I have to say it now.”  You took a shaky breath.  “I love you, Katniss..  I really do.  I know I sound insane and all but–”

  Katniss cut you off with a soft kiss.

  When she pulled away, she was smiling, and crying.  Hot tears dribbled down her face and the hand not holding the bouquet was trying to wipe them away but it was futile.  

  “I love you too.”  Katniss whispered softly, voice breaking.  She’d never said those words before, not like this, but she wanted to say them forever and ever now.

  And you would listen to every single one.  You smiled and cupped her face gently.  

  “You’ve made me feel safe here, feel like… I’m not alone.”  Katniss whispered through her tears.  She smiled pathetically at her emotions and tried to wipe them away again.  “I-I never thought anything would make me trust District 13, but you’re here and… and I love you, so much.”

  “I don’t care where you are, or what you’re doing, I’m always going to love you too.”  You whispered with the same teary smile.  You pulled her into a tight hug, that once rock of a girl now human, and yours.  She buried her face into your neck, gently dropping the flowers so she didn’t squish them.

  “I don’t know what will happen after the war, but I want to be with you.”  You continued softly into her ear, feeling her squeeze you tightly.  “I’ll go anywhere with you.” 

  “I’d be… anywhere that you are.”

  “Really..?”

  “Of course.”

  Katniss lifted her head back up, face red and streaked with salty tears, but her smile was beaming now.  She looked into your loving eyes and then kissed you once more.

[dragonrider9905]

Celebrating You!

Hi guys! I’ve been on here for a bit now and while I never had a follower goal, I do appreciate you guys who have decided to follow me! So now I’d like to celebrate you!

In light of TBB ending, and how much we'll be missing the boys, I thought this was as good as a time as ever!

Here’s the idea! I’m opening a prompt request for the dates of April 5th through May 5th, 2024 (you may start submitting now though!) and choose from the prompts below! You can choose one from each category, or just one category. It’s ok if it is just the prompt or the prompt and a brief idea. If you have a fun idea or prompt not listed, please share!

Rules: I only write SFW. I typically write for clones; I reserve the right to refuse requests which make me uncomfortable for whatever reason. I have had a few requests in the past that really unsettled me for various reasons. Or if I don't know the character. I'd hate to try to write something then upset the person because it is so ooc that it's cringy. (But if I said I would write your request and haven't yet, I just honestly haven't gotten to it :D I like to do well on the stories you guys entrust to me so it does take me a bit :D)

This is supposed to be fun so lets keep it fun!

You may submit as many requests as you'd like! The more the merrier!

Characters: Star Wars Clone Wars or The Bad Batch (as long as I know them. I know a lot of clones but alas, not all.)

Story genre:

Classic SW! (Pick an era if they exist in more than one if you wish)

AU of choice (modern, western, pirate, mermaid, time traveling, etc if I’m unfamiliar with the genre, I may have to change it or request more details)

Dialogue Prompts:

“Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“If we’re going to do this we’ll need—“ “A plan?” “No! Code names! Cool ones!”

“I don’t need to be anything to you. I just want my life to mean more to you than my death.”

“You are playing a dangerous game without even a glimpse of the rule book.”

“I’ve never been terrified of death, til he set his sights on you.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” “Yeah, you’re not allowed to ask that in this situation.”

“Where’s your shoe?” “The giant mud puddle in the road demanded a sacrifice.”

“Love at first sight doesn’t exist.” “Then how else do I describe the feeling I got when I first saw you?” “You…love me?” “Apparently not, according to you.”

“A fate worse than death….” “They’re burnt cupcakes.”

“White paint has more color than your face.”

“Why is there a dragon in my fridge?” “It was hot.”

“Touch **, and you’re dead.”

“I am the law.”

“Do that again and I’ll throw you out the window. Wait, what are you doing?” “Checking how high the drop is; seeing if it’s worth it.”

“I’d rather have you hate me than loose you entirely.”

“I have a mission but don’t know what it is.” “Well that sounds incredibly counterproductive.”

“I would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulties in your life.” “You are the worst at this comforting thing.”

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this but I’m quite petite.” “Really? I had no idea in our twelve years of friendship that you’re shorter than I am.”

“But what is power?” “Loyalty.”

“Don’t you sign to me in that tone.”

“I’m with him/her for better or worse.” “It’ll probably be worse.” “I knew that the day I met him/her.”

"I'm sorry I tried to kill you." "It's fine, but next time you should try harder."

"C'mon, like I need an excuse to spend time with you."

"You're not as bad as everyone says you are."

"The only one who gets to kill you is me."

“blood loss”? well it’s not lost. I know exactly where it went. right over there.”

“How the mighty have fallen!” “It’s a dropped chocolate bar, stop being dramatic.”

“Shit, we’re gonna die” “Now I don’t want to hear that negative attitude, look on the bright side!” “Yay! We’re gonna die! Woo!”

“How do you do it?” “How do I do what?” “Pretend you are ok.” “I’m not pretending.” “Yes, you are. Every single day and it breaks my heart.”

“Hey, so I know things are pretty f**** shitty right now but I need you to breathe for me.” “Wha-wh-wh-” “You’re having a panic attack. It’s gonna be ok. Just breathe with me.”

“Please, my arms—I can’t wipe my tears, don’t let them see!”

"Smiles are contagious!" "Don't worry, I'm vaccinated."

"I don't want to get involved, it's too risky." "Please do it for me, you're the only one I can turn to." "It's not worth it. You really want to lose everything? 'cause I don't."

"Do you ever think of anyone other than yourself?" "No"---a long pause---"actually yes, at Christmas time"

"There is a reason I go through that door first, It's to make sure everyone else walks back out"

“I can’t leave you here!” “You can and you will.”

"OH! Are you alright? Are you alright?" "Apart from being trapped under here, and maybe suffering from broken bones and embarrassment beyond what I am capable of handling. . . I'm dandy, why do you ask?"

Oh no, are you alright? You're covered in blood!" "Yes, it's yours, Now will you please let me take you to the hospital?"

"What did love ever do anything for anyone anyway?"

"What the hell were you even thinking?!" "You told me not to think!"

"With love comes loss, that's part of the deal. Sometimes it hurts, but in the end, it was all worth it. There's no greater gift than love."

“'Temporary stitches' all stitches are temporary if you have a pair of scissors and aren’t a coward" "What do you....that better not mean what I think you mean......" "Am I just talking about sewing stitches or sutures too? Maaayyybe?" "NO! Absolutely not!"

"I made the calculations, and boy am I bad at math."

"It'll be over soon, I promise."

"Working together again, just like old times." "Well, not just like old times."

"I am many things but not your enemy."

Action Prompts:

Forehead kisses

Palm/hand kisses

Dramatic rain scene

Touching foreheads

Jealousy

Dancing

Last stand

Christmas/Life Day celebration

mistletoe

Accidental hand touch

First date

First kiss

Spending time with the family

Bad day cheering up scheme

Pranks

Going to a pet shop

Going to the movies

Always go after the girl

soft spoken person has loud, unnerving scream.

Lullabies

Nightmares

injury

amnesia

pretend/mistaken to be married/in a relationship

cooking

[the-himawari]

Personal Update - Recovering from burnout 😔

Hi everyone!

I hope everyone had a great holiday and new year! I apologize for disappearing for a bit, but as life is, a lot has been going on. Long story short, I started a new job in December so it's been a very busy time as I transition and hit the ground running here.

Also, taking some time away has made me come to terms with: how I'm simply burnt out.

—Which honestly, isn't that surprising considering I've been posting on this blog for almost 4 years now, haha. I know the last year has been a lot less consistent, but for 3 years, I was posting A3 translations almost daily. Looking back, I don't even know how I did it? Like wow, good for me. But also, wow, that was such a different time in my life 😂

Rest assured I still love A3 (and Masumi) and I'm still playing the game regularly! That hasn't changed. But in terms of posting A3 translations—I think I'm in dire need of an actual break.

But seeing as Anni is just around the corner, my current plan for this blog is:

Translate a bunch of anniversary cards

Finish the event stories I have ongoing: Journey to the Colours & Spotlight (Secret): Brothers

However, updates will continue to be slow. I will also come back to translate new Masumi content. But I think it's best if I step back and take it easy for now.

Again, I'm not planning to go anywhere! All these boys mean so much to me 😌❤️ but I also can't deny the current intense burnout I'm experiencing. I'm sure I'll bounce back, but it may take some time.

Thanks for everyone's patience and understanding 🌻💛

[pauking5]

Runaway ~ Chapter 1 ~

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Synopsis: There's no place for women in the world of racing. Let alone rally. Until you show up - the daughter of a racing legend who lost everything out of nowhere - ready to stir the pot of competition and throw fuel to Naozumi's fire, burning wild in more than just one way. Just how far will you go to take your rightful place in the world of rally, restore the team to its glory and change things for the better?

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, dating in secret

Word count: 4.5k+

A/N: Here it finally is. I can't believe I got to write about one of my passions in this way. Though I love rally, getting the technicalities right was rough but I researched as much as I could on it so it feels like the real thing, though there might be some minor inaccuracies, not really affecting the story.

This one has been in the works for a good period of time and though this first chapter is short and fast-paced, there's so much more coming. Trust the process cause god knows I do. I hope I can make Naozumi justice and I can't wait for you to read the next ones. Enjoy lovelies.

Now Playing: Edge of Seventeen - Wuki

It's not about how fast you go.

It's about how long you go fast.

Fast like-

A knock reverberated against your helmet, interrupting the pre-race mantra before you even finished reciting it, bringing you back to the chaos prior to the race start.

