#I’m also not like an expert in camp or anything

[applejuiz]

Carly Rae Jepsen just truly blows all of the other pop girlies so out of the water with her ability to truly achieve campy pop instead of just making bad music and having it be called camp. Like ‘So Nice’ is one of the most saccharine songs I’ve ever heard in my life, but she sells me on it so flawlessly. Like THIS is camp, THIS is pop. It’s commitment to the emotion that you can only do if you are fearless. I feel like so many other pop stars today are too brand-aware and self-conscious to actually swing that hard at cheesy, but it is the full power that Carly puts behind it that makes it so endearing.

Songs like ‘Let’s Be Friends’ and ‘Beach House’ are perfect campy songs because she never undercuts it to save face, and because she’s inviting us to laugh with her and not at the song. Actually I think that’s the thing everyone gets wrong about camp: it’s the equivalent of laughing with, and people confuse it with laughing at. With Carly, she’s always in on the joke and laughing while she tells it.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Bound And Discarded To Be Treasured And Known[*]

Azriel x reader

Day 3 of @acotar-omegaverse-week — All Tied Up: Oh, you’re tied up so you don’t do anything you’ll regret during your heat? Would be a shame if someone… came along and messed up that plan for you :)

a/n: my eyelids are so heavy—most of this is proofread but there are sections I’ll be checking over come morning

Warnings: smut; pussy-eating; technically dubcon since reader’s in heat; overstim?; bdsm themes; cockwarming; knots; soft Dom Az?; fluff; they’re kinda adorable; very light breeding kink; implied incorrect use of a dagger’s hilt

word count: 6,507

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“I could show you, if you’d like…?” 

Pause. 

Steady…

Deep inhale.

Okay, resume. 

Your throat rolls, wetting parched lips with a flick of your tongue as your eyes momentarily drop away from the alpha’s hazel set. There’s nothing inappropriate about what he’s offering, and yet… 

And yet.  

And yet your toes are curling in your boots and there’s molten syrup stirring in the pit of your belly. Any kind of heat is far from normal, living up here in the desolate Illyrian Steppes, and the kind that’s gently simmering within your abdomen is as normal as spotting two suns in the sky.  

“You mean…now?” That’s definitely a hint of breathlessness in your tone. A puff of mist uncurling from your lips and carried away on an icy wind slicing between you. 

Azriel rolls his shoulders carelessly, though you doubt he so much as glances about without intention. Pointed; decisive; certain. Centuries worth of lived experience and warrior training under his belt. Is there space for you to slip in, too? 

“We could meet tomorrow, if that would work better for you?” Hazel eyes rest over your features, his irises set and still. Taking you in like an expert sommelier, savouring his time distinguishing the floral notes from the bitter or sweet undertones. Swishing you around in his glass before tilting the flute upright and letting you flow across his tongue. He clears his throat. “After training, I mean. One requires a flight back up, so I’ll be here anyway.” 

“I’m not sure,” you hedge, teeth clasping at the interior of your lower lip, glancing away from what feels like an all-knowing gaze. “Starting next week I’m going to be pretty busy…”

“Busy?” Something in Azriel’s eyes changes. 

“Right.” You nod. “Baeril is flying North for a week so I’ll be cleaning things up while I have the chance.” But there’s no way he didn’t already know that. It was the General who gave him that task. Also the reason his mood has been so poor lately, given your heat is supposed to… 

You swallow, pushing the thought away. 

“I see.” The alpha before you dips his head once. “Another time, then.” He takes it smoothly, without complaint; you wish Baeril was more like him. If only he could have half the composure Azriel has, things would be significantly better. As it is though Azriel’s head dips slightly, lowering his chin to look properly at you, a smile softening the edges of his mouth. “May I walk you back?” 

You allow yourself to return his smile but it lasts for less than a second, realising where you’re going back to. “Thank you. That would be lovely.” 

“My pleasure.” 

————

There are no lingering touches on the doorstep of your home. No wash of heat where he’d usually wrap you to his chest, nor a last surge of warmth before the cool creeps in and you’re returned to the dim dampness of your house. Instead you give less than a tight smile, and it seems even Azriel’s lips contain ounces of strain as he yields you once again. 

Returning you to your husband’s uncaring grip. 

————

Busy, she had told him. Busy cleaning the house. 

Azriel knows her husband has been sent off to check in on his relatives throughout the inner camps, so by all means she should be going with him. Not that he’s complaining that her husband might be loosening his grip on the treasure that is his wife. Azriel’ll happily swoop in the moment he senses an opening. It’s not like he’s made it this far through hesitating. 

Though it is out of character for her husband to leave her. While there’s little romance between them, there is still possession. So why leave her? 

————

It’s been two days since her husband had initially set off, and three days since he’s last seen her. Ordinarily Azriel would have no cause for concern—there are days when one of them is busier than usual—but this is preciously unregulated time with her husband entirely out of the picture. 

Not that he’d had plans. The closest he’s gotten is a late night a month and a half ago, the sky having fallen to a dusky blue and the air containing the evening scent of woodsmoke. There’d been a celebration amongst the male Illyrians, cause for bonfires and ale and mead, salted meats with rosemary and indulging in crisped potatoes the size of one’s fist. Her husband had been out and both of them had known he wouldn’t be back for while. 

His fingers had found their way to her cheek, pushing at a stray hair, and then her eyes had fluttered shut. Her hands had been clasped before her chest and her chin had lifted ever so slightly. Then his head had dipped but their mouths barely even touched before a stray breeze had her eyes snapping open, a look of peril on her features. She’d taken a step back, and then another, and then she’d been muttering an apology under her breath and turning for her house. 

They haven’t spoken of it since. 

Azriel had thought he might have a chance to bring it up when he saw her next… Is she avoiding him? The thought doesn’t sit well in his gut. Surely she would have no reason to. And yet, as far as he can tell, she would’ve had no reason to pull away the night he almost kissed her. 

Wings shifting once at his back, Azriel steers his course to pass by her house. Evening is swiftly setting in, and if he isn’t quick he’ll miss his chance for the day—even he can’t deny it would be inappropriate to call in after dark, knowing she was on her own, and Azriel doesn’t want to bring any more trouble her way. Light is fading, the temperature steadily dropping with the dwindling of the sun, and the war camp is quiet as it hasn’t yet reached time for the males to sojourn down to an inn for post-dinner chatter. 

Her house is the one at the end of the street, plenty of space kept between builds to allow room for gardens where veg will spring in the summer. There are no lights on that he can see, windows dark and seemingly empty. His brow furrows. Did her husband have a change of heart and bring her along as a last minute decision? Surely he would have known. 

Keeping his pace steady, Azriel sends his shadows far on ahead, letting them curl around the back of the house, peering in dark glass to a darker interior. Empty. Strange. Surely, Azriel would have known if she’d ended up going with him… That’s her dressing robe hanging from the door; all her shoes by the front entrance, tucked between her husbands boots; the fleeced cloak she would take if she really was to travel deeper into the brutal terrain further north. Hair prickles at the nape of his neck. 

Azriel allows his shadows to sweep the area, senses on high alert as he scans for any watchful eyes. When he finds none, he walks to her front door. 

Locked. That’s fine.

Keeping his shadows aware, he calmly walks to the side, finding the large windows that let light into their living room—large enough for him to climb through, once the latch is…perfect. Shadows slip between the wood holding the glass and flip the latch open, pushing the windows ajar. 

No sooner than he’s inside, a thick scent nearly chokes him, so concentrated and sweet he has to cover the lower portion of his face at first. The window clicks shut, and hazel eyes scan the vacant interior of their sitting room. Nothing is out of place, no shattered vases or broken plates, no blood stains on the floor, but that scent. Cautiously, Azriel sniffs once, bringing it into his lungs, filling them up and spreading into his bloodstream. Whatever is producing that smell, he can feel as it courses through his body, pulse kicking up. It’s unusually hot for a house built in Illyria. It should be much more draughty, not toeing the line of sweltering. Where’s all this heat coming from? 

Not hearing any approaching footsteps, Azriel enters further into the enclosure, keeping his shadows ahead of him, patrolling corridors and doorways to keep himself hidden. 

The scent builds, so dense he wonders if he’s even breathing air anymore or whether it’s pure… His tongue shifts in his mouth, throat rolling. His mouth is watering. 

Azriel stiffens. 

An increase in temperature. Prickling skin. Excessive working of salivary glands. Blood rushing with increased fervour. …This strangely sweet scent. Azriel inhales sharply, a faint tremble in his knuckles as he wraps his hand around the bedroom’s door handle. The door opens. 

Azriel’s spine turns rigid…the scent is so much stronger. So strong his head is hurting.

But then his eyes find the bed, and his thoughts eddy away. 

Her wings are bound at her back, rendered immobile and useless; coarse, thick rope has been tied around her wrists, wrapping around her forearms so they’re pulled together at the base of her spine, so tightly snared her shoulders are taut where they’re being wrenched back from her chest; darkened fabric has been tied at the back of her head, biting into her cheeks where it’s been slipped through her mouth, wet with saliva; rope has been wound around her ankles, knees, and thighs, making it impossible for her to move save for light circles of her hips. 

The scent is coming from her. 

She’s gone into heat. 

————

How much longer? How much longer until it’s over? 

You can’t even rub your thighs together from how closely they’re bound, not even an ounce of friction to soothe the aches riddling your body. Your arms have long since turned numb, though the edges of your mouth are rubbed raw and sore. Heat swelters beneath your skin, temples dewy and a thick gleam coats your body where sweat has permeated through the pores of your flesh. 

It’s pure hell. 

Exactly what Baeril had intended when he’d tied you up before departing for the innermost camps set up in the frozen mountains of Illyria. After all, he wouldn’t be able to be with you after the task he’d been assigned with would take up almost all of his time, and if he was going to have to suffer through the absence of sex, then he was going to make it ten-times as torturous for you. No romance, no love; just pure possession. Your pleasure is something of his—something he wouldn’t allow you to have unless it was from him. 

A floorboard creaks behind you, and you whimper into the rag. Is he finally back? 

Your hips wind in a circle, weakly shifting in the bed as you try to do whatever you can to lure him closer, to relieve you of the ties, or at least remove the ones from your legs so he can slide between them. With the angle of your head on the pillow you can’t see him, but you try to lift onto your knees only to find yourself too weak to manage anything more than raising an inch from the mattress. 

The slicing of steel through coarse strands of rope snickers through the room and you find your ankles free, circling your feet as they tingle with feeling. You whine into the rag, squirming desperately beneath your bonds. Your knees part next, and the waves of heat increase the more freedom you’re allowed, the closer you come to being able to move and receive. A rough hand wraps around the top of your thigh, holding you in place as the blade slips beneath the rope, severing the final tie.

With a pained whimper, your legs press together, managing to half-roll onto your side, thighs rubbing against one another to invite more of that delicious heat to gather. A calloused palm wraps around your upper arm, probably to sever the ropes binding your upper body but you shift before he can continue. 

You don’t need any more freedom—you just need him to fuck you. 

————

Azriel’s back teeth might split beneath the tension that’s clenching in his jaw. 

Now her legs are free, she’s managed to work herself into what she deems an ample position: knees pushing into the cushioning of the mattress a little further than shoulder width apart, her spine curving to invite him closer, face pressing deeper into the pillows. He can’t imagine the rope around her wings or arms being anything less than painful, but it seems her heat is taking priority. 

He could instruct her to lie down, to let him cut the ropes on her body, but he doesn’t want to alarm her. She’ll be expecting her husband, not him. What if she doesn’t want him now she’s in heat? Fuck, they haven’t even had their first kiss, and yet he’s on his knees behind her and trying not to think about how perfectly they’re aligned. All he’d need to do is push her dress up, loosen the ties of his leathers, and that would be it. 

The only problem is that it would be unforgivably wrong. 

Her legs are open, her hips circling faintly, needy sounds pouring into that gag, but none of it is for him. He needs to cut her free. 

Gritting his teeth tighter, he leans over her enough to slide the cold steel of the blade between the first three coils of rope, severing them like fabric scissors through silk. No sooner than her arms are freed, her legs have wrapped themselves around his hips, her left shin and foot wrapping around his back so she can haul her right to lock at his back. Muscles flex in her wings as her arms push beneath her, lifting herself up as she squeezes with her legs, aligning his hips with her centre, thighs working to keep them flush tight together. 

Azriel exhales harshly, his palms working to disentangle her legs from his waist but it’s like she’s locked in, having grown impossibly strong in order to gain what she wants. She squeezes him once more, and her grip is tight enough he’s pulled forward, hands slamming down either side of her in the mattress, narrowly avoiding knocking her wings. 

He can hear the whimpers stuck in her throat, the way her body is shifting beneath her own, and he forces himself to get a grip. He has to keep steady. He’s working to help you, not take advantage of you. Shadows curl, and he retains enough control over himself to have the steel blade slicing through the ropes around your wings before pushing himself away, ripping from your grip. 

A pained noise moans from behind the rag, and Azriel watches as she tries to weakly shift upright, her upper arms shaking as pheromones filter through the already thickly sweet air. His mouth opens in preparation to explain, but she’s already turned around on her knees, fingers splayed delicately between the sheets, her pupils dilated and lips parted as they try to work around the gag. 

Both of them freeze when their eyes lock, neither having been prepared for the current situation. 

————

Azriel. 

His name alone provides more comfort and relief than you’ve received in the past week, a cool sweep of lightheadedness coursing through your body. 

It’s Azriel, and everything’s okay. 

You manage to sit back on your knees, hands trying to release the gag from your mouth and you could cry from frustration when your fingers fumble, being unfamiliar with whatever way he’d tied the pieces together. 

Azriel’s throat rolls once. “Here.” He says. “Let me.” 

Your hands fall away, shuffling closer so he can work on the tie. Your chest rises up and down, eyes flitting from his dilated hazel set to the inviting heat of his soft mouth, how good his lips will feel. 

The gag loosens, and Azriel meets your gaze, a deep apology already held on the tip of his tongue. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice thick and heavy, scratching at your ears, “I’ll find you some medicine, just—” 

Your arms lock over his shoulders, flinging your weight into his chest, mouth colliding with his own. Gods, if your eyes were open they would have rolled to the back of your skull, indulging in the heaven of his hair between your fingers, soft and smooth and silky. Clean and taken care of. Need pounds between your legs, pressing your hips tight to his front as your nails scrape up the nape of his neck, scratching just beneath his jaw as your teeth tug on his lower lip, dragging on it sultrily. 

Hazel eyes widen by an almost imperceptible margin, fingers enclosing around your wrists but not yet making any moves. Caught between pulling you away and pushing you into the bed.

“Azriel,” you pant, retracting enough for words to narrowly fit between your mouths. A shudder of pleasure zips up your spine from the taste of his name, a flutter of arousal spasming in your lower belly. “Azriel…” It comes out more high-pitched the second time, more desperate and hoarse. What a state you must be in. How long have you even been lying there? 

You don’t think about it. You just want to taste his name once more. 

But, “Wait,” he instructs, forcing himself to retreat. A noise of pure pain breaks from your chest, nails finding purchase in his well-muscled shoulders, trying to keep him from leaving as you shake your head. “Azriel, please. Please don’t…” You stare up at him, palms gripping onto him in supplication. “Please…” Hot water drips down your cheek, overwhelmed by wild hormones gushing through your bloodstream, making everything too much and so, so, confusing. 

“I just need to find you medicine,” he tries to reason but you can hear the unsteady inhale of breath, the heightened staccato of his pulse. “Then you’ll be thinking clearly again. A little.” 

“Fuck me,” you breathe, ignoring what he’s trying to tell you. “Please.” You push your bodies closer, certain he’ll be able to feel the full press of your breasts to his chest, the inviting softness of your body and… Your mouth opens in a moan when you feel the hard outline of him digging into your lower stomach. That needs to be inside of you. Right now. 

“I can’t,” he whispers, his eyes shining at the hurt you’re clearly experiencing. “I— That would be wrong. Let me find you—”

“There’s none in the house. No one will have any up here. It’ll take hours. Help me.” You don’t know where the reasoning comes from, but maybe the desperation is making your mind work more efficiently to provide a succinct, compelling argument. “You know me. I want you. I wanted you before this. I’ll want you after. Please.” 

“Are you—”

“Yes. Please.” 

His wings have lifted at his back—perhaps he’s not even aware of it himself—looming over the broad set of his shoulders, and you just know you need them to be flared while he’s on top of you. Holding you down in the bed. His weight keeping you pinned. 

Then you’re being forcefully pushed down into the mattress, his mouth atop your own, and heat bursts throughout your body. Your thighs part, legs eager to wrap around his hips, and you—ohh. That’s good. 

A moan spills from your lips when you managed to rub against him, the thick length of him pushing at the delicate part between your legs. “Azriel,” you pant, chest heaving up and down, “Azriel I need you. Now.” 

“Right now?” 

You swirl your hips, knowing it will feel torturous to him but he clearly needs the incentive of arousal to have him acting. “Don’t hold back,” you whisper, grinding up against him, already fantasising about how good he’ll feel inside of you. How full you’ll be. His wingspan alone is promising you pleasure, but he’s also an alpha, so… Your throat rolls, wondering if you might have bitten off more than you can chew. Alphas are notoriously…well off. 

Azriel pulls back as far as you’ll. Let him, looking down at you with colour high on his cheekbones. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he pants. 

“You won’t,” you assure, cupping his jaw, squeezing his hips. His throat rolls, and you want to bite him. Lick and nip and bite. 

“Give me a safe word,” Azriel demands, his voice rough and coarse. “You need to have… So I can be sure.” He’s just as breathless as you are. “Choose one.” 

You say the first word that comes into your head. “Knot.” 

Azriel’s head falls to the crook of your shoulder and neck, groaning audibly beside your ear, his hips lazily grinding against your clothed sex. Hot breath fans your bare skin, and you incline your chin for him to access your throat but his hands are fisted in the sheets, tension lining his powerful body. “Pick a different one,” he grits out. “You’re not having knot as your—”

Your hand has slipped between your bodies, cupping him before palming carefully at the large outline in his leathers. His tension rises, his whole body going rigid before he pulls far enough back to snarl, glaring down at you. Arousal floods between your thighs, squirming beneath the heated look. “Pick a godsdamned safe word or I’m tying you back up and getting that medicine.” 

The ropes had hurt. A lot. 

So why is your skin only growing hotter at the suggestion? 

“Rope,” you manage to get out. It doesn’t make much sense but as far as safe words go, it’ll do. Azriel seems to find it satisfactory, dipping his head once. “Say ‘rope’ if it gets too much then. I’ll stop.” 

“Mhmm.” You nod instantly, whimpering when he pulls back to untie his leathers. The whimpers turn into a moan when shadow crawl up your calves, looping around your knees to keep them spread, carefully pulling away the fabric of your skirts until you’re almost bare. 

Your head tips back into the cushions when the darkness swipes up the centre of your sex, flicking over your clit. They make to curl around the band at your hips but Azriel curses foully under his breath, hazel eyes so dark they’re nearly black as he gazes between your parted thighs. You’d gone into heat the day Baeril had left, cunt practically drooling slick every minute of every hour since then. The sheets are more than soaked, and your underwear is practically suctioned to your sex, strands of arousal webbing between your thighs. 

Azriel groans softly before both his palms are wrapping beneath your knees, allowing their underside to slot between his thumbs and second fingers. Your spine arches, thighs trembling as he buries his face between your legs creating a wild fluttering sensation in your lower belly, hips circling as you rub against whatever friction he’ll provide even if it means soaking his face in the process. If he likes it then you’re fine to adhere. Who are you to refuse pleasure?

The orgasm breaks across your skin with violent force, your breathing stuttering as your spine arcs off the bed, cunt fluttering around nothing as he licks up the wet mess between your thighs. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking tenderly on the sensitive part and you could cry from satisfaction. How relieved you are he innately knows where to touch. Even after the orgasm has finished washing through your body, it feels like only a few litres of pleasure have been released from behind a one-hundred foot tall dam. 

“Azriel,” you pant, tugging at his hair. “More. I need more. Please.”

“So quickly?” He drawls, though it comes out breathless. You squirm, trying to free your legs from his grip, your knees still practically shoved to your chest to make room for him. “You’re being cruel,” you cry, winding your hips, needing him inside. He seems to take pity on you there, releasing your legs to prowl up your torso, taking your dress with him, nearly tearing it clean from your body—you wouldn’t have minded. But now you’re naked and completely exposed save for the underwear at your hips, and Azriel’s looking like he might try and make you cum from licking and playing with your breasts alone. Then again with the aid of your heat, anything’s possible. 

