#IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE WHY ITS CALLED BRANCHES

[prolix-yuy]

Olive Branch

Pairing: Francisco Morales x F!Reader

Summary: If Frankie doesn't like olives, then what does he like?

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: T, alcohol consumption, mention of drug use, incredibly tame for me, hints of spice. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: I was challenged by @happypedrohours to write a story involving Frankie and olives, and what do you know, these are two of my favorite things! I was snickering to myself the entire time as the olive metaphor rolled out, but what the hell, we're gonna keep it in! Enjoy my friends, and Happy Pedro Hours!

Cross-posted on AO3

When it slides in front of you, you know it’s a good one. You watched the bartender make one at the end of the bar and it was just how you like it. Dry, cold, three olives on a hardy metal toothpick. You were practically salivating by the time you ordered your own and it slid in front of you, shining like the Holy Grail.

“Didn’t know you liked martinis.”

Head whipping around, you stutter out a laugh as Frankie slides in next to you. He perches an elbow on the bar, free shoulder coming close as the crowd tucks you into each other. Your eyes dart to his crinkled brown ones, then to your drink, and back again to distract from the proximity. His hand is tucked into his faded jeans, but it wouldn’t take much to cup your elbow or wrap around your waist. 

“On special occasions,” you quip, tossing your head at Will and Tatiana surrounded by your friends. She’s showing the girls the ring, the men clapping hands on Will’s back and making him laugh. The air holds the fresh taste of new beginnings.

“Never had much of a taste for ‘em. Just gasoline in a glass,” he replies. Your face must be ten levels of indigent with how quickly his eyebrows shoot up.

“Do I look like a car to you?” 

Frankie’s eyes twinkle, and it flips your stomach.

“Definitely a hot rod.”

You laugh it off, rolling your eyes. He’s never serious, after all. He likes to ply you with compliments just short of flirty and leave you high and dry at the end of the night. The first time it stung so hard you didn’t go out with the boys for weeks. 

“He’s just a little fucked in the head, don’t take it too personal,” Santi told you when he finally wrestled the reason for your absence out. “Can’t stop chasing anything messy with two legs. Last girlfriend was a cokehead, even worse before that. He likes ‘em pretty and crazy, and he bags ‘em left and right. They always leave him worse for wear.” Santi’s eyes narrowed over his knowing smirk. “So now you like him?”

“Fuck no,” you spat out, arms folded tight. “I don’t deal with boys who play games.”

Yet here you are, again, with Frankie, ready to roll the dice yet again. At least he doesn’t know you’ve still got a soft spot for him ready to land.

“I’ll ignore the fact that you called Hendricks gasoline,” you scold, sliding your gleaming prize closer on its soggy black napkin. “There’s also vermouth, and olives.” You take a sip, the warmth of the gin and sharp salt of the charcuterie mainstay sweeping across your tongue. Frankie’s eyes drifting down to your lips on the rim of the glass.

What a cocktease. At least most men who eyefuck you actually follow through.

“Shaken, not stirred?” he quips in a rough approximation of a Scottish accent. You snort, instantly regretting it as the burn of brine and alcohol decimates your sense of smell. Trying to hide it under a tiny cough, Frankie’s face turns to the bar.

“Not much of an olive guy either, so you're 0 for 3 on convincing me.” 

You don’t know why, but your stomach sinks briefly as you gingerly twist the glass stem between your fingers. 

“Perfect, more for me then,” you shoot back brightly, but he looks back a fraction too soon before the disappointment flits away. 

“C’mon, you know you were never gonna change my mind,” he teases, jostling you with his shoulder as he motions for the bartender. 

“Never said I was,” you add absentmindedly. 

Frankie will never be an option. He’s made it clear time and time again that he doesn’t choose you. But sometimes, when you let your mind drift, you think about how it could happen. Some dark room where he finally finds something he’s been looking for. The brushing of noses and near-misses before one of you finally acts and you’d know what his lips feel like. Then he would lick into your mouth and his flavor would dance with acidity and botanicals on your tongue and he’d moan at how good you taste.

But he doesn’t even like olives. Or you.

Frankie’s drink is a golden lager, malt rising to your nose. You like beer too. You like a lot of things. You could sit at this bar and talk about your favorite drinks for hours. You’re not just the martini girl. You’re so much more. 

You need some air. Your daydreams are getting in the way of enjoying the night and Frankie’s none the wiser, so best keep it that way.

“I’m gonna bring my gasoline olives back to the party,” you say, ducking out from Frankie’s body without waiting for a reply. Maybe catching a glimpse of surprise, you strut back to the girls. The warmth of their excitement and enthusiasm reinvigorate your tight throat. 

Your drink dwindles slowly, savoring the clean flavor and crushing the olives one by one between your teeth. One of the girls tries the dregs of your glass and wants one of her own, so you weave back to the bar so you can help her order. A holler rises from the boys around Will, and when you look you catch Frankie’s face again. He’s all beaming smiles, eyes barely visible from behind his crows feet and gleaming teeth. He catches your eye and his smile softens, and over the din of the bar he mouths “you good?”

You nod. Of course you are. What would Frankie know about that?

The drinks come, followed by cheers and hums of contentment. You will definitely be tipping well tonight. Before you can make it back to the group Benny cuts off your path, swooping one arm behind your back and your free hand into his. 

“No no no, Benny, I’ll spill!” you shriek, feeling the telltale wetness of a sloshed drink over your fingers. “Shit, I think I got it on the back of your shirt…”

“Ah, I’ve had worse,” Benny says, mock-dancing with you to the barely audible music. 

“How’s Will?” you ask, leaning over his shoulder to snag a healthy sip of the martini. Now a more manageable level, you let Benny lead you away from the bar.

“So in love it makes me sick.” You raise an eyebrow. “In a good way!” he adds, turning you so the man in question is visible. Tatiana’s tucked under his arm, and his mouth drifts to kiss the top of her head.

“You know what, I get it,” you agree, the both of you snickering as the tempo of the music changes. It might be a Hozier song? It’s hard to tell over the babble of voices.

“How are you?” he asks, feigned innocence a red flag flicked in front of your eyes.

“Peachy. Why?”

Benny’s hand squeezes yours in a soothing rhythm.

“Hey, don’t bite my head off. Fish mentioned you seemed down. Something about olives?”

The flash of heat rocketing to your face has to be combatted, so you choose comedy.

“Oh yeah, the fact that they never give me enough in my damn drink. Could drive a woman to tears!” Your put-on mid-atlantic accent doesn’t sell it. Benny chews on the inside of his cheek before leaning to bring his mouth to your ear.

“I know you’re gonna tell me to fuck off…”

“Then you don’t have to say anything.”

“...but you and I both know this ain’t about olives.”

You lean back, jaw set and eyes cool.

“You’re right. It’s about absolutely nothing.”

“Hey…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Benny lets go and you down the rest of your drink. It burns and you hate yourself for it, but it feels good to let liquid frustration carve through the center of you. 

“It’s late, and bar snacks aren’t gonna soak up the hangover I’ll have tomorrow. I’m gonna say bye to Will and Tatiana, get a cheeseburger, and go home.” Benny puts his hands on his hips, blue eyes filled with a brotherly care you know better than to try and tamp down.

“And it’s not about olives?”

Plucking the toothpick full of metaphor out of the glass, you point it at him.

“It’s not about olives.”

Benny relents, and walks you over to the happy couple. Promises of more drinks and a bachelorette party are half shouted before you pick through the crowd and exit the front of the bar. 

The air is just starting to get cool, alcohol thrumming in your blood. You love the way a martini buzz feels, your mind crystal and your body sharp as glass. It’s different from the smoky haze of scotch or the sluggish thudding of beer. Martinis make you diamond.

Which is why you notice Frankie immediately upon his exit, even though you can tell he wanted to go unseen for a few moments longer. He fumbles his hands into his pockets, ambling up to stand beside you while you glare at the Uber app.

“Got a ride coming?” 

“Eventually.”

He nods and stares at the toes of his boots, which you observe surreptitiously. The progress bar keeps filling and emptying as the silence stretches. 

“I’m sorry for shitting on your drink.”

You can’t help but snap your face to him, eyebrows raised.

“I sure hope you didn’t shit on my drink.”

The poor choice of words quirks the corner of your mouth as Frankie tries to recover.

“Jesus Christ, I mean…you know what I mean! I didn’t mean to be a dick,” he says, now contemplating the sky with resignation. There's still a fight in you, but you try to meet halfway.

“S’all good, I shit on your terrible beers all the time. We’re even.” You glance back at the app and shut it out of frustration. You’ll try again in a minute. 

“I don’t hate olives, either,” he rushes out. You roll your eyes, shoulders slumping. God, could they just let this go? You’re embarrassed enough about it. Before you can make another joke, another deflection, he barrels on.

“To be honest, I’ve never tried…olives. I see them all the time - at parties, at the bar, at friend’s houses - and there always seems to be some reason not to try them. I’m always having something else, or just had something, and I don’t want to…I’m afraid if I try the olives, I’ll really like them. And I don’t know what I’ll do if that happens. And that’s been scaring me off from even trying.” 

Frankie looks up at you, mouth parted and brow furrowed, as realization rises slow and fizzy.

“Because I think I could really, really like them. Enough that I’d want them all the time. But I’ve never had anything like that before. And I don’t want to hurt the…olives.”

Your heart is thudding in your ears, lower lip close to a betraying tremble before you force it between your teeth..

“You don’t want to hurt…the olives,” you parrot back and Frankie sighs, lifting his cap enough to rake his fingers through his hair before resettling it. 

“Fuck it, you know what I mean, right? It’s not about…it’s not about the fucking olives,” he says, and one of his hands wraps around your shoulder. It’s hot and strong and your chest swells at the touch.

“If it’s not about the olives,” you say, tentative, voice dropping into a lower register. He’s closer, almost as close as in the bar, thumb worrying back and forth over your shirt. “Then why don’t you show me what it is about?”

You expected more hesitation, but with that permission he lunges for you, cupping your face with both hands as he crashes your lips together. It’s fast and messy, teeth pressed against your lips and his tongue slipping in to taste. He groans and your knees go weak, head spinning worse than any drink could hope to do. You clutch the lapels of his canvas jacket and pull him closer, sweeping strokes of your kiss filling your mouth with bitter hops. With a lurch he pulls back.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles against your lips, but he continues to clutch at you, arm banding around your waist to keep you snug against him. 