Chaos you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Blinking your eyes open, you took in the smell of burnt rubber and the atmosphere, fully packed with the deafening roars of the crowds in the stands soaring over the music heard all the way to your station. Another voice joined in the noise, demanding your attention.

"Raiko, are you ready?"

Letting out an exasperated breath, you waved off whoever spoke to you and closed your eyes again.

"Give me a minute, will you?"

Okay, where was I?

It's not about how fast you go-

A drilling noise came from your right, annoying the living daylights out of you.

Ah, fuck it. Since we keep getting interrupted...

How about I tell you a little bit about me.

Name's Raiko Suruki.

Yes, that Suruki. Here we go again.

I'm the daughter of the famed Hiro Suruki, five times Japan World Rally Championship winner, consecutively if I may add, proud podium sitter for thousands of times, also kind of a living legend of the primetime of the rally world. The same Hiro Suruki that started one of the best teams in the history of Japanese rally, snatching six more titles under his directory. WRC'S Golden Boy.

After his personal fifth title, he decided he wanted something more. Something that would fulfill him, beside his love for driving at the most insane speeds known to man and having his first and only child - that's me in case you didn't know.

Anyway, without any second thoughts he retired from the sport out of nowhere, changing the fireproofs for the laid-back team principal shirt and a cheap very 'dad' baseball cap. At barely 35 years of age, he took the biggest leap of faith and Suruki Racing was born out of fuel and passion for rally.

He poured everything he had into the team and built it from scratch, taking it so high in his prime that everyone wanted a piece of it, be it driving in a seat for the team, changing parts as a mechanic or simply having shares in it.

It was basically the shit. The pinnacle of the rally series in Japan.

The team became a national sensation. So many influential people, from mere businessmen to politicians, even foreigners were so interested in it and helping it expand. It genuinely felt like the only way for him was up, flying like a rocket towards the legends' hall of fame.

It went like that for a while. He was beaming with happiness, unable to understand where all that luck came from. But like everything good, once he started to question it all, it was like a switch flipped inwards.

And everything started going wrong.

All of a sudden the cars started missing parts the night before races. They had engine failures mid-race in almost every stage, followed by dnf's on every scoreboard. And those aren't even the most shocking things that happened. You name the disaster and it definitely happened to Suruki Racing at one point.

The mess piled up more and more and it showed.

Contract deals with sponsors started falling through, losing funding for a lot of parts and investments in equipment. Then the drivers got fed up with the constant failed races and blamed the car or the team if they felt like it. They terminated their contracts way before their terms were up under the pretense that they wanted different things... which were not related to Suruki Racing. The mechanics chose to stay, well, a few of them anyways, but it wasn't enough.

The team ripped at the seams and slowly but surely ran into the ground and dad couldn't find at least one reason why it happened.

It was like a curse you couldn't get rid of and I saw it happen first-hand.

The late nights he would spend in the garage trying new parts that kept failing with every test on the car. The way he would go as low as begging the drivers to come back offering them money he didn't have because no driver, rookie or experienced, didn't even bat an eye once the name of the team was mentioned.

Lost, penniless and with a heavy heart, he had to watch the one thing he loved the most on earth rust little by little, no matter what he would do to prevent it.

Mom called it karma for his reckless racing days because as talented as he was, the road forgives no one. That you can be God's favourite and still lose everything. And he didn't want to understand that. He never did.

I was too young to help back then. Too young to understand what Suruki Racing meant to him. Too young to do the only thing I could to save it.

Until now.

So, let's try that again, shall we?

Name's Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing 2.0.

Another knock to your helmet, echoing in your head louder than the first, brought you back to the real world for good this time. Mechanics rushed around you to finish the set up on the car before you were called up to take your spot in front of the race marshal, which from a quick glance at the scoreboard would be soon.

Looking to your left, you were met with a set of dull brown eyes, messy jet black hair, a funky moustache and an extremely creased forehead for his middle age, all belonging to your co-driver, Don Tanaka. He's another legend of the sport.

Former training coach for some of the current biggest teams in the WRC, with a CV of experiences surpassing most people that have been in rally for longer. On top of all that, he is an even bigger friend of your father's. When he called him up asking for an old favour to train you, he couldn't say no.

But if it was up to commenting, you'd say he was one of the biggest fools for giving up a lavish salary with so many perks for one favour, especially for your old fart of a father.

Driving with him was great, but training with him was hell on Earth.

"I was doing my mantra," you reasoned, trying to get him off your case.

"Your mantra sucks."

He is an absolute joy to be around, isn't he?

"Well," you turned to him in your seat with a tight-lipped smile, "you're the one choosing to be co-driver to a young adult at your ripe age of 40. If I was you I would've picked something more calming, like gardening."

Bringing his hand to his chin in thinking, he sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.

"That doesn't sound so bad right now," he went on trying to push your buttons.

"Oh, shush," you waved him off, turning back to the wheel.

If there was one thing he liked doing, it was keeping you in check by poking fun at you. He was like that one uncle you could always go to with your secrets or to ask for extra pocket money, but in return he liked to tease the fuck out of you for it. Every. Single. Time.

As much as you hated his antics, you did kind of owe him a lot. He was the one who caught your talent for racing early on, back when you would drive plastic mini cars made from scraps around the team garage like you had years of experience. A few drifting maneuvers around old tires done like a pro at the cool age of 8, and he was sold on you and your potential.

Amongst all the teasing and the pain of having to train like a man, you've spent enough time with him to know you could count on him for literally anything. He was the best co-driver you could ask for and you wouldn't want anyone else in that seat directing your fate for the world.

He knew what it took to annoy you greatly in order to deliver on the dirt track and prove yourself. Especially now, since you were the only woman on highly occupied male territory.

Racing was a man's world.

With as many female advancements in motorsport as there were today, the majority of the community was still not convinced that a woman could drive better than a man or even compete alongside a whole grid of their species. They can regard you, acknowledge your existence, but they would never accept you.

Your father knew your entry to the championship would stir up a lot of unwanted attention, besides the fact that he was basically reviving a cursed team and you happened to be the poster face for it this time around. It sounded like a catastrophe in the making.

Frankly, you were ecstatic to get to drive an actual race car outside of the junior series and helping the team get back to its rightful place, restoring its deserved glory. But you knew it wasn't going to be easy work. Especially, since public enemy number one - the press - was going to try and tear you to sparkly shreds for a lot of reasons. An attack that they started before any official information was out.

A few months ago, when the announcement of Suruki Racing's comeback after ten years of inactivity hit the WRC, the media had a field day with it.

They criticized your father for being a nutjob that didn't know when to quit. They smeared Don Tanaka's name like he didn't make most of the drivers currently selling their dying papers. They even tried to get paid scoops from anyone involved with the team in the slightest.

But the team had one wildcard left to play before pulling the curtains for good and giving them the satisfaction that they ruined it.

You.

The press didn't know about you. No one in the other teams knew about you. Thanks to your father's extremely private life, no one even knew of your existence.

The only people that did were your team in the garage, from the mechanics to your PR agent.

Even walking into the circuit grounds this morning, long hair down over your shoulders, sporting the team gear in plain sight, no one batted an eye at you. Even if they did, they would think you were involved with technical or marketing - though even that was a rarity in this universe - or worse, just another groupie looking to get one of the drivers under your hood.

Your father wanted to give everyone a show they'll never forget by having you drive the first race in the calendar without a proper introduction. No car reveal. No interviews. No pre-race press conference. Just a car and its driver.

This way they would judge your driving before they actually got to judge you for being a woman at the wheel of a three hundred horsepower beast. He trusted you and your judgement on the track far more than the lousy press setting you up for fail. They would get a proper car show and speech after the race anyway.

It was out of the ordinary but that kinda summed up Hiro Suruki and his bipolar personality.

The distorted sound of a megaphone, followed by the voice of the race marshal called you to the start line.

"Car 7, Rai Suruki for Suruki Racing, you're up next!"

You could already see everyone turning their eyes to your station, booming cheers going quiet, turning into sharp murmurs.

Time to get this show going.

Rolling up your windows to block the world, you put the car in gear and drove to the start line, waiting for the green light. Looking out at the lines in the road ahead of you spotting the first hazard ahead, the nerves climbed up your spine faster than your engine could pump the pistons for pressure.

You prepared for this for most of your life, but if you were being honest, it all got a little too real now, sitting with your foot hovering above the gas pedal ahead of the moment that could make or break your career before it even started. The very moment that could be a step forward to restoring your father's name, getting the team back on track in a new age of rally racing. The moment for a change.

No pressure, right?

"Raiko," your co-driver called your name, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the road, gloved fingers tightening on top of the wheel with a small snap. "Do you remember the course?"

"Yes."

"Good. All set?"

"I think so."

"Raiko, look at me."

"You're not my style."

"Raiko," his voice turned more serious and deep with warning. With another sigh into the small, cramped space for breathing your helmet provided, you turned to him.

"You've got this. Let's prove everyone wrong."

He was right.

Let's prove everyone wrong.

The race marshal started the countdown, walking from the front of your car to the side, each number in the count descending with your nerves. You loosened the hold on the wheel, stretched your legs to the pedals and let out a deep breath.

"3."

It's not about how fast you go.

"2."

It's about how long you go fast.

"1."

Fast like lightning.

"GO!"

A soon as the lights went green, you hit the throttle and took off into the dirt, raising the dust behind you. You skidded off to the side a little due to the gravel but you got control of it before anyone could notice.

Tokai was a pretty difficult course to rally. The later you got the okay to race, the more dust and gravel from other drivers would pile up in front of you, making visibility dangerously low. The corners were way too tight and one second off from Tanaka's directions or a mishap of your footing could cost you and put your car on the sidelines.