Almost reverently, Azriel thumbs across one of your nipples, watching your reactions with a keenness that has a fire simmering in the pit of your stomach. But, “Azriel…” you whimper. “Not now…” 

Hazel eyes soften, then he’s nodding his head. Swallowing. “I’ll take care of you.” 

Breaths pant between you and your tongue wets your lips when you see his hand wrapped around his cock, the tip holding a bead of precum and your cunt aches as it swells with liquid before drizzling down his tip. You need to taste him. Gods he’s going to feel so good inside of you, and you hold your legs apart to make room for him. 

“You’re going to tell me if you need time, okay?” Azriel instructs, drawing your attention to his eyes. “We can go slower if it’s too much. Take as much time as you need.” 

“Put it inside,” you beg, hips shifting eagerly, ready to take him. “It’ll fit.” Azriel pauses, glancing at you doubtfully, “I’ve barely touched you. If it’s too much you’re taking my fingers instead. I’m not going to hurt you.” But you shake your head, need coursing through your veins, and he’s right there. 

“You wouldn’t have been made that big if you wouldn’t fit me.” 

Azriel groans, but it’s clear he’s struggling. Why is he struggling, he just needs to slide in. It’ll be fine. Why’s he waiting? What’s taking him so long? Why’s he not going in? 

His tip presses to your entrance and you freeze with anticipation. Almost there. 

Scar-roughened fingers lace with your own, gently pinning your hands to the bed as he leans his weight over you. 

He goes slowly as he’d told you he would. Inch by inch. Sliding deeper, and deeper. Air is pushed from your lungs, and even while he’s still you can feel his cock pushing upward against that spot. A few strokes of his thumb over your clit and you’ll be gone. Hazel eyes lock with yours, blinking before his brows raise, glancing lower as his hand slides between you. One. Two…

“Oh.” 

————

Azriel’s breath is trapped in his lungs as she flutters around him.

He hasn’t even moved yet and she’s coming on his cock. 

Her lips are parted and she looks like she’s in heaven right now. 

And she did say to not hold back. 

————

You don’t get a chance to hold onto anything when he draws his hips back and suddenly pushes back in before the aftershocks have even properly faded. 

You don’t have room to moan when he repeats the action but harder. 

You don’t have space for thought when he makes it a regular pace, fingers digging into your hips to angle them up from the bed so his cock can rub against that spot that had you coming so fast before. 

You don’t get a chance to fully acclimatise to the onslaught of pleasure. 

He’s perfect. 

Your hips lift in time to meet his thrusts, winding and bucking to take everything he can give, eager to have him filling you up until he’s making the sheets as wet as you are. Your spine arches as he holds your legs apart, roughly slamming into you over and over, hitting that spot again and again until you’re screaming with pleasure, head tipped back and mouth completely open, being fucked further up the mattress with every snap of his hips. 

“Is that better?” He asks and you’re astounded by the mild tone. He’s currently obliterating your world and yet he sounds completely in control. You manage a nod and he lowers his mouth to the hollow of your throat, halting the sharp thrusts but keeping you tightly pulled to his hips as he licks up the side of your throat. You feel more down-to-earth than you have over the past two days, and you’re approaching the peak of your heat right now. He’s keeping up with you. 

“Sit in my lap for a bit?” 

You hear the question but can manage little more than a series of dazed blinks. Then a vacant nod. 

His lips curve and hazel eyes twinkle, then his powerful arms are sliding beneath your back and hauling you upright, shifting the both of you so his back is against the headboard and you’re straddling his lap. Your knees sink down into the bed and his cock presses against your inner walls. 

“I can see you…you’re inside of me.” Your palm tentatively settles over the bump in your lower belly, shifting your hips faintly over his lap to feel him rub against you. “Az…you…oh.” 

His shadows wrap around your middle, stroking your sides soothingly as they squeeze your abdomen, the pressure having your eyes flutter with pleasure. “You feel so good,” you breathe, lips staying parted on the exhale, a blissed out heaviness to your half-open eyes. “So right, inside.” 

“You’re adorable,” he chuckles breathily into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning ticklishly across the intimate expanse, fangs dragging teasingly along. His lips curve against your throat, and a small, needful hum simmers in your chest. “So perfect.” 

Teeth prod into your lower lip, fingers tangling in the silky strands of his hair. He smells delicious. Clean but distinctly male. Distinctly himself. “You’re perfect,” you argue back, hardly louder than a murmur. You pull back to look at one another, your skin heating with the strange intimacy. 

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, playing with the ends of his hair. Azriel doesn’t avert his gaze, palms spanning the sweep of your hips, thumbs stroking faintly. “Lift up,” he tells you, softer than a whisper; a gently uttered command. You flush at his low cadence, but obey. 

Try to obey. 

You’re stuck. 

Azriel groans softly when you squeeze him, fingers digging into your hips when you try to start riding him, instincts urging you to have him releasing. 

“Az, why-”

“Slow down. It’s okay.” His palm settles atop the crown of your head, stroking gently. “I should have pulled out before it formed. Just wait until it goes away then I promise we can start again.” 

“But I want to take it,” you insist, leaning into his chest. “I want your knot.” His throat rolls but he doesn’t relent. “I don’t regularly take a tonic, pretty thing.”

“That’s fine. I still want it.” 

“You want it now,” he stresses that last part, still remaining steady. You don’t feel like he’s chastising you. “What about when you’re not in heat?” 

“I’ll still want it. Please.” 

Azriel shakes his head, eyes still soft despite their hunger. “When your heat passes we can talk more about…what will happen between us. For now…”

“Us?” You ask, pulse spiking. 

“Is that… Do you not want an us?” 

“I want an us. What about-”

“Please don’t say his name right now.” You flush, tightening around him, shifting in his lap. “Well, what about that? I’m married…” 

“It’s illegal to confine someone in the way he did to you. Especially since I’m assuming he knew you were going into heat?” You nod your head, choosing not to think about what could have happened had Azriel not shown up. A muscle feathers in his jaw before he continues. “Then that’s a kind of torture. More than enough ground for departure.” His throat rolls. “If you…?”

“Are you sure?” 

He stares at you. 

You glance away. “You aren’t-…I mean, this isn’t lust speaking, is it? You’ll mean what you’re saying once you’re done with me?”

“Done with you?” 

“Once my heat is passed…” 

He’s still staring.

“Have I said something wrong?” You ask, once again shifting in his lap. 

Scar-roughened palms cup your cheeks, hazel eyes shining as he pulls you closer. “I’ve been hoping to take you from him for the past three years.” Your heart flutters in your chest, leaning into the solid heat of his chest. “Once your heat is passed, it’s your choice what to do, but know I’d like to be part of it still. In whatever way you might let me.” 

“Are you…”

“I’m serious.” His thumb swipes across the crest of your cheek. “I can tell you this all again once your heat is passed, if that will help. I want to… I want to be with you.” 

You’re too stunned to speak, heart about ready to grow its own set of wings and fly far away. Flutter to the skies and float away on a warm breeze. 

You shift in his lap once more, still able to feel his knot inside of you—not as big as before but definitely still there. Your tongue swipes across your lips. “Emerie…will have something. To prevent pregnancy, I mean.” His throat rolls, and your teeth tug at the interior of your lower lip. “So, as long as I can take that within the next day…” You roll your hips gently over his own, tightening around him as your hands slowly glide up his chest. 

“When I leave to get…a tonic.” He seems to be having a hard time getting through this one. “Will you be okay?” You blink, averting your eyes as you consider. You’d rather he didn’t leave…you don’t want to endure any more of that heat without reprieve, but you so badly want to take his knot. To feel him spill inside of you. You’re not sure you’ll be able to survive without that. 

Your eyes catch on a sheath strapped to his thigh. The smooth metal handle of the dagger he’d used to cut you free. Curved and cylindrical. 

You clear your throat, feeling the heat begin to return. “Is that clean?” 

Beneath you Azriel freezes. “…Yes.” 

“And…so…would you mind if I…” 

“No.” He tries to clear his throat. Swallows. “No, it’s fine. You can use it.” His voice strains over that last part. “I’ll clean it again, before leaving you. But yes. You’re more than- I mean, I don’t mind. If it will help you, then please-”

Your lips press to his, and the rigidity begins to thaw. Gently circling your hips, you want to entice him to make you move, to angle and direct you as he pleases. The thought alone of having him guide you has wild butterflies coming alive between your legs.

“Give it to me,” you whisper, nails scratching lightly beneath his jaw. “Let me take it.” Azriel nods, looking up at you as though dazed. His eyes are glazed, lips parted, fingers skimming over your skin. “I want…I want you to use me to get there,” you utter softly, unsure whether to be embarrassed over the admission. When he twitches inside of you, you decide you’re proud of your decision.

“You want me…? To…?”

Teeth prod at your lip, and you nod your head. “I want you… To…”

Azriel swallows thickly but nods nonetheless. “Okay.”

Hands readjust their grip on your hips, fingers spanning up to your waist before he lifts you from his lap—as far as you can go—then sliding you back down. His breathing stutters and you try to vaguely follow his directions, lifting up, then down, using the muscles in your legs to ride him as much as you can.

He’s growing bigger inside of you. Swelling at the base of his cock. Locking you tighter together until it’s impossible to slide much up or down. Instead he inclines your body into him, breasts pressing flush to his chest, your fingers scrambling at the hem of his clothes, encouraging them away so he’s bare.

Powerful arms wrap around your back, minding your wings while keeping you plastered to his front. It feels good, to be held like this during sex. The tenderness is something you hadn’t known was an option, but now he’s so freely offering it to you you’re taking it with both hands, arms wrapping over his shoulders.

A moan is pushed from your chest when he bucks his hips, his arms keeping you strapped to his torso, shadows delicately snaring your forearms to bind them as they’d been when he found you.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, lips tickling the shell of your ear. “It’s good,” you reassure, too caught up in pleasure to really think.

Azriel bites his lip as he holds you upright, letting his shadows roam across your front, his palms playing with your breasts, thumbing across your nipples before trailing back down to your hips. Bucking up into you. Guiding you to rock back and forth, your clit rubbing over his abdomen.

“Azriel…I’m…”

He nods. “Good.”

“But what about you…?”

“I’m nearly there…just keep…” He cuts himself off with a deep groan, one you can feel vibrating through your own body, sending tremors up your thighs.

He twitches twice, then he’s filling you up, knot swollen to its full size so it’s impossible to lift off him, locked together while he empties himself inside. Your lips part with pleasure, another orgasm rolling through your limbs, spreading to your tip toes and fingertips. It’s the most powerful one yet, ecstasy heightened by his own orgasm, feeling as he fills you up so perfectly.

Azriel holds you all the way through it, shadows stroking tenderly up and down over your body, putting soothing touches into your skin before eventually unraveling from your arms, allowing you to reach out for him. Fingers interleaf with your own, squeezing faintly.

It’s different knowing this isn’t temporary. That it’s not just sex. That there is romance, and it’s not just possession.

Maybe it’s more than just romance. He had almost kissed you before you’d run away…

You’ll just have to trust that he’ll keep caring after this immediate heat is passed. That he really does want to take you away, and be with you. And looking at him now…feeling the gentle touch, the light patterns he’s drawing on your skin, waiting patiently for you to signal whether you want more or a break…

You smile, inclining your head until your noses are brushing. Close enough to feel the stutter of air his lashes send your way. “I want you to stay with me. After this is passed.”

Hazel eyes blink, his lips softening at their corners. “I’d wish for nothing more.”

Your toes curl, a fluttery feeling in your heart, and you press a small kiss to his mouth.

His knuckles graze your cheek before cupping you jaw, indulging in the sweet press of you lips.

Perfection.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, come on, there’s just —” Will blows an errant curl from out of his eyes, cheeks red with exertion, balancing nimbly on his feet to put both hands on his hips. “There’s no way, Nico.”

Nico, not blessed with such balance, has to hold all footholds with all limbs, staring warily at the lava wall’s snake holes.

“What? I’m just not as good as you.”

Will flops his right arm outwards, narrowly avoiding smacking it against the rock. “But you are!”

Nico shifts his wary gaze from the snake holes to Will’s rope harness. Is it tight enough? It better be tight enough. Will is putting a lot of faith in it, right now.

“You scaled those cliffs in — in the place —” he trips, still, over the pit, on the odd time he mentions it, and it always makes Nico wince — “like it was nothing! And whenever Percy visits and challenges you you’re suddenly the lava wall expert!” He turns stern blue eyes to face Nico’s head-on. “Not buying it, di Angelo!”

A gush of lava forces him to resume climbing, but there’s an aggression to his movements — a specific, stiff, curated aggression, that Nico has learned means anxiety in people known as William Andrew Solace. That, and coupled with the rapid muttering which, in between the roar of molten stone, Nico believes is a a repetition of “dumbass” “always tryna act a goddamn fool” and “I’m gonna kill him before he sends me into cardiac arrest again”, interspersed with random swears in English, Latin, Ancient Greek, and also — gods — Klingon.

“Will.”

Will ignores him, scampering the last few feet up the wall and slapping the top before relaying down. Nico sighs, following him (albeit significantly slower).

“Will.”

“You’re hiding something from me.” He practically rips the harness off his body — do not think about that do not think about that do not think about that — and shoves it on the hook so hard it damn near snaps off. The look he levels in Nico’s direction practically turns him to stone, it’s so frigid, and he has to resist a shiver. “I can tell.”

It takes a good amount of pushing to make Will all testy like this. Sure, his buttons are easy to push, but most of that is for show. He likes to be dramatic. (Especially because he knows Nico will indulge him, more than anyone else ever has. He relishes in it, Nico thinks; he likes that Nico will watch his productions. An Apollo kid through and through.) He’s not usually one to show his genuine frustration.

But, hoo, boy, when he is frustrated.

Nico has a bad, bad habit of making it worse.

(As if it’s his fault that Will’s hot when he’s mad.)

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico says, forcibly lightly. He sticks his hand out defiantly. “Check me, why don’t you? Not hiding anything.”

He really isn’t. No injuries, no illness, hell, he’s not even tired. Had a full three meals and everything. Even his perpetually achey joints aren’t bad today.

All of this, obviously, is communicated when Will touches him, squinting suspiciously at their joined hands.

“You’re heart rate is high,” he mutters petulantly.

Nico looks at him patiently. “That’s ‘cause my smokeshow boyfriend is holding my hand.”

Grumpy as he’s trying to be, his ears redden. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“Shut up.”

Nico grins, pulling his hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the knuckles.

“No.”

“Whatever,” Will says, snatching his hand back. His smile spreads widely across his face, now, and he looks away, as pleased as he is exasperated. “You’re still being a weirdo. I should not be so far ahead of you on the wall, Neeks.”

Success — back to nicknames. Crisis averted.

“Have you considered that you’re the camp-wide record holder for a reason, you spider monkey?”

“Still!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico gets up on his tiptoes, pressing a lingering kiss to the bridge of his freckled nose. “Stop worrying about me, Solace. I’m fine. Burn off some steam, I’ll watch.”

Will huffs. “Fine. But I’ll find out, y’hear me? Truth can’t hide from me for long.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He watches as Will suits back up, helping him with his more complicated straps (because Nico was raised to be a gentleman, obviously, why else) and shooing him away when he opens his mouth for more interrogations. He switches to sticking out his tongue, and after a moment of hesitation, bounds back over to his first true love — being a big nerdy jock dork.

Nico settles on the grass several feet away from the wall, pretending to clean his sword. After a few minutes, he hears footsteps, and two people sit next to him on either side.

“So,” says Lou Ellen, ignoring Nico’s suspicious look as she tosses a glowing ball of something around, “how come you’re not climbing?”

Nico shrugs. “Only so many times you can climb before it gets boring.”

On his other side, Cecil makes a loud buzzer sound.

“Nope! Wrong answer. Try again.”

Nico is a dignified grownup who refuses to stoop down to Cecil’s level by responding. Instead, he reaches over and pokes him in his ridiculously sensitive ribs, hard, sending him sprawling with a screech.

“Shut up,” he says mildly, as his friend flails. “I’m trying to be a supportive boyfriend, and I can’t do that with all your whining.”

Will has, in the ten minutes since he started, made it halfway up the wall. He seems to have it programmed to the Super Extra Mega Evil Insane mode that the Athena and Ares kids invented just for him, since he smoked all the other levels. He dodges a shot of lava with a laugh, throwing himself to the side and hanging on with three fingers and one scuffed sneaker poised on the tiniest sliver of rock. His attention is broken when Lou Ellen sticks her face right in Nico’s field of vision, tracing Nico’s eyeline with narrowed eyes.

“Ah,” she nods knowingly. “You’re staring at his ass.”

Nico falters, damn near slicing his own fingers off. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he says blithely. He gestures without looking at his sword. “I’m busy, see?”

She scoffs. “Real busy. That’s why you almost just did emergency surgery on yourself.”

“Exactly.”

Will pushes up a foot, shifting his hips and launching himself upwards. He makes a little shout of victory, plastering himself to the wall to keep balance, every muscle tensed.

From his place on the floor, Cecil makes an appreciative noise. “He does have a nice ass. Can’t blame you for looking.”

Nico frowns. “Hey. Stop objectifying my boyfriend.” He reaches out and smacks a hand over Cecil’s eyes. “That’s my job.”

“You guys are ridiculous.”

Nico reaches over and puts a hand over her eyes, too, ‘cause there’s no missing where they’re pointed.

“Shut up or I’ll literally put shadows into your retinae and blind you forever,” Nico threatens. (Is this a thing he can do? No. Do his friends know this? Also no.)

“You’re a dictator!” Cecil protests.

“Depriving us of basic human rights!” Lou Ellen agrees.

Nico shrugs. He glances back up the the climbing wall, where he has a very perfect view — and a great reason to never even try to climb faster than Will does. He grins.

“Too bad for you guys.”

[nicklloydnow]

“May I be permitted to say a few words? I am an Edinburgh graduate (MA 1975) who studied Persian, Arabic & Islamic History under William Montgomery Watt & Laurence Elwell Sutton, 2 of Britain ‘s great Middle East experts. I later went on to do a PhD at Cambridge & to teach Arabic & Islamic Studies at Newcastle University . Naturally, I am the author of several books & 100s of articles in this field.

I say all that to show that I am well informed in Middle Eastern affairs & that, for that reason, I am shocked & disheartened for a simple reason: there is not & has never been a system of apartheid in Israel. That is not my opinion, that is fact that can be tested against reality should anyone choose to visit Israel.

Let me spell this out, since I have the impression that many students are absolutely clueless in matters concerning Israel, & that they are, in all likelihood, the victims of extremely biased propaganda coming from the anti-Israel lobby.

Hating Israel

Being anti-Israel is not in itself objectionable. But I’m not talking about ordinary criticism of Israel . I’m speaking of a hatred that permits itself no boundaries in the lies & myths it pours out. Thus, Israel is repeatedly referred to as a “Nazi” state. In what sense is this true, even as a metaphor? Where are the Israeli concentration camps? The einzatsgruppen? The SS? The Nuremberg Laws?

None of these things nor anything remotely resembling them exists in Israel, precisely because the Jews, more than anyone on earth, understand what Nazism stood for. It is claimed that there has been an Israeli Holocaust in Gaza (or elsewhere). Where? When?

No honest historian would treat that claim with anything but the contempt. But calling Jews Nazis and saying they have committed a Holocaust is a way to subvert historical fact. Likewise apartheid.

No Apartheid

For apartheid to exist, there would have to be a situation that closely resembled how things were in South Africa under the apartheid regime. Unfortunately for those who believe this, a day in any part of Israel would be enough to show how ridiculous this is.

The most obvious focus for apartheid would be the country’s 20% Arab population. Under Israeli law, Arab Israelis have exactly the same rights as Jews or anyone else; Muslims have the same rights as Jews or Christians; Baha’is, severely persecuted in Iran, flourish in Israel, where they have their world center; Ahmadi Muslims, severely persecuted in Pakistan & elsewhere, are kept safe by Israel; or anyone else; the holy places of all religions are protected by Israeli law.