“For what?” you tease, sliding your nose along his proud profile. 

“Takin’ so fuckin’ long.” His teeth graze your jaw lightly, heat pooling in a place that’s demanding a more private location for proper penance.

“I think you owe me a lot more than one very good kiss, after everything you’ve put me through,” you contemplate, his grip tightening. 

“Still waiting for your ride?”

Your fingers wander to the nape of his neck, and his curls are just as soft as you imagined.

“No.”

A gentler kiss follows, broader, somehow still able to make your head spin.

“Good, you’re coming home with me so I can properly apologize.”

The next morning as Frankie opens his front door for his breakfast delivery, he finds a pristine jar of olives resting on his welcome mat. The scrawled note - better start getting a taste for these! - is clearly in Benny’s handwriting. The memory of your body, soft and sleeping in his bed, pulls him back inside. 

After everything that got him here, he could learn to like olives.

END

"This is where righteousness ends It’s a relief to wave this overdue white flag and My blind spots have tortured you enough How much salt could I pour in To think that I called myself a friend."

Alanis Morissette, Olive Branch

[pocket-dust-starr]

UM HELLO???

LOKI??

NOW THAT IS A FUCKING GOD

[fleurmiss]

ೃ⁀➷ only you, my girl

- ,, neteyam x fem reader

- ,, you think neteyam is extremely attractive, others do too , its fine! you get it! but what happens when they cross a line ?

- ,, warnings - neteyam is head over heels for u, jealousy and the attitude that comes w it, fluff , all this happens before the events of awotw.

-‘๑’- dark red - steve lacy

Neteyam has always shown so much interest in you, and made his courting so obvious, but why do people still not get the damn hint?

Currently you are walking on a huge tree branch, high above the ground, with Lo’ak, Kiri and Spider. Neteyam isn’t here, much to your dismay, because he has “ Future Olo’eyktan duties” as Lo’ak likes to call it.

“it’s almost eclipse, let’s start heading back” Kiri mentions and for once, Lo’ak and Spider agree and make their way home without causing too much of a fuss

“woah guys, you barely even whined about having to go back home so early today, whatsup?” you question laced with sarcasm as you hear Kiri chuckle and nod in agreement with you.

“we don’t want to keep you away from your boyfriend for too long y/n, we all know how cranky my brother gets without you” Lo’ak adds and Spider cackles, thinking this is so super funny.

You shove Lo’ak and tell him to shut up, and that Neteyam’s not your boyfriend, and he doesn’t get cranky.

Your relationship with Neteyam was quite.. obvious , yet complicated. Both confused teenagers in love yet don’t know how to confess it, nothing was official, but everyone knew you were off limits, you were Neteyam’s girl.

you are clutching your stomach in pain from laughing too hard when you enter the Sully’s cave, wiping a tear from your cheek wondering how on pandora could someone be so stupid as lo’ak and spider.

You hear the laughter die down and your eyes set on a pair sitting together in the gathering room of the cave, Neteyam and Rini.

You eye both of them in confusion, so does Lo’ak, Kiri, and even Spider. You feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach but not in the good way, you don’t like how close Rini is to Neteyam.

“Guys, Rini caught me on the way back to our cave and said she wanted to hang out with everyone, hope no one minds?”

The four of you shake your heads and make your way to the pair to sit down with them. It was odd, Rini wasn’t good friends with any of you, maybe Neteyam? No, you would know. Why does she suddenly wanna hang out with us? Neteyam is often times too nice to say no, maybe he couldn’t deny her? You wonder if the others question the same, and maybe they do, judging by the looks on their faces.

“y/n” you hear your name in neteyam’s voice, he pats the spot next to him, the opposite side of where Rini is sitting, you don’t want to sit next to him, to be petty, but you oblige anyways, oblivious to the female na’vi glaring daggers at you, Neteyam gives you a bright smile, now that you got his attention, you’ll have it the rest of the night.

Neteyam embraces you in a warm hug, his hands sneaking around your waist as he whispers into your ear “missed you, you look good”

you smile shyly and open your mouth to thank him, but someone else beats you to it

“Neteyam! This cut on your arm looks terrible!! Are you okay? How’d you get it?!”

God. Her voice is annoying, why is she yelling? Neteyam is literally next to her?

You eye Kiri and she rolls her eyes at Rini, you stifle a laugh and Neteyam notices, smiling sweetly at your antics, momentarily forgetting Rini was even there, until he is bought back to his senses.

“Oh this? It’s nothing just a scratch”

“Do you want me to patch it up for you?”

Your eye twitches, you try to have a normal conversation with the other three, trying your best to ignore the two sitting right next to you, but Rini makes it unbelievably hard with her screeching voice.

“No I’m g-“

“I insist” Rini touches Neteyams shoulder and gives it a squeeze, you look at Neteyam and he knows it, you’re pissed. You stay quiet and enjoy the show infront of you.

“I’ll have y/n help me later Rini, it’s alright.”

“Oh- Oh yeah okay” she deflates, but you have a feeling deep down, this girl isn’t giving up so easily. You wonder who put her up to this. Her mother? Grandmother? Friends? Toruk Makto’s eldest son’s mate does have a nice ring to it, despite the length, but that title’s yours, she knows it.

You all are laughing at Lo’ak and Kiri arguing about who Spider likes better when Neteyam rests his head on your shoulder. You feel your stomach explode with butterflies again, the good kind.

“Tired?”

“mhm” Neteyam mumbles, you reach your hand up to the braid dangling infront of his face and move it behind his ear. Your romantic little moment is interrupted yet again by the same culprit from last time.

“Neteyammm, it’s so dark! Will you walk me to my cave?” Rini latches onto Neteyam’s arm and gives him a little tug thats powerful enough to have him pulling away from you and get him to stand up.

“Uh-“ Neteyam looks at you for approval, you’re not looking at him, instead opting the floor was a better option. Neteyam is no fool, he knows why you’re upset, he gets it too, if some random man was leeching onto you like Rini is, he’d be upset, hell, he’d be crazy. He doesn’t like that expression on your face, he doesn’t like when you’re sad, because of him too.

Neteyam look’s over to Lo’ak and Lo’ak immediately gets on it. “Bro don’t worry about it, Kiri, Spider and I will walk Rini to her cave, we know you’re tired and wanna be with your girlfriend”. Lo’ak smiles and winks at his older brother.

This throws Rini offguard.

“Thank you guys. Rini, see you around”.

“Awh Neteyam it’s a shame you couldn’t accompany me, y/n keeps snatching you away from me and if i’m correct.. she isn’t even your girlfriend.. you should spend more time with me and my friends!” Rini smiles slyly, her tone innocent but her intentions show clearly. Rini hugs Neteyam and whispers something in his ear, which you’re sure she said loud enough for you to hear on purpose.

“If you ever do need a mate that will actually commit, you know your options” she winks and pulls away from his embrace as the group starts to walk outside, irritated.

You stand up abruptly and walk past Neteyam who stood there dumbfounded.

“Y/n” He grabs your wrist to stop you from walking any further.

“Let go Neteyam, I wanna go home” You hate how wobbly your voice sounds when you speak right now.

“y/n, are you crying?” He sounds so worried it makes you even sadder

“i’m sorry baby, im sorry, i didn’t know she was gonna act like that” he pulls your head into his shoulder and strokes your back comfortingly.

“don’t call me that.. im not your girlfriend, and i don’t care how she acts” you say, though your tone and quivering lip betray your words

“y/n..” he pulls you away and cups your face with his gentle hands, afraid he would break you if he was any less gentle “cmon look at me” you meet his gaze and his eyebrows furrow at the sight of your slightly red but watery eyes

“you know you’re the only girl i ever want right? you’re so special to me y/n..why don’t you see that, i want you to be mine so bad, every morning i wake up and pray to Eywa to finally have let you see how desperate i am for you. why must you let someone like rini ruin your day?”

you sniffle, and Neteyam thinks its so cute he could kiss you right now, but he holds back.

“but i am yours nete” you say, unintentional doe eyes looking up at Neteyam that make him melt, he can’t hold himself back anymore .

Neteyam leans towards your face, held by his hands, and he stops right infront of your lips, asking for permission, waiting for disapproval “kiss me y/n” it sounds like a plead, like he’s almost begging, so you do.

you feel your head explode, his lips are so soft, so perfect against your own and you question why you didn’t do this before.

you pull away but neteyam chases after your lips and captures them again. You finally pull away and rest your forehead against his. Neteyam gives you another kiss that lasts shorter than your previous, “i see you, y/n”

you look up at him through your eyelashes and smile slowly

“say it back” he whispers against your lips and you almost give in.

“are you sure? you don’t wanna explore your other options?”

“you are the only option, ever.” you smile.

“i see you, neteyam” and you kiss him again, he whines into your mouth and you have to stop yourself from giggling at the sight of our future olo’eyktan being putty in your hands.

- you hear a sob from outside and later realize Rini stayed behind cuz she thought Neteyam would leave you and go after her but oh was she wrong

- loak, kiri, and spider dont even realize rini is missing and they start talking shit abt her once they know shes gone

- anytime rini saw u and neteyam after this, she would always have her fists balled up and bottom lip quivering

- she thought she still had a chance with neteyam after her eavesdropping on his confession but everytime yall hung out neteyam would be so clingy that eventually she realized he was too inlove with you

- fuck u rini hah hes mine btch

[libraryofloveletters]

The Right Way To Do It 

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: it's ferrari!seb of course - he's the most husband, seb's so picky and reader is over it, one childish joke about balls, seb's a little OCD about his ornaments, some playfully husband and wife bickering.

Word Count: 695

Author's Note: welcome to my holiday extravaganza series! are we shocked im starting with seb? no :) I hope y'all enjoy this as much as I as do!!

--

Sebastian is the most meticulous person you've ever met in your life, and yes, that also translates to Christmas tree decorating. 

The 8 foot tree stood strong and tall in the middle of the window. You stood back a few feet, looking up at it in all its glory. The boxes of ornaments you had Sebastian lug up from the basement were scattered on the couches and the coffee table.

How are you ever going to get this done?

You took inventory of all the ornaments you had, making sure you had even amounts of the colours before you began hanging them on the tree.

Starting from the bottom, you rotate the colours every few ornaments. It took you a few tries and a lot of reshuffling before you were satisfied with it.