"5 left over crest," Tanaka paced you for the upcoming hill and you prepared to release the throttle.

"1 left 100."

Wheels back on the ground, you resumed pressing the pedal as a hairpin portion came into view. The cloud of dust in front of you was chalky and you had to get through it before it raised higher. Putting the car in second gear, you got ready for the drift portion.

You had to be extra careful here. The mechanic in chief told you to go easy as the rear could send you into oversteer, throwing off the balance of the car and fuck up the race completely.

Listening to your gut, you waited for the right time then tapped the brake, cut the wheels and pressed the throttle, sliding across the portion. Loud cheers and whistles erupted as the crowd in the stands got up to watch you complete a perfect drift.

"3 right don't cut."

Reduce pace and prepare for a possible road hazard.

You slowed down and sure enough a bump in the road came up. If you missed that one and took it at 120 kph, it would've projected you off the track, crashing the car hard into the rocky wall like a cereal box. Thankfully, you swerved around it, feeling the car lift off the ground on the left for a bit before it fell back down.

"6 right very long."

Hard left into a tight corner.

"Cut 8 left."

Tight corner requiring you to follow a straight line in the curb.

This was the last and worst corner on the track. You were lucky it didn't rain because this is where your car can skid off into the stands. You caught the straight line pretty fast, cutting a few seconds off your lap time without slowing down.

Following the rest of Tanaka's directions and focusing on the rest of the road, the race finished before you knew it. You liked the state you were in as you drove, mind clear of everything else because as soon as the adrenaline in your body decreased, your brain got bombarded by all kinds of issues.

Did I push the new suspensions too hard? God, I hope I didn't scratch the rear in the hairpin. Was my timing too off on that last corner? I should've practiced it more.

Driving back to your team's station, you sent all those worries at the back of your head and got out to watch the screen showing the score board just as it updated to display the new track times since you were the last to go.

1. Akira Shinkai - Sigma - 1.24.55

2. Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory - 1.23.59

3. Rai Suruki - Suruki Racing - 1.23.40

"WE BAGGED THIRD PLACE?!" you yelled throwing off your helmet onto the car seat.

"WE SURE DID," Tanaka high fived you, beaming with energy just like you.

"That's 15 points on the first stage! Well done, lightning strike," he ruffled your hair as you snickered, nose scrunching up with a smile at the gesture you were already accustomed to.

"The car held up a lot better today than in testing. Maybe we lifted the curse," you wiggled your eyebrows at him at which he flicked your forehead. "Ow, what did you do that for?"

"Don't jinx it. We still have two more stages to go."

"But-"

Before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by angry shouting coming from the station next to you.

"I told you to not touch the third gear," yelled a strained voice.

You walked to the side of your station, peeking your head by the team banner, and watched the heated exchange between one of the drivers and his mechanic. Your eyes wandered to the car sitting in the middle, not one hand touching it for the regular post-race check up. From the different strokes of sky blue layered over stark white, the red and blue sponsor stickers and the carbon spoiler, you recognized it to be Spica Racing's.

"It doesn't matter now," shouted another voice, so annoyed and sure of themselves as if they owned the place. "I got a good lap record this time."

"What would you do if you had to retire in the middle of the race?" shot the mechanic, chastising the driver for being careless.

He got up in his face, towering over him though the other was much taller than him.

"We won't win if I don't attack!" he yelled back, throwing his hand in the air to make a point. "The moment I think of being scared I will lose. I won't make that mistake. So just do your job and fix the car."

With that final remark, he rounded the car to walk away from the station until he noticed you in the corner, now standing in full sight just at the line between your stations.

Quickly replacing the scowl on his face with what was probably his natural smirk, he came to you, stopping short of the barrier separating you.

"I don't do autographs, but for you I can do more than that," he added a daring wink, flashing his cocky smile at you.

Ew.

Taking a small step back hoping his vibes wouldn't envelop you, you uncrossed your arms from your chest and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I don't want your autograph."

Taken aback at your response, he backed up slightly too and looked you up and down, taking in your deep blue and dark gold team fireproofs and the suit tied messily around your waist. The old, way out of fashion colours seemed to ring a bell.

"Suruki Racing...," he started doubtful, "the shithole that revived from the ashes? Are you a mechanic, a co-driver or something for them? If you are, why don't you jump ships? I wouldn't mind having you on my team instead," he finished his speech of intent with another shit-eating grin.

Who the fuck was this guy?

The audacity that wafted off him must definitely make him popular with the ladies.

"I don't think we've met before," you extended your hand out to him, curt and polite, like a normal person would do, introducing yourself.

"Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing," emphasizing your role in the team so he got it through his head that you weren't some bimbo.

If you were, you'd make sure your fist decorated his face in pretty red tones before anything else.

He straightened back, smirk gone from his face in all sense of the word. It got replaced by some kind of curiosity. Looking between you and your palm hanging in the air he looked confused to say the least. He's heard about female racers before and seen some working in technical around the place, he's just never seen one stand against him on track.

Tired of being polite to someone who obviously has never heard about manners, you were about to retract your extended hand when he caught it in a firm grip and pulled it towards him, just holding it instead of shaking it. The move sent you forwards, almost barreling into him when your reaction response kicked in to steel you a safe distance away.

Maybe Tanaka's intense survival program pays off sometimes.

"So," he began and you wondered if he was about to say something intelligent or spew more shit with that mouth of his. He decided to choose the latter. "You're the one driving the Beetle dupe right there?"

Eh, come again?

Your eyes widened at him, looking at where his finger was pointed to confirm that he was pointing at your car and not anywhere else, then you whirled your head back at him appalled.

"B-Beetle dupe?!"

"I thought you were a guy."

Wouldn't be the first time I heard that one.

You took your hand back from his hold, wiping it on the sleeves of the suit hanging on your hips in the hopes that it would wipe off the disgust you were feeling too. It didn't but it was worth a try.

"It's the name," you replied through gritted teeth.

He backed up some more to scan you again, though more attentively this time, like you were some kind of illegality, cooked up from the pits of his imagination. You gave him your best front, hardening your jaw and rolling your shoulders backwards, proving you were more than a pair of boobs and a vagina, which was apparently his deranged first impression of you.

You deserved to be here. No amount of stares from the male specimen, surprised or with sinful intentions, could ever make you back down from this. This was yours to take on. No man could take this from you. Not him anyway.

So, you stared him down too, trying to find something else beside the extreme big dick energy and unsurmountable lack of scruples surrounding him. Struggling to see anything else but some disdain in the way he crossed his arms over his broad chest, a rich prick attitude from how he shifted on his legs like the world owed him golden lingos every time he breathed, and some leftover rage from the screaming match with his mechanic still present in the tick of his jaw, you let your eyes meet his own in conclusion of your very own analysis.

Yeah, there's nothing else in there. An ambulant douchebag. Just like I thought.

Flashing cameras were suddenly thrown in your faces, interrupting the intense stare-down between you. The press and some people, potentially fans of other teams by their t-shirts, surrounded you from every corner of the plastic barrier around the two stations, pushing each other over the race marshals that tried their hardest to keep them away. It wasn't long until they pushed over the barrier.

Too absorbed in the chaos, you didn't notice he leaned down to your ear but when you did, you stilled in your shoes, all blood draining into your pounding stomach. He spoke close and low, so only you could hear his words.

"Don't get too comfortable around here, rookie," he whispered, hot breath hitting the shell of your ear making shivers run down your extremely clothed spine. "Let's see how long you last in here because this season might just be your first and last."

Pulling away with another one of his smirks that were starting to get on your nerves, he regarded you once more before he walked off in amusement to his cool-down room, giving you a full view of his broad back.

Oh, just you wait -

A reporter shoved into the human barrier of orange and green safety vests reaching the railing, yanking it back and forth repeatedly until the poor plastic seal broke off, letting everyone else pool in around you.

Uh-oh. This wasn't good.

They packed around you like wolves on their prey, all shouting different things at you while shoving their big cameras, recording devices and phones in your face. The flashes blinded you, turning the world white and too bright for it to be natural light from the clouded sky above.

Your hands shot up on instinct to cover your eyes from the flaring lights as your ears focused on filtering through the blaring sounds of camera clicks and voices. Then the countless questions registered clear as day, hitting you like a truck at full speed.

"Are you Rai Suruki, daughter of Hiro Suruki?"

"Where did your father get the money to restart the team?"

"Is your car even going to last a season?"

"Do you consider yourself a challenge to the rest of the drivers?"

I guess that was it for mystery, dad.

Some of the other teams passed by the ruckus, sparing quick judgmental glances or sending disgusting sneers your way like that was the way they initiated your welcome ceremony at the gates of the jungle.

If this was any other series, you would've been so welcomed by the rest of the grid and treated somewhat better by the media and the fans. But this was the World Rally Championships.

Driving was dirty.

Talk was filthy, full of disrespect and unspoken trials of envy between each driver.

The press competed to see who would get your head on a pike first and parade it as the story of the century.

Respect was fought for, not earned.

It was a different game. One where you needed to play even if you didn't want to so in turn you wouldn't get played. Survival of the fittest truly.

You steeled your gaze, waving the reporters off and digging a hole through the crowd, successfully escaping away to your pit crew. Helping with packing up bits and pieces and taking your own stuff, you headed back to your team quarters, aware of the intensifying stares belonging to the rest of the teams still around their stations, talking about the first day in this season's calendar being an interesting one.