Free Arab Israelis

Arabs form 20% of the university population (an exact echo of their percentage in the general population). In Iran , the Bahai’s (the largest religious minority) are forbidden to study in any university or to run their own universities: why aren’t your members boycotting Iran ?

Arabs in Israel can go anywhere they want, unlike blacks in apartheid South Africa. They use public transport, they eat in restaurants, they go to swimming pools, they use libraries, they go to cinemas alongside Jews — something no blacks were able to do in South Africa.

Israeli hospitals not only treat Jews & Arabs, they also treat Palestinians from Gaza or the West Bank. On the same wards, in the same operating theatres.

Women’s Rights

In Israel, women have the same rights as men: there is no gender apartheid. Gay men & women face no restrictions, and Palestinian gays oftn escape into Israel, knowing they may be killed at home.

It seems bizarre to me that LGBT groups call for a boycott of Israel & say nothing about countries like Iran, where gay men are hanged or stoned to death. That illustrates a mindset that beggars belief.

Intelligent students thinking it’s better to be silent about regimes that kill gay people, but good to condemn the only country in the Middle East that rescues and protects gay people. Is that supposed to be a sick joke?

(…)

I do not object to well-documented criticism of Israel. I do object when supposedly intelligent people single the Jewish state out above states that are horrific in their treatment of their populations.

(…)

Israeli citizens, Jews & Arabs alike, do not rebel (though they are free to protest). Yet Edinburgh students mount no demonstrations & call for no boycotts against Libya , Bahrain , Saudi Arabia , Yemen , & Iran. They prefer to make false accusations against one of the world’s freest countries, the only country in the Middle East that has taken in Darfur refugees, the only country in the ME that gives refuge to gay men & women, the only country in the ME that protects the Bahai’s…. Need I go on?

(…)

Your generation has a duty to ensure that the perennial racism of anti-Semitism never sets down roots among you. Today, however, there are clear signs that it has done so and is putting down more.”

[moonselune]

Hi! Could I request Astarion, Gale, and Wyll with a reader who is typically well spoken until someone flirts with them? Not an overly dramatic reaction, but more like they start stuttering and blushing. I would like this to have some NSFW in it, but you absolutely do not have to. Thank you! And have a wonderful day!

NSFW | MDNI | I F!reader

This was an absolutely fantastic request thank you very much for blessing me with it also this is the first time I have written smut for the boys, I did assume f!reader but will in future try and make it more gn xx

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the camp as you and Gale sat together by the fire. You enjoyed these moments of peace with him, the world falling away as you talked about everything and nothing. Your words flowed effortlessly, a natural charm evident in your every sentence.

That is, until a charming stranger wandered into your camp. The traveler was on their way to Baldur’s Gate and had stopped to ask for directions. Their conversation quickly turned friendly, and before you knew it, they were openly flirting with you.

“You have a certain… sparkle in your eyes,” the stranger said, leaning in a little too close. “Are you a sorcerer, or are you simply magical by nature?”

You felt your cheeks flush, your usual eloquence escaping you. “I, um, well… thank you. I… I’m not really—”

Gale, sitting beside you, watched with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Ah, I see,” he interjected smoothly, putting a comforting, yet possessive hand on your shoulder. “It seems my partner is a bit tongue-tied at the moment. Quite the rare sight, I assure you.”

The stranger chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Well, I should be on my way,” they said, giving you a playful wink. “But do let me know if you ever need help with finding your words.”

"I wouldn't worry, kind saer, trust she has a most eloquent partner," Gale jabbed, dismissing the traveller with a wave of his hand. As the stranger departed, Gale turned to you, his amusement evident. “Tongue-tied, my dear? Now, that’s something I never thought I’d see.”

You sighed, still feeling the warmth in your cheeks. “I don’t know what happened. I just… couldn’t think of anything to say.”

Gale’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “It was quite adorable, really. But perhaps I should help you practice, so you’re never at a loss for words again.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “And how exactly do you propose to do that?”

Gale leaned in, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “By teaching you how to use your tongue properly, of course.”

Before you could respond, Gale’s lips were on yours, a gentle yet passionate kiss that left you breathless. He pulled back just enough to murmur, “Follow me.”

You let him lead you to the privacy of your tent, your heart racing with anticipation. Once inside, Gale’s demeanor shifted from teasing to serious, his eyes dark with desire.

“Let me show you,” he said, his hands deftly working to remove your clothes. His breath hot on your neck, his lips mere inches away from your skin. “How a well-practiced tongue can render one speechless.”

You shivered at his words, the anticipation building as he guided you to lie down. His kisses trailed down your body, each one sending sparks of pleasure through you. You let yourself become lost under his touch and when his lips finally reached your most sensitive spot, you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair.

The grip you held on him only encouraged his lesson further. Gale’s tongue moved with expert precision, teasing and tasting in ways that made you moan uncontrollably. “Gale… oh, gods… please…”

He looked up at you, your slick coating his lips, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and hunger. “Please what, my love? Use your words, remember what this lesson is about.”

You whimpered, trying to find the strength to speak. “Please… don’t stop. It feels so good…”

He smiled against your skin, his tongue working even more skillfully, humming into your core. “That’s better. But I think you can do even better than that.”

Your body arched towards him, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable, you tugged and pulled at his hair. “Gale, please… I need... I need to come, please,”

Gale’s eyes darkened with desire at your words and his actions became more forceful, as he groaned into the wet mess of your core, “As you wish, my most eloquent love.”

The world outside your tent disappeared, leaving only the two of you. Gale’s actions became slow and deliberate, drawing out the pleasure until you were on the edge of bliss. His tongue lacsadaisically entered your core, his nose nudging your clit, his beard soaked in your fluids. You felt your legs begin to tremble and Gale held onto them with a firm carress.

When you finally came, it was with a cry of his name, your body trembling with the force of your release. Gale lapped up every bit of it and rode you through your high. As you came down, Gale crawled up your body, settling between your legs, chin resting on your chest.

“Well, my love, it seems you’ve found your words again.” Gale chuckled softly.

You smiled, still breathless. “Yes, but only because of you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your chest. “And I will always be here to help you find them, most dutifully.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The evening air was cool and refreshing as you and Astarion strolled through the bustling market. Your hand intertwined with his, and the two of you enjoyed the serenity of being together. Despite the crowds, there was a certain peace in the chaos, a comfort in the presence of each other.

Your conversation flowed smoothly, filled with laughter and gentle teasing. You prided yourself on your eloquence, your ability to converse and charm effortlessly. That is, until the vendor—a strikingly handsome elf—began to flirt with you.

"You have an eye for beauty," the elf said, his gaze lingering on you a moment too long. "Perhaps I could help you find something as lovely as yourself?"

You felt your cheeks warm, your usual poise faltering. "I… um, well, I—"

Astarion’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you struggle. "Oh, my love," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement, "you seem to be at a loss for words."

The vendor raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your sudden bashfulness. Astarion took a step closer to you, his presence a reassuring warmth against your side. "It's adorable, really," he continued, his tone teasing. "You’re usually so well-spoken."

The elf chuckled, clearly enjoying the scene. "I'm flattered," he said, his eyes still locked on you. "Perhaps we could continue this conversation later?"

Astarion's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I think not," he said smoothly, pulling you closer. "My dear here has other plans."

As you walked away, Astarion’s amusement was palpable. "You do know how to put on a show," he said, his voice low and suggestive.

You sighed, trying to regain your composure. "It’s just… I don’t know why I got so flustered."

Astarion stopped and turned to you, his eyes dark with a predatory gleam. "Oh, I know exactly why," he murmured, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "You’re not used to being the one flustered. Usually, you’re the one making others blush."

His hand slipped around your waist, pulling you close as you walked into a secluded part of the alley.

"But I think I rather like seeing you like this," he purred, his lips brushing against your neck. "So vulnerable, so easy to tease."

You felt a shiver run down your spine as his hand trailed lower, slipping beneath the fabric of your clothes. "Astarion," you breathed, your voice shaky.

"Shh," he hushed you, his fingers expertly finding their way past your underwear and directly to your most sensitive spot. "Let's see how much I can make you squirm."

His touch was light at first, teasing and tantalizing. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan as he increased the pressure, his fingers moving with skilled precision. "Astarion, please," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, what?" he asked, his tone mockingly innocent. "You’ll have to be more specific, darling."

You whimpered, your body arching into his touch. You were glad that the sun was setting and the market was beginning to close, you ddint need an audience to Astarion making a show of you. "Please, I need you."

He chuckled darkly, his fingers never stopping their tormenting rhythm. "Need me? How delightfully vague. Tell me exactly what you want."

Your mind was a haze of pleasure and desperation.."I want you inside me," you managed to gasp out. "Please, Astarion."

Astarion’s eyes flashed with triumph, his smirk widening. "As you wish," he said, his voice a low growl. With a swift, practiced motion, he positioned himself, his hard length pressing against your entrance. You were slick from his teasing fingers and it seems your predicament had had a similar effect on him, as his tip leaked with precum. It wouldn't be the first time you guys did it in an alley, and it most definitely would not be the last.

"Now, now I want to hear every sinful moan and word from you," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Just don't be too loud unless you want that dear merchant to come join us."

As he thrust into you, all coherent thought fled your mind. The world narrowed down to the feel of him inside you, the pleasure building with each movement. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he drove you both towards release.

In that moment, all your earlier embarrassment was forgotten, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly consumed by Astarion. And as you choked out his name, you knew there was no place you’d rather be.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The evening was peaceful as you and Wyll sat together in the tavern, enjoying a quiet moment away from the chaos of adventuring. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow on Wyll’s handsome features, and his deep, melodic voice filled the space between you as he recounted a tale from his past. You listened, entranced, your usual confidence shining through as you engaged in the conversation.

Then, a stranger approached your table. A charismatic bard with a roguish smile, they leaned in and addressed you. “Forgive my interruption, but I couldn’t help but notice your captivating presence from across the room. Would you honor me with your name?”

You felt a sudden rush of heat to your cheeks, your usual eloquence faltering. “I, um, well… thank you. My name is… uh…”

Wyll’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched you struggle. He leaned in, his hand gently squeezing yours under the table.

“This is my partner,” he said smoothly, his tone protective yet playful. “And I believe you’ve rendered them quite speechless.”

The bard chuckled, clearly entertained by your flustered state. “Speechless, indeed. A rare and beautiful sight.”

As the bard moved on, Wyll turned to you, his expression soft and affectionate. “I must say, I’ve never seen you quite so… tongue-tied before. It’s absolutely adorable.”

You sighed, still blushing furiously. “I don’t know what happened. I just couldn’t think of anything to say.”

Wyll’s grin widened, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I rather enjoyed it, to be honest. Seeing you so flustered… it makes me want to keep you all to myself.”

He stood, offering you his hand. “Come with me, love. Let’s find somewhere more private.”

You took his hand, following him to your shared room upstairs. As soon as the door closed behind you, Wyll’s demeanor shifted from playful to intensely passionate. He pulled you close, his hands caressing your face as he gazed into your eyes.

“You have no idea how much I adore you,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “Every time you blush, every time you stutter… it drives me wild.”

You shivered at his words, feeling the heat of his desire. “Wyll…”

He silenced you with a kiss, his lips gentle yet demanding. His hands roamed over your body, worshipping every inch of you with reverent touches. “Let me show you,” he whispered against your skin, “just how much I love you.”

Wyll’s kisses trailed down your neck, each one leaving a burning trail of desire. He undressed you slowly, savoring the sight of your bare skin as if it were the most precious treasure.

“You are perfect,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “Every inch of you.”

You moaned softly as his lips found the sensitive parts of your body, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. “Wyll… please…”

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust and love. “Please what, my love? Tell me what you need. Use your most beautiful words.”

You blushed again, your earlier shyness returning. “I need you, Wyll... I need you to..”

"Love you? Adore you? Fuck you?" Wyll’s smile was tender and bashful as he positioned himself over you. “As you wish, my beloved.”

He entered you slowly, the sensation overwhelming. Wyll moved with a practiced grace, his every thrust drawing out your pleasure until you were both lost in the intensity of your love. His hands and lips continued to worship your body, nipping and carressing, making you feel cherished and adored with every touch.

When you both reached the peak of your pleasure, it was with cries of each other’s names, your bodies trembling in unison. Afterwards, Wyll held you close, his hands still gently caressing your skin.

“You are everything to me,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “And I will always love you, just as you are.”

You snuggled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his love surrounding you. “And I love you, Wyll. More than words can say.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you. “Then let’s stay like this, my love. Just you and me, forever.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you guys enjoyed it !! - Seluney xox

[sailor-aviator]

Baboons and Flesh Wounds

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Trigger Warnings: Language, Suggestive thoughts, Suggestive commentary, Jake being crass, Bradley and Boots in their feelings, Bradley's horny thoughts, caressing of female body parts. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 2.7k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3 || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List

You had settled into an easy routine over the past two weeks, the first trying to iron out the different kinks. Dr. Kazansky had determined that your ankle would take around four weeks to heal if you kept off of it, and as it turned out, Bradley was more than happy to assist. You could think of only a handful of times that you had been on your feet, the large man appearing first thing in the morning to carry you around camp.

Of course, the boys had given you endless shit about it, Jake being the loudest. The second morning after your accident, Bradley had waited for you outside your tent as you changed, his deep, brown eyes surveying the jungle stoically. He had wordlessly scooped you up in his arms as you hobbled towards the entrance, carrying you effortlessly to where the others were already gathered for breakfast. Javy had raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing. Bob was too busy going over something with Ice to pay you much mind. Jake had walked over from his tent at the same time and let out a loud snort at the sight of you.

“Is this going to be a regular thing now?” He had snickered, gesturing to where you clung to Bradley. “Is he a taxi service now?”

“I’ve already tried explaining to him that I don’t need him to carry me everywhere,” you scowled at the blond. Bradley placed you gently on the bench before plopping down right next to you, Jake taking up the space on your other side. “He’s just insistent upon doing it, is all.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” he drawled as Javy placed a plate of eggs in front of you, “I’d think you like him carrying you around everywhere.”

You cast him a sideways glance as you shoveled a fork full of egg into your mouth, brow pinched together in indignation.

“I don’t.”

“Sure,” Jake hummed, giving you a knowing look before bumping your shoulder with his. “And jungle man over there also doesn’t get a hard on every time he looks at you.”

“Jake!” You exclaimed, cheeks warming as Javy cackled and Maverick cleared his throat, his own cheeks growing a nice shade of pink at the turn in the conversation. Bob and Ice looked over at the two of you, matching shocked expressions on their faces.

“Don’t be crass,” you hissed at the blond, swatting at his arm. He rolled his eyes, accepting the plate Javy handed him with a quiet thanks.

“Is it really being crass if I’m telling the truth?”

“Yes,” you snapped, cognizant of the fact Bradley had been inching closer to you as each moment passed. Jake rolled his eyes at you, but said nothing more.

The next couple of days had you struggling to figure out how to do various chores around the camp. Cooking was easy enough until you needed to get up and grab something.

The first time you had stood up, Bradley’s head had shot up from where he was flipping through one of the sketchbooks Ice had laying about. His honey-colored eyes watched you intently as a frown tugged on his lips, standing when you made to move.

“No,” he said, pushing down on your shoulders gently.

“Bradley, I have to-”

“No,” he said again, more firmly this time, eyes intense and brows pinched. “Hurt.”

“I’m not so hurt that I can’t walk the three feet to grab a spoon,” you scowled at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, turning and walking the few, short steps across the eating area to pluck a spoon out of the container and bringing it to you. You accepted it with a huff, not missing the satisfied smirk that appeared on his face at the small victory.

Laundry was done down by the river, an ever watchful Bradley sitting on one of the stones beside you as you scrubbed the various articles of clothing. He watched you carefully, an unreadable expression on his face as you worked through your task.

After the first half hour, you began to grow increasingly self conscious once you realized he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for more than a couple of seconds at a time the entire time you two had sat there.

“Aren’t you bored?” You asked him, wrinkling your nose. “I mean, it can’t be fun to just sit here and watch me do all this. Wouldn’t you prefer to help Mav or Ice or someone else? I’m sure they’re having much more fun than we are.”

Bradley’s gaze hardened in confusion. Shaking his head, he shifted slightly, leaning closer towards you.

“Like being with you,” he murmured, the hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. The heat on your cheeks had nothing to do with the sweltering jungle heat, and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending to inspect a stain on one of Javy’s shirts. Your eyes darted up when Bradley crept towards you, and for a moment, you were reminded that this man was raised by apes, not humans. His leg stretched out to rest beside you, the rest of him slinking after until he crouched right in front of you, his nose almost brushing yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as he reached a hand up to brush his fingers across your cheek. His eyes darted down, lingering on your lips as they parted. A shiver ran up your spine as his fingers trailed down, running over your bottom lip, and the intense look in his eye became hungry as you let out a quiet gasp. He let his fingers linger for a second before pulling them away and towards a strand of hair that hung in your face. Slowly, he pushed it back behind your ear, letting his palm cradle your jaw as the two of you sat silently watching each other.

The sound of jungle leaves rustling broke the two of you out of your trance, and Bradley let out a growl as he positioned himself in front of you, glaring intensely at the spot where the noise was coming from.

“Hey, you two!” Maverick called, coming into view with a smile. Bradley immediately relaxed back into his spot beside you, but the frown remained. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was annoyed. You cleared your throat, your head still clouded from the intensity of the prior moment.

“Hey, Mav,” you greeted, attempting a smile that you were sure came out as more of a grimace. “What brings you by?”

“Oh nothing,” he grinned. “Just wanted to see if you needed any help with the laundry. It’s very kind of you to offer to do it while you heal up. I know it’s not the greatest chore.”

“I want to feel useful,” you offered, shrugging.

“Well, nevertheless, it’s appreciated,” Mav smiled. “Do you need any help carrying everything back?”

“No,” Bradley snapped, leveling Mav with a glare. The older man looked a little taken aback by the ferocity of Bradley’s answer, but recovered quickly, shooting you a brief, knowing look.

“I see,” he hummed, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “Well, if the two of you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed back towards the camp. Once he was out of sight, Bradley huffed, turning back to look at you.

“What’s got you so grumpy?” you asked him, chuckling slightly. Bradley didn’t answer, instead, reaching out to twirl a strand of your hair in between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose and taking a long, deep inhale before giving you another heavy look. Your cheeks heated up once more before you ducked your head down to start the process of scrubbing the laundry once again. You tried not to think about how Bradley’s muscles had bulged when he was crouched in front of you or how his intense look made your thighs clench together.

You were sitting in one of the research tents a week later, transcribing some notes for Dr. Kazansky the following week, having begged the older man for ways to be of use given you were slowly losing your mind doing all of the mundane chores. Bradley was perched in a chair next to you, flipping through the rough sketches Bob had made of some of the baboons and wrinkling his nose.

“What’s that face for?” You giggled, glancing over at him. Bradley huffed and shook his head, giving you a solemn look.

“Baboons are annoying.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you looked at him fully. Bradley’s gaze softened as he listened to you laugh, a tinge of pink coating his cheeks.

“Yeah?” You asked him. “How so?”

Bradley straightened up in his seat, rolling his eyes as he thought back to the countless run-ins he’s had with the creatures.

“They scream a lot,” he scowled, lips pursed as he gives you a serious look. “And they steal my food sometimes. It’s hard to catch them because they climb the trees so fast.”

You had quickly grown used to how articulate Bradley actually was over the course of the last week and a half. You supposed it was no surprise considering he’d had ten years of practice, but even Tom had seemed surprised when he walked in on Bradley telling you a story one day, the younger man animatedly telling you a story about a trick he played on one of the younger members of the gorilla troop he lived with. Now you wondered if the older two men even knew if Bradley could string together more than a couple of short sentences.

His sentences could still be choppy at times and his answers short and direct, sure, but the more you showed interest in what he had to say, the more he found himself opening up and saying more. Bradley found that he liked the way you reacted to what he had to say, and he tried to practice at night once he knew you were asleep. He found himself visiting with Maverick and Tom more, asking them questions about different words for different feelings and ideas. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted you to know him, to know what he thought about things and how he felt about the world. Maybe it was because he wanted to know those things about you too and to talk about them with you.