"That's not how it's supposed to go," he calls as he walks into the living room, dropping himself down into an empty space on the couch.

Kneeling on the floor to put the ornaments on the bottom branches, you shift to look at your husband. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," he nods, eating a bit of the popcorn you had made to string and put on the tree. "It's supposed to be red, gold, green. Not red, red, gold, green, red. That's messy, babe."

"Instead of nitpicking, why don't you just come do it yourself?" You huffed, turning your attuning back to the tree.

Sebastian liked to annoy you, picking at things just to raise your blood pressure. You often bit back, much to his amusement.

He liked it when you got feisty with him. He never took you seriously, not until today.

His warm hands rested on your shoulders, carefully shifting you off to the side as he started to rearrange the ornaments you had hung. "Seb, are you serious?"

"As serious as a heart attack, baby." He smiles at you, then turns to the ornaments you had scattered on the living room floor.

Sebastian starts muttering under his breath, his fingers moving 100 miles an hour as he sorts through something in his head. You looked at the man, watching in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"Counting."

"Counting.. what?"

"Balls."

You snickered at his response. "You're counting.. balls?"

He rolls his eyes, "we need to go to the store." Your brows furrow and he senses the lack of understanding, as if you were missing a piece of the puzzle, and that you were. "We need more green, let's go."

Much to your displeasure, your husband drags you out into the cold. He promised to buy you one of those hot chocolates you liked from the stand outside of the store before you went home and that he did.

Five massive shopping bags in hand; Seb picked up anything from ornaments to throw pillows to Christmas candles.

He had a habit of losing his mind when the holidays rolled around.

After you two finally made it home, Sebastian instructed you the order in which you had to hand him the ornaments; red, gold, green, red, gold, green - in that exact order.

You huffed and grumbled, handing him the ornaments as he moved around the tree, saying that you could have done the same thing. Sebastian playfully rolls his eyes at you, reminding you that you don't have to help if you don't want to and as much as you'd love to stop, you knew Seb would get distracted and leave the tree halfway decorated.

It took an hour and a half, a trip to the store and a bit of bickering but the tree was finally done.

You stood up, watching as Seb steps off of the stool, the star sitting perfectly straight on the top. His hand rests on your lower back, pulling you into his side.

"Perfect, isn't it?"

You roll your eyes, "I would have done the same thing, Sebastian."

"Not the way I'd do it, though." He teased, nudging your hip with his. You find yourself rolling your eyes yet again, something you did often in the presence of your husband.

"Yeah, sure." Your hand resting on his jaw, your thumb brushing over his soft skin - he finally shaved, an early Christmas gift for you - you lean into your husband, reaching up to kiss him. "Whatever you say, Seb."

[the-wandering-wonder]

By The River

I was rewatching Lord of the Rings, and oof. I now remember why I swooned over Orlando Bloom so much as a teenager...

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Word Count: 1,334

Rating: T (angst)

Chapter: 1/1

Summary: You've grown quite fond of Legolas, but when he disappears without so much as a word, your world is turned upside down.

You walk slowly towards the river Bruinen, occasionally glancing up at the clear night sky. A handful of trees litter the path of the river, marking where the beauty of Rivendell merges with the beauty of the forest. You take in a deep breath as you approach a particular beech tree, one that was slowly becoming your favourite.

You smile to yourself as you hear the feet landing behind you, slowing for just a moment as you see the familiar blond elf falling into step alongside you.

“It’s a beautiful night.” Legolas breaks the silence.

You merely hum in agreement, glancing at him with a soft smile, one that he returns.

You couldn’t quite remember how long you two had shared this routine, but he was always there, every night, ready to join you in your walks along the edge of the forest. Most nights you spoke, joking and laughing, but some nights, you enjoyed the simple silence, interrupted only by animals in the distance or the whistling of the wind. Truth be told (but never to Legolas himself) he was the reason you enjoyed your walk so much.

You eventually find yourself paused at the riverbank, looking down at the moonlight reflecting along the rippling waters. A breeze whips around you and you shiver, exhaling softly as you wrap your arms around yourself. You feel a warm presence behind you as Legolas moves to wrap his cloak around your shoulders, his hands resting on your upper arms. Without thought, you lean back into his touch, letting his warmth wash over you.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs.

You tilt your head to glance back at him, finding him gazing down at you, blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight. His hand comes up slowly, resting along the hollow of your throat, his thumb and forefinger pressing up against your jaw, lifting your face to meet his. He dips his head down, tentatively brushing his lips over yours before pulling back and letting his hand return to its place on your arm. Your lips part slightly, but no words come, so you give him a soft smile instead, letting your head fall back to rest against his shoulder as your gaze returns to the waters of the river Bruinen.

~~~~~~~~

The next day, you find yourself busy, running small errands for the council. But Legolas remains in the back of your mind, his soft kiss replaying over and over. Once night falls, you grab your cloak and slip out for your nightly walk. You quickly make your way to the beech tree, pausing for a moment. When all you hear is the rustling of the water and chirping of birds, you glance around.

“Legolas?” You call out, looking up at the branches.

Your heart begins to race as your elven senses pick up no sign of him. 

“Legolas?” You call out again, silently hoping that he had somehow lost track of time.

No answer comes and you feel your breath run short, catching in your throat as your pulse pounds in your ears. You force down a deep breath before turning to run back into the walls of the city. You make your way to the council room, steadying yourself before approaching Elrond, who greets you with a nod of his head before returning to the map he was studying.

“Lord Elrond,” you begin, bowing your head slightly, “have you seen Legolas?”

“He is gone,” the elf responds, “A messenger came from Mirkwood this morning, and he left.”

You feel your heart sink to your stomach as tears prick the corners of your eyes. Your jaw drops slightly as you turn away from Elrond, clenching your fists by your sides.

“This troubles you?”

“I was just-” You pause, unsure of how to explain yourself to the high elf. “I did not know he was leaving.”

“Do not worry for him,” Elrond says, turning to look at you fully, “he will return in time.”

~~~~~~~~

You try to follow Elrond’s advice, busying yourself with whatever you can find and forcing yourself to focus on anything but the thoughts of Legolas. But days soon turn into weeks, then into months. And the Sindar elf does not return. You eat out of habit, on the days that you remember, and hardly ever venture out of the walls of Rivendell. Some days your heart aches as it did when Legolas first left, other days it feels cold and numb.

One day, Elrond, who had kept a distant eye on you as you grieved, approaches you.

“You should take a walk,” he says softly, “the air would do you good, as would the sun.”

“The river reminds me of him,” you admit.

“An unpleasant memory?”

“No, not at all. I just…I miss him.”

You stare at Elrond with glassy eyes, tears threatening to fall. He lets out a small sigh as he places his hand on your shoulder.

“Then go to the river, sit with the memories.”

Elrond gives your shoulder a soft squeeze before turning to walk away. You watch him disappear around the corner before turning your attention to the waterfalls scattered around the city, listening to the sounds of rushing water. You slowly walk through the city, heading towards the waters of the river.

You eventually approach your tree, reaching out to run a hand along the bark as you look down at the flowing water. In the light of the noonday sun, the colour almost matches Legolas’ eyes. A tear slides down your cheek as you turn to lean against the beech, sliding down to the ground and bringing your knees to your chest. Your eyes close as you lean your head back against the tree, losing yourself and letting time fly by.

You hear footsteps in the soft grass and you leap to your feet, turning to face the approaching figure. The sun glints off golden hair and your jaw drops momentarily before you close your eyes, deciding that your eyes are playing a cruel trick.

“No.” You say softly.

You slowly open your eyes, taking in the figure that now stands before you. Piercing eyes stare at you as golden locks flutter in the soft breeze. Legolas…

“I thought you’d left,” you murmur, “never to return.”

“You truly think I would do that?” Legolas tilts his head slightly, striding forward to stand in front of you.

“I didn’t know what to think,” you reply slowly, “you were just…gone. You never even said goodbye.”

“I tried to find you,” the blond elf murmurs, “but I couldn’t. And it was urgent that I return to Mirkwood.”

You take a step back and swallow as you stare at the river again, fingertips digging into the bark of the tree as it presses into your back. Finally bringing your gaze up to meet his, you see pale blue filled with concern and… was that hurt?

“I would never abandon you.” 

Legolas’ voice comes out as little more than a whisper as he moves in closer, bringing up a hand to caress the line of your jaw, catching a fresh tear with his thumb. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes as you feel his free hand resting ever-so-lightly on your hip. 

“ Melethril…”

Your eyes flutter open as you feel Legolas’ warm breath dancing across your lips, his own within inches. Your hands find purchase on his cloak as his body envelopes yours, your lips finally meeting in a soft kiss. You lean into him as his grip tightens on you, holding you close as your lips mold together. Your lungs begin to ache, but your desire for Legolas pushes all other thoughts back as you cling to him.

Legolas finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you both take in a breath. He tilts his head back to look into your eyes, the intensity of his gaze filling you with warmth. He speaks in a low tone, slowly and assuredly.

“I will always come back to you…”

[eldritch-spouse]

Relax, I know he's big and the phalluses are uh, intimidating but the subject is extremely docile. Who knew aliens would be so–why is he out of containment?

You're frozen. Catatonic.

You remember watching videos of animals in the wild becoming completely unresponsive when approached by predators, how the only thing you could see were their eyes, wide and frantic, and their chests heaving as they seemed to be praying to survive.

Those videos were so funny, right? Well, you're not laughing now...

The lifeform, the alien, the creature you had yet to see, that they'd been easing you into the idea of meeting so that it wouldn't be a colossal shock- Just effortlessly tore down the pressurized, extremely high-tech door to its cell. You didn't even know those doors could come flying off like that.

In seconds, mere stunned moments, the entity you can't even call a monster is staring you down. He's giant, truly, but gaunt like a beanstalk, all flowing limbs and unearthly elegance. You can't count the tentacles that comprise his lower body, you can't focus on the fins of his extremely human arms, the bizarre depressions on his chest area, and the only reason you know him as male is because of the mention of phalluses.

Curiously, he doesn't look hostile.

But he's very much focused on you, and that's not ideal.

It's as if he sensed you through the cell, somehow, and that caught his attention.

A large, water-filled glass dome envelops his head, but you can still very much sense those glazed eyes studying you from top to bottom. Like any human would, he procures eye contact before attempting to communicate.