You had a feeling you and the team were the hot topic of conversation since you could feel their eyes searing deep holes into your back, burning hotter and doing more damage than flame-lit arrows aimed straight at you ever could. Tanaka wrapped an arm around you giving you his curled moustache smile, sympathizing with you.

Looking up at the sky darkening in mauve and pink, you let a small smile grace your lips. At least today was done. Your rally racing career has officially started. The team was back in business.

However, this first stage was just one of the many challenges still to come. Who knew what else was on the way?

As you trudged on the warm asphalt, there was one thing you knew for sure.

This is gonna be a long season.

Thank you for reading :) As always leave a like, comment or reblog!

[ryttu3k]

Having some Thoughts about Astarion and his perceived intelligence, or lack thereof (it was largely in the tags of this post, which I absolutely recommend reading, but it was getting overly long).

Astarion is perceived as… not very bright. Like it's kind of a running joke in fandom at this point, and it's been bugging me for a bit, so…

INT 13 isn't actually low

INT 13 is actually a fair bit above average! Of the main six Origin characters, only Gale has a higher INT score at 17, which is what you'd expect from a wizard and Actual Nerd (complimentary). Wyll has INT 13 as well, Lae'zel and Shadowheart have the average score of INT 10, and Karlach has INT 8. Of the secondary companions, Halsin and Minthara also have INT 10, and Minsc and - interestingly - Jaheira both have INT 8.

So, far from being one of the dumbest companions, stats-wise, he's actually one of the most intelligent.

Poor planning skills aren't a reflection of intelligence

Yes, Astarion is notoriously terrible at coming up with long-term plans. You know what he also hasn't been able to do for two hundred years? Come up with long-term plans.

He spent about forty years living a normal life, then five times that duration as a slave, being punished for any show of thinking for himself. He tried to make a plan that went against his master's orders, and he spent a year buried alive for it. His only purpose was "to seduce anything with a pulse"; thinking outside of that wasn't just discouraged, it was punished. He's out of practice!

Also, there are a lot of incredibly intelligent people who can't make plans for Assorted Reasons, even without two hundred years of being a puppet to someone else's will. Dyspraxia, ADHD, all sorts of things.

The whole smooth brain thing

This one does bug me, but I also suspect it was a nod to fandom perception. The epilogue has Bing-Bong in it, there were at least parts written well after the game release, and the subsequent fandom response. It's entirely possible, if not likely, that parts of the writing were influenced by fandom perception.

He had low INT in early access

Yes, and they changed it, and he no longer does. Wyll was essentially rewritten between EA and now. Karlach wasn't even a main character in EA. The Dream Visitor was extremely different in EA! Astarion was below average intelligence in EA, and now he's above average ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Neil Newbon says Astarion is intelligent

"I see him as being very intelligent — very erudite — and highly manipulative when he wants to be."

From this interview. I figure he'd know better than anyone save Stephen Rooney, y'know?

The trauma

I mean we can't understate the trauma. The trauma would do a number on your cognitive abilities (and your everything else lbr). And on top of two centuries of going through The Horrors, Cazador repeatedly belittled and infantilised him, hard not to internalise that when Cazador had complete control over his entire existence.

This isn't really meant to be an essay or aimed at anyone in particular and also quite possibly my 'burnt-out gifted kid who valued their intelligence above everything else' is showing but that may be more a Gale thing! Just that the whole 'lmao Astarion is so dumb' trope was bugging me for this, that, and the other reason, so. A post.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hii!! I was wondering if you may do a somewhat spicy snippet that involves a villain and detective and 💫handcuffs💫 ? I understand if not though! Hope you have been well and good luck to any final exams you have🌸

"You'd think," the villain said. "That with all the hardened criminals they deal with on a day to day basis, your colleagues wouldn't be so afraid to pat down little old me. I mean." The villain widened their eyes. "Look at me. Who wouldn't want to get their hands on all this?"

"You bite."

The villain flashed them a sharp grin, entirely too delighted by the fact that most would not get in a three foot radius. "If I lick it, it's mine. Them's the rules."

The detective sighed, (not really) long-suffering, even as they approached.

The villain was, admittedly, gorgeous. In a slightly feral sort of way. Gorgeous in the way a volcano could be stunning, right before it erupted and burnt down everything you loved.

The precinct waiting room was empty apart from the two of them; promptly abandoned ever since the hero had deposited the beautiful monstrosity on their front door and then left. As if the rest of them mere mortals were equally equipped to deal with super villains. Bastard.

"Besides. I'm cuffed and everything," the villain continued, jingling the chains. "I'm harmless."

"You're the bane of my working life," the detective grumbled without venom. "I'm going to have so much paperwork. This isn't even my job to do this. Stand."

The villain pushed gamely to their feet, stepping close and into the detective's space. The detective had gone through the whole routine - because the villain always escaped - enough times not to flinch.

"You look tired, detective," the villain said, a little softer.

"Bane. Of. My. Working. Life."

"I could bribe someone to do the paperwork for you."

The detective snorted, beginning to thoroughly pat the villain down. They extracted paperclips, and all manner of objects from the villain's pockets - knowing by now where to look in the hidden folds of material, knowing that everything had the potential to be dangerous.

They could feel the villain's eyes on them, intent and burning. They could feel the villain's breath, the heat of them, so close. They could smell the crackle of their power in their air, not entirely offset by the cuffs, only limited. If they shivered, well, it was because of that. A valid reaction to threat. Not...not...

The detective swallowed. "Stop that."

"I'm behaving."

"You look like you're planning to eat me."

"How would you know that? My eyes are up. You're the one feeling me up."

"I'm not-" The detective bit their lip, gaze moving to the villain's.

The villain's eyes were very bright.

"You look like you're planning to eat me," the detective said again, and even managed deadpan.

"Well, we did cover that if I lick it, it's mine, already. Didn't we?"

They were not going to be flustered. They were not going to be flustered. They were not going to be-

The villain, lightning quick, lethally quick, pressed a kiss to the detective's blushing cheek. Exposing the utter uselessness of the denial. "I wouldn't mind," the villain said, against the detective's ear. "If you did. Feel me up. I know you wouldn't mind either."

The detective swallowed again, but it did nothing to make their mouth less dry. They kept their hands very professional. They did not jerk back, or jerk their head away, or admonish the villain.

They told themselves it was because it was only words, and far better than the villain snapping those cuffs like they were nothing, but...

Well. They were lying. It was true, but they were utterly lying to themselves, and they probably both knew it. The villain could no doubt dismantle and reveal that lie as easily as the rest.

The villain's teeth and tongue grazed, feather-light, against the shell of their ear.

If I lick it, it's mine.

"Right." The detective's voice was hoarse. "I think you're all done."

"Mm," the villain said, giving them a look of 'oh not nearly done enough with you, dear', though they let the detective step back.

No. Not let. They were cuffed. The two of them had only ever met when the villain was restrained.

"Let's go," the detective said. "You know how it goes by now."

"Indeed." The villain's head tilted. "You know there's a reason that hero of ours keeps dropping me off at your precinct and nobody else's these days. You know that right?"

The detective froze.

"Just something to think about," the villain said, and sauntered themselves off in the direction of the cells. "Come lock me up."

The detective released a shaky breath, and fovillowed.

Of course.

[modelbus]

eyup model!! Hru?? Hope all is well… but lets get to the important shit, THATS RIGHT! ITS ME, YOUR SELF PROCLAIMED FAVOURITE ANNON, ✨🌌🌙!!! Y’know, the one that writes SUPER detailed, SUPER long and SUPER off-topic-for-the-first-half requests!!!! (If I keep this up for long enough, you’re gonna have to add a ✨🌌🌙 Annon section to your master list. /hj)

that makes me think about when I first requested, I wonder how long its been.. I THINK my first req was Cut Chaos.. one sec lemme check………

AYE IN 4(ish) MONTHS IT’LL BE A YEAR SINCE I STARTED HARASSING YOU WITH MY THINK OF BRAINS!

been a while.. I’ll need to remember to write a DUMB request in june.

SO. REQUEST. YES. I DO THAT? I DO THAT.

okay so idk how to format this but here,

She/Her pronouns for plot. y/n is honestly, REALLY bad at pvp, she’s know amongst the SBI for being.. a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but the wolf has no teeth. She likes flowers, pastel pinks, purples, and blues, she likes cottage core dresses and corsets.. So on the surface she looks like a pretty, little, innocent streamer!… yeah, no. Sure, shes pretty as fuck, but little? She is SURPRISINGLY TALL. half the fan base is fully convinced EVERY photo shes in is photo shopped, but sure enough, shes 6’4! Innocent? Say the words ‘Arson’ ‘Crime’ or ‘Manslaughter’, and you practically summon her. (Every SMP she has been on, has in-fact seen not only her enemy’s but HER OWN, Builds being blown up and/or burnt to the ground AT LEAST, 3 times.) shes also know for her ADORABLE builds (shame half of them end in ash..), her parkour skills.. and uh.. being complete garbage at anything pvp.