“They are pretty fast, huh?” You asked, leaning forward a little more, unknowingly pushing your breasts together and exaggerating your cleavage. Bradley’s eyes flickered down, and he felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He found that this feeling also happened quite frequently around you, and it was often the simplest of things that set it off. It happened when he watched you bend over and dry your hair after a bath one day. It happened when you stretched after sitting hunched over too long, your back arching as you raised your arms over your head. It happened sometimes when you looked at him through your lashes, your bottom lip captured between your teeth.

He shifted in his seat, unable to tear his eyes away from your chest. He felt an overwhelming need to touch them, to touch you. He often found himself thinking of you. How good you smelled. How soft you were. He wanted to touch you, to mark you as his.

The troop leader, Mutubo Tom had named him, had several offspring, so Bradley wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of mating, or sex as Tom and Maverick called it. However, he wasn’t so sure that his family experienced what he was feeling, at least to this extent. Without thinking, Bradley reached out, running his fingertips over the exposed skin, his shorts growing tighter as he felt the soft, warm skin.

You sucked in a breath, your cheeks heating and eyes going wide as Bradley caressed you. His gaze was intense as he touched you, and you felt a shiver run up your spine when his brown eyes darted up to meet your own. The brown was practically swallowed by black, and you had to muster all of your self control to not throw yourself at him then and there.

“I should, um,” you stuttered after a second, “I should go see if Maverick has started dinner yet.”

You stood abruptly, Bradley following suit. He moved to pick you up, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“No, I,” you sucked in a breath, “it’s not that far. I think I’ll try walking there.”

Bradley frowned at you, but before he could argue, you beelined out of the tent and into the open air. It was unprofessional to be acting this way, especially with someone who didn’t understand the intricacies of human relationships.

The end of the week brought movie night, and you were giddy when you remembered that it was your turn to pick. Jake and Javy groaned loudly when they saw your choice. You ignored them, taking a seat on one of the couches Maverick and Tom had managed to snag while in the city not too terribly long ago. Bradley immediately sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, filling you with an odd sense of comfort.

“What are we watching?” Bob asked as he entered the tent.

“The Princess Bride,” you grinned as Jake plopped down on your other side.

“You couldn’t have picked anything with explosions?” He asked, wrinkling his nose at you in mock disgust. You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly.

“The Princess Bride is a classic,” you argued. “Don’t be such a guy.”

“I think the Princess Bride is great,” Bob offered, earning dual eye rolls from both Javy and Jake.

“You would,” Jake threw back at the bespectacled man with a grin.

“Explosions and gun fights does not a movie make,” Bob scowled. “It’s good to mix it up every now and then.”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed. “I had to sit through so many hours of Fast and Furious of all things. The least you can do is sit quietly through my movie.”

“Hey, do not knock the Fast and the Furious,” Javy warned, raising his pointer finger at you with a serious look. You rolled your eyes once more but let out a giggle.

“I’ll stop knocking the Fast and the Furious when the movies start being good,” you grinned.

“So, never,” Bob snorted, earning scowls from the other two men. Before the argument could continue, both Maverick and Tom strolled into the tent.

“Oh, The Princess Bride,” Mav grinned, plopping down onto the other couch, Tom not too far behind. “One of my favorites!”

Once everyone was settled, you started the movie, absentmindedly curling into Bradley’s side more and more as the minutes stretched on. Bradley’s fingers came up to play with the strands of your hair, unknowingly lulling you into a deep sleep.

Bradley knew the second you fell asleep, and he smiled softly as he listened to your breathing even out as you relaxed against him. He liked this. He liked how safe you felt with him and how at ease you made him feel. Bradley was somewhat paying attention to scenes in front of him, lost in thought as he tried to understand what was going on. There was one thing that stood out to him, though. A word, actually. He had heard Maverick and Tom say it to each other on rare occasions, but Bradley had never given it much thought before he met you. But, when he saw the two characters on the screen look at each other and say that word, he felt that it might be important. That maybe he should ask them what it meant. You stirred against him, and Bradley felt an ache in his chest as he looked down at your sleeping form. His curiosity could wait for now, he thought. He’d make sure to ask Tom and Maverick what it meant later. For now, he just wanted to stay by your side.

A/N: Reminder to everyone that I am redoing my tag lists! If you haven't added yourself to the new one, please do so! I will also not tag you if you do not have an age listed on your blog or your blog is blank, so if you sign up for the tag list, please make sure you add your age and fill in your blog! As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. You can also find my works on AO3 under sailor_aviator. If you enjoy my writing, try checking out some of my other series as well and/or leave me a tip if you feel compelled to do so!

Tag List: @goldenseresinretriever @fanficfandomlove @bobgasm @pinkdaisies1106 @hookslove1592 @jessicab1991 @bellaireland1981 @justherebecausesafarisucks @jupitercomet @atarmychick007 @katfanfic @topnerd03 @smileybouquet @roger-that-cap @crybaby-21 @vixenobrian @butterfly-skinnylegend @nouis-bum @eloquentdreamer @els-marvelvsp @bearw1thme @diorrfairy @seresinsbrat @what-did-you-just-say @na-ta-sh-aa @rosedurin @rhettsluvr @djs8891 @roosteraloha @yelrah27 @takens-world @fudge13 @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @burrowsmuse @senawashere @uniquedreamlandcheesecake @susseysstuff

[hillbillyoracle]

How to Have Better Conversations

I’m writing this at the request of my partner. She shared she’s really been struggling with making conversation more than usual lately. I shared some thoughts on how I navigate conversations she found useful and asked if I’d be willing to make a resource or write more about it. This is not meant to be a definitive expert guide, it’s built from my observations and experiences as someone who is autistic and has to navigate a lot of social situations completely manually. This is how I break down the individual components of conversation.

When I spelled this all out, one of her takeaways was that conversations actually involve a lot of microdecisions and that’s why they can be so tiring. And I think that’s totally correct. But I think it’s also why some people can thrive with them because it’s actually a lot of difficult decisions that are tricky to pull off well so when you can and do, there’s a real sense of accomplishment that can make talking more appealing.

I have a feeling this post will be overcomplicated and convoluted to a lot of folks but maybe there’s a handful of folks for whom it is helpful. Take what works, leave the rest. Summary at the end.

Types of Conversation

Topics of conversation are decently important in my experience. They ultimately let you know where the conversation will go - whether it’s likely to end in a dead end, what sorts of things it will allow you to learn about the person you’re discussing with. In my experience, just about all conversation topics fall into one of four camps.

While I talk about Best Use and Don’t Use here - most conversation in the following topics will fall somewhere in-between. They’re just sign posts, not rules.

Me

The focus is on you. Me topics are ultimately about telling a story about yourself with some amount of conscious intent.

Best Use

The best use of this is setting expectations and conveying preferences. This allows your talking about yourself to serve a purpose that ultimately assists the other person in knowing how to understand and interact with you best without necessarily demanding certain treatment front. They might change or not change how they interact with you and this can show how responsive you might expect them to be.

Examples:

“I’m a writer so I don’t work 9-5. If I reply at odd times, that’s probably what’s going on.”

“One of my favorite ways to get to know someone is to grab a hot drink and go for a walk with them.”

Don’t Use

The worst use of this is look a certain way - knowledgeable, impressive, interesting. Basically any use rooted in getting another person to like you. Genuine connection doesn’t start from a place of elevating one person over another. Plus honestly 90% of people just do not care about why you think you’re interesting, important, etc and hate feeling pressured to validate you.

Examples:

“My boss was even stumped by the issue but I figured it out on my own.”

“All my friends say I’m the best at baking.”

“I keep a bunch of tools in my car, I’m ready to fix anything anywhere.”

You

The focus is on the other person. You topics are ultimately about letting the other person share the story of themselves.

Best Use

The best use of You topics is to better understand how a person understands themselves. Open ended questions that invite them to show their thinking as well and shows you how they reason. The common acronym FORD (family, occupation/occupy time, recreation, dreams) is a decent

Example:

“So how did you find yourself in this city? What was that journey like?”

“Why did you take up [your hobby]? What drew you to it?”

Don’t Use

Don’t use you topics to actively try to find fault with someone else. It’s great to have standards and hard no’s for your friendships and relationships. But poking around for them upfront can alienate people who you’d otherwise like - suspicion is not a desirable quality in a friend or potential partner. Ultimately you have to let a person show you who they are and make a personal call. There’s no short cut.

Example:

“So why did you and your ex break up?”

“So you get angry easily then?”

Both

The focus is on a shared expertise/language, not on the story of either of you.

Best Use

The best use of both topics is to notice things about them they wouldn’t think to explicitly share necessarily and to connect in a way that only people with your shared interest or expertise allows.

Example:

My partner and I both have a background in academic medical research. However when we talk about it, it becomes apparent that my focus is on the practical and researcher side and hers is on the data and compliance side. It’s interesting to note where our similar interests compliment and diverge.

Don’t Use

Don’t use both topics to try one up or show you know more than the other person. The minute you do that the shared aspect - and therefore connection - is gone.

Example:

I once went on a date with a man who spent a half hour explaining how GIS systems work in a very “look at me” way after I mentioned I had used them when I was studying forestry in college. It was boring as hell.

Neither

The focus is on a topic without a shared expertise/language, not on the story of either of you.

Best Use

The best use of neither topics is a shared exploration/experience. One person will usually know a little more about a topic than the other person. The person who knows less benefits by learning about a topic they’re curious about. Their questions and observations invite the other to think about this topic in a new light so the experience winds up being somewhat shared.

Examples:

A woman in line at Lowes let me know I could overwinter mums in this area. I proceeded to ask her about how she’d taken such good care of hers and whether the effortwas worth it. She thoughtfully answered my questions and I learned a lot.

I mentioned to my partner a personal project I’m considering undertaking. She asks about my motivations for it and in doing so I have to further clarify them. She learned a little about what my project was about and I learned what I was really after, seeing it fresh.

Don’t Use

Don’t use neither topics to soapbox about things that are of solely personal interest. If someone makes it clear they’re not interested pivot to something more interesting. Even neither topics require at least a little bit of common ground.

Examples:

I regularly talk about group hypocrisies I’m trying to make sense of before realizing that people outside of that group don’t really care.

Ideal Ratio

In general, in reflecting on my own conversations, I think a ratio where more than half the conversation is on either both or neither topics are the most rewarding. It’s where neither party walks away feeling like they talked too much about themselves and when meaningful and interesting topics still have been discussed.

I think it’s a common mistake to try to get the conversation to be 50% you, 50% me. That’s where conversations feel like a job interview and get exhausting real quick. They also have an appearance of depth as people disclose more to keep the conversation going but with out a feeling of connection after because little time is spent on exploration and shared experience.

How to Respond

So knowing what topic you’re currently or want to talk about is one part of this, but the other is choosing a response. I generally let the other person’s response dictate some measure of my response.

Pivot

If someone seems negatively engaged - leaning back, looking around a lot, arms crossed, giving short answers - I pivot to a neutral topic. I find neutral topics work best because the focus is not on either of you - they don’t feel like they’re under pressure to disclose or act interested in you. Neutral topics also allow them to lead the pace - asking questions and making observations at the level they feel comfortable. If they continually seem negatively engaged, it’s usually best to bail from the conversation, especially if asking questions about the dynamic itself seems like it might not be welcome.

Matching

If someone seems neutrally engaged - mostly looking in your direction, not leaning toward or away, giving input on what you’re saying - I match and continue with the topic.

FOOL

Being a little like the Fool in the Major Arcana is actually a great way to be a good conversationalist - genuine, curious, brave, and receptive. Bellow are some concrete ways how.

Follow up questions - Good follow up questions come from a genuine place of curiousity. They also tend to either fill in gaps in your own understanding or encourage the speaker expand the discussion into a new but related area.

Observation - Observations on the topic itself are great but not your only option. You can oberve how a person seemed to feel when talking about the topic. You can observe that they’d touched on a related topic before. Comparison is a fruitful ground for observations as well - “That’s similar to…” and ”That’s very different than….”

Opinion - Offering an opinion or requesting their opinion is a good way to keep a conversation going. In general, it’s best to avoid generalizations, soften them a little to start with, and make sure there is some measure of compassion in the opinion you’re sharing. Rigidity leaves little room for discussion and exploration.

Levity - Where appropriate, make a joke, share a meme, craft a pun, tease them a little. Laughter is a shared experience that connects us.

Building

If someone seems positively engaged - leaning forward, making eye contact, coming closer to you for neurotypical people and actively engaging with the content of what you’re saying regardless of stims or eye contact for neurodivergent folks - I build on what we’re talking about. I self disclose my feelings and personal connections to the topic one step further than what the person I’m talking with has.

It’s important not to disclose a lot more than the person you’re talking with has. It leads to a vulnerability hangover for you and can be quite awkward and uncomfortable for them. If you disclose just a little more than the person you’re chatting with, then it’s much more easy to recover and match their level if they seem uncomfortable with what you shared.

Decision Tree

“What topic are we talking about currently?”

Me - Set expectations, share preferences; you focused

You - Understand you as you understand yourself; other person focused

Both - Connect over a shared language; idea focused

Neither - Connect over a shared exploration; idea focused

“What cues am I getting from the other person?”

If positive, build on current topic - be vulnerable

If neutral, match on current topic - be a FOOL*

If negative, pivot to a different topic - preferably neutral or in ratio**

*FOOL

Follow up questions - genuine curiousity - “I wonder…”

Observe - conversation, feelings, topic - “I noticed…”

Opinion - cautious, concise, compassionate - “I’ve often thought…”

Levity - make jokes, share memes - laughter connects

**Ratio

51% Both/Neither

<49% Me/You

[shotbycup1d]

Guide to Camp Jupiter: Shopping in New Rome-Part 1

(Tip: ALWAYS bring a child or legacy of Mercury with you to go shopping in new rome, an expert bargainer. Discounts and freebies guaranteed, I bagged a 75% discount from a boutique before, trust me.)

-There is a line of fashion shops, this is how the campers get their regular supply of jeans, combat boots, running shoes. And of course Octavian’s Cargo Pants.

-The fashion shops are the ones that supply the camp’s purple t-shirts and togas.

-Plant shop with a connected plant nursery, children and legacies of Ceres frequent this location, they supply fresh produce to Camp Jupiter and grow medicinal herbs that the camp infirmary uses to cure diseases or heal injuries. -Restaurants with traditional Roman food and a mix of western cuisine. They also serve wine to the residents of New Rome & campers over 21.

-A really tall bookstore building with 5 stories, you can either borrow the library sectioned copies or buy the wrapped ones. There are comfortable plush couches on every level with soft rugs covering the marble floors.

-There is a city square at the centre of New Rome, a space for festivals, carnivals, music concerts (from children and legacies of Apollo) and can be rented out to use for private events.

-Right on the Main Street, there is a giant bakery that sells enchanted (and non enchanted) pastries, cakes, just about whatever confectionery you can think of. They are THE biggest supplier of sweet treats in New Rome and they have a catering service for all those rich legacy families when it’s a kid’s birthday. I highly recommend you get their triple chocolate chip cookies, they are the closest thing to ambrosia in my opinion.

-And moving on from the food we have a certain Augur’s (or actually Haruspex’s) favourite store. The New Rome branch of Build-A-Bear. Now I’m not sure how they managed to open a store here without blowing the whole ‘Modern Rome’ stuff on the mortal supervisors of the franchise but they probably have some front like how the Greeks at Camp Half Blood have their strawberry business. I’ve got to admit this place is great, apart from selling pre-made and custom plushies, they also have a selection of bed sheets to pillows in case you want some for your bunk back at Camp Jupiter. (Seriously, this is the only way to express yourself because posters or anything on the walls of the barracks are banned, I’ve seen too many Tristan McLean bed sheets from my half-siblings though. What is it with children of Venus and that man?)

hope you liked this one, ( I didn’t proofread it so excuse any mistakes) Let me know your own takes on this)

link to other works:

Cohort Barracks

Shopping In New Rome Part 2

[mamawasatesttube]

I’m having trouble getting a straight answer on whether or not Kon can use TTK under a red sun. The answer from googling seems to be “depends on the writer”. You’re kinda my go-to Kon expert, so I was wondering if you knew

yes.

i'm sure canon is at least kinda inconsistent about this (dc does, after all, stand for "dunno consistency") but here's the logic i follow when it comes to ttk. you'll have to forgive me for just referring to certain issues without actually citing numbers or anything, i have a migraine and a half this morning and don't wanna deal with checking i'm so sorry but if you want me to find a specific one i mention at some point later just remind me and i'll try in a few hours if my brain stops hurting!

but anyways. yes, i do believe kon can use ttk under a red sun. why? ttk is established as a metagene, not a kryptonian power. even before he's got any of his sunlight-processing powers (which are repeatedly established as coming in as he grows up, both before and even after the geoff retcon), he has the full extent of his ttk.

now, wf3 and also the aftermath of sins of youth do both suggest that he is still tied to sunlight-processing in some way (after all, why else would kryptonite have affected him in wf3?), so that's definitely an inconsistency. however, i posit that since ttk is a metagene, even if his body is powered by sunlight, he should still be able to access it. (depowered kon arc post-sins of youth still works in this way if we assume he was just Really Fuckign Tired and also the magic was still impacting him.)

but honestly the biggest reason i say that yes, his ttk still should work even under a red sun, is in supergirl vol 5. kon himself isn't there at the point i'm thinking of, but there's an arc sometime before last stand of new krypton (the hunt for reactron, iirc, but don't quote me on that) in which kara, thara ak-var, and chris kent all get slapped with red sun projector collars. this neutralizes their kryptonian powers, but chris specifically says he can still use his telekinesis.

now people who know more about editorial impact on the superfam than i do can definitely chime in here, because i'm just going to refer to stuff i've read but don't have sources on immediately on hand, but. why does chris have ttk? well, because before infinite crisis killed kon off, kon was supposed to be nightwing. (i know there was an artist who tweeted about this. i don't remember who.) in fact some of the dialogue written with the nightwing in new krypton reads kind of like kon, specifically the way he introduces and brags about his ttk, imo. this was later retconned into being chris. therefore, chris has ttk, which is explained away as being some general phantom zone related weirdness. (as a matter of personal taste i think it kind of diminishes the POINT of ttk being to imitate kryptonian powers to give it to chris, so i like to pretend that he has some weird psychic stuff going on instead, to keep chris and kon distinct, but thats kinda beside the point.)

SO. all of that to say. it's sort of a matter of opinion because you can construct an argument based on canon both ways, but i personally fall into camp ttk is a metagene and therefore can only be suppressed by meta-suppression tech, not red sun.

[rosethornewrites]

When I was a kid, my mom was dealing with mental illness and fibromyalgia when people didn’t believe it existed, and my dad was something of a workaholic.

She quickly realized that summers would be hell unless she packed them with activities she had to do little to nothing to prepare for.

Sure, we did the summer camps and sports and 4H that most kids do, but I think my favorite thing she found for us was archaeology. She managed to find it advertised in our small town newspaper, and I’m so glad she did.

A professor of archaeology at a state university was concerned about planned development along a local river that was known to have held native villages. There really wasn’t enough manpower or money to do “official” digs.

So he found a fun solution: he organized an archaeological summer day camp for kids above like age 6 or so.

Each day we were dropped off at a school about 40 minutes from home with anything we could need in the field (literally) in those 1980s fanny packs and bagged lunches. He and his crew of summer interns had already sectioned off the spaces and started the process, preparing the site with official labeling methods and such. And we were split into teams, usually by age, with younger teams more closely supervised by interns. (Thankfully I was on a team without my siblings and with a close friend.)

Every day, one team stayed at the school with 1-2 interns to learn to catalog the artifacts already uncovered by different teams, carefully sorted by team and space. (If it was raining we all stayed and worked.)

Everyone else would bus to the field, hike through some undergrowth, and learn to gently trowel the layers of earth away, letting him take photos of each layer as we went, and sifted the dirt through screens for anything that was so small it may have been missed. We excavated fire pits and also found the remnants of wood poles that had once been the skeletons of structures. The sediment of the former was always bagged for further analysis by experts.

During every stage we were very carefully monitored and sometimes the professor would call for a halt and show us something cool another team had uncovered.

After being cataloged, the pieces were ultimately sent to the state museum for display or storage, always with the names of the team that found them.

My team found a tiny artifact through sifting that proved that the local native village had to have trade contacts in another state due to the material it was made of, and I remember this professor being super excited about it. We were even in the local paper over it—I have the article, which had my picture accompanying it.