But unfortunately, he doesn't converse in a language you can gouge.

A myriad of croons envelop the room, these soft tingling sounds that feel just barely within reach of your eardrums. The... Appendage, sprouting from the top of his head sways, an assortment of warm hues gently fading in and out.

Pink. Orange. Pink. Maroon. Pink. Shock pink. White. Pink blinking.

What is this, Simon Says?

He leans down, and trembling, you glance at the intern beside you in a desperate plea for help.

They look utterly fascinated by the interaction. Panicked, but amazed. You have no idea whether or not that's good for you.

Finally, they seem to come to their senses and realize that you are probably seconds away from pissing yourself if nothing is done.

" Okay. Okay- Listen to me. " They start murmuring, an audible gulp follows. Your eyes twitch to the worker, but you don't dare stare at them long enough to lose track of the literal alien.

" Like I said, he's very docile. There's no reason for him to attack you right now. In fact he's... Nevermind. "

What the fuck do they mean nevermind?!

" I need you to not move too suddenly, and don't scream, okay? "

You nod quietly, looking at the still pink-flashing light above their head. He dangles it in front of his face, as close to the glass as he can, as if to make sure you're getting the message. You hope pink signifies friendliness.

" What- What do I do now? " You whisper.

The intern looks at you like they themself aren't quite sure.

" U- Uhm... Let- Let me contact my- "

Out of nowhere, what you can only call a bark of noise rings out through the room.

This extremely loud sound that immediately frightens you, sharp and rough like a branch cracking but amplified a thousand times. Even now, it feels like it's still echoing within your eardrums.

Did he do that? Did something in the building just break?!

You shrieked, because of course you did, eyes nearly bulging out your skull when you realize the employee told you specifically not to scream.

They're looking at you with a tight-lipped grimace, finger poised over what you presume is a contact on their phone.

There isn't even time for you to say your last words, some kind of message for your family or even just a plea for help.

The alien reacts to your agitated noise quickly, but not at all in the way you'd expect. Instead of perhaps lunging to crack your neck like a twig or slashing your face off, the entity grabs you with both arms by the chest, lifts you into the air, and slides inside the cell it was previously contained in. The clutch is what prevented you from screaming again.

Once again, you channel the wisdom of prey animals in nature documentaries by staying absolutely stock still, and allowing the foreign lifeform to do whatever it wants. He keeps flashing colors at you in patterns you don't recognize, but involve a lot of pink tones. Purple now. Long and pudgy looking digits start poking at your outfit here and there, and you spot something rippling under the mass of his front, along that large opening you had never given much thought to until now.

It looks like something's bursting out of him...

Oh God, oh fuck what is that-

You blink, open-mouthed, at what has to be a dick. Some kind of wriggling, prehensile appendage tipped with a much too human-looking phallus. It flattens against your midsection, and you shudder in confusion. Confusion that soon grows into barely contained hysteria as more bizarre and unique extremities keep slithering out of his insides- What is he, made of cocks?

" S- Some help here?! " You finally manage to nearly sob out.

The worker is frantically trying to appease someone on the other end of their phone, picking at their collar while they watch you get vaguely harassed by an excited extraterrestrial.

" No, no sir he's never done that before- I-... No, I didn't- Sir, he tore the whole door off I can't just lock- " Their eyes widen as more hues of purple keep being flashed your way, like something horrendous is about to happen. " Get- Please get here quickly, I'm begging you! "

By the time they hurriedly mash the end call button and try to stuff their phone into a tight uniform, the alien already gently pried most of your shirt off, cooing some kind of melody that fails to lull you into calmness, which is understandable when a variety of reproductive organs are hovering far too close to your bare skin. Some of them are so... Strange. There's no stopping the thoughts of how they might be used.

Footsteps sound, and as soon as the worker tries to get within grabbing range of you, an already ballsy move in your eyes, the subject makes another powerful sound, the depressions in his chest vibrating while you groan in pain.

The filament in the alien's head swells significantly, blasting a color that your brain simply fails to comprehend, seeing it as a flash of pure black that momentarily blinds you before you have the wisdom to look away, trembling in his grasp.

The employee makes some kind of pained noise, you can hear the squeaking of their shoes as they run out the room and...

Leave you to your own devices.

Lord help you.

[mask131]

The gods of Gaul: Introduction, or why it is so hard to find anything

As I announced, I open today a series of post covering what some can call the "Gaulish mythology": the gods and deities of Ancient Gaul. (Personal decision, I will try avoiding using the English adjective "Gaulish" because... I just do not like it. It sounds wrong. In French we have the adjectif "Gaulois" but "Gaulish"... sounds like ghoulish or garrish, no thank you. I'll use "of Gaul", much more poetic)

[EDIT: I have just found out one can use "Gallic" as a legitimate adjective in English and I am so happy because I much prefer this word to "Gaulish", so I'll be using Gallic from now on!]

If you are French, you are bound to have heard of them one way or another. Sure, we got the Greek and Roman gods coming from the South and covering up the land in temples and statues ; and sure we had some Germanic deities walking over the rivers and mountains from the North-East to leave holiday traditions and folk-beliefs... But the oldest gods of France, the true Antiquity of France, was Gaul. And then the Roman Gaul, and that's already where the problems start.

The mythology of Gaul is one of the various branches of the wide group known as Celtic mythology or Celtic gods. When it comes to Celtic deities, the most famous are those of the British Isles, due to being much more preserved (though heavily Christianized) - the gods of Ireland and the Welsh gods are typically the gods every know about when talking about Celtic deities. But there were Celts on the mainland, continental Celts - and Gaul was one of the most important group of continental Celts. So were their gods.

Then... why does nobody know anything about them?

This is what this introduction is about: how hard it actually is to reconstruct the religion of Gaul and understand its gods. Heck we can't ACTUALLY speak of a Gaulish mythology because... we have no myth! We have not preserved any full myth or complete legend from Ancient Gaul. The pantheon of Gaul is the Celtic pantheon we probably know the least about...

Why? A few reasons.

Reason number one, and the most important: We have no record of what the Gauls believed. Or almost none. Because the people of Gaul did not write their religion.

This is the biggest obstacle in the research for the gods of Gaul. It was known that the art of writing was, in the society of Gaul, an elite art that was not for the common folks and used only for very important occasions. The druids were the ones who knew how to read and write, and they kept this prerogative - it was something the upper-class (nobility, rulers) could know, but not always. Writing was considered something powerful, sacred and magical not to be used recklessly or carelessly. As a result, the culture of Gaul was a heavily oral one, and their religion and myths were preserved in an oral fashion. Resulting in a great lack of written sources comng directly from the Gallic tribes... We do have written and engraved fragments, but they are pieces of a puzzle we need to reconstruct. We have votive offerings with prayers and demands inscribed on it - and while they can give us the names of some deities, they don't explain much about them. We have sculptures and visual representations of the deities on pillars and cups and jewels and cauldrons - but they are just visuals and symbols without names. We have calendars - but again, these are just fragments. We have names and images, and we need to make sense out of it all.

To try to find the explanations behind these fragments, comparisons to other Celtic religions and mythologies are of course needed - since they are all branches of a same tree. The same way Germanic mythology can be understood by looking at the Norse one, the same way Etruscan, Greek and Roman mythologies answer each other, the mythology and religion of Gaul has echoes with the Celtic deities of the Isles (though staying quite different from each other). The other comparison needed to put things back into context is reason number 2...

Reason number two: The Romans were there.

Everybody knows that the death of Ancient Gaul was the Roman Empire. Every French student learns the date of Alesia, the battle that symbolized the Roman victory over the Gallic forces. Gaul was conquered by the Romans and became one of the most famous and important provinces of the Roman Empire: it was the Gallo-Roman era.

The Romans were FASCINATED by Gaul. Really. They couldn't stop writing about them, in either admiration or hate. As a result, since we lack direct Gallic sources, most of what we know about Ancient Gaul comes from the Romans. And you can guess why it is a problem. Some records of their religion were written in hatred - after all, they were the barbarian ennemies that Romans were fighting against and needed to dominate. As such, they contain several elements that can be put in doubt (notably numerous references to brutal and violent human sacrifices - real depictions of blood-cults, or exaggeratons and inventions to depict the gods of Gaul as demonic monstrosities?) But even the positive and admirative, or neutral, records are biased because Romans kept comparing the religion of the Gauls to their own, and using the names of Roman deities to designate the gods of Gaul...

Leading to the other big problem when studying the gods of Gaul: the Roman syncretism. The Gallo-Roman era saw a boom in the depictions and representations of the Gallic gods... But in their syncretized form, fused with and assimilated to the Roman gods. As such we have lots of representations and descriptions of the "Jupiter of Gaul", of the "Mercury of Gaul", of the "Gallic Mars" or "Gallic Minerva". But it is extremely hard to identify what was imported Roman elements, what was a pure Gallic element under a Roman name, and what was born of the fusion of Gallic and Roman traditions...

Finally, reason number three: Gaul itself had a very complicated approach to its own gods.

We know there are "pan-gallic" gods, as in gods that were respected and honored by ALL the people of Gaul, forming the cohesion of the nation. But... Gaul wasn't actually a nation. It was very much like the many city-states of Greece: Ancient Gaul was unified by common traditions, a common society, a common religion and a common language... But Gaul was a tribal area divided into tribes, clans and villages, each with their own variations on the laws, each with their own customs and each with their own spin on religion. As a result, while there are a handful of "great gods" common to all the communities of Gaul, there are hundreds and hundreds of local gods that only existed in a specific area or around a specific town ; and given there were also many local twists and spins on the "great gods", it becomes extremely hard to know which divine name is a local deity, a great-common god, a local variation on a deity, or just a common nickname shared by different deities... If you find a local god, it can be indeed a local, unique deity ; or it can be an alternate identity of a shared divine archetype ; or it can be a god we know elsewhere but that goes by a different name here.