Well twitter being twitter, a lot of sexist 12 year old boys, and Andrew tate fans like to be.. REALLY creepy and all ‘perfect house wife’ about her. (You get the gist no more detail needed.) While they may not know it(they ignore it/pretend its fake), she’s actually quite strong in real life, often picking up her friends in irl streams and running away with them as a bit (with consent ofc)! But in minecraft, that doesn’t really show.. so naturally being the absolute fucking queen she is, about a year ‘n a half ago, she decided she was gonna be fucking great at pvp. Naturally not telling anyone but techno (so he could teach her, duh) and avoiding all pvp for a year, lead to people joking about it more often.. this didn’t bother her, it was actually perfect, she had been getting better. Like really. Danm. Better. Practicing even without techno and on an alt, and at this point? It felt natural to be disappointed at a 25 win streak.. she went from 0 to about 30-40 average win streaks.. in a year and a half.. she was dedicated, okay? Her fans did notice her getting a little rusty at parkour but they just assumed she had been to busy to practice as much.. they were right but not about what she was busy doing.. So, she obviously invited the sbi, and a few other friends (Tubbo, Ranboo and Dream.) to play a custom pvp themed game, with the stream titled ‘I haven’t pvp-ed in a year and a half, and now I’m doing it again.’ where they were split into two rounds, (y/n and techno being in both but the rest in one) all in hardcore and spawned on opposite sides of the map, having 30 minutes to gear up, before pvp was turned on, and no going to the end, no other rules than one hour to be the last one standing, they could team, they could camp, they could use tnt minecrarts, they could go to the nether, anything. it was all game.

only two people expected her to crush almost everyone. I’m not even sure if those two people were expecting her to come second one round, and WIN the other.. but with her getting half the kills in round one and losing to techno in a final battle where she held her fucking ground like a boss ass mother fucker, and winning after techno killed Dream and she ambushed him after using a god apple..

lets just say after a couple things trending, a lot of fanart and A LOT of sapphic women going crazy, nobody dared to question her dedication to proving she was a fucking force to be reckoned with again.

(It also became a very popular running joke that she got more women than any other Minecraft CC.. you don’t gotta include that just- just make it cannon.. oops, dropped my gay onto the request lemme fetch that rq..) (yes, I wrote this y/n as my fuckin dream girl, I’m a simp okay..)

haha.. ha.. BRO AT THIS POINT I’M JUST WRITING A FIC AND TELLING YOU TO RE-WRITE IT BUT MAKE IT GOOD I- feel free to change what ever, the top half is mostly just context- even if you don’t do this request you should reply to it so its not lost to the void- I.. I’m sorry man I keep doing this to you-

OH WELL JUST PRETEND THIS IS WAY SHORTER THAN IT IS OR IGNORE IT IDC EITHER WAY HOPE THIS GIVES YA INSPO POOKIE (the pookie was ironic I swear-) - ✨🌌🌙 Annon

For our one year anniversary I’ll make a special section of my master list just for you bbg <3 also don’t judge me for this title I was STRUGGLING

Pairing: what the fuck anymore Actual pairing: Fem!Reader x Cc!Phil, Cc!Tommy, Cc!Technoblade, Cc!Dream, Cc!Tubbo, Cc!Ranboo

Flower Power

You were pretty happy with who you were. A badass woman who just so happened to be the epitome of flower power? Hell yeah.

Fairy lights twinkle in the background of your setup, a wall full of vines and LED signs providing extra ambience. That’s not to mention the special keyboard—resin flower keycaps, they were on sale okay—alongside your setup in general. Even your mic had cute animal stickers on it. Well, except for the one Tommy gave you of his face? It was weird.

Right now, though, you aren’t at your cute setup. No matter how much you loved it, you were at least aware that you couldn’t send every waking moment at it. You weren’t quite that much of a content machine.

So of course you go outside to film vlogs with Tommy! Totally reasonable break from filming content: film more content!

Jokes aside, you loved hanging out with your friends. Getting dressed up just for Tommy to inevitably ruin it was practically your good luck ritual. The sheer number of skirts, shawls, and even socks he owes you is astronomical.

Today he had promised nothing messy (for once), so you took your chance. Pale blue corset embroidered with flowers and a flowy white skirt, you were practically screaming your aesthetic to anyone who looked at you. And Ranboo had given you a dandelion for your hair, which only added to it.

”Tall fuckers to the back for the photo!” Tommy shouts, and the poor bystander he roped into taking the photo stares. “Which obviously means me—“

“Get your short ass back in front.” You order, snagging his shoulders and forcing him in front of you. From your side, Ranboo snickers.

“Welcome to the club, king.” Tubbo tells Tommy before grinning at the camera.

“What the fuck.” He grumbles. “She’s hardly any taller than me!”

“Keep lying to yourself.” You put your elbow on his head, just to add insult to injury.

“Um, I got the photo I think.” The stranger says, holding Tommy’s phone out to him. He takes it without even looking at the photos.

“Thanks.” He says after you clear your throat pointedly to prompt him.

Seeing their chance to escape, the person just nods and hurries off without a single glance back. Probably glad to be rid of your wayward group of streamers and YouTubers.

“It’s a decent photo.” Tommy begrudgingly admits.

“It’s my cue to leave, actually. I’ve got plans.” Tubbo says, checking his phone.

“Why do you get more bitches than me?” Tommy whines.

“…it’s my mother.”

“And we all know I get the most bitches.” You jump in, high-fiving Ranboo blindly. You nearly hit his face, but that’s okay. It would’ve been funny.

“Oh shut the fuck up.” Tommy elbows you, all gangly limbs and pointy bones. “We’re playing Minecraft later, right?”

“Not me.” Tubbo reminds him.

“No shit. I was talking to these two idiots.”

“Hey!”

“I’ll be on.” You lean over him, looking at his phone for the time. “You’re aware we need to leave if we want to make your stupid fucking steam time?”

He looks down, eyes widening. “Oh shit!”

Just for making you run home, you blow up his house on Minecraft. For the fourth time. It was ugly looking anyway, nothing like your adorable mushroom house, so he was practically begging for it to be exploded.

It’s his fault. Always.

-

“You really want to attack me from there?”

Your hands freeze on your keyboard mid-movement, making your character in game also freeze at Techno’s words.

“Not anymore?” You laugh nervously.

“Right answer. Try this again and I’ll pretend like I don’t see you.”

PvP training was going great, and by that you mean you’ve been killed every single time by one swing of his axe. It was no secret that you were bad at fighting. Your go-to tactic was to load up on TnT and hope for the best, which met… many criticisms.

And you were sick and tired of it. It’s time to reinstate your badass reputation and become a ruthless killer in a video game. Innocent bedwars players would never know what hit them! Hopefully, at least. Right now, you’re still working on that.

“Fuck!” You exclaim as Techno kills you yet again, the respawn screen flashing up.

“If you with to defeat me, train for another—“

“I’m trying!”

-

@ GenericUsername Anyone else notice that our resident flower girl has been avoiding PvP… poor girl is TIRED of being flamed

-> @ EatingLipSkin She deserves it for how shit she is for dying to magma blocks that one time

-

Slowly, so fucking slowly, you watch your bedwars win streak increase. Slowly, you watch your skywars win streak increase.

Somehow, against literally all odds, you’re learning how to girlboss PvP. Although when you told Techno that he seemed mildly confused, but you were definitely girlbossing PvP.

Which was exactly why you knew this stream was a good idea.

After a year and a half, you were hosting a huge stream with a bunch of your friends competing in a PvP tournament. Tommy insisted on there being a prize, so whoever wins gets the highly esteemed Tesco’s gift card you’ve had in your desk for five months. A battle of true honor, of epic consequences.

“Alright guys, so here’s my plan.” You tell your stream, mining some wood to craft basic tools. Everyone has 30 minutes to gear up, then it’s an hour till the winner is crowned. With the map having a small border, you’re counting on some cheeky kills from sneaking up on others. “I mine first, stock up on iron. Make a diamond axe if I can, but mostly go for lava buckets and backup gear.”

Your plan is put into motion quickly. With the new iron veins, it’s incredibly easy for you to get geared up within fifteen minutes. Venturing back up to the surface for food, you spot Tubbo without any armor killing sheep.

Perfect.

Sneaking to hide your name tag, you venture up a tree to get closer to him. You added a proximity mod, so you can hear him talking to his stream.

“We need lots of food, chat. All these guys— these guys don’t know the importance of food!” He’s saying. It’s a smart plan; if only you weren’t planning on killing him and taking his food.

“Hi Tubbo!” You shout, dropping down and killing him with a few swipes of your axe. “One down, just a few more to go!”

As people die left and right—most dying to you, to everyone’s surprise—you pointedly avoid Technoblade. The student will never surpass the master, after all. All your tricks came from his playbook and you really didn’t want to see how competitive he’d get for a gift card he’d never even use.

Dream was slain by Technoblade

Your eyes widen in surprise at the chat message, quickly stretching your fingers to press tab and bring up the list of players left alive. Only yours and Techno’s show.

“Oh no.” You breathe, freezing. “Oh God, chat. I have to murder Technoblade. I have to disassemble his organs and destroy his aorta.”

Suddenly, you’re paranoid as all hell. Randomly going into F5 as you kill cows, checking every angle.

“The student thinks she can challenge the master?” Techno asks, and you shriek in surprise as he digs up from below you.

“I fucking knew you’d say that! You predictable pig!”

“But you didn’t know where I was going to come from.” He points out. You know him well enough to detect the faint line of amusement in the words.

You groan, eating a steak. “Let’s dance, Technoblade.”

“Let’s die, actually.”

He comes at you with an axe, immediately disabling your shield. In retaliation, you swap to a fishing rod to lure him back in when he tried to run off.

As the two of you fight, you find yourself getting closer to your monitor, keeping your mouth shut as you concentrate. Fingers flying across the keys, you scroll to your lava bucket and attempt to burn him. By some miracle, he manages to avoid it and get a hit in on you.

“Oh my God.” You breathe at seeing how many hearts it takes. “Is that fucking enchanted?”

“Is yours not? Get good, nerd.”

You jump past him, placing a quick block to act as a barrier as you smack him with your own axe. Diamond, so it should make up for the difference in strength of his enchanted iron axe.

He loops around a tree, but you momentarily lose track of him. “Where the fuck—?”