At the end of each of the camp the 2 years I went, we were allowed to walk through a freshly planted farmer’s field and see if we spotted arrowheads or other artifacts that we were permitted to take home with us. (Since the ground was already disturbed and the cataloging would be difficult to impossible, I’d guess.)

I’ve never been to the museum to see if that tiny piece of history I helped uncover is on display, but I will always remember how much I learned from this camp.

In some other universe, one that branched off somewhere from this one, a version of me surely pursued archaeology as a career.

[allymcfee]

OC Deep Dive

Thank you for tagging me @andromedaancunin ! So sorry it took me so long. This evil run has been hard to get my head around. I have had 14 OCs with 13 being Durge. I am once again attempting an evil Embrace Durge run. I’ve tried twice before only to abandon them due to the evil run making me sad. I almost picked Sol for this. She was my resist Durge honor mode non-modded run OC that got me my golden dice, but I think I need to commit to my current Durge otherwise I won’t finish again. So here she is.

💜💜 Jynx 💜💜

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

Common fear: Falling in love

Uncommon fear: Cats. She knows they can sense what kind of person she really is and she doesn’t want them to give it away.

Do they have any pet peeves?

People knowing who she is but not telling her. I’m looking at you Raphael with your killing moon comment, Kethric, and Sceleritas Fel. Literally Gortash’s only redeeming quality is he is honest with her about who she is.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

In her bedroom in Papa’s palace, you’ll find blood, body parts, and her journal detailing her romance with Gortash. And by romance, I mean her getting railed on his desk since he doesn’t have time for anything outside of world domination (right, Larian?). I swear men cannot multitask 💅💅

What do they notice first in a person?

Their weaknesses and the best way to kill them.

On a scale from 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

11 considering Kressa’s whole bullshit.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Fight and it is feral as fuck. She will not fight fair so you better use every advantage you have.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

She doesn’t know at the moment. Later she will find out she is Bhaal’s scion made from his body (like Zeus/Athena). She had adoptive parents but she murdered them. She dreams about it, but doesn’t know who they are - just that she is sad when she wakes up and doesn’t know why.

What animal represents them best?

Honey badger or Wolverine.

What is a smell they like / dislike? 

She loves the smell (and taste) of blood which bonds her closer to Astarion. It’s something they can enjoy together. She hates the smell of cinnamon.

Have they broken any bones?

Oh yes many times. Oh do you mean had her bones broken? Then also oh yes many times.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

If they are racist, foulblood or hellspawn. If they are not, a pretty tiefling with one broken horn and eyes like the sun.

Are they a night owl, or morning bird?

Night owl for sure. She’s the last one in camp to get up for the day and the last one to go to sleep. They normally have to wake her up which has resulted in a few near misses when she pulls her dagger when jolting awake. Gale has taken to using mage hand to wake her up to keep everyone safe.

What’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

She loves blood and dwarf flesh. She hates treacle tarts, which is why she decides that they have to fight Ethel - not because she’s holding Mayrina captive but because she’s force feeding her treacle tarts. That’s an indignity that cannot stand.

Do they have any hobbies?

Besides trying to impregnate Gortash and then Astarion? She enjoys leatherwork. She collects dragonskin and enjoys creating new leather clothes and weapons.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprise?

Lots of stabbing. So probably don’t do that.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Messy as hell. She can barely read it.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Rage and sadness

Do they have a favorite fabric?

Not a favorite fabric but her favorite material is leather. She’s an expert on leather and can tell the difference in calfskin, sheepskin, and dragonskin by smell alone.

What kind of accent do they have?

Lol can I make it southern like Blanche Devereaux from Golden Girls? It’s all English accents in game but there is something terrifying about a southern accent saying Durge lines. “They’re dyin’ for me. All of ‘em.”

No pressure tags @pinkberrytea @scrapsovereign @emmy-dekarios-bg3 @oonalovesastarionssimpleplan

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Bratty Girl inspired me lol. I love the idea of a naked vulnerable reader x Marilyn Thornhill story. How about teacher's assistant reader and Marilyn go on a hiking/camping trip to obtain some rare plant species in between the school terms. This is before they admit their feelings but there's lots of yearning and tension. Maybe on the first night, reader's tent is missing a part so her tent is useless and they have to share Marilyn's, which makes the tension even thicker. Eventually reader gets exposed to some type of plant that's extremely dangerous, like makes the reader groggy and if left too exposed to it, can make one go to sleep permanently, idk, just something that forces Marilyn to have to drag reader to a stream, strip her down and wash the pollen off of her. Once the adrenaline wears off, Marilyn realizes she has a naked reader in her arms and she begins to caress reader, reader moans and it snaps both of them out of it and reader gets embarrassed and shies and cover herself. Later on reader is quiet and tells Marilyn she's going to change her major because she doesn't think she's cut out for botany, making such dumb mistakes as getting exposed to those kinds of plants and Marilyn gets mad at 1st for reader for just quitting but then begs reader to reconsider and then all the tension snaps and they have sex. Lol thank you for all the awesome stories! 🫶

Yess!!!! Here it is!!! I hope you like it!!! And sorry about the language mistakes!!! Thank you for your request, it was so funny to write!!! :)))))

In the middle of the woods

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill x Fem, assintant! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, suggestive smut (not too explicit)

Word count: 8,125

Summary: You were Marilyn’s assistant, a girl who wants to learn about botany. Marilyn thought that to go to a forest to take some plants would be a good idea…

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

“Okay, tell me again why we can't enjoy the holidays like the students do,” you said, closing the trunk of Marilyn's little beetle. She looked at you and smiled, probably tired of your protests.

“It's only a couple of days, (Y/N), I don't think it's that bad,” she said, moving your stuff in the small trunk. “In addition, these kinds of excursions are necessary if you want to be a botany expert.

You were thoughtful, but you couldn't do anything but agree with her.

After many years studying science at the university, you finally arrived at the moment you had been waiting for, internship, getting out of the boring classes and starting to get to know what your job would be. One of your teachers was kind enough to recommend you to a friend of hers, Larissa Weems, who was the principal of a quirky academy on a small town in Vermont outskirts. It was no coincidence that it was a school for outcasts since for as long as you can remember, you could move things as you pleased.

Nevermore was a strange place, but cozy. You would be the Marilyn Thornhill, the botany teacher’s assistant in there.

It didn't take you too long to become friends. She was kind, loving and always had a smile for everyone, and so for you. Being next to her you learned more things than your teachers had taught you and you discovered that choosing the botany specialty was not a mistake at all.

As the first months passed, a tension arose, a strange feeling that only emerged when you tow were alone. You couldn't say what it was exactly, but you also didn't believe in love at first sight, although it was hard for you to deny that Marilyn made a great first impression on you.

You tried not to think about it too much, you tried to concentrate on your work and learn all the things you still didn't know. It was very frustrating to have spent years at university and feeling that now you were really getting to know plants and their properties.

Every day you ended up exhausted, as you always tried to do your best, under Larissa's subtle promise of hiring you if your work was good enough. Marilyn was an incredible woman, but she was just a normie surrounded by teenage monsters, she couldn't do it all by herself.

Teaching at a high school was very far from your expectations as a scientist, but when you discovered how rewarding it was to share your knowledge, you began to rethink it. It was just because of that, not because of Marilyn, that's for sure.

But like everything in life, there were also small inconveniences, like that excursion that Marilyn planned for that week of vacation. According to her, students need to know all the existing flora, to know what its dangers and peculiarities are. To do this, there was no other option than to go out in search of the rarest specimens that could be found in the vicinity of Jericho, and that was your mission, to find rare plants and take them to the conservatory.

For you, camping was something exaggerated, but at the same time interesting. You always saw Marilyn as a shy and reserved woman, seeing her on an adventure like that made you very curious. Just that, curiosity, nothing else.

“Do you have everything you need?” The redhead asked. You gave her a thumbs up and nodded. “Great, let's go. Hopefully we'll get there before it gets dark.”

“Before the wolves eat us...” You whispered with a falsely scared voice. She laughed, shaking her head and getting into the car.

“There are no wolves where we are going, (Y/N),” she said, starting the engine.

You winked at her, plopping down into the passenger seat.

“Surely you don't know that two women alone in the woods is the premise of many horror movies,” you said jokingly. She was used to it, she seemed to be amused by your comments. It seemed strange to you that your nonsense always managed to make her smile. You even thought it was faker than 5 dollar coins.

But her face was sincere and her smiles were real, at least that was what your precarious intuition told you.

“Do you like horror movies?” She asked, probably wanting to bring up a topic of conversation.

While you were working at the academy there was no problem talking about anything, but this was a different situation, something more intimate, and therefore tense, tense as hell.

“Well, I like them, but I'm unable to watch them alone,” you responded, playing with the car radio, trying to find a station that didn't talk about the news. Marilyn looked at you briefly, nodding.

“Then you don't like them,” she said, amused. You looked at her mockingly.

“Of course I do,” you said defiantly. “Just because you are afraid of something doesn't mean anything.”

“If you liked them you wouldn't be afraid...” She answered in a funny tone, slurring her words.

“Just because something scares you doesn't mean you can't like it,” you reaffirmed, pretending to be outraged.

“Do you think so?” She asked, with a tone that seemed far from jokes and innocent questions. You nodded, although you had a hard time knowing if you were still talking about movies.

“Well, I think you can miss out on a lot of good things by being afraid of something,” you said quietly, as if the words had come out of your mouth on their own.

“So what are you afraid of, (Y/N)?” Marilyn asked, without taking her eyes off the road.

“To begin with, of camping in a forest far from civilization,” you said amused. She looked at you out of the corner of her eye, but she gave you a half smile. “Just kidding, I guess I’m afraid of many things... What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are you afraid of?” You asked curiously.

“Right now? I’m afraid of college girls who mess with the radio and delete all my presets,” she said ironically. You stuck your tongue out at her.

“How funny,” you said indignant for not having managed to get more information about her, and confused because you really wanted to do it.

“If you want to listen to music, there are a lot of CDs in the compartment, take the one you like the most,” she told you, forgetting the topic, as if she was somehow uncomfortable with the conversation.

“Okaaaay,” you sighed, opening the small compartment. “Very old… Too sad… Wow, this one is from the year I was born,” You said while looking at the cds. Marilyn just shook her head and smiled at your attitude.

The trip wasn't boring, you didn't even sleep like you always did. The conversation was dull, empty, but funny, entertaining. The sun was already threatening to set and you were desperately looking for where on the map she gave you, your destination was.

“Okay, I think it's the next exit right after the gas station, or so I think...” You said doubtfully. Marilyn nodded and obeyed your orders, moving from the smooth, comfortable asphalt to a rough dirt road.

After traveling for half an hour through a scary-looking forest, you passed a sign indicating that it was an area where camping was allowed.

“Well, we've arrived,” she said triumphantly, with a long sigh of exhaustion. “Come, let's set up the tents before the sunlight goes out completely,” she said, getting out of the car.

You got out and stretched exaggeratedly, grabbing your luggage.

“Hey, this place is not bad,” you said looking around. It was a clearing in which there were hardly any trees and the tune of a nearby stream produced a calm that contrasted with your university years in the big city.

“I’ve told you so...” Marilyn said, putting her things on the ground. “Have you brought the hammer?”

“Yes...” You whispered, searching for the tool in your backpack. “Take it.”

“Thank you,” Marilyn said, accidentally brushing her hand with yours. Those chills you felt weren't because of the temperature and that made you a little nervous. You had never considered analyzing the feelings you had for Marilyn. She was something like your boss, like your teacher, at best, a friend.

But the evidence was undeniable. The desire that deep down you had to spend time alone with her, your cheeks blushing when she gave you a compliment, or simply smiled. You had to stop fooling yourself, you liked Marilyn and the sooner you recognized it, the easier it would be to control your feelings so that they grew, so that your heart would stop beating so fast in her presence.

You shook your head and left your tent on the ground. Surely setting it would be the perfect distraction to get those thoughts away.

“Okay... Let's see how is works…” You said looking at the crumpled paper with the instructions. You could barely see the letters, it was getting dark too fast. “Marilyn! Do you have a flashlight?”

The redhead, who was already done with her tent, looked at you and nodded.

“Yes, wait a minute,” she told you, running a hand down your back, causing you those shivers again.

“Hey... You finished right away...” You said, standing up and taking the small lantern that she offered to you. “This isn't the first time you've done this, huh?” You asked, amazed at her speed with the tent.

“Actually, I haven't done it in years,” she said, amused.

“Anyone would say it, I don't even know where to start...” You said somewhat embarrassed.

“Do you need me to help you?” She asked kindly. You were a proud girl, you immediately shook your head.

“No, no, I, I can...” You said stuttering. You were proud, but not a liar.

“Okay,” she responded, returning to her tent.

It didn't take long for you to fall prey to despair. You regretted not stopping at a mall and grabbing one of those new tents that you just had to throw into the air.

“Shit... Shit... They're not there...” You said nervously, searching in the tent cover for something quite basic, the small pegs that anchored it to the ground.

“What's not there?” She asked, scaring you. Surely she had been watching your pathetic attempts to set up the tent correctly for some time.

“Please tell me you brought extra pegs...” You said pleadingly, sweating due to the stress. She opened her eyes wide and picked up the small lantern that you left on the ground.

“You haven't brought them?” She asked, illuminating the area around her.

“Obviously I haven’t... Oh...” You sighed, letting yourself fall on the grass. “Brilliant.”

“Well, calm down, (Y/N), my tent is big enough for both of us,” she said matter-of-factly. You woke up impressed by that proposal. “Unless you prefer to sleep outside, of course…”

“I... It's okay...” You said defeated, kicking the mess you had made in place of your tent.

The idea was bold, disturbing, and you probably didn't think it through at the time. You were so nervous that when you realized what that meant, you started to shake. She didn't seem to care, but her expression hardened a little, as if she had spoken too quickly too.

You left your stuff in her tent, seeing if it was as spacious as she claimed. It didn't seem wide enough for you to sleep without rubbing against her body, but there was no turning back. Night had fallen heavily on the forest.

After eating some dinner, you went into the tent clearing your throat. Marilyn was in her underwear, changing her clothes, and she made no effort to cover herself when you entered. You looked away as much as you could and slowly got into your sleeping bag, just like she did.

There was a small moment of tense silence.

Just as you suspected, the tent was not big enough, you felt the heat of her body next to you, too close. It was cold, but you weren't shivering because of that, but because of something else, something that you knew you were feeling and that made you regret having accepted that excursion. A cold, electrifying current enveloped the two of you, making you unable to say anything.

The silence made you even more nervous, and that wasn't good, that just made you have to talk, say something, and it was almost never something that made sense.

“Do you know that the less clothes you carry in your bag, the hotter you are?” You said without thinking, closing your eyes in regret. You couldn't help it, the tension had always been something unbearable for you.

Marilyn turned with an arched eyebrow.

“What?” She said, laughing.

“Well, that's what they told me,” you said, dying of shame. Marilyn turned to you and smiled at your nervousness.

“Try to sleep, (Y/N), I'm sure you'll be calmer tomorrow,” she told you, rubbing your arm. You jumped in place a bit and frowned.

“I'm calm,” you said, being firm with your words.

“You are? Because I think that the tremor of your leg may cause the tent to collapse,” she said, amused, pointing to your leg, which kept moving exaggeratedly. You stopped moving it, feeling an overwhelming heat on your cheeks.

You had to get out of that predicament somehow, not let her realize that you were really nervous, that she was the reason for the uncontrollable shaking of your body.

“Well… I already told you that it's not very comfortable for me to be alone in the woods,” you lied, pretending to look around you scared.

“Here there is nothing and nobody, (Y/N), you don't have to be afraid,” she said, getting closer to you.

“That's what scares me…” You sighed, trying to imagine horrible things to make your version more credible. “A friend told me that her cousin went camping with her friends in a forest...” You said, opening your eyes wide and making a dark voice.

“(Y/N)...” Marilyn sighed.

“Wait, wait,” you said, gaining self confidence. “The first night everything went well, until the next morning they saw that there was an ax stuck in a nearby tree… Someone had been there…”

“Are you trying to scare me?” Marilyn asked, with a slightly nervous tone.

“Nope, I’m just telling you what happened,” you said, lowering your tone and creating a propitious atmosphere with your words. “The group split up to look for firewood for that night's bonfire… Everyone returned except one couple. They waited for hours, but they did not appear. They thought: They will be having fun…” You dramatized.

Marilyn listened to you attentively, settling.

“That night they drank, played teenage games... They were totally unconcerned about the disappearance of their friends… They went to sleep. The next morning everyone screamed in horror. There was no longer one, but several axes stuck in a tree, along with their friends’ heads. They screamed in fear, they tried to find help, but it was too late, the killer was after them. My friend's cousin managed to escape from an ax blow, but it was useless, there was nowhere to hide. She thought that she was already safe, that that killer stopped chasing her, but it was just an illusion since... He was... Just righ behind her!” You screamed, scaring Marilyn, who also screamed in terror.

“(Y/N)!” She protested with disgust. “For God's sake…” She said, breathing agitated. You laughed at her reaction and the satisfaction of having put those thoughts out of your head.

“Did you like the story?” You asked jokingly. Marilyn gave your arm a gentle smack and sat on her bag, running a hand over her forehead.

“Beautiful,” she said, annoyed.

“Wait, wait, I haven't told you the best yet...”

“Oh, God…” She sighed, between laughter and fear. “I don't want to know, I don't want you to tell me.”

“Well, you should want to, because that forest... Was this same one!” You shouted again, laughing out loud.

“I see that you really want to sleep outside, (Y/N),” she said, shaking her head. You shook your head and covered your mouth to stop laughing.

“Oh, come on, it was just a joke,” you said. She made a wry face and lit the lantern that was hung from the tent. “Have I really scared you?”

“Of course not, I’m just looking for something…” She said, tangling in her backpack.

“For what?”

“I think there's something you don't know, (Y/N)…” She said, taking something out of her backpack. You chuckled softer and tried to look over her shoulder.

“Oh really? What?” You asked surprised.

“That the killer…Was me!” She yelled, brandishing a small garden tool resembling an axe. You jumped and backed away.

“Oh, fuck!” You said, placing a hand on your chest, while she laughed in amusement.

“Oh, poor thing, did I scare you?” Marilyn said, pouting.

“Stop, not at all,” you said upset and trembling, trying to recover her dignity. “Well played, Marilyn…”

The night passed with hardly any complications, only with the uncomfortable tension of having her body next to yours, of noticing how she moved towards you while she slept. You couldn't just close your eyes and sleep, not right then. It was cold and that caused your body to also move towards hers involuntarily. You wondered about when you started to have feelings for that woman, but you had no answer, maybe she was just what you were always looking for and found by chance. Absurd and terrible thoughts, you would never be anything more than a friend, a companion to her.

“Okay, that's it... Slowly... Carefully...” Marilyn told you, while you pulled a plant out of the ground to place it in a glass jar. “Well done, (Y/N), we already got another one.”

The morning had been purely scientific. With laughter and absurd jokes, but with work above all else. You had gotten a lot of rare and curious species for your classes, and besides, you were learning a lot of things.

But your feet ached from so much walking, and all you thought about going back to the camp.

“Is there much left, Mari?” You asked, exaggerating your tiredness, leaning on a tree branch to walk.

“No, just a couple more sections and we can go to rest.”

“I really want to take a bath right now…” You said, sitting on a rock. Marilyn smiled as she looked at the notebook where she wrote down everything you were finding. “Hey, what if we split?”

“Split?”

“Yes, I'm going to one section and you to the other, so we cover more ground and we can finish sooner.”

“I don't know, (Y/N), it doesn't seem like a good idea,” Marilyn said, taking notes.

“Why not?” You said huffing, looking at the small map that the redhead was carrying. “Come on, it will be faster this way, and I'm sure it will be useful for me to explore on my own. Look, I'll go… This way…”

“No, not that way, (Y/N),” She said, taking the map you had taken from you.

“Come on... Give me some confidence... Please...” You said pleadingly. You really wanted to learn things, to see that you were made for the world of plants, but what you really wanted was a bath in the stream, possibly next to her, a funny dinner and returning to the tent, to sleep next to her.

Marilyn shook her head but she seemed to think about it. You put your hands together and put on your best pleading face.