To tell you how fragmented Gaul was: Gaul was never a unified nation with one king or ruler. The greatest and largest division you can make identifies three Gauls. Cisalpine Gaul, the Gaul located in Northern Italy, conquered by the Romans in the second century BCE, and thus known as "the Gaul in toga" for being the most Roman of the three. Then there was the "Gaul in breeches" (la Gaule en braies), which borders the Mediterranean sea, spanning between the Alps and the Pyrenean mountains, and which was conquered in the 117 BCE (becoming the province of Narbonne). And finally the "Hairy Gaul", which stayed an independant territory until Cesar conquered it. And the Hairy Gaul itself was divided into three great areas each very different from each other: the Aquitaine Gaul, located south of the Garonne ; the Celtic Gaul located between the Garonne and the Marne (became the Gaul of Lyon after the Roman conquest) ; and finally the Belgian Gaul, located between the Marne and the Rhine. And this all is the largest division you can make, not counting all the smaller clans and tribes in which each area was divided. And all offering just as many local gods or local facets of a god...

And if it wasn't hard enough: given all the sculptures and visuals depictions of the gods of Gaul are very "late" in the context of the history of Gaul... It seems that the gods of Gaul were originally "abstract" or at least not depicted in any concrete form, and that it was only in a late development, shortly before the Roman invasions, that people of Gaul decided to offer engravings and statues to their gods, alternating between humanoid and animal forms.

All of this put together explains why the gods of Gaul are so mysterious today.

[cmrosens]

Creating fantasy religions: something I'm doing now so thought I would post about my process.

The mistake a lot of writers make is developing a religion from a singular event, and piling a ton of stuff on top of it that makes logical sense. Whereas, in reality, religions are self propelling systems that travel under their own steam and if there is an event that catalyses them, it is never in a socio-cultural or political and economic vacuum.

You also end up with an apparently totally random set of things attached to one figure which does make sense if you know the origins, but otherwise is just accepted even if the meaning is lost.

It is the difference between "the god of Midwinter and festivals around this originated because a cult of necromancers were banished into the frozen wastes and this <event> became the Origin Story for how we got to a midwinter festival with creepy bone puppets in my fantasy world" and a religion that feels ... Real.

Ok so firstly, this is a bit too neat. (This was my original reasoning for a midwinter god called Yarash and I changed it because it wasn't very realistic or interesting for my world.)

Why, let's say, is the god whose feast is at midwinter also the patron of puppet makers and osteopaths?

Well, we could say that this makes a lot of sense because the god's festival was originally to do with remembering the dead, and puppets were used in the festival to represent the dead, as necromancy should have been part of it but people didn't actually know how to raise the dead properly. Then as magic evolved people could actually raise the dead for short periods to deliver messages in these festivals, but this drew internal debate from the conservative priests who thought puppets were the original form and so should be maintained, and necromancy was an aberration, vs the progressives who saw necromancy as the original INTENTION and so the natural and correct progression from the puppets. The debate might rage on for years creating splinters, sects, differing traditions that sit uneasily together but find middle ground in other less controversial topics and practices, and even cults.

At some point, the secular authorities get involved for their own reasons. Maybe some rulers are pro-"The Old Bones" or anti-, or they want to outlaw necromancy or benefit from it for various political reasons, socio-cultural reasons, economic reasons, military intelligence reasons, etc. Whatever happens, happens. Times change. Official attitudes swing back and forth, while internally the religious debates continue, now informed by and perhaps as counters to, this secular intervention.

Then we end up in modern times, the times of the story. Nobody really believes in gods anymore. They do remember the old gods of the seasons and at the secular festival in winter, there are a lot of traditional puppet shows that have a whole history and life of their own. The puppets are called "the old bones" and nobody really remembers why. Osteopaths have the puppets and symbols relating to the midwinter festival on their certificates and college heraldry and nobody really remembers why, but the information is there to look up and is a fun thing to know for trivia nights.

And necromancy... is a controversial branch of science, divorced from its original religious significance for many but not for all, and more integrated as an art or practice in the public consciousness (positively or negatively depending on perspective and propaganda and actual usage).

And now, you have a ton of depth and meat to it without having to flesh out the arguments and debates themselves unless that is plot relevant.

There is a lot you can do with this society now, and by tweaking one thing you can create completely different societies and ideologies. The depth is now there to set your story at any point during this history and to develop numerous ideas. So much stuff can happen.

With the singular event version, and a static fact of a necromancy cult in the frozen wastes, things are much more limited and linear, with less depth to play with.

Also remember that your characters will not be expected to know everything about your world unless they are experts in religion and/or history, and also the 2 subjects are not mutually inclusive so a historian is not an expert theologian and vice versa. How much the average person on the street knows depends on levels of formal education, accessible knowledge beyond formal education, which may include religious instruction and folklore, and propaganda. But it means you can build in some subtle things - like the puppet symbols on the door of an osteopath or bone doctor - that never need to be explained, but have a logical in-world explanation below the surface.

Try taking a static idea and work it into a system and see where it leads!

[nolovelingers]

NOT TOO CLOSE ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ethan landry !!

⋆ ★ you remember the first night you met. the shared lingered feeling of a message you couldn’t quite decipher, something telling you all signs were red and pointing in the opposite direction; away from him. it’s too bad, you always had a thing for pretty boys. — short blurb !!

cw ᝰ.ᐟ sfw ,, ghostface!ethan ,, mentions of alcohol ,, first meeting ,, fem!reader ,, swearing

PURPOSELY LOWERCASE 🎧 &&. written on iphone , sorry if the formats funky !

——————————————————————————

maybe it was the way the lights were strobing, the haze of the chattering college students lost in their own conversations; the smell of cheep booze and the familiar tinge of marijuana finding its way to your nose and leaving you with a twisted knot in your stomach, the effects of the own alcohol you previously consumed somehow contrasting itself by both numbing half your senses and heightening your other ones.

in the eyes of blackmore university, there was never a holiday too small nor an event too hyped to not celebrate in everyone’s own little way; a halloween party suited for what felt like a small village as you navigated the house packed of both familiar and unfamiliar faces, students laughing and socializing their way through their own buzzes.

not ethan.

clinging onto his roommates side, chad almost wanted to be annoyed by the way ethan couldn’t bare to branch himself off and meet new people but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do so as a feeling often described as pity clouded his intoxicated senses.

“dude, we gotta get you a girlfriend.” chad joked (but not really), feet firmly planting on the ground next to the curly haired boy who leaned himself on the doorframe in front of the stairs; the two observing the party in their own little world.

chad wanted to meet new faces. ethan did not.

ethan rolled his eyes, clutching his red solo cup closer to him as a look contorted on his face that of annoyance and disgust before quickly letting his features fall flat and conjure a forced one, embarrassment.

“if it’s that much of a bother to you, you can go talk to some girls. ill just stay here.” he mumbled, looking like a child who just got rejected from buying a toy from their parent. deep down in the pits of his twisted heart he hoped chad would opt out of leaving, not wanting to appear like a loser as he stood alone and drank his embarrassment away.

“really? thanks bro, i was hoping to score some digits tonight.” chad smiled gratefully, already trying to turn away and leave the second ethan gave him his own sort of permission.

“what?! come on, dont leave me here by myself. i look stupid.” immediately ethan felt his heart drop of the idea being seen standing alone at a party, and no matter how much he had disdain to his so called ‘friends’, no matter how badly he wished nothing more than to see chads face as he plunged a knife sharp enough to cut through metal like cheese through his body; to see the life leaving his eyes and the wound oozing that beautiful crimson red color ethan couldn’t seem to get enough of, the last thing he wanted was to look awkwarder than he already was perceived to be.

“you just said i could go!” the dark-skinned boy argued, turning back around to face the taller brunette who gave him the most panicked look in return.

“yeah, cause i was hoping youd say no!”

“how does that make any sense?! if you didn’t want me to leave, just say that!”

ethans face turned into a bit of a pouting look as he silently pleaded for the martin boy to stay by his side.

“look, why don’t you just come with me? i don’t understand what you’re so freaked out about.” chad bargained with ethan who in turn immediately shook his head, planting his feet in the position they were in.

“nope, no way. girls are scary!” ethan spoke in a whiny tone, pausing for a moment before bringing his cup up to his lips and taking a swing of the hard hitting beverage, a stinging in his throat lasting for about a minute as he continued conversing with chad.

“and that’s exactly why you’ve never had a girlfriend.” the shorter boy witted back, causing ethans face to quickly form into what looked to be shock and hurt masking the actual feeling of anger he felt. joke or not, ethan was actually a very hot tempered boy who could get offended quite easily; not that anyone knew that.

the martin boy sighed and decided to rest a reassuring hand on the brown eyed boys shoulder, observing his face which was slightly shaded from the cardboard robot helmet he was wearing, probably another reason ethan was hardly getting any female attention. his costume.

“listen man, stand here and mope all you want, the whole part of a party is to meet people and have fun. i get your shy and you got that whole loner gimmick going on but i don’t want that to stop me from getting my chad on! ill be back here to meet up with you in an hour, maybe try meeting someone new, doesnt even have to be a girl at this point. just.. try, okay?”

chad offered ethan a sympathetic look which only made ethan cringe more before he removed his hand from his shoulder and took off to a group of dancing girls, smoothly sliding in and sparking up conversation almost immediately. how ethan envied that.

letting out an internal (and slightly external) groan, ethan brought his cup up to his lips once again and finished the rest of his drink, keeping his eyes trained on chad who was already talking and laughing with a group of students; entirely girls, that ethan shared a class with.

for almost a minute he didn’t move, suffering in silence and shooting a death glare at chad hidden under the dim lighting of the house. honestly? ethan couldn’t wait to kill him.

he felt isolated. watching everyone mingle and dance with their friends, lovers, and even strangers. he had no other solution than to to drink away his embarrassment, he thought, as he turned around to make his way to the kitchen where the alcohol was, taking one step forward and immediately running into someone shorter than him; their own drink splashing all over the both of them, wetting his cardboard chest piece and their outfit too.

“ah shit- fuck, im sorry about that, seriously.” he’s met with a small voice, not quiet but not extremely loud, gentle enough so that if you want to be able to hear it properly you’d have to tune the blasting music out and focus entirely on them.

jesus fucking christ, give me a break already! ethan thought to himself, annoyance brimming through his entire body as he glanced to the now darker and wet spots of his cardboard chestpiece before finally looking down and at the person who bumped into him, a girl.

“accidents happen, don’t worry about it.” he forced out, trying for the death of him not to want to reach out and strangle you right there; his face was met with an awkward half smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. despite his anger, he was able to take the time to notice that your face wasn’t half-bad to look at.

he continued to stare at you for a moment, waiting for you to say something, maybe to apologize again? to stumble out some stupid excuse? pathetically flirt? well, not that he’d really mind that last part if he was being honest. he liked the idea of having a girl liking him, but he was terrible at initiating anything.