As you notice your hearts depleting, you whirl around. Instead of doing the smart thing a retreating, you jump forward and crit him out. If he were any other player (cough cough, Tommy), he’d run. But he’s Technoblade. And all he does is crit you in return, killing you.

“Fuck.” You groan, leaning back in the chair.

<Technoblade> If you wish to defeat me train for another 100 years

Rolling your eyes at the chat message, all you can do is wait for the server to be reset with a new map and everyone living again.

You do the same tactic again, gearing up as quick as possible. It seems like other people have stolen your idea, but go about it in different ways based on the achievements. In the chat, you watch as Ranboo gets the achievement for entering the nether and then Tommy gets it right after.

“I will gift twenty subs if one of them isn’t dead within… five minutes.” You wager to your chat, laughing slightly. They’re still busy freaking out that you placed second last round, making you smile. “Guys, what’s wrong? You didn’t think I’d get kills? What am I known for if not manslaughter?”

A few minutes later—just under five minutes, might you note—Ranboo’s death message pops up. And then so does Tommy’s. Ranboo was killed by Tommy, but apparently Tommy burned to death? You can definitely picture his dumb ass walking into fire.

“Well… looks like I’m aiming for Phil.” You sigh. “I’d feel too bad to kill Tubbo again. But I’m not fucking with Dream or Techno— losing fights and all that.”

You start mining up to the surface, digging through some deep slate you had gone through. “Wait, is this wood?” You ask, scrolling to your axe to mine through the oak planks. You mine directly through a mineshaft, gasping in surprise. “Oh!”

There’s a chest in a minecart right in front of you, so you open it, hoping for some cheeky diamonds. You’ll even take wheat; food is food.

“Oh my God!” You shriek, probably bursting more than a few eardrums. “A god apple— oh my god! We’re fucking winning this one, guys! Cower at my name! But first we’re getting out of here before a spider kills me.”

You run around for a few minutes before stumbling into Dream and promptly running the other way directly into Phil’s house. Why he was building a house on a PvP server? You’ll never know.

“Oh, hi mate, what’re you doing?” He asks, hands empty of any weapons. You scroll onto your flint and steel silently. “Listen. We can talk about this. You don’t need to do this.”

“It’s too late, Philza Minecraft.” You answer, lighting some of the logs on fire. “Should’ve made it out of stone!”

Turning, you light the ground under him on fire then scroll over to your axe. He’s not expecting it, and although he gets a hit in with his empty fists, you still kill him.

“Just Techno and Dream left now.” You note. “Let’s just… hope they battle it out.”

To keep yourself occupied as you wait for the last five minutes before the borders shrink, you start setting cows on fire and collecting flowers. Poppies and dandelions fill your inventory, your little good luck charms.

“Alright guys. Someone go sneak into Techno’s chat and snitch on what’s happening for me.” You laugh, shaking your head. “Kidding, kidding. Don’t do that.”

Just as the one-minute warning pops up I no chat, Techno’s death message does. You gasp loudly, before grinning. “It’s my time to shine! I’ll avenge Techno!”

The world border starts to shrink behind you, but you’re already on the move. Knowing Dream, he’ll probably be in the center of the map. If you can catch him while he’s looting Techno’s body, you have no chance of losing.

“Stop saying good luck chat, I don’t need any good luck.” You grin, spotting Dream’s name tag. “I’ve got skill.”

Before you throw yourself at him, you eat your enchanted golden apple. If you trade blows, you’ll end up winning with the extra health. And two hearts is all you need.

“Ohhhh Dream!” You shout, catching him with a swing of your axe as you jump past him.

“AHH— what the fuck? Where did you come from?” He runs after you, making you do awkward jumping around to avoid his fishing rod.

“Stop! Stop that, I can’t— Dream!”

“Are you regenerating? Did you go to the nether?” He asks, and you can’t help but smile.

Because God apples don’t just give you extra hearts; they give you regeneration.

“I did one better.”

You hit him with your axe again, trading blows with him just like you thought you might.

“You’ve got to be low, how low are you?” He asks, hitting you again, but it’s too late. His body explodes on his death, his items flying out everywhere. You throw your chair back, jumping up and shouting.

“SUCK MY FUCKING DICK HATERS! I’M THE NEW PVP GODDESS AROUND HERE!”

-

@ WomenLover MOMMY? SORRY... MOMMY? SORRY

->@ TheRealBIcon dont be sorry we all thinking it she HOT HOT

@ S4pph1cSarah Anyone else see that fanart of her winning the PvP tournament… woo boy…. I’m… not okay…

@ S4pph1cSarah A thread of the HOTTEST fanart I’ve ever seen of our beloved streamer <3

@ SmexyWomenNearMe Me: “where is she?” “Her parkour skills are rusty how odd” “she’s streaming less” Her: “Watch this fuckos I’m badass and a killer”

->@ TwilightReference ”this is the face of a killer Bella”

@ CottagecoreBadass Can we talk about how dedicated she is? Like yeah she’s hot. So hot. But she’s also insanely badass and commited???

->@ CuteBuilder101 Best type of woman fr fr ->@ StarAnon Cottagecore + badass + chaotic force of nature = her (my dream woman)

@ StarAnon She really just drew all the women lovers outta hiding huh

@ ThisIsTheWriter Idk if I want to be her or if I want her but man. Oh man. I’m so bi.

[f10werfae]

My Little Peach

Pairing: Chris Evans x Short!Reader

summary: Chris Evans bringing his short sized girlfriend! Reader to the park for their date. They are having lots of fun and Chris is in the "mood". Pantie vibrator, ass touching, pussy clenching and naughty whispers (requested by anon) (smut)

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

Requests are open/ Chris Evans Masterlist, full masterlist, taglist form💌

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Baby dont’cha look all pretty” Chris cooed standing by the door frame of their bedroom, his eyes stuck on his girlfriends behind, which was dressed in the prettiest red lace to offer. “I love it bub, thank you so much” She smiled skipping over, practically naked in only the red underwear, pressing what she thought was an innocent enough, sloppy wet kiss onto her man’s lips.

“Hmm is it comfortable for your pussy?” He asked sneaking his fingers around the thin waistband to tug her closer, her breath hitching when she felt the fabric press up against her sensitive clit. “Chris! Stop being so vulgar” She gasped smacking his chest lightly, walking back over to the bed to pull on her leggings and burnt orange jumper, which was actually Chris’

“M'sorry honey, ya know I jus can’t resist you, jus so gorgeous” He chuckled keeping his bottom lip held by his teeth, holding out his hand for her to hold, and when she did oh did he feel a burst of dominance. His little peach was what she went by to him, that was even her name on his phone till this day. All sweet and juicy just for him, despite not being as tall as the other girls around her, Y/n was definitely a bubbly fierce one.

“C’mon peach, let’s get this forest trail done before it gets dark” He breathed out as they both slipped on their walking shoes, and started their journey down the street. With his hand softly rubbing over her knuckles, he couldn’t help but smile at the way she hummed at every step, nothing could ever ruin her mood. A lovely ball of fire.

“I’m so gonna take a well needed bubble bath when I get home, might even slip in a muscle soak” Y/n spoke out, turning her head towards her boyfriend, his eyes already on her and his lips may as well have been permanently etched into a smile. “Is there not a ‘we’ in that sentence my love? Can your big ‘ol man not join you?”

“I-I mean of course you can, I jus didn’t know whether you’d want to, with your game being on and stuff” Y/n stuttered out, her face starting to feel that tiny bit warmer. “Ya kiddin? Why would I miss out on some one on one time with this piece of ass?” Chris growled, letting go of her hand for a mere second to deliver a loud smack onto her ass

“Chris, behave! What if someone sees us-“

Walking onto the deserted forest trail, Chris smirked as he pressed the red button on the tiny remote hidden in his sweatpants pocket. Feeling his cock start to twitch when he felt his girl’s smaller hand clutch onto his tighter, her legs clenched tightly together almost making her look like bambi on ice.

“C-Chris what’s going on, w-why -oh fuck- why are my panties vibrating” Her free hand went to cover her crotch, her head turning to check if anyone had come onto the trail as well, which was stupid Chris thought. No one came onto this trail anymore, not with the new one being set up a few miles away.

“Oh baby maybe it’s just your imagination, here lemme check for you” Chris took his larger hand, swatting away hers and cupped her throbbing pussy in his hand. Y/n’s hands had now gripped onto Chris' biceps,

“I dunno peach, it seems to feel alright down here, why don’t you tell your man what’s wrong?” He taunted mockingly, watching Y/n’s eyes shimmer with built up tears due to the continuous vibrations abusing her cunt.

“I-it tingles Chrissy, fuck me, fuck I need to take these off” She grunted losing all sense of formality, stumbling to hide behind a massive tree and clawing to take off her leggings.

“Nuh-uh baby, we haven’t even gotten halfway through the trail yet? C’mon you can make it halfway for me can’t you?” Holding her hands away from her crotch firmly, he started tugging her poor self along the trail, watching her having to stop every few seconds as her clit brushed against the vibrations directly.

“C-Chris I really can’t, oh no, I-m gonna c-cum, oh shit oh fuck-“ Within seconds Chris had to hold her up fully, her hips grinding into the air erotically as she rode out her high as best as she could. “Baby you’re so fuckin naughty, be honest, did you soak the new panties I got ya?”

“M’s-sorry I couldn’t hold it” She whimpered looking down to see the massive wet spot on her purple leggings. Hunkering down on his legs, Chris brought his nose directly to her clothed pussy and inhaled deeply,

“Did my little peach make herself cum? Look she’s soaking wet honey. Smells amazing babe” Chris taunted probing her now very prominent pussy lips with his index finger, Y/n’s hands holding onto his shoulder for as much support as possible.