“Okay…” She said, giving up. Out of excitement, you threw yourself into her arms and kissed her cheek, something that made that tense silence reign again in the forest. Marilyn didn't seem upset, but she was a little confused, smiling shyly. “But be very careful... Especially about this,” she said, shaking her head and forgetting your effusiveness. She took a photograph out of the notebook and showed it to you, it looked like a flower, similar to a dandelion.

“What is it?” You asked curiously. “Oh, okay...” You said, reading the convoluted scientific name of that plant.

“It's very dangerous, (Y/N). Listen to me, if you see it, I want you to let me know, okay? And don't touch it under any circumstances.”

“It is poisonous?”

“Terribly poisonous. If you touch the flower, the pollen will disperse throughout your body, making you suffer severe drowsiness. I guess you've heard of the tsetse fly...”

“Yes, sleep forever...” You said, cautiously observing the photograph.

“Well, this plant acts the same way. Please be very careful.”

You nodded, putting the photo in your pants and smiling again, carefree.

“Don't worry, I'll be careful,” you said, smiling and walking away from the redhead.

After a few minutes walking, and just as Marilyn had warned you, there were those strange flowers.

“Great,” you said to yourself, crossing out its name on the notebook you were carrying. “I found you.”

Marilyn had specifically told you to warn her, that this plant was very dangerous, but you didn't do it at first, instead you crouched down to see those strange flowers up close.

“Or is it a real dandelion? Let's see...” You said, observing the flowers more closely. You took out the utensils and an empty jar from your backpack, ready to do the work yourself, disobeying her advice. You needed to feel useful in some way, to feel that your knowledge was expanding enough to demonstrate to Marilyn and, especially to Larissa, that you were worthy of that vacant position, so that once you finished college, you could stay in Nevermore forever. A horrible decision.

You had not brought the scalpel close to the flowers when a strange dizziness came over you, as if you suddenly felt extreme fatigue. That made you grumble and sit up. Your intentions were good, but apparently Marilyn was telling the truth and you should stay away from those flowers.

“Marilyn! I've found them!” You shouted, being unable to cut a single one of those flowers.

“Great! Wait for me, I'll be right away, don't move!” You heard the redhead scream.

You nodded, somewhat frustrated, and bent down again to look at the plants and take some pictures. The dizziness returned, but you didn't intend to stay there, you would be quick.

A flock of birds appeared just at that moment, scaring you to death, causing you to lose your balance and inevitably fall on top of the flowers.

“Oh, shit...” You complained, placing your hands on the ground and getting up, without success. Dizziness made you stagger and fall backwards abruptly. The trees that you saw began to circle around you and a strong desire to sleep made you fight against your eyelids so that they would not close.

“(Y/N)!” Marilyn shouted. She appeared from the trees. Scared, she ran to you. “What happened?”

“The flowers...” You said with a weak voice, pointing to the responsible plants. Marilyn's eyes widened in fear and she crouched down.

“Oh my God, didn't I tell you not to come closer to them?” She told you, assessing your sleepy state.

“Eh... It wasn't my fault, I fell...” You whispered, trying to move, but without success. “Marilyn… I'm, I'm very sleepy…” You said with a sad and exhausted voice.

“(Y/N), no, don't fall asleep, hold on a bit. Oh my God, my God,” The redhead said, giving you little slaps on the cheeks to wake you up. “You have to clean off all that pollen, come on, come on.”

Marilyn grabbed you as best she could by the waist, staying as far away from you and the poison as possible. You were weak and couldn't walk, you couldn't let Marilyn carry you, you just let yourself fall to the ground.

“No, no, no, no...” She repeated nervously, now dragging you back to the camp. “Open your eyes, hold on...”

“I'm sleepy...” You managed to whisper when Marilyn left you on the the stream bank, taking off your backpack and jacket.

“Come on, honey, hold on a little longer, I'm going, I'm going to help you,” the redhead said, trying to keep your head stable, something impossible, since sleep was about to overcome you. At that time you were just a rag doll, letting Marilyn handle you at her whim, carefully taking off your clothes.

“Hold on...” She whispered, pulling down your pants and underwear. “Come on, hold on, (Y/N),” she said.

With you now completely naked, Marilyn dragged you again under your arms and put you next to her in the icy stream. Her voice also sounded weak, but she didn't seem as affected as you, as she managed to get you completely into the water.

Surely you must have felt something when you felt the cold water on your body, but it was barely a tingle, a sensation that was too weak. You were about to faint, nothing mattered to you except sleep, not even her hands rubbing your skin and washing you in the water could overcome your exhaustion.

“Come on, come on, open your eyes, please...” The redhead pleaded, dipping you into the stream and pulling you out several times. “Open them honey, please…”

Little by little the sensation of the cold water became more and more intense and finally, you managed to shake your head and open your eyes for a moment. Marilyn smiled nervously.

“Thank God...” She sighed, pulling you again to get you out of the water.

You stayed in her lap, clinging to her, unable to make a move, or be fully aware of what was happening.

“That's it, my love... That's it...”

You were exhausted, even with dizziness dominating your senses. Marilyn's heavy breathing relaxed little by little as she caressed your face and hugged you, sitting on the ground next to your naked body.

With a long sigh, things seemed to relax. Her breathing was no longer nervous, but slow, calming.

Marilyn looked down to study your features and assess the state you were in. You managed to move one arm and grab onto her clothes. It was an involuntary movement, due to the shock and fear you had gone through. You couldn't speak and you were still fighting not to fall asleep.

“That's it, honey... It's all over...” She whispered softly to you, caressing your cheeks.

Silence fell again and her eyes wandered over your naked body. Her breathing became nervous again, seemingly for no reason.

Now you could feel something, and it wasn't cold or terror, but rather you noticed her hand gently passing over your arm, over your chest, over your belly.

“Your body is beautiful, (Y/N)... You are so beautiful...” She whispered in an almost inaudible tone, caressing your body, your bare skin, enjoying the softness of your skin while you felt relief.

“Mmm…” You moaned, still dizzy. “Marilyn…” You whispered, slurring your words. She seemed to withdraw her hand, but on the contrary, she continued with her caresses, bordering on those most private areas in a disturbing way, as if she were fighting with herself not to do it, not to touch you where she shouldn't.

“I'm losing my mind,” Marilyn said to herself, intensifying her caresses, unable to stop looking at you, or rather, admiring you. “My love… You are so beautiful.”

You snuggled into her lap, never letting go of her clothes, clinging to your savior without really being aware of what was going on in her mind, the way she touched your body, the way she touched you.  She looked at you... If you had seen it, you probably would have found it inappropriate, but you couldn't think straight, and her touch was almost healing, nothing else mattered.

As if you had been suddenly resurrected, you suddenly opened your eyes and moved in fear, looking around.

“What...?” You said, trying to orient yourself and remember why you were there. “What happened to me?”

“(Y/N)… You're fine, you're safe,” Marilyn told you, holding your face with her hands, smiling with joy to see you fully awake.

“Safe? Oh... My head hurts...” You said, bringing a hand to your forehead. When you did, you realized something disturbing. Your arm was bare. You frowned and slowly lowered your gaze, realizing that not only your arm was exposed, but your entire body. “Oh no… I'm… I'm naked! Shit! Shit, Shit!” You screamed, getting up awkwardly and running towards the tent, desperately looking for something to cover yourself with.

“(Y/N), calm down, relax... I, I'm sorry,” Marilyn said, going after you, apologizing desperately.

You went into the tent, looking for one of your blankets and you put it around your body, embarrassed and still with that terrible headache.

You came out already covered and looked with intrigue at the redhead, who was playing with her hands, nervous.

“Why was I naked? What the hell happened?” You asked, clinging to the blanket. Marilyn sighed, not seeming to find the words.

“I, I couldn't do anything else, honey... You fell into the flowers and... I had, I had to do it, I had to remove the pollen from your body.”

“It's true, those flowers…” You whispered, sitting down on one of the camping chairs, beginning to feel deeply ashamed of your clumsiness.

“Are you okay?” She asked, leaning towards you. You nodded grumbling.

You felt anger, frustration, shame. A lot of things and all of them not very pleasant. You wanted to be the best at your job, but that horrible experience made you doubt many things, including yourself.

“I think so...” You said in an almost inaudible tone.

“You have to put on some clothes... Don't get cold... I... I'll prepare something warm for you in the meantime.”

You looked at her briefly, realizing that her clothes were wet as well. A little memory made you know why. You remembered the stream, the cold water, and also being about to fall asleep, forever. You nodded without speaking and returned to the tent.

When you came out, Marilyn was cooking on the camping gas. You didn't want to be detected, so you walked slowly, sitting back down in the chair with your head down and a lot of thoughts that you started to think about while you were getting dressed.

It was assumed that she knew more about plants than you, that if she told you something it was for your own good, but you didn't listen, you risked your life for ambition and pride,  just to try to spend the rest of your life with her.

You always loved plants, everything they could do, their varieties, their colors... But a hobby was often far from a vocation. That little incident made you realize. You'd have to spend decades in college to not make the same mistakes, that's what you thought at the time.

Marilyn noticed your presence and she looked at you briefly, moving a spoon in the bowl over the fire. Her look was not the usual one, she seemed embarrassed about something, she seemed to feel guilty. That made you even clearer about what your next step would be, much to your regret.

“Here, honey, it's soup,” she said affectionately, handing you a hot plate. The warmth of that plate made you smile and you brought it to your nose, enjoying its aroma.

“Thank you, Marilyn...” You whispered, tasting a little and closing your eyes, feeling the heat run down your body, warming your cold bones. She nodded, looking away from you and went into the tent, probably to change her clothes, she had gotten wet too.

You looked at the sky, which was already full of stars. You were looking for an answer, but you didn't know the question. It was clear that you were not suitable for botany, at least that's what you thought, but walking away, retiring from your work meant walking away from many things, walking away from Marilyn.

It was a difficult decision, but the night stars didn't seem to want to help you. You drank the soup in complete silence, trying to clear your thoughts.

You finished the plate and left it on the table, approaching the small lantern that was on top, watching how the insects danced excitedly with the light. The noise of a zipper diverted your attention. Marilyn left the tent, her embarrassed expression unchanged, nor wanting to say a single word.

She sat next to you and started looking at the stars too. You had already made a decision, but you couldn't find the words, or the moment to tell her. It was a painful, cowardly decision, but it was what your low self-esteem believed was right.

“Marilyn...” You said quietly, drawing the redhead's attention. She looked at you and nodded for you to continue. “I think, I think I'd better quit…”

She frowned at you, shaking her head.

“Quit?”

“Yeah, you know, work. I just learned the hard way that I'm not good at this...”

Marilyn laughed nervously and began to breathe quickly.

“What? You're not serious...” She said, denying what you had just said. “You're just tired, I'm sure you'll see things differently tomorrow.”

“I'm being serious, Marilyn. I almost died because I was so clumsy as to fall into the flowers, disobeying your warning. This time you were there to help me, but when I graduate there will be no one to help me. No, it's not my thing, botany is not my thing. Tomorrow I'll call Larissa and…”

Marilyn looked at you with surprised and sad eyes and she rose from her chair, leaning towards you and putting her hands on your shoulders.

“Don't talk nonsense, (Y/N), it was just an accident,” she said with a nervous smile. “Everyone, we have all made mistakes, you shouldn't give up because of that.”

“It wasn't a mistake, it was an oversight, I crouched down even though I knew I shouldn't have done it and that damn pollen almost killed me. No, I don't want to cause any more problems, it's best if I go and...”

Marilyn moved uneasily from one side to the other, looking for what to say to you, making helpless gestures, as if she were rehearsing her response in her head.

“And that's it? Do you just give up?” She said upset, with a tone that emanated a certain anger.

You sighed and nodded, looking away from her.

“It's the best...” You said, looking at the stars again.

“The best? The best for whom?” She asked ironically, crossing her arms.  “I know it was hard, but you're fine now, it was just an accident.”

“Today was an accident, but tomorrow something else may happen to me and not even you can save me. I'm sorry, Marilyn, but it's my decision,” you said, also getting up from the chair.

“It's your decision...” She repeated, moving nervously, laughing in a disturbing way. “You are being a coward.”

You laughed at that accusation and shook your head.

“Well, you can call me a coward if you want, but I'm not going to put more people's lives in danger because of my clumsiness.”

“You are...” the redhead said between her teeth. “Oh, okay, you know what? Do whatever you want. If you want to leave, then great,” she said, going into her tent.

“Are you taking me to Jericho tomorrow?” You asked indignantly, not understanding the redhead's anger, further straining the rope of her patience.

There was no answer.

The camp fell silent again. You clenched your fists tightly. You didn't understand the reason for that anger, if only she knew how hard it was for you to make that decision, how bad it would be for you to walk away from her... But, obviously she wasn't able to read your mind, to know what you were thinking or feeling.

A yawn, and the lack of tea in your glass, told you that it was time to sleep. You thought that since you hadn't heard from Marilyn in a while, she had probably already fallen asleep.

With as much subtlety as you could, you slipped into the tent. Marilyn was tucked into her bag, facing the side of the store. She showed no signs of being awake, but you also didn't hear the funny sounds she made while asleep.

You carefully climbed into your bag and turned your back on her, crossing your arms. Maybe it was a decision you made abruptly, but you already knew you were proud, nothing at that moment could change your mind, or so you thought.

“(Y/N)…” Marilyn whispered, in what sounded like a sob. You turned with a serious, annoyed look. “I, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” you said, turning around again.

“I shouldn't have talked to you that way.”

“Hey, what do you care if I go? Anyone who knows how to breathe and walk at the same time is going to be a better assistant than me,” you said, involuntarily resuming that absurd discussion.

“What I care? You don't know anything, (Y/N),” she said, turning on the tent’s lantern and sitting down. You did the same, not removing the frown you had.

“Maybe,” you said, sighing ironically. “You've already seen how clumsy I am. Would you mind enlightening me?”

Marilyn snorted at your irony but she stared at the floor of the store, clutching her knees to her chest.

“You don't know what it's like to be the only normi in Nevermore, (Y/N). At school everyone ignores me, they take me for an idiot. There are teachers who don't even know my name. But when I thought there was no hope for me, you came and turned my world upside down...” She said, in something similar to a confession. –“With your nonsense, your bad jokes, your smiles... You made my days easier, so that I didn't have to pretend to smile... And now you go and tell me that you're leaving, that you're giving up... You have no idea about what do you mean to me...”

Thinking about those words warmed you up, made you realize that what she said was true, you rarely saw her talk to another person. Deep in your heart, that was the closest thing to a love confession, but you knew that couldn't be true. There was no reason to express your feelings at that moment, at least not ones that didn't involve saying I love you.

“Do you think I like the idea of separating from you? Damn, Marilyn, you are the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known,” you said angrily, hitting the tent floor with your fists. “Just, I'm just trying to realize my place in the world.”

“You seem to like this idea, (Y/N). I don't need pity, or for you to tell me what I want to hear,” she said, shaking her head. “I've had enough of Weems' complacent looks.”

“Damn it, I'm telling the truth!” You screamed, squirming on the spot, tears beginning to form in your eyes. “Is it so difficult for you to believe that there is someone who... Well, who appreciates you... Who, who loves you?”

You had already said it. In a subtle way, but you had said it. You were angry, angry at his apparent lack of understanding. Your cheeks turned red and it made you want to run through the forest.

Marilyn looked at you, but she didn't say anything, she just rubbed her eyes. It didn't seem possible, but she was crying.

“Please, (Y/N)... Just, just reconsider...” She said, now with a pleading tone. “Don’t, don't go, please.”

“Why?” You asked, relaxing, feeling that something you couldn't identify made you approach her.

“Yesterday you asked me if there was something that scared me, that was scary to me...” She said, without being able to look you in the eyes. “Well yes, (Y/N), there is something. I'm afraid of losing you.”

“But, but why?” You asked, grabbing her shoulder to force her to look at you.

She now looked at you. She seemed to be having a terrible time, she seemed to want to say something that she couldn't, or that she shouldn't. With a sigh, Marilyn brought her hands to your cheeks, caressing them gently. You closed your eyes. That wasn't a simple gesture of affection, not at that moment. It was something else, and knowing it made you shiver, made you lean towards her.

“I don't want you to leave... Stay with me, please...” She said, resting her forehead against yours. You shook your head, running her hands over her shoulders, across her chest. You both quickened your breathing and stared at each other.

“I... I don't want to get away from you...” You said against her lips. “I can't…”

“(Y/N), I…” She whispered, closing her eyes just like you and placing her lips against yours in a tense, soft, pure and innocent kiss, but a very significant one. “I love you…”

Those three words came out of her mouth, and that kiss confirmed to you that they were not false, they were authentic. What seemed impossible to you was happening. She had feelings for you, you had feelings for her. That horrible tension of the last few months disappeared with another kiss, a deeper one, full of mixed feelings, of silent confessions, of love, a love that came out of desperation, but that Marilyn thought you would leave forever, that you didn't love her, that you didn't care.

“Me too...” You whispered between kisses. “I, I don't want to leave you... Shit, I'm stupid...” You said shaking your head.

“You're not...” She said, gently pushing you against the floor while her kisses said everything that words couldn't.

You let yourself go. It was what you had been thinking for so long, even without being aware of it, still fighting against those feelings.

Her body felt too good against yours, warm, comfortable. A place you didn't want to leave, a heat you couldn't survive without.

Marilyn climbed on top of you, continuing to caress you, worshiping your entire body. At that moment the words were absurd, only the facts, the caresses, the gasps, were capable of transmitting everything that you kept silent for so long, and everything that she seemed to want to repress. An uncontrollable desire, a love that appeared by chance.

The cold of the night no longer mattered. Your clothes were disappearing at the same time as hers. You both looked at each other, as if discovering a treasure, caressing your bare skin as if it were fragile, something that could break. And there was still no room for doubt, to think about what your place in the world would be. At that moment that place was under her, it was being covered by her kisses, agitated by the soft movement of her hips.

“You're so beautiful...” She whispered to you, running a hand over your chest. Now you were aware, you could enjoy that sensation and you could do the same, recording in your mind every new corner of her body, looking at her legs, her chest, her back.

The heat was unbearable, but she had the remedy. Kisses on your neck, on your chest, on your belly. Kisses that didn't seem to want to stop, kisses that didn't seem to feel guilty because you were young, because you were an awkward college student.

Your body was something sacred, a divinity of which Marilyn was the only one faithful, the only one who could taste it, kiss it, lick it, suck it.

Your moans only made the steam escape from your mouth, making you see that the heat was an illusion, that your moans were hot and the night was cold.

“Marilyn...” You moaned, stroking her hair as she settled between your legs, enjoying you, making you enjoy her.

She climbed up to your mouth and the hungry, anxious kisses returned. Her hands went up and down, leaving not a piece of skin to touch, to scratch, to possess. Her fingers were skillful, making you able to see the stars without leaving the tent, making you think about how beautiful it was to live, to feel love, a real one, not a passing one, one that was really love, not nights in clubs kissing girls, strangers, letting you be taken by them in a disgusting bathroom. This was love, not sex, just love, just caresses, just you and Marilyn.

Your body trembled, shook to the rhythm of your moans, her moans. Her eyes were fixed on yours, carefully observing each of your expressions. You fought to keep them open, to see how the woman you loved made love to you in that small space, how nothing mattered, how any place was good to love if it was with her.

You screamed, forgetting your absurd theories about the dangers of the forest, wanting to let everyone who passed by know that you were happy, that your orgasm wasn't just that, it was a cry of love, one that had been wanting to come out of your dreams for a long time.

The kisses returned, the hugs made you walk around the tent. Your bodies were sweating, your hips were dancing together an erotic dance, whose music was moans and gasps.

Now she was your goddess, you had her under you, you kissed her body, you smiled when you saw that she was not a shy woman, that she was fiery, passionate. You ran your fingers over the small tattoo she had, trying to make her feel loved, like you had felt before.

It was unbearable for her, she shook and begged you to kiss her, for your hands to go beyond your soft caresses. You were never a naughty girl, you were obedient, complacent, and when your hand slipped between her legs, she felt comfortable.

Feeling its heat around your mouth was a sensation that surpassed that damn pole. Her moans were high-pitched, her hands mischievous, grabbing your hair, going crazy when your lips landed on that spot.

You didn't want to let her legs go, you wanted to sink into her, make her see that you loved her, that you wanted to adore her in the same way that she did with you.