“you all good? you’re not gonna malfunction on me or anything?” you joked, the both of you internally cringing just a bit at the awkwardness but it seemed to calm ethan from his current state of mind as he met you with furrowed eyebrows and a unsure smile.

“oh, the costume.” he spoke, mostly to himself, while scratching the back of his head. “think ill be good.”

you nod, the fainted tinge of pink lighting up your cheeks and ethan studies you for a moment longer.

“are you new? i haven’t seen you on campus before.” curiously, the brunette boy watches your face for a reaction, taking note of your every move while under his watch.

“sorta. i mean, if you consider three months to be new. i transferred here a while ago, it’s always been my dream to move to new york so once i saved up some money i chased my dreams.” you explain, and ethan nods, finally allowing a boyish smile to consume his features. for the most part it was forced, continuing to hold up his friendly image.

he doesn’t have to reply before you hop to the next subject, this time you’re asking the question.

“aren’t you chads roommate?”

“yeah, im ethan. ethan landry. nice to meet you..?” he holds his hand out for a handshake, trailing off the edge of his sentence as he waits for you to finish.

“(y/n). nice to meet you, ethan ethan.” you accept the short handshake, gently shaking hands and noticing the unreasonable strength and grip to his hold that didn’t seem the match the innocent, and dare you say weak look written all over his face while making a bad joke about his name from his introduction that still seems to score a smile from him; and ethan couldn’t help but notice the fact he didn’t have to force this one on his face. it came naturally.

“(y/n),” he repeated, as if trying your name out for himself. he smiled a little, that same shy nerdy facade written all over his face. “you got a last name?”

“does it matter?”

“i- guess not?” he looked a bit caught off guard but there was no actual hostility or mystery in your voice, just some sass. you were honestly entertaining.

“so why’re you standing here all alone?” you switch topics again, which ethan took note of. your mind seemed to wonder fast, moving from one thing to the next with no hesitation.

“ah, it’s kinda embarrassing.” the boy admitted, a small warm blush coating his pale complexion as he found himself not wanting to tell you the real reason why. wait- a blush? no, that couldn’t be right. he must just be feeling hot. all the alcohol was effecting him, or something. “i don’t really know a lot of people here, so i was just hanging out with chad till he left me to go talk to some girls.”

“ah, a typical chad move. literally and figuratively.” you nod, feeling yourself start to relax your body language more around the curly haired brunette the longer you were near him.

he chuckled, looking at you with those sweet chocolate brown eyes of his that gave you the most heartwarming feeling. “you’re kinda funny.” he tries to compliment, smiling now, a more natural grin than the ones he offered you originally. though it could be taken as a compliment or an insult, his tone genuinely sounded sincere, like he had no bad intentions. he was just an awkward guy who had no idea how to socialize or talk to the pretty girl in front of him pretty girls.

“i kinda thank you?” you respond, definitely confused on how to take in his comment.

he smiled awkwardly at you and seemed to look as if he was hiding his face as he glanced to the floor. “sorry,” he mumbled, and you felt your heart twinge as he resembled that of a hurt puppy.

“you’re good. i appreciate the sentiment.” reassuring him, he glanced back up at you with a crooked toothless smile, feeling his guard come down all around him. he had no idea why he was feeling this way, or why it felt so easy to talk to you.

there was a moment where silence fell between the two of you, staring deeply into your eyes he looked like he wanted to say something, an internal struggle of conflict in his mind while you simply watched in utter bliss and oblivion to the situation.

“i guess i should get going, i have to find my friend before they run off with some stranger they just met to hook up with. ill see you around though?” you offer him politely, and ethan felt a strange hollowness in his heart at the idea of you leaving him, but he pushed those feelings back and nodded anyway.

you’re about to turn around, start the search for your your friend in the mass of drunken college students, and you make it about five whole feet away before a voice calls your name. ethans voice.

“hey, (y/n)?” you turn around, meeting his eyes again. there’s something in them this time. it’s noticeable now as he locks eyes without you. something a bit sinister about the way he holds your gaze and his stance now looks like he’s taking over the whole room, confident but dark all the same.

“yeah?” you ask. you definitely notice the way his eyes have lost all emotion except one: danger. but this is ethan, ethans a nice boy. it must be the dim lighting and the short yet further distance between the two of you than it previously was.

“don’t get too close to me.” he warns you, and you feel a strange feeling crawl up your spine. the way he looks at you while he says it. the way his tone has completely voided from the sweet voice you were speaking to before and the aura all around him that now screams danger.

you don’t know what to do, unsure of what to say. maybe he was joking, maybe he was drunk, or maybe he really just didn’t want your companionship.

all you can do is awkwardly smile. “ill see you around, ethan.” and with that, you walk away from him, searching the packed house for your friend and forgetting about the short yet easy-going (up until the end) conversation you held with the landry boy.

and though you’ve pushed your interaction to the back of your head, ethans eyes never once leaves the back of yours.

𓂃  ࣪   ˖ 𖦹 a/n :: the most unrealistic part of scream vi is that ethans a virgin

started 08.04.23. finished 08.04.23.

(о´∀`о)

©️nolovelingers 2023

[aerynwrites]

Send Me an Angel - Chapter 1

Halsin x Fem!Angel!Reader

A/N: So so so excited to reveal this little series to you guys! Had this idea and with some wonderful brainstorming help from @thedreamlessnights it is finally coming together! Hope you all enjoy <3

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Reader is described using she/her pronouns in this part, female reader, canon typical gore/injuries, hurt/comfort.

Halsin's POV

The night, as all of them have been since arriving here, is cold.

The Shadow-Cursed Lands are just as he remembers them, if not worse. And, despite having saved Thaniel and reunited him with Oliver, his mind still feels heavy with the burden of this place. 

That’s why he stands here now, at the edge of the protective barrier of Last Light, eyes turned up towards the stars. Here, they are the only things of nature that are not corrupted by the shadows, and perhaps in these times of need, Halsin is silently seeking guidance from the celestial beings. 

He’s been outside for some time, lost in his own thoughts, and is just about to turn back towards the inn when a faint, flashing light in the sky gives him pause.

It looks like a star, at first, shining brighter in the blanket of night, winking at him as he gazes upwards. But as he continues to watch, Halsin realizes that the star is moving - and it’s moving faster as each moment passes. It seems to tumble from the heavens, leaving a trail of starlight in its wake as it travels westward, towards the mountain pass. 

Without much thought, Halsin’s feet carry him in the direction of the falling star, stopping only to grab a torch as he leaves the inn’s protection to head further into the Shadowlands. He tries his best to follow the star, but as it hurtles across the sky and gets closer and closer to the towering trees, he starts to lose sight of it. The only evidence that it makes it to earth are the sudden tremors beneath his feet.

The star has landed. 

Halsin’s heart races in his chest as he travels toward the last place he’d seen it. And for reasons he can’t describe, he can feel something calling to him. A power like he’s never felt before seems to reach out and wrap around him as it pulls him through the decaying landscape. 

Rocks crunch beneath his feet, dead tree branches rustle, and the only other sound he can hear is his own breathing and the blood rushing in his ears. These lands have always given him a sense of unease - a feeling that seems tenfold now as he wanders them alone. 

He walks for much longer than he’d anticipated, and he’s worried for a moment that he has somehow passed by the impact site when an otherworldly glow starts to break through the trees as he crests a small hill. He follows the light, and the feeling tugs at his chest until he reaches the top, his eyes widening as his breath stutters in his chest. 

The crater in the ground is larger than he expected and the sight before him is like nothing he’s ever seen. Dust floats in the air around the site, still unsettled from its misplacement among the earth. An acrid, burnt tang makes Halsin’s nose tingle unpleasantly, the smell settling on his tongue. 

But it’s not these things that bring Halsin pause. No. What makes the old druid stop is what sits in the crater itself–for it is not simply a star he witnessed fall from the sky, but an angel. 

He can see their form, illuminated by the ethereal pale white light they seem to give off, and as he walks closer, torch held high to warn off any shadows who may dare to venture close, he realizes that they are actually a she. 

He’s struck first by her beauty.

It’s nothing as extravagant as he remembers from the tales of fallen angels as a child, where those who looked upon them would be blinded by the otherworldly allure. This angel is in fact beautiful, but in a more natural way. Still striking to Halsin, but perhaps appearing more subdued to others. 

It’s only when he’s at the edge of the crater does Halsin’s mind finally shift from surprise, to utter concern. The acrid smell he first noticed must have come from the way the angel burned as she fell from the sky. He can see now that the great white wings extending from her back are heavily injured, the white feathers majority singed gray and black, and some even falling away from her wings completely. One of the appendages even seems to be bent at an odd angle - broken, if Halsin had to guess from this distance. 

Her person is in much the same condition. Her pearl-white dress is torn, ragged, and stained a dingy gray. Blackened smudges cover most of the skin he is able to see - soot, dirt, and what he assumes must be blood, if the various injuries have anything to say. For a moment, Halsin fears she may not have survived the fall. But as he inches closer, kneeling by her side, he is able to see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. This closeness also reveals another problem. Her breathing is erratic, and each breath comes out with a faint wheeze, as if something is flooding her lungs. 

Before Halsin can truly think, he is already acting. He plants the torch in the ground beside him, moving to gather the angel in his arms. First, he softly tucks the being’s wings behind her back,  careful not to jostle the broken one more than needed. Then, when he is confident that he can gather her into his arms, he does just that. He worries she may wake as he moves her, the pain stirring her from her unconscious state, but she stays under, not so much as twitching as Halsin stands with her gathered to his chest. 

For a moment, as he fully remembers his surroundings, an icy fear clings to him.  How will he traverse the curse with no hand to hold a light source? But when he steps from the crater, he is surprised to find that the pale white glow is emitting from the angel herself. As if protected by pure moonlight.

Haslin hasn’t been sure of much as of late, but he knows deep within his being, that he must save her. 

No matter what it takes. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The walk to camp is uneventful, but Halsin’s arrival with a woman in his arms, is not. 

He hears Astarion scoff before he sees the vampire, the sound echoing across camp. 

“Another one?” Astarion sighs. “I mean, really? The camp is crowded enough already.” 