Bringing her up against a tree, Chris pulled down her leggings to her ankles, the vibrating panties moving as if it had a life of its own, before Chris pulled that down too.

“Aww babe, look at her coming out to play today, musta missed me too huh?” Placing a kiss onto her swollen clit, Chris licked a stripe up her slippery slit, remnants of her cum decorating her skin.

“Please baby, I need it so bad” Y/n moaned throwing her head back against the tree, feeling Chris practically make out with her pussy, his tongue darting in and out, all over her cunt. Before settling his lips on her clit and sucking on it crazily, a hum coming from his body imitated the vibrations of the panties he had strategically gifted her.

“Fuck you eat my pussy so good baby, need you to fuck me so bad”

“What if someone sees us Y/n, what then?”

“I don’t care, let them watch” She grunted starting to grind her pussy against Chris' face, one of her legs now thrown over his shoulder as she humped him. The gruff from his beard now itching her tingling pussy in the best way possible. “Chris i’m gonna cum all over your fucking face baby, gonna make you all wet, n’ I want you to look at me while I do it”

Y/n moaned out, holding onto the sides of Chris’ face as his big dark blue orbs made contact with her half lidded eyes, his eyes clutching closed when he felt her hole clench around his tongue, his tastebuds being coated by her sweetness.

“You’re so dirty baby, bet you’d want someone to watch me fuck your tight little pussy wouldn’t ya?” He groaned standing up right to smash his lips onto hers, his hands cupping her face tightly, as he felt her lick her own cum off his face; then her tongue ventured in to meet his. Sucking on his tongue passionately, letting her saliva slowly drip into his mouth filthily, God was he in love with her.

“Spit in my fuckin’ mouth” Chris groaned with his tongue sat out, watching as she smirked before doing as he said. Her eyes watching on as he pulled up her jumper over her head rapidly before spitting onto her tits. Her hardened nipples wet with a mix of their spit, his tongue going down to toy with her nipples.

“Come on baby, let him out to play” Y/n moaned reaching her hand down Chris’ sweatpants to fist his hardened thick cock, swiping her finger over the tip to wipe the precum all over it. Lifting her hand out to suck the liquid accumulated onto her thumb.

“You’re gonna get it baby” Chris pulled down his sweatpants to his ankles, his hands going onto Y/n’s waist before lifting her up to straddle his hips, his tip poking at her swollen cunt. Y/n reached her hand down and guided his cock into her soft wet cavern, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders as he basically hugged her to his chest.

Bouncing slowly up and down on his feet Chris watched his woman’s face turn into one of pure ecstasy, her mouth wide open with her eyes threatening to shut.

“You make me so wet Chris oh my- Yes hit that fucking spot, I love you so much” She cried out, trying to make herself bounce even faster if that was even possible.

“Fuck look at your titties peach, bouncing up and down for me, c’mon ma feed me, feed your daddy”

Chris moaned feeling his balls slap against her ass for the hundredth time that minute, waiting as she hoisted herself up that much higher to guide her left breast into his mouth. Listening as he slobbered and moaned all over it like some sort of wild animal.

“I’m gonna drain your balls baby, leave nothin, keepin it all for my sweet pussy” She smirked levelling back down for her lips to meet his cheek and lips,

“All yours baby, all yours n ‘ no one else’s ya hear me? Gonna fuck you stupid and keep you all to myself too”

“No complaints here bubby” Y/n whimpered feeling that same knot start to build up at the pit of her stomach, alongside Chris’ thrusts starting to get more irregular and deeper, meaning he was also close.

“I love you so so much Y/n, you don’t understand, fuck you were made for me n my cock” He groaned kissing up her neck and chin,

“Kiss me while you make you cum in my pussy, make me yours. All yours”

For the first time during this session, Chris and Y/n kissed each other softly, his lips gently tugging on hers with need. Her whimpers being swallowed by him and vice versa, his grip on her ass not letting off as his fingers gently probed at her tight ass just to tease her that bit more.

With his tongue tangling with hers passionately, Y/n couldn’t help but feel extremely vulnerable and emotional, this was them purely making love out in nature. Sure it was a bit weird in terms of setting, but she was with the man she loved, exploring each other’s bodies as if they haven’t already memorised them.

“I’m gonna cum inside you baby, that okay?” Chris asked detaching his lips from hers for a few seconds, before her lips captured his once again as she let out a “mhm” nodding her head frantically.

“Thank you baby” He whispered against her lips as he kissed her again and again as he emptied his balls into her, feeling her thighs relax in his hold as her pussy twitched and throbbed from its simultaneous release. Their hips slowly rocking together romantically as Y/n kissed all over his face and brushed his hair back away from his face, to see him in all his glory.

Chris on the other hand, felt himself blush looking at his precious girlfriend, his peach. Her face shimmered with sweat but that only made her that more beautiful, he even had to fight his thoughts just so he wouldn’t get hard again while still inside her warm pussy.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Ya happy honey?” Chris asked leaning back against the tub, watching his girl adjust the temperature to the way she wanted.

“Are you kidding? I got the shit fucked outta me and I got my bubble bath, i’m living the dream baby” Y/n leaned back onto his chest, letting his arms encircle her waist as he softly massaged her hips, a major hot fuck session was not necessarily easy.

“Now are you happy, Mr Evans?” Y/n asked turning her body halfway around to look at him, his eyes trailing over her face become pecking her softly,

“Oh you don’t even know baby, you don’t even know”

———

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[jupyt3r]

Black

Gale stinks. Astarion wonders if he might be turning.

--

The bestial hunger growls through the psionic link Gale has opened between them, threatening to make its way out. Astarion gasps and forces his hand away, severing the connection. He's left heaving as the black mark on Gale's skin dims.

It's bloodlust. The ebony shadow of Karsus's failed apotheosis looms thick and heavy and bitter on his tongue as the air rips its way down his throat. He knows that feeling. It's bloodlust.

Gale's presence is a black shadow curling over his nostrils, that rancid scent permeating everything. Burnt cardamom and woody smoke; something that may have once had warm and toasty notes but is now nothing short of acrid. It overpowers even the smoke from the campfire the wizard leans over, as well as the scent of whatever slop he's fussing over in the pot. Astarion can't help but twitch his upper lip towards his nose in disgust, and Gale happens to catch his eye in that moment.

“Yes, well. I suppose I now know why you've been avoiding my cooking. Suffice to say, I was a little bit offended, so I'm happy to know it's a matter of biology rather than taste.”

He's completely misinterpreted the expression. Which, Astarion supposes, is fair given that humans are more often smelling food rather than blood, and because Astarion's vampiric tastes are likely top of mind for everyone tonight. The open wounds on Tav’s neck this morning had made it a little bit difficult to keep that particular detail under wraps any longer, but he doesn't regret it for a second. He's never felt better.

“Gale, my dear, you wouldn't know taste if it knocked you over the head.”

An irksome smile wrinkles his eyes. "I really don't think you're in any position to be throwing stones on the matter.”

And he's not, but he's in a good mood, so he lets the comment slide. He would be in a better mood if he wasn't drowning in the wizard’s stench, though. After the blood– that delectable, velvety nectar of life– everything is oversaturated. Scents are brighter, more vivid, and sounds are as if he'd unstuffed balls of cotton from his ears that he hadn't even known were there. He can see every pore and pockmark in Gale's skin. Not to mention the improvement to his reflexes in combat– he's nigh unstoppable. But he's also never noticed this smell as strongly before.

Is he… turning? Gale is the only human among them, so perhaps his body is simply more susceptible to the parasite. How long until the rest of them will go? The others are gathered nearby, hungrily awaiting the dubious mush bubbling over the flames; it may not be a good time to broach the subject. But later, when the rest have settled in for the evening, Astarion will get to the bottom of it.

—

He melts out of the shadows around Gale’s tent. The wizard is laying back against the pillow, reading by the light of a small, hovering flame.

“What's wrong with you?" Astarion's whisper slices from the darkness.

Gale jumps, sucking in a breath and flipping onto his stomach, fingers crackling with a defensive spell. When he sees it's Astarion, he seems a bit reluctant to let the magic fizzle out, but does so nonetheless. "Mystra's sake, Astarion, don't sneak up on me like that. I'm afraid if you're looking for a nightcap, you'll find I'm not quite as generous as Tav,” he says, rising and placing a hand over his heart, which is hammering quite loudly.

“Ugh. Trust me when I say that is the last thing I want from you. Gale, your blood is positively vile smelling. Again, what's wrong with you?”

Gale looks taken aback, as if he's unsure whether to be more offended by the accusation that he smells or that something's wrong with him. "I- I’m afraid I don't know what you mean,” he lies. “Hang on– you can smell my blood?”

“You're sick. Or something. It's not normal. Is that parasite of yours gearing up to worm its way out by explosive means? You owe us a warning before we find ourselves with a Mind-flayer in our midst." Astarion's hand comes to rest on the hilt of the dagger at his hip. “I'll make it quick."

Gale's hands fly up in a placating gesture, and he takes a step back. "No, no no! It's not that. I swear to you, it's not that.”

“But you do know what it is, then?" Astarion's eyes narrow as he recognizes that something's being kept from him. He resolves to expose this liability before it has a chance to become a threat. If the wizard can't be relied upon, let that knowledge come sooner rather than later.

“Yes," Gale admits, “but I do think that particular course of conversation is one best left alone. For now, at least. I ask that you simply trust that I am aware of my condition and I am managing it, so you needn't worry yourself." A smile surfaces on his mouth, but it's hollow.