Marilyn was restless, anxious but patient, letting you move slowly inside her, making her feel every inch of skin that your fingers ran over. Your eyes looked at her, and hers returned yours, while your free hand intertwined her fingers with hers.

It was a matter of time before her body moved quickly, erratically. Your caresses and moans were too much for her. Her walls squeezed your fingers, preventing them from leaving her, preventing you from stopping loving her. Marilyn arched her back, screaming almost as loud as you. Her hand returned to your hair, tugging it violently, involuntarily.

You smiled and returned to her lips, letting her nails scratch your back as your legs intertwined.

“(Y/N)...” She said, looking at you dazed, smiling, as if she herself had fallen into those flowers and felt light, extremely relaxed.

“Mari...” You said, lying on her chest while her arms wrapped around your back. There were no longer scratches or hair pulling, just a tender hug, two sweaty bodies hugging each other in that tent, with the only sound of the stream in the background.

“I... Tomorrow we will return to Jericho. It, it hurts, but I want you to do what makes you happy, (Y/N).”

You looked at her, biting your lip. It was true that those flowers had given you a bad experience, but you couldn't just give up, not at that moment, you could never do it again.

“No, Marilyn... I... I want to stay here,” you said, resting your head on her chest, closing your eyes for having been so stupid and not having thought things through calmly.

“Is what you want? Don't do it just for me...” She whispered softly, brushing your hair away from your face. “I just wanted you to know how much I love you. I didn't want you to just leave. But it is your decision. I promise not to interfere.”

“Interfere, damn it,” you said sharply, raising your head. She sat up a little and looked at you strangely. “Ask me to stay, please…”

She smiled, caressing your cheek. She wasn't stupid, she knew that you needed her to tell you again, to remind you why it was worth making an effort, giving plants a second chance.

“Stay, please...” She said softly, kissing you tenderly on your lips. “I can't imagine living without you.”

“I'll stay, Marilyn. I will always stay with you,” you said with a smile, snuggling into her chest again.

[red-dye40]

Please, I beg, a director's commentary on Ancaux or Sexual Trauma Clipshow. Also, P.S, thank you for being the first to plunge into the untapped territory of Phlegm.

PHLEGM MENTION!!!!!!!!!!! ok i can do a little for both :) for you

first is chapter 5 of ancaux which i weirdly have a lot to say about

This apartment has become a hole. No sunlight, no air, no food besides a surplus bag of stale circus peanuts.

when i was little there was this extremely old grocery store in my town, like truly it was 1999 and everything looked like it hadn’t been changed or cleaned since the early 60s, and the most vivid memory i have is this lazy susan of candies near the cash registers and exactly at eye level with me were bags of dusty stale circus peanuts. like the weird orange marshmallow candies?? i remember feeling so. upset by them. and thinking like. this is something a person with no hope left would eat.

i always go back to those circus peanuts when i’m writing a person at their wit’s end.

“Alrighty then…” The employee peers a little deeper into her cart. “Heh. Must be some project you’re working on.” “Home renovations.” “We got a beautiful collection of wall finishes in the paint department if you’re interested.” “I’m not.”

i rewrote this interaction soooooo many times, i had so many different plans for it. originally i had devi ask the guy something like “i’m going camping do you have anything that could kill a bipedal feral dog in one hit” and he would be like “oooh let me consult our expert!” and would lead her to nny. i thought it was too gimmicky and fanservice-y, and it also kept backing me into a corner where i wouldn’t know where to go from there.

something about me is i write little clues in everything bc i love dramaturgy and i love making sure stories are watertight. i put the little mention of the paint department in hopes that maybe readers would be able to connect it to the previous chapter (the little itty bitty one where nny is painting) and figure out ahead of the reveal that nny works at the hardware store??? i truly don’t know if it was obvious from jump or no one even thought about it, bc at this point i didn’t have a tumblr yet and was only posting to ao3 and instagram and had NOOOOOOOO reader interaction. so! who knows. but you can keep that knowledge in your pocket for future chapters, that i’m always dropping lil hints :)

Devi stands in uncomfortable silence while the register sings a little waiting tune. She looks up, into the eye of the camera mounted above the register’s display, and watches herself in the monitor while a message below it flashes RECORDING IN PROGRESS.

one of my first days living in the city i went to a home depot and bought a bunch of sharp things bc i was working on a cosplay and needed to carve a bunch of foam, and i got ID’d for all of it and i was so so fresh to the city and so young and probably very high and just felt mortified, like i just stared at myself in the monitor being like “you’re not cut out for this world” HAHAHAHAHAH anyway. that stuck with me.

The two of them stand at the same height, almost elbow to elbow, wearing distant familiarity and abject horror as they stare into each other’s pixelated faces. Devi watches him in the display as she reaches into her pocket, produces her wallet, pulls out her ID, hands it to him with a shaking hand. He punches in her birthdate without having to look.

somethin else i love is vagueness n ambiguity in writing. i haaaaate when writers spoon feed things to their audience bc it implies TO ME that they don’t trust them or think that they’re smart enough to connect the dots. it really offends me!!!! i made sure i didn’t ever explicitly state that devi is interacting with nny because in a traumatic moment like that it’s hard for my brain to even really put words or a name to it, if that makes sense?? i wanted to try and evoke that feeling of like, you know what’s happening and it’s so bad you can’t even really say it.

Her heart is beating fast against her ribcage, but maybe out of exhilaration more than panic or paranoia. She saw him. He was smaller, more human-like than her brain had crafted him into over the years.

you ever have an absolute mortal enemy, like an ex or a bully in school, and then you get a glimpse of them years later, after you spent so much time molding them into like an evil dastardly goblin in your brain, and they’re just like. a person?? with other shit going on, just like you? and it kind of feels like. huh. okay. and you can suddenly move on??? a special kind of spooky.

and now here’s a lil from stixxx :)

Penetration is penetration, Johnny. What difference does a few inches above or below the belt make, in the grand scheme of things? “That’s a gross oversimplification.”

i remember so vividly getting this little bit of dialogue in my head during work and writing it in my notes app to remember it. it sat at the bottom of the doc for MONTHS (i started writing stixxx back in june 2023 and it was in a much different place) and when i finally was able to place it into the fic proper it felt :) so good

The girl’s been splayed out on her back, propped up on a cinder block that places her a foot off the ground. Her arms are pulled over her head, both wrists zip tied to their own blocks. The same for her legs. With her wavering strength it seems hard for her to keep steady; she shakes visibly on camera.

this whole setup is based on a jthm strip i wrote when i was 13 after /i/ was watching robot wars while eating a chick-o-stick (i was addicted to chick-o-sticks for a while. and charleston chews.)

Her eyes pop open. Purple, syrupy vomit bursts from under her gag and through her nose and fills her throat, stopping up her windpipe.

fun fact about me! i was once severely emetophobic! scariest thing in the world to me! i think the reason i write about vom so much is because 1) it used to evoke such fear in me and i know it does for a lot of people 2) it’s such an insane pretty involuntary thing we do as creatures??? and i think it is one of most vulnerable states to be in tbh. i still think it is icky and i would prefer to never interface with it in person ever but! endlessly fascinating to write about ????

He meanders down the hall. Opening doors. Closing doors. Dining room. Linen closet. Foyer. Staircase leading to the ceiling—how original.

staircase leading to the ceiling is a reference to this little lady at the winchester house

i know lots of ppl make connections between 777 and house of leaves, but i always assumed the influence was very much attributed to the winchester house since jv grew up in san jose (n because jthm predates hol!) those wacky stairs are my favorite part of the whole house. the first time i saw them i felt unease that stuck with me forever :)

Since when do we have a ball pit? My little film screening was only to illustrate just how much you’ve suppressed through the years. But at some point you have to jump in, Nny. Swim through the proverbial multicolored plastic balls of your memory. Fish out all the band-aids and… and missing socks and… little parachuting army men. Johnny stares into the gaping maw of the in-ground ball pit that’s apparently in his house now. “That one got away from you a little bit.” Metaphors ain’t really my thing.

when i wrote this i was like “i am so funny” and i read it now and am still like “i am so funny”

i love to write rev meat. he’s so fascinating to me. i love that he was introduced and barely explained right before jthm wrapped up. so much mystery. what a freak.

thank you for ur interest :) i love to talk

[livvyofthelake]

ok! sidequest from january complete! i am right now the world's biggest expert on the lightning thief and i will no longer be this person in three days when it all leaves my brain so let's get into it now. i reread the book (have not opened it since eighth grade, also i started it in january made it halfway through and this week had to go back to the beginning because i forgot it all), watched the show (ok. i watched 6 episodes as they came out and then didn't do anything until last week), and rewatched the movie with fresh eyes. and i have to say it's good i didn't finish this in january, that wasn't the right time for this... i was being kind of a hater then. or at least. i wasn't being a forgiver. this time around i feel like i was in the best place imaginable to devote my time to this franchise i ordinarily don't care about. like i was very forgiving and loving and viewing it with a lot of fondness... i didn't even do that back in april when i read the nico book damn. couldn't even extend the fondness to my favorite guy.... that's not even true i think my favorite guy in this franchise is annabeth i just used to think it was nico back in the day because i think after pjo i didn't consider her a real character due to her being so entrenched in the mythos of the series. idk. i was weird about picking favorite characters back then i never thought i could pick a main one. idk. let's not dwell on the trenches of ages 12-15. do not worry about how that line of thinking impacted my relationship with tsc we aren't getting into that weirdness rn

ok so now i'd like to go through everything about the lightning thief (yes, specifically only the lightning thief. i'm not reading the other ones and i'm not watching that second movie...) and talk about which version i liked best and the pros and cos of everything <3 stay tuned if you want to read a longgggg ass post! if not. well gtfo damn

if you can believe it i’m actually about to be a movie hater and a show apologist. i know like. how bad is my life rn that it’s come to this. anyway. let's get into it....

characters:

percy- i'm gonna say the best percy is book percy. i mean naturally he’d be best in the book it’s his book he’s the narrator and protagonist and we all loved him in middle school!! and i think the show version of him definitely stayed truer to a lot of what makes the book charming and loveable, but i also think the movie version kept much of the character’s spirit alive too, just in an older way. i do think his age plays a role in the character and while i don’t think aging everyone up for the movie was a BAD choice i definitely think it was an impactful choice that changed a lot about the nature of the story in many ways we can get into later if we remember

annabeth- show. by like. miles and leagues and lightyears. the way leah sava jeffries DEVOURED that role and left no crumbs is utterly insane. that girl is a future academy award winner. she’s a future egot even. if she wants to do theater. she’s like. a once in a lifetime talent and i really believe this. have you ever heard the ways she can devour the single word “yes”? if not you couldn’t possibly hope to understand how hard she slays. anyway i like show annabeth best because the show diverges from the book and movie’s single perspective and kind of opens it up as an ensemble narrative, so she gets her own scenes that aren’t being seen through percy’s eyes, which REALLY adds nuances and depth to her that she doesn’t always have in this franchise. i know she has povs in heroes of olympus i was there. i am currently talking specifically about the lightning thief though. and the thing about annabeth in the lightning thief is that she is weird... she's such a little weirdo.... she's stalking percy around camp because she wants so desperately for him to be the one that can take her on a quest and she wants sooo bad to go on a quest and prove herself.... the movie gave almost none of her freak tendencies it's a tragedy... the way that girl acted in the movie was NOT a proper display of the qualities that landed her in the timeless video..... and leah i look forward to seeing YOUR freak ass in the 2026 remade timeless video <3

grover- i’m gonna say movie because i think he’s funniest in the movie. but show is a close second because in the show he’s sooooo sweet and adorable and it makes you go awwww groverrrrr… and he has those big brown eyes and big smile and you’re just like ohhh he’s just a baby…. actually i think it’s a tie between movie and show because both of those qualities are equally important to the character

luke- show. there is something about jake abel’s performance in the movie that makes me want to punch him in the face soooo bad. and when i was rereading the book i sort of realized like. wait we actually are supposed to like this guy and sympathize with him without him being an annoying Popular Guy… and charlie bushnell’s performance in the show really gave that in a delightful way i didn’t appreciate when i tried watching the show before rereading the book. the show really does give you a sense of his conflict between really truly caring about the trio and his ultimate moves against them. i think letting annabeth be there at the Reveal that he framed percy for stealing the lightning bolt was a crazy decision that went HARD. like. she’s his sister… he would always be on her side… until he wasn’t…. it was crazy you had to be there i think

chiron- i’m gonna go with movie. because i think in the book he’s forgettable and in the show he’s forgettable (sorry but. i watched it two days ago and i don’t remember a single thing he did or said) and in the movie he was pierce brosnan. as a centaur. what if sam mamma mia was. a centaur….

medusa- i know they want me to love the show version. like ok yes she slayed she ate i enjoyed how they changed the story there it was kinda cool it kinda gave hansel and gretel in the witch’s house. but i HAVE to give it to uma thurman let’s all be fucking real here. also. percy pulling out his ipod touch as a mirror… well that’s cinema. unbeatable.

echidna- was not in the movie because the movie swaps out the st. louis arch for the nashville parthenon. but i am going with show. because that shit was Crazy. i’ll get into it in the Events section of the post

hades- book. the movie makes him The Villain for easy film storytelling reasons which kinda sucks but from a movie adaptation perspective makes sense but still kind of pisses me off. and in the show he felt insanely underwhelming idk

persephone- ONLY appears in the movie. and i’m including her here to complain about something very specific. the reason she was not there in the book or show. is because this story takes place in the weeks before THE SUMMER SOLSTICE. persephone. would not BE. in the UNDERWORLD. on the SUMMER. SOLSTICE. i never even realized this about the movie until this week i’m hardly a greek mythology expert ok i wasn’t thinking about it that much. but now that the book reminded me i’m like. now why did the movie include persephone. on the summer. solstice. like one of her most main things is that she would not be there. probably her most main thing actually. that’s crazy.... like who was on that. who did that....

poseidon- gonna go with. book. show version didn’t Give anything... he was legit just some guy. i think i feel this way about all the gods in the show. except maybe hermes because well crucially that WAS lin manuel miranda… and i don’t like him in the movie because a) that’s literally just owen grey’s anatomy my mortal enemy owen hunt. and b) the movie decided to portray the vibe as like. poseidon wanted to raise percy and stay with his mother but couldn’t? which. well no he did not actually. and trying to make percy this. One Exception to the idea of gods not caring about their kids and making sally the exception to gods not really long term loving the people they have children with. it’s just ridiculous to me. percy isn’t an exception because his dad loved him he’s an exception because his mom is awesome. and sally does not give a fuck that poseidon didn’t like. marry her or whatever. idk. i just don’t care for the way the movie handles that i never have

zeus- gives nothing to me in all versions. peace on earth.

last on the list but first in my heart. the one and only sally jackson- SHOW. by leaps and bounds. i can’t get too into it but she’s SO AWESOME in there… she’s SO COOL. she gave jocelyn fairchild in many ways… she taught percy about greek mythology because he would need to know this someday... she raised him to be ready for the storm....

events:

minotaur- show. this is so tied to how much i loved sally in the show. literally hold fast and brave the storm…. i'm gonna cry again

capture the flag- show. let’s be serious the movie’s version of it was dumb and FILLED with so many bad annabeth moments…. i watch her in the beginning of this movie and i go wow she would not say that! she wanted him on HER team…. she wouldn’t cut him with a sword… also. what i like about the show version is that AFTER they won was when annabeth just. shoved his ass in the water like um sorry has to be done! and it was real

starting the quest- show…. i loved when chiron was like i've assembled all these cool potential kids you could select :) and percy didn't even listen to their names he just said um i want annabeth please! but he wasn't that polite he straight up just said her name no fuss about it he said i want this freak on my team. and my bestie grover <3 and grover wasn't even like an option percy just wanted him on his quest soooo bad... because they're best friends btw if you haven't heard!

medusa- MOVIE. next

st. louis arch- show… the way annabeth volunteers to fight off the chimera and percy does that thing where he pretends to let her and hands her his sword but then uses the sword to pull himself into where she's standing and push her back into the stairs to get out... that was crazy stuff! also i loved the part about them going to the arch not just because annabeth was obsessed with architecture but because the arch was a temple to athena. like i think that gave such a cool opportunity to give annabeth some character moments and showcase her relationship with her mother, the way athena allowed the chimera to attack because she was mad at annabeth for letting percy send medusa's head to olympus... damn these gods are bad parents!

water park- SHOWWWWWW NO QUESTION. i never gave a fuck about the spider shit they did in the book that was all lame but the way they changed it for the show slayed the house downnnn omg.... percy getting trapped in that golden chair so annabeth can get ares' shield, instead of taking the shield back she tries to get him out until hephaestus himself comes out and tries to make her give up...and then her speech to him was sooo excellent it was so ANNABETH it was so thesis statement on her and percy's dynamic it was so good.... "it isn't how it should be! it isn't! eat or be eaten, power and glory and nothing else matters! ares is that way, zeus is that way, my mother is that way.... he isn't that way..." she doesn't want to do this quest the gods way! she wants to save her friends! god guys it was so fucking good....

lotus casino- just going with book here. underdog pick i know. i just don’t want to involve myself in the discourse that WAS happening in january. i was there on tiktok it was annoying as hell i’m removing myself from the narrative. i will say that in a sense, levitating by dua lipa is kind of the poker face of our time. in a sense.

underworld- book. we are at a point in this post where i don't care enough to really write a paragraph on the parts that don't interest me as much. so. yeah

the pearls- ok. the thing the movie did with the pearls was make them the whole plot. they went to medusa’s place and the nashville parthenon and the lotus casino to get the pearls to escape the underworld. but the whole deal with the movie is that there wasn’t a Quest like the books they were going rogue to save percy’s mom. so why did they never question that they were looking for three pearls to ultimately get four people out of the underworld? like. come on guys you’re not this stupid… and in the book and show the pearls were given to percy by that water lady. but in the show she gave him 4 and then they lost one which i thought was stupid like couldn’t we have just done it how it happened in the book where he was only given three and had to leave his mom behind trusting that once he found hades helm he’d let her go? anyway. whatever. book

fight with ares- pretty much all the same. only notable difference between the book and the show is that the book leaned way more into the “percy is a fugitive” thing than the show ever did so the fight had spectators in the book. which worked for the book but i do think in the show would have gotten too complicated in many ways

olympus- book. actually idk. all versions are kinda the same deal who cares

luke betrayal- show! in the book he just takes percy out to the forest and sets a monster scorpion on him… lame! in the show he pulls out a sword and fights him himself… which i decided was better than the movie ONLY because i liked show luke better than movie luke. but the final fight in the movie is sick too

ending- i think. they are equally good. the movie doesn’t conclude at the end of summer like the others so it’s ending is more. not ambiguous. but like. less conclusive? the movie ends after they return the lightning bolt not at the end of the summer so it never has the part where percy has to decide to stay at camp or live with his mom. but the movie does lowkey imply he's staying at camp. which is crazy i mean he loves his mom.... anyway. it's still a good movie ending. between the book and the show there's not much difference actually.

in conclusion, i don't have a favorite but i will say i'm probably not gonna read the book again while i might rewatch the show. and i have already seen the movie many times. so if you wanna evaluate based on that metric there it is. i don't have an opinion on which is the Best because adaptations are complicated and these are three different mediums. i think it's a great middle grade book, a good 2010 ass movie, and a sort of middling tv show. i know i favored the show for a lot of things up there but ultimately it's just not a great tv show. it's a streaming service original that gave the author of the book and his most annoying and rabid fans too much say in the adaptation process. it's a really faithful adaptation. and we got a bunch of really good tiktok edits out of it. but is it a good television show? no.... i mean if you want to feel like you're watching the book it's good for that but it you want to watch a great tv show it's not the vibe. you understand!

i'll leave you with this sick edit for right now <3

[look-at-the-soul]

Behind the scenes- Anthropoid

Cillian Murphy x reader

Summary: Cillian goes to a shooting camp to learn to use the weapons he will need as part of his role for the movie Anthropoid as Josef Gabcík, finding more than just a lesson.