Halsin, usually one slow to anger or frustration, pulls the angel closer to him as he bites back. “I will not stand by when another creature requires my help, even if you might, Astarion.” 

He doesn’t stay around to listen to the man’s reply, but thinks he hears Astarion mutter something about a bear and claws. 

Halsin makes for his tent, and the only other person to inquire about the being in his arms is Tav. They are kind enough to only ask if he needs anything rather than prying, which Halsin appreciates but declines nonetheless. 

He can’t help the sudden possessiveness that overcomes him, as if this angel is his to protect and his alone. Only Thaniel is by his side when he enters his small, secluded part of camp, the small boy eyeing the creature curiously. 

“An angel?” he asks as Halsin moves to set the woman gently on his bedroll just inside his tent. 

Halsin nods. “I saw her fall from the sky myself,” he says, now fully taking in her injuries. “She has been gravely injured. I only hope I am able to help.” 

Thaniel is quiet for a moment before he crouches beside the Druid and reaches out to run a soft hand along the angel’s wings, careful not to injure her further. 

“She is here for a reason,” he says cryptically, eyes turning up towards Halsin. “You were meant to find her. I can feel it as clearly as if the forest itself is speaking to me.” 

Halsin pauses his work to look at the child, always one to know more than he may appear. 

He knows at a fundamental level that Thaniel’s words are true. Nature does not continue without due cause, it was fate that allowed him to find this angel. 

What he can’t figure out…is why? 

Halsin shakes his head, ridding himself of these thoughts for now as he sends the boy away. He can worry about fate and reasoning later. Right now, he must try to keep her alive. 

Although he is powerful, he has only a limited supply of healing magic, a supply he chooses to use on her internal injuries, those he cannot fix without its aid. 

He focuses his attention inward, drawing on the power he has as he hovers his hands over the angel’s ribs, that familiar yellow glow pulsing from his hands and into her body. 

It takes longer than usual, telling Halsin her injuries must have been worse than he thought. But, after a few moments, her labored breathing eases, no longer a bubbling wheeze but a slow and smooth rhythm. 

The last of his magic, he uses to heal her wing, wincing as it snaps back into place under his hands. Only then does the magic glow ebb away. 

He reaches out to run tender hands along the main structure of her wings, checking for any other abnormalities. He’s just reached the tip of her newly-healed appendage when the woman jerks beneath him, her hand shooting up to grip his wrist with an unnatural strength. 

The cry that falls from his lips is one of surprise more than pain, but he can’t help but be aware of the ache settling deep in his bones as they seem to grind together beneath her supernatural grip. 

He glances down at her face, his lips falling open when he’s met with eyes glowing pure gold, complete power coming off the being in waves. She gasps in pain as she moves, and Halsin watches in complete and utter shock as the light slowly drains from her eyes, the strength in her grip waning as it does so. Only when the regular eyes of a human meet his own does the angel finally speak. 

“Halsin…”

His name is but a whisper from her lips before her eyes roll back and she slumps unconscious onto his bedroll once more. For a moment, Halsin is worried that she has passed on, her form eerily still once again. But the steady rise and fall of her chest assures him she still lives. 

Only when he is sure she still breathes does his mind jump back to what had just occurred. 

How did she know his name? 

[rist-ix]

alright the s3 finale has many problems, but the one im currently hyperfocusing one is how Valtor used the four element spells. Leaving aside the fact that they were by far the most boring and uncreative spells in his arsenal, WHY did the writers pick his targets like that???

Alfea is fine, I guess, its in a forest, fire does do decent damage here. But "Water to Cloud Tower"???? What for???? It's on a mountaintop, water is so out of place here and every shot they show from that attack just feels silly to me. Alfea is currently burning to cinders, and Cloud Tower has a plumbing problem I guess. How dramatic. And no matter how much you suspend your disbelief, dont tell me a part of u didnt think "They could... just go outside..." everytime they showed a witch getting flushed down the corridors.

The cherry on the top is that they already HAD the perfect target for the water spell: Red Fountain is RIGHT THERE!!! It's called Red FOUNTAIN, you could have finally done something with that! There are waterfalls running down from all cardinal directions, what if all that overflowed and weighed the floating construct down, threatening to crash into the forest below! And without their bikes and ships, the specialists cant fly, meaning theres no easy way for them to evacuate once the hangars are underwater. Instead they get tornados, which they combat by throwing bombs at them. What in the Sharknado Logic are you DOING, boys?!

Earth in Magix works alright too, fire and earth could have been used pretty much interchangeably here if u wanna cause mass damage. So just switch water and air around and it everything makes sense again! Cloud Tower is already surrounded by an eternal storm, there could have been so much cool stuff if the weather just went absolutely CRAZY up there, especially with the many branching towers Cloud Tower has.

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

For your ask game ~ 📖 🦉 🔞

Worth the Risk - Jack Delroy/Reader

Warnings: Female reader, no use of Y/N, making out, almost fully clothed grinding, clothed fingering, bit of exhibition/voyeurism, vaginal sex.

Wordcount: 6317

Summary: He'd given you his card, invited you to the studio with the promise of a good time, and the show had been amazing for sure, but did the night really have to end once the cameras turned off?

Notes: I really wanted to write this the other day but I was too sleepy and went to bed early y'know like a baby 😖 anyways I've been wanting to do a sequel to Susceptible since I first posted it and somehow it ended up even longer so this is for you hehe hope you enjoy~ 💗💗💗

Wait for me by the back entrance at 11:00 Phil will let you in JD

You don’t know how many times you’d looked at the card he handed you since that night, but the corners were starting to bend and the pen marks were beginning to smudge, just a little. You forced yourself to leave it be as you checked your appearance one last time, the mirror by the front door to your apartment offering its final encouragement as you decided there was nothing left you could do to delay your departure before you were late. As soon as you were out the door you had to resist the urge to sprint, your heels sending muffled echoes down the hall as you headed straight for the elevator, a kindly old woman holding it for you with a smile. 

You had the sense to call a cab early so you wouldn’t have to risk waiting and missing your 11PM deadline, the car stalling right outside the door as you waved to the driver and got inside. ‘Fiske Studios, please,’ you tell him, the small building owned by a branch of UBC now very well known thanks to a certain Mr. Midnight. Your leg bounced the entire way there, the card once again in your hands as you stared out the window, neighbourhoods giving way to open city streets, more cars circling around you like a school of fish. You hated driving in the city, it was the main reason why you dedicated so much of your paycheck to cabs, but tonight you were starting to wish you’d driven yourself as you hit the tenth red light in a row.

The driver sensed your anxiousness as you bit your lip for just a split second before your purse was opened and your lipstick was uncapped, the tiny mirror in your hand reassuring you that it’d be fine, you looked great, it was an easy fix. ‘Hot date tonight?’ he asked over his shoulder, his voice startling you a little as you snapped the mirror shut again.

‘Uh, going to a live show, actually,’ you said cautiously, avoiding a yes or no to his question; it’d be too presumptuous to say yes, but god if you didn’t want to hope. ‘I’m meeting a few friends there, don’t wanna be late and all.’

‘Oh, well, girl’s gotta have some fun on a Friday night, I guess,’ he said as he looked you over in the rearview, your coat pulled a little tighter over your shoulders as you forced a smile and tried not to look to disgusted; this was yet another reason why you were so fond of Jack Delroy, he’d never make you feel that way, what with him being such a gentleman and all.

The memory of the night you met made you shiver briefly as the hallucination flashed through your mind again, the false feeling of his hands on you having haunted you all week. You sucked in a very long breath through your nose as you willed the pink to leave your cheeks again, the last thing you needed right now was this guy seeing you get covered in goosebumps and assume it was because of what he’d said. You actually hadn’t been able to watch Night Owls since that night, feeling almost guilty about it even though there was no way he would know you hadn’t seen all the exciting things he’d been talking about. You’d tried last night, but as soon as the wall had opened and he’d strolled on out with that smile and his eyes instantly finding the camera you’d become a right mess way too fast and had to turn it off again, your heart pounding and your legs pressed uncomfortably tight together just at the sight of him.

Goddamn you Carmichael Haig.

The studio came into view with the latest turn and you readied yourself to get out, money already in hand by the time the car had stopped. The bill was settled and you stepped out into the cool night air, cutting off the driver’s wish for you to have a good night with the slamming of the door, and you took a look around and tried to guess which way would lead to the back door he’d mentioned. You waited until the car was out of sight, pretending to see your ‘friends’ so it wouldn’t look like you were about to walk down a dark alley by yourself, another deep breath exhaled sharply as you summoned up all of your courage and headed to the right.

It was a large alley, big enough for a car to drive down and reach the parking lot out back, which thankfully held just as many people walking about as the front did. A lot of them favoured a large, metal door up a tiny flight of stairs, keycards flashed to unlock it before it was held open for several people at a time, everyone helping each other in the most efficient of ways. You had no idea which one Phil was supposed to be, and if you waited too long you might get pinned as a fan trying to sneak in, so the next time someone approached the area you were lurking in you got the card back out and held it out to him.

‘Um, I’m supposed to find Phil?’ you said uncertainly, the man looking you over before taking the card. ‘Ja- Mr. Delroy told me to meet him here.’

‘How’d you meet Jack?’ he asked, clearly recognizing the handwriting but wanting to be certain all the same as he handed it back to you.

‘At Carmichael Haig’s show, we got to talk for a little bit,’ you explained, your nerves starting to rise the longer you were out there, the paranoia that you wouldn’t be able to get in starting to rise in your chest.

‘Ohhh, so you’re the one he was telling Gus about,’ the man said with a grin, your back straightening at the very thought of Jack talking about you with anyone, let alone with someone in a public place. ‘Yeah, he told me to expect someone, I’ll take you up there now if you help me carry something, save me a trip?’

You agreed to his terms, the man apparently being Phil as he shook your hand and handed you the box he was balancing on one arm as you talked. He quickly jogged back to his car to grab another box before returning to you, the door held open for you both as you squeezed past another employee and followed him through the maze of hallways and way too many doors to count. The studio itself was actually on the second floor, the first dedicated to offices and meeting rooms and other businessy things, the elevator able to just barely let you both cram inside as everyone got ready for the taping.

‘Is it always this hectic?’ you asked before you realized you were even opening your mouth, Phil just laughing and adjusting his box.

‘Every single night.’