"If you're going to faint on us mid-battle one day and require that we drag your sorry self to safety, then I think I have a right to know. We can't afford secrets like that if we're going to make it out of this alive.”

"Oh, that is rich!” Gale laughs. "Coming from someone who hasn't told us for the last tenday that we've been traveling, sleeping, with a vampire! You're one to talk about secrets.”

Astarion flounders. "I– that's different. Vampire spawn, by the way. And do you think any of you would have allowed me to stay if I had told you that on day one? Of course not. I had to keep my best interests at heart. I didn't even really mean for Tav to find out, but at least my raffish charm and good looks have had time to work their magic so I didn't end up with a blade in my chest."

He realizes then– Gale's the same. No, not the raffish charm and good looks, but he's keeping the details of his condition close to heart not because he's private, but because, like Astarion, he poses a risk to the group, yet can't afford to be exiled. He's dangerous, somehow.

"You didn't mean for Tav to find out? You were going to– what, take a bite and hope for the best that they didn't–”

"Quiet,” Astarion interrupts. "You're deflecting. How about this: you tell me a little more about whatever's putrefying your veins and let me make the risk assessment for myself, or I can simply let the others know how concerned I am for our dear magical friend who smells like he might be ill. I'm sure Lae'zel will be patient with you if she suspects you're becoming ghaik." He smirks upon seeing Gale's expression of embittered resignation.

“Alright, alright,” he relents harshly, glancing around nervously as if their camp mates could have been roused by the mere threat. "You win. But please, keep in mind that I've been open-minded about your circumstances, so I ask for the same grace to be returned to me.” Gale looks to the stars, a wistful look falling over his face.”I'm going to tell you a story. It is the story of a man– a man who fell in love with a goddess.”

Astarion rolls his eyes. "I love a good drama as much as the next man, but please, can we skip the exposition? I don't think I can bear to hear the details of your… romantic exploits.”

Gale hardens, clearly upset at being robbed of the chance to monologue. “Fine. Have it your way. My goddess, Mystra, is more than simply the object of my faith– she is the object of my affection; and I, hers. Or at least I was. I was her chosen, and she unveiled to me the secrets of the universe. I only sought to return something to her that she had lost. But I… miscalculated. If you're insistent upon the abridged tale, the short of it is that a fragment of the very Weave itself, sealed during the fall of Netheril, now resides within me.”

"What in the hells does that mean?” Astarion deadpans.

"Are you familiar with the tale of Karsus’s Folly?”

“Who?"

“Good gods. The empire of Netheril?"

“Vaguely? Ancient, floating cities. What's that got to do with your… problem?”

“Well, I'd gladly give you a history lesson, but since you're impatient to get to the heart of the issue, how about we just–” Gale reaches out and grabs his hand, pulling it in towards his chest. Astarion tries to flinch from his grasp, but his fingers graze the wizard's skin and–

I'm going to give the tome to Mystra, adorn her with this sealed specimen of primal magic. I'll prove my value to her, be more worthy than a simple mortal consort. But… its secrets are alluring. Surely a peek won't do any harm. I open the forbidden tome, the archaic pages vibrating with the promise of the arcane. Something dark and hungry bursts from the parchment, clawing at my connection to the Weave, clawing at me. It's eating me from the inside out. I have to sate it, or it will escape, I have to–

The bestial hunger growls through the psionic link Gale has opened between them, threatening to make its way out. Astarion gasps and forces his hand away, severing the connection. He's left heaving as the black mark on Gale's skin dims.

It's bloodlust. The ebony shadow of Karsus's failed apotheosis looms thick and heavy and bitter on his tongue as the air rips its way down his throat. He knows that feeling. It's bloodlust.

“That was– you can't let it– you have to–”

"As I said before, I have the situation under control.”

Astarion's still breathing hard, but his knife is at Gale's chest in an instant, directed at the center of the offending orb. "That did not feel like one iota of control,” he hisses. He knows control.

Gale goes stock-still beneath the tip of the blade. “You really don't want to do that," he warns, quietly, evenly.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't take down that thing inside you with you as collateral."

“Because it wouldn't be just me that's collateral," he responds. “No matter how desperately I wish that were the case."

“Explain. No more secrets. And don't touch me again."

“I'm the only thing keeping this… Netherese Orb contained for the moment. If I were to die… I fear the ensuing eruption would level a city the size of Waterdeep. So, if you please, it would be in both of our best interests for you to lower your blade.”

Astarion lets the true magnitude of Gale's predicament sink in, feeling simultaneous relief that his own secret was not the most dangerous one among the group by far, and fear for the numerous threats to their lives which could now spell disaster for countless others. He lowers the knife. “How, exactly, do you plan to prevent that from happening?"

“It can be stabilized, for a time, by absorbing raw pieces of the Weave. The most convenient source, I've found, is potent magical items. The enchantments are enough for it to lay dormant for a while."

“That did not feel dormant."

*Well,” Gale hesitates, "it's… awakening. You see, I haven't absorbed any magic since before the abduction. I imagine that's why it has a more potent… odor, to you. Although I'd really like to learn more about that, if you'd oblige me, the thought that magic has a smell–”

"Is not important. Just how long until you can't contain it anymore?”

"I don't know, exactly. I'm making it a priority to locate a suitable artifact as quick as I can. As I said before, I am managing it. You really needn't worry yourself. This is why I didn't want to tell anyone; that, and to avoid exactly the stunt you pulled with that knife.”

Astarion scoffs, rolling the knife between his fingers before sheathing it. “Oh, come now. You can't say you blame me for that. Next time, perhaps it's better to start off with I am quite literally a walking bomb so please don't kill me and therefore yourself and anyone in the surrounding area. Then you can talk about lovemaking with the divine, or whatever you were prattling about."

“I'm hoping there won't be a next time." Gale meets his eyes earnestly, and Astarion realizes he's being asked to keep a secret. His first instinct is to be spiteful, to retaliate for the extremely pertinent information that was kept from him, but Gale's secret feels… all too familiar. The serendipity of Tav's defense of his vampirism this morning is fresh in his mind, and despite his better impulses, he decides that Gale could use someone in his corner, too. More importantly, secrets are part of his allure of mystery, and as of today he's down one secret, so he sees no harm in replacing it with a new one. He tucks Gale's secret right in with the rest of his arsenal. It’s delicious to have leverage.

“Very well," he acquiesces, “but only so long as you are able to feed it. I don't intend to go out in a blaze of… whatever that is."

Gale sighs in relief, laying a hand over the mark. “Thank you, Astarion. Truly. On Mystra's honor, I'll keep it sated."

Astarion sits, uninvited, on Gale's cushion and uncorks a bottle of his wine. "Why doesn't Mystra just solve your little problem for you, if she's so fond of you?”

Gale eyes the invasion of his space warily, but falls cross-legged to the rug across from him. “By opening that book, I'd… flown too close to the sun, so to speak. I'd crossed a boundary that she could not forgive. She cast me out. And this… thing in my chest consumed the power I've spent my entire life honing. I'm no longer her chosen."

He looks away, his voice entirely absent of its usual confidence. Astarion takes a pull of the wine and screws his face up, his palette tainted by the previous night's indulgence. "And now you're just like the rest of us. I can't say I have much sympathy.”

“It wouldn't hurt you to try."

“I think it might, actually," Astarion muses. “The gods have shown themselves to be rather indifferent to my plight."

He looks as though he's suddenly very interested in whatever's happening to the cuticle of his second finger, if only to hide the rage that's begun to seethe beneath his skin. The gall to complain to him, of all people, about having lost the gods’ favor. At least Gale had had it to begin with. Astarion had lost count of the number of gods he'd prayed to as he lay, beaten and bleeding, at Cazador's feet. It's been a long time since he stopped; the last of his prayers had been to the god of death, and that, too, had gone unanswered.

"And what plight might that be? A shortage of plump necks to puncture, or perhaps a lack of hair gel?" Gale remarks flippantly, ignorant to the thin sheet of ice upon which he's tread.

“Don't presume to know me, Gale of Waterdeep,” he warns in a low tone. "We've all got our demons. Mine just so happen not to be as odorous as yours."

“Well," Gale says, sobered, his eyes probing analytically at Astarion's well-masked expression. “And here I thought that being a vampire would have been your deepest secret."

“Do you think me so shallow? I'm hurt," he responds with forced levity. “But we've disclosed quite enough to each other for one day, don't you think?”

"Couldn't agree more,” Gale drawls, his gaze lingering for a moment longer.

“I'll leave you to your reading, then. Do us all a favor and try not to explode tonight. Your fragment felt… hungry.” He picks himself up and dusts himself off, beginning to head towards his own tent.

"Astarion?”

"Hm?” He turns to look over his shoulder.

"Say the gods weren't indifferent. If they could grant you one request, what would you ask for?”

That's an easy question. "Power.”

"Funny,” the wizard answers, a smile on his lips, "I would say the same thing.”

Later that night, long after everyone's gone to sleep, Astarion tells himself that it's only some misplaced sense of pity that brings him to Tav’s tent, rifling through their bags. His fingers graze the prize, and he pulls it out to gleam beneath the moonlight; a locket, given in thanks for the safe return of one of the tiefling children. It’s enchanted to produce a small halo of dancing lights. Yes, it's pity, and nothing more, when he creeps through the darkness and lays the necklace at the threshold of the wizard's tent. And it will be pity (and fear) when, days later, a shade delivers the instructions for a timely resurrection, and Astarion follows each one to the letter. Pity when he tells him that the goddess of magic can fuck herself before demanding something so unthinkable. Nothing more.