So, I got this request wrong and for some reason my mind could only picture the idea of Cillian preparing for his role in the film Anthropoid (because I loved the movie), but when I re-read the request I realized it was meant to be for another character-sorry to whoever requested, my covid consequences messed up my mind… I’m going to be working the original idea and turn this into a mini series (?) for different roles and different circumstances. 😊

And the most important thing is, I’m writing this for myself not worrying or caring for the outcome anymore, not looking at the numbers or interaction just like I did when I started posting, writing it because I simply enjoy it, anything else is a bonus 🍀

Cillian looked outside the window as the vehicle drove through a desert part of the city, the script on his lap. It was a fascinating character, a man with a strong view, determination and a bravery he thought was admirable.

Jamie was sleeping in the seat next to him in the van, they were going to a ranch outside the city for a shooting lesson. Even though the weapons they would use in the film aren’t real, they needed to get familiar with the way to position the gun, how to prepare it, hold it…

It was the finest details that made him fall in love with the character.

After driving for a little over an hour, the finally arrived to the ranch, it was a huge property surrounded by trees and that was pretty much all.

Poking Jamie with his elbow, Cillian collected his belongings to come down from the truck, his characteristic Ray Bans perched on his nose as the sun was at his highest point.

The administrator welcomed them and shared a brief introduction to the history of the ranch.

“This is Y/N she’s the manager of the activity and will guide you through this lesson… please don’t make her mad, remember she’s an expert in weapons.” He joked in the end earning the chuckles of both Jamie and Cillian.

“Thank you for the sweet introduction, now they’ll be terrified of me.” Y/N joked shaking hands with both, Jamie and Cillian, who took off his sunglasses to look at her without barriers.

“Nice to meet you.” He told her, holding her hand for a little longer than necessary.

“Shall we start the practice already?” The administrador encouraged the group.

“You’ve probably been to lessons like this before, but I don’t like to assume anything so, the first rule is always hold the muzzle of your weapon towards the floor, but don’t point at your feet, you’d be surprised to hear the horror stories we’ve seen by the recklessness of people.”

Y/N gave each a weapon.

“Treat your weapon with respect, there’s no need to fear these as long as you know how to use it properly, this is not a toy… and like I what I always say in these moments, the first to point jokingly at anyone will be requested to leave, no excuses I don’t care who you are or what movie you’re doing, repeat after me; weapons aren’t toys.” Y/N meant it seriously Cillian realized, his eyes were fixed on her as she paced slowly behind the table.

“You can thank Y/N for preventing me for shooting you.” Jamie whispered into Cillian’s ear, making him chuckle.

“Now, let’s get you started.” Y/N indicated to the group showing them how to hold the gun while loading it carefully, correcting their postures in the process and explaining the ammunitions they were using for each type of firearm. They were practicing with the real kind of weapons they’d use in the movie, so they could be familiar with the weight and shape.

He had to admit he was mesmerized not only by her delicate features, but also the power she exuded, she totally dominated the field and was willing to share what she knew to prepare them for the role.

After spending some good time learning how to load and unload properly each weapon, they finally moved to the open field where meters away they set up the targets they’d be shooting.

Cillian stayed back, watching Y/N interact with the group, she was the only woman around but it was amazing to see her move and talk with such ease and power, the amount of knowledge she owned about it was impressive, she showed them the correct distance they should keep between their legs, arms stretched.

“You’re not paying attention and she’s going to get you kicked out, stop staring at her arse man.” Jamie smacked the back of Cillian’s head playfully before standing next to Y/N.

“So… Miss, can I call you Miss? ‘Cause you’re kind of a weapon teacher.” Jamie asked in his usual charming persona, wondering if he was holding the weapon properly.

“Yes, exactly like that.” She put her gun inside her holster and gave a few instructions to him.

As Y/N moved back to her spot, she took her gun back while Jaime pointed his to the ground. She extended her arms, flexing then one of her elbows slightly bringing the gun at eye level and released her first shot, hitting the target right in the forehead. Jamie looked back at Cillian, biting his lips and throwing his friend a knowing and naughty look.

“I bet your boyfriend has sleeping problems knowing you shoot that well.”

Y/N laughed freely and answered she had no boyfriend.

“My friend here is a bit clumsy with the guns but he’s good with his hands.” Jamie teased, making Cillian feel embarrassed.

“You sound so sure of that last part, speaking for personal references?” Y/N teased back, making both actors laugh out loud.

“Checkmate.” Cillian winked at her.

“Busted.” Jamie answered defeated. “I was just trying to make him a favor.”

“Don’t… just please don’t, mate really you only make it worse.” Cillian chuckled, feeling awkward.

Jamie touched his heart, head hanging lose dragging his feet to a fence nearby letting them know he’d take a break. “Just want you to know that hurt, Cillian!”

“Is he always that dramatic?” Y/N asked with a sparkle in her eyes, positioning behind Cillian.

“And we’re just about to start filming, I’ll deal with that for three fucking months.”

That made Y/N laugh, like a genuine deep laugh, making Cillian look at her, a lovely blush covering her cheeks. Jamie gave him the thumbs up.

“Cillian stop flirting with the shooting Miss! You came here to practice!” Jamie shouted blatantly. “He’s single too, by the way!”

“He sounds so retarded, sorry he’s a jerk sometimes.” Cillian shook his head.

“The extrovert and the introvert, I assume?”

“Does it really shows that much?”

“Stop whispering naughty things and start the fire!”

After laughing some more, Cillian released the security button of his weapon, he brought it up, close to his nose to focus on his target. Y/N touched his arm to adjust the angle between his elbow and his body.

Trying not to gasp at his muscles as he was in position.

“Keep that hand where I can see it, Miss!”

Cillian and Y/N bursted into laughs at how annoying Jamie was.

“Keep him off the sugar next time.” Y/N proposed.

“Oh, mate that sounds like a naughty proposition, take it before she regrets it!”

Cillian rolled his eyes.

“What’s the movie about if I can ask?” Y/N gave him the go to shot.

Focusing in the target before him, he fired according to the instructions he got previously, hitting pretty close to the center.

“Nice shot!” Y/N praised giving him a high five.

“Alright Cillian that was rookie’s luck.” Jamie demanded shooting next, taking Cillian’s spot and assuring Y/N he didn’t need guidance, so the two of them walked to lean on the fence.

“It’s about a secret group trying to carry out a plan of assassination of the n*zi head who planned the genocide of Jews during the World War II, over 5,000 Czechs and Slovaks were executed.”

Y/N looked away, blinking away the discomfort.

“I know the story… my great-grandfather was part of that group. He was killed not knowing he was going to be a father.”

Cillian swallowed hard.

“Sorry… I-I didn’t know Y/N.”

“I did my shot wrong on purpose, didn’t want to embarrass you in front of Y/N. You’re welcome.” Jamie approached them breaking the tension. “I saw some food on our way in, I’ll just go and grab something.”

Y/N seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.

“The script is beautifully written, the director spent years going through every single detail. I wish you could come one day to set and see everything, they built a replica of the church, it’s mind blowing.” Cillian explained with excitement, he shouldn’t be talking about the project, but he was sure Y/N wouldn’t reveal what he just shared.

“I’d love to visit the set, never been to one before.” She couldn’t even start to imagine how a set would look. “Would you like to go inside and have some lunch?”

Cillian nodded and followed inside the big property, it was located at the beginning of the land and they’d be staying for a couple of days to practice with the weapons.

Taking a seat at the large table, Cillian was surprised to see how much respect Y/N imposed without even asking for it, she supervised the food that was served and someone approached her to explain a problem which she was quickly taking care of.

“Did you at least get her phone yet?” Jamie asked under his breath, making sure no one else could hear.

“Stop it.”

Jamie hit him on the chest. “Those eyes and you know nothing of how to flirt? Please don’t tell me you’ve been talking to her with that resting bitch face?”

“What?!” Cillian squinted his eyes.

Jamie raised his eyebrows. “You know what? Forget it, you really suck at this… But I’m a nice friend, she’s an interior designer but decided to take a chance at the family business, they rent the place for police and soldiers training and also for the private sector…”

“You said family?” He wasn’t sure of believing Jamie sometimes.

“She’s the owner of the place, I swear and she takes care personally of every visitor. What are you waiting for? She’s smart, kind, laughs a lot, good-looking, are you blind or what?”

“Sorry about that, would you like to have some rest and resume the practice later?” Y/N joined them once more.

Jamie looked at Cillian, encouraging him to step over.

“Jamie just told me he wants to have some rest, so why don’t we keep practicing?” Even before Cillian finished talking, Jamie stood up and yawned excusing himself, the silent hurra he did before leaving didn’t go unnoticed by his co-star.

“Is the movie being filmed entirely in Prague?” Y/N asked him while Cillian took his headphones for safety before shooting.

“Yes, some will be at the location and other scenes at the set.”

“It must be amazing.” Y/N admitted, watching him get in position.

With each shot, Cillian; got better and better, taking the opportunity to know more about Y/N, and she learned all about how he landed the role and how excited he was about the film, he talked about his passion for theater and music and how much he was loving the city, making her feel in awe by how humble and kind he was despite his profession, they talked a lot until the sun painted the sky in a beautiful pink and oranges tones, making them return to the house, after a small dinner, Cillian thanked her for the lesson and wished her good night while she stayed at her office checking some papers.

The following morning, Cillian was surprised to find Y/N already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

“You had a good night?”

Cillian nodded with a smile, “slept like a baby, with the window open the air is so fresh here.”

“It’s so relaxing, I barely go to the city anymore.”

Not long after that, Jamie joined them ready for the second day of practice, which of course involved more teasing from his part for hours, he particularly enjoyed revealing embarrassing things about Cillian.

They kept practicing some more during the day, enjoying the amazing weather they got.

Every minute that passed, made Cillian feel more comfortable around Y/N, she kept asking questions about the film and in return, he asked her about what she knew about her great-grandfather and bits of information she shared fascinated him, he loved to hear the stories that jumped from one generation to the next one, her great-grandmother had to escape the city out of fear, she changed her name and entered another country illegally. For years they kept a low profile, even after so many years they still whispered when they talked about it. Until one day, she found the hidden letters in the darkest corner of a drawer and started asking questions about her great-grandfather.

As they were in their own little bubble, Jamie kept practicing with the help of someone else, smirking at how much into each other they were, totally in sync.

“So, hmm… if you’re ever in town, let me know.” Cillian said in a lo voice walking next to Y/N back into the house, hands inside the pockets of his jeans.

“I‘ll, I promise.”

“Why does it sounds like you won’t?” He chuckled nervously.

Y/N stopped at the front door to look at Cillian, a sad smile on her features.

“Because you’ll be busy with the movie and your lifestyle is totally different to this…”

Cillian stepped closer, taking in the way the wind moved her hair and the moonlight decorated her face.

“That doesn’t mean this can’t work…” He let his hand touch her check softly, he watched her eyes close for an instant, as if she was trying to hold back the tears.

In a matter of days they clicked, endless talks allowed them to learn more about the other, he made her laugh a lot and who were they trying to fool? The chemistry between was amazing.

Letting go of his shyness, he leant down to capture her lips in a soft kiss. Y/N answered by not only responding to it, but also linking her hands behind his neck. Cillian moved his down to her hips, to keep her closer.

Y/N felt in heaven as Cillian’s lips moved against hers tentatively at first, then more hungrily.

It was hard to let go, as their mouths and bodies found the perfect fit together, both of them trying to get their heartbeats back to normal.

She ran her fingers through the longer parts of his hair, getting lost in the depths of his crystal eyes for a few moments, then motioned Cillian to follow her. “I’ve something you might appreciate.”

She opened the door to her office and retrieved a vintage travel bag from a drawer, placing it in front of Cillian.

Opening the box, his heart skipped a beat as he found a bunch of letters inside.

Y/N was encouraging him to take the letters, but he needed a minute to process this piece of information, his fingers lingered at the edge.

After all these years, Y/N kept the love letters between her great-grandparents as her most important possession.

The content of this box was invaluable.

There were no words that could possibly describe what he was feeling, there was no way he could make sense at all after watching the calligraphy at the envelopes and the damaged corners as the passage of time became evident.

“I’m speechless.” Cillian looked once more at Y/N feeling emotional to be able to take a look at something so personal, so intimate.

So he kissed Y/N again, thanking internally for the things they had to go through in order to meet under such extraordinary circumstances.

Wrapping a blanket around their shoulders, they sat at the porch to read the correspondence together.

****

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @lespendy @gypsy-girl-08 @cillmequick @onlydeadcells @fastfan @heidimoreton @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @strayrockette @forbidden-forest-witch @cillixn @raincoffeeandfandoms @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @peakyscillian @moral-terpitude @babaohhhriley @ange-thoughts @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @cilliansangel @rangerelik @sydneyyyya @emmanuelle19 @camilleholland89 @thenattitude @flippittygibbitts @adaydreamaway08

[undertheopensky]

Under The Weather

Whumptober Day 13: “I don’t feel so good.”

Characters: Four, Hyrule, everyone is there

Trigger warnings: Vomiting, indistinct illness

Important note: I usually headcanon Warriors as the main medic (thanks for that bokettochild) but for some reason today Hyrule insisted on running the show. Maybe he decided he wasn’t getting enough screentime.

Read on Ao3!

-----

Four belches into his hand, hiding it behind his teacup. Probably a court manners thing. Hyrule had never gotten the hang of those, but several of his companions were close enough to nobility that they had to know things like that. Four’s been doing it all lunch, though, and Hyrule’s wondering if there’s something in Wild’s stew that doesn’t agree with him. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve discovered dietary restrictions the hard way.

Four belches again, then abruptly throws up, and Hyrule realises he’s been retching the whole time.

“For fuck’s sake, Four.” He rounds the embers of the fire as Warriors and Wind scramble away from Four and the puddle of sick next to him – he’d only mostly avoided getting it on himself. “You’re supposed to tell us when you’re not feeling well. What are your symptoms?”

“I don’t know,” Four snaps, “I don’t feel sick, I just feel – wrong.” He retches again, but there’s nothing left to come up.

“So you’re nauseous, but you don’t feel sick.” Hyrule gives him a doubtful look.

“Kinda yeah,” says Four. “My stomach feels like a rock. Throwing up was just as much of a surprise to me as to you.”

“Interesting.” Hyrule takes a few minutes to look Four over. He’s pale and clammy, with a pinched look around his eyes that’s very telling of just how uncomfortable he is. He’s also barely touched his lunch, a meat and rice combination that everyone is usually all over, sticking mostly to his tea. “Any body aches? Chills? Wounds you forgot to tell us about?”

Four shakes his head with a snort. “Nothing. Just - wrong in the stomach.” He scowls into the remains of his tea. “It’s fine. I can keep going.”

“Uh huh.” Hyrule glances at the rest of the group. “Any arguments against making camp here?”

“It’s not like we’ve got anywhere to be,” Legend says dryly, and it’s about the kindest thing he could have said.

As a group, they don’t tend to hang around in one place very long. Places to go, monsters to kill, intel to gather, supplies to source; they’re constantly on the move, and staying put for any length of time has to rankle. But no one, not even prickly Legend, is going to say so to Four, who’s never complained about their pace, and had been half-throwing up all morning before Hyrule caught him. They were only intending to stop here for lunch, not spend the night, but they’ll make do. It’s not that bad a site.

At Hyrule’s insistence Four changes out of his soiled leggings into his clean pair, then sits against a tree with his book to rest. Everyone else sets about making camp. Twilight heads off to find a river - after battling a small horde of miniblins and a hinox this morning, several people are in need of a bath, and pretty much everyone needs to do laundry. Warriors at least will have a meltdown if he doesn’t get the blood out of his scarf. Wind, who is expert at dodging the little bastard’s tridents and thus doesn’t need to wash his own blood out of his tunics or repair many small holes, triumphantly flops down next to Four.

“Hey! I know you’re probably not feeling well so I’m not gonna bother you, I’m just gonna go through my pictograph collection, and if you need anything I can fetch it for you!”

Four gives a distracted hum, already absorbed in his book.

Wind wasn’t lying - he does like to go through his collection now and then, touch the memories they hold, reorganise and rearrange them and consider which ones to keep in his easy-access pictobook and which ones to store in the safebox. But they’re also fantastic distractions, and Four looks like he could use some distracting, when the dry text of his book gets too much.

Wind flips through his pictures of Aryll and Gran, hesitates over Tetra and her crew, then gets into his current run of Chain-related pictographs. Sometime they’re just nice, like Wild sleeping curled up beside Wolfie in almost the exact same position, but some are hilarious. Like this one of Sky passed out sitting up, while Wind and Wild takes turns balancing sticks on his head and snapping pictures.

He giggles and holds this one out to show Four. “Hey, hey, Four, you remember this?”

Four glances up, and huffs amusement through his nose. Wind grins, proud of himself for pulling the small noise out of the reserved smithy, and goes hunting for the photo of Wars getting knocked into a river by the fish he’d hauled out of the water. He knows it’s in here somewhere.

Wild has stirred up the fire again and is using the opportunity to do… something with the cookpot (Wind’s not game to call it food but it doesn’t look like elixirs are happening either, and decides he doesn’t want to know). Legend and Warriors are sitting together, mending miniblin tears and presumably gossiping, from the snickers. Time is writing in his notebook, Sky is carving a stick into a spoon to replace the one that had gone missing, and Hyrule had gone with Twilight to help deal with the Laundry Monster.

They’re all enjoying the break.

Everyone, save for Four, who goes progressively greyer and quieter as the afternoon fades.

Wind is careful not to push him; when Four glances at the latest photo and just gives a weak smile, he knows the distraction has worn out its usefulness and sorts through the rest without showing off any more.

By the time Hyrule and Twilight come back with the next load of clean laundry for Legend to dry off, Four’s given up on even the pretence of reading. He’s just staring blankly off into space, book still in his lap. Doesn’t even blink when Twilight pretends to drop Legend’s undertunic in the dirt and Legend yells at him for it.

Wind nudges him. “Four, you feeling okay?”

Four rubs a hand over his eyes, then his mouth. “Sorry. ‘M fine. Just… tired.” He blinks hazily, staring down at the pages of his book and clearly reading nothing.

Then Wild calls Wind over, demanding help with the soup, since apparently he’s doing real food now. Four shoos him off silently. Any other day, he would be taking the opportunity to read in peace. Today, he just leans back against the tree and closes his eyes.

When dinner is ready (soup!!! Not as good as Gran’s but Wild’s soup is still good!) Wind volunteers to ferry it over to Four. “Hey, Four! Dinner’s here!” he cheers, and is unsurprised but still disappointed when Four grimaces and refuses. “Are you sure? Do you really feel that bad? Should I get Hyrule?”

“Don’ feel good, but I’ll be alright.” Four waves a hand at Wind, eyes still closed. “Just a stomach bug or somethin’. Prob’ly be right as rain in the morning.”

Wind hums dubiously, but takes back the bowl.

By silent consensus, Four is left off the watchlist. He needs rest, not interrupted sleep and the simmering stress of a midnight shift. If Four notices, he doesn’t comment. He’s too busy gathering his strength to lay out his bedroll properly to take any notice of the others glancing at him in worry.

Four goes to lie down - then hurls himself back up, with such force that he nearly makes it to his feet.

Everyone startles. “Four, what’s wrong?” Sky asks.

Four looks nearly as shocked as they are. “I don’t – I don’t know,” he stammers. “I – I went to lie down and I just – as soon as I lay down it was just a bolt of panic like – like I knew I was going to die if I didn’t get back up right now.”

Hyrule goes grim. That kind of bodily response suggests there’s something more at play here than an upset stomach.

This time Hyrule doesn’t just look him over. He lays his hands on Four’s back and sends his magic creeping through him.

There’s a difference between the active rush of the Life Spell and a light touch of healing; this is the latter, more an exploration than an attack. Four had taken a potion after this morning’s fight, and that should have healed up all the minor wounds and not left anything for infection to take hold. Hyrule is checking for leaks, more than expecting to find something major wrong.

He’s surprised to find nothing at all, though. The faint echoes of bruises, long-healed. Phantom images of stab wounds, flesh flickering with the memory of blood and pain. But nothing real. Nothing he can fix.

Four glances over his shoulder. “Well?”

“I’m not finding anything,” Hyrule admits with a sigh. Reluctantly, he pulls his hands away. He feels inadequate, leaving a job unfinished - but there’s nothing he can really do, when it seems Four is just sick. Potions and fairies and Hyrule’s magic are amazing resources, but they have costs and limitations. They can’t replace lost blood, or grow back missing body parts. And they can’t cure illness, no matter the cause.

He just has to hope it’s a stomach bug, and Four will sleep it off uneventfully.