Once the elevator had pinged and the doors had slid open, Phil then led you through a few more hallways until he pushed through a locked STAFF ONLY door, even more people on the other side, although there was more to the area back here, your eyes widening when it hit you that this was the back of Jack’s set. Phil noticed your excitement and set his box down on the nearest table, taking yours in another swift movement before motioning towards the slightly ajar wall panel; the audience’s seats were just in view through the crack, some people already coming in and finding their spots, and you were just in the middle of wondering if you should attempt finding an empty one when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

‘Quite the view, isn’t it?’

You turned to see Jack standing behind you, a look of pure bliss on his face as he watched the band get ready, Gus talking to someone and going over scripts off to the right, the few audience members chatting with each other as they guessed what they’d see that night. He truly loved this job, you could tell he did even after doing it for so many years, and seeing him so in love only made you love him even more. He looked down at you then, a fondness in his eyes as he gave your shoulder a squeeze and led you around back, a little tour before you had to leave him.

‘I’m glad you came,’ he admitted as you took everything in, everyone shifting their gaze towards the both of you as long as they thought they could get away with it. ‘Been looking forward to tonight all week, what did you think of the lineup?’

‘I, uh-’ you trailed off as he pulled you out of the way of a staff member carrying the requested items for tonight’s guest, your coat suddenly feeling way too warm to still be wearing inside. ‘I missed out on them, actually, been a busy week,’ you lied, avoiding his face as your cheeks lit up; you were not about to tell him that it was because looking at him made you remember how he’d felt pressed up against your waist, even if it was fake.

A shiver ran up your spine as you then realized that the heat against your back very much wasn’t however.

‘I’ll have to tell you all about it later, don’t want you missing out on anything,’ he said with a grin, your lips trembling as you tried to keep your smile from getting any bigger. There was no way he’d actually do that, he had to be too busy to entertain you when the PMs turned to AMs, but it was a nice thought indeed.

‘I’d like that,’ you admitted either way, happy to live in the fantasy for just a little bit at least.

‘Jack!’ someone called from just out of sight, a curly-haired man in sunglasses hunting him down with expert precision as he hurried over. ‘Gus just told me you’ve been saving seats all week, you wanna explain why that is?’

‘And there’s my cue,’ he whispers in your ear before using your shoulders to turn you and guide you back to the slit in the wall. ‘Middle front row, furthest left seat,’ he whispered before pushing you to the other side, his attention turned to his producer as he descended upon him for losing them money. You listened for just a second before it hit you that you were there, you were really there, your mouth dropping open as you slowly spun to check out the Night Owls set. People were whispering about who you might be but you didn’t care, not leaving until you heard Gus clear his throat and ask what you were doing.

‘Finding my seat,’ you mumbled, although maybe it had come out as nonsense in your delighted stupor, you couldn’t be sure at the moment.

‘Okay, do you have a ticket?’ he asked, still so polite even though he was very much confused. You just held up the card again, your eyes going higher as you stared at all the lights. ‘I see, so you’re the one he’s been waiting for, right this way.’

The one he’s been waiting for? Clearly you must’ve misheard, Jack Delroy couldn’t possibly have been that excited for you, you’d only spoken for maybe five minutes, tops.

Gus led you to your seat and you instantly sank into it, a 40 minute wait still ahead of you but it felt like no time at all as the rows all filled up and people slowly stopped walking across the set to prepare. On either side of you, cameramen took their places and lined up their shots, the blue screen of the viewfinder catching your attention as you couldn’t help but see what they saw. Gus got himself ready by the band, who were all tuned up and ready to go, and when midnight hit and Gus started calling out that night’s guests, you couldn’t help but bite your lip again as Jack’s name was announced and the wall opened up again to reveal him.

He’d been right, it was an incredible show, his presence so much more overwhelming as you could only focus on him no matter who he stood or sat beside. Every single one of his jokes landed, every eccentric wave of his hands drew you in without fail, and every single smile he shot your way when you laughed only confirmed more and more that you were genuinely glad you came. He tried to talk to you during the breaks but each time he’d been interrupted either by one of his co-workers or someone in the audience ready to snatch up his attention, Jack too polite to refuse either, although it was honestly starting to make you a little jealous.

Before you knew it, his hour had passed and he was saying goodbye, your chest deflating as he was played out again along with his final guest, your hands a little numb as you gave him his well deserved applause. You didn’t want to get up and leave as the rest of the people around you did without hesitation, a chorus of yawns starting to infect everyone like a virus now that it was officially bedtime. You were rooted to the spot, hands clasped in your lap as you wondered if it’d be too presumptuous to assume that maybe he’d come back out again when everyone was gone, wish you your own personal goodnight, people staring again as you waited until you accepted that you’d fulfilled his request, there was no need to stay now.

‘Oh good, you’re still here,’ Jack panted as he jogged over to you, a sheen on his cheeks and forehead from the excitement of the night mixed in with the hot stage lights, ‘I was worried you’d leave when Leo grabbed me just now.’ 

‘I’m in no hurry,’ you told him as you stood, your clasped hands hiding behind your back so he wouldn’t see you fidgeting. ‘It was a great show, I had a lot of fun tonight.’

His smile turned from Showman Jack to Genuine Jack at that, your ability to always tell coming in handy yet again as you tried to hide your blush by tucking your hair behind your ear. ‘I take it you had a more enjoyable time with me than at Haig’s, then?’ he asked, your blushing deepening at his choice of words.

‘I did, yeah.’ Everyone was packing up for the night around you, no one giving you a passing glance as the desire to get home and sleep overtook their curiosity, and when he stifled a yawn you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty at keeping him. ‘All good things must come to an end though, I suppose; I should really get heading back, it’ll be a nightmare to find a cab this late.’ You didn’t want to go, but you also didn’t want to press your luck either, and maybe you’d get another invitation to another show, who knew?

‘I could give you a ride, if you wanted,’ he offered, completely catching you off guard as your eyes widened for a second in surprise. ‘Or, if you’re truly a night owl like me, you’d prefer to join me for a drink? I always grab one after a show, can’t sleep otherwise.’

You swallowed, mouth cotton dry as you went over his offer in your head a few times; was he asking you out on a date? He had to have been, who else went out to get a drink together at 1AM other than people on dates, right? ‘Yeah, a drink sounds great,’ you finally managed to squeak out, the corners of his eyes scrunching when he smiled before offering his arm for you to take, a true gentleman. He led you back through the labyrinth until you reached the parking lot, his car parked in a spot with his name plastered against the wall behind it, most of the other cars already gone now that their owners were free.

His car was simple, nothing too flashy like someone else in his position would own, the seats worn on the inside and telling you that he must’ve had it for many years. You tried not to look too nervous as he unlocked his door and let himself in, his long body stretching across the front so he could unlock the passenger side as well; an old car indeed, he was taking very good care of it for it to still look that good. You thanked him as you sat down and shut the door, the smell of his cologne stealing your breath away as you were surrounded by purely him, the faint smell of smoke mixing in with it, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried not to look too obvious.

He shot you a glance as he clicked his seatbelt into place, the noise making you come back to your senses and do the same so he could start driving. There were quite a few bars around there, some late night diners as well, and you grew more and more confused as he drove by all of them without a word. By the time you left the city and started to head towards a more residential area, you were starting to wonder if you were going for a drink at all, not remembering ever telling him where you lived, of course this neighborhood was much too nice, maybe you should be flattered if he thought you lived around here.

‘Are we still…?’ you tried to ask, your question dying out as he then turned into the driveway of a very nice but modestly sized house, all the lights off inside telling you that no one was home. He didn’t turn off the engine though, his eyes on the wheel before he turned to you, a hopeful something in his eyes that mirrored your own.

‘Would you like to come inside? Or should we try calling that cab?’ he asked you gently, giving you the choice of what you wanted to do now that you knew where you’d be drinking, your heart thumping a little faster as you adjusted the strap of your purse and flashed him the most confident smile you could muster.

‘You did promise to tell me all about the shows I miss,’ you reminded him, Jack’s smile softening as he agreed with a, ‘Yes I did.’ The engine shut off and you both exited the car, the night air making you shiver as you held your coat a little tighter over your arms. He noticed immediately, his suit jacket draped over you before you could confirm or deny you wanted it, heat spreading throughout you as the scent of his cologne hit you even harder. You wrapped yourself up in it, face tucked into the collar as you headed for his front door, always a few steps behind until he unlocked the door and pushed it open, allowing you to go in first.

It was a modest place, decorated more cozily than anything, and you felt right at home as you stepped inside and took a look around; the walls held photos of family and friends, his coworkers and people he’d met through Night Owls spaced out around them, the surfaces of every table and shelf decorated with something and filling the space while also feeling sparse. Cozy was definitely the right word, but it also felt like a bachelor pad in the way he’d left clothes draped over the back of the couch, how the kitchen was pristinely clean from rare use based on the amount of menus he’d collected into the holder by his phone, and the dedicated minibar off in the corner so he could entertain guests.

He headed there now as you observed your surroundings, his voice breaking your thoughts as he asked you to pick your poison. You gave him your desired drink request, Jack’s eyes shining as he located the bottle amongst the plethora of them in his reserve, whisky placed next to it as he located a couple of glasses next. ‘Ice?’ he asked casually as he poured both drinks, you kindly refusing as he grabbed a couple for himself. The ice crackled in his glass as he returned, the sound pleasant to you and filling the air as he handed you your drink. ‘I’d offer you a seat at the table, but my back is killing me tonight, if you’d rather join me on the couch?’

What a liar, you could always tell when he was acting. You accepted anyways, pretending to buy into it as you both took opposite ends of the old leather couch situated in front of his fireplace. The cushions creaked underneath as you sat down, Jack letting out a sigh that didn’t sound fake as he relaxed, his body sinking right in before he took a sip and turned to look at you. You blushed and looked away, focusing on your glass as you swirled the contents around, now wishing for ice since watching it would be a good distraction.

You’d been so focused on his home that it was starting to dawn on you that you were in his home, on his couch, drinking his liquor, his focus on nothing and no one other than you. ‘Dreamer, here, awake,’ you whispered softly under your breath, remembering what Haig had said to snap you out of it and needing to make sure this wasn’t just another dream.

‘What was that?’

Oh god, it wasn’t a dream, you were really here, and his arm was now on the back of the couch, casually reaching towards you as he tilted his head to the side with an amused grin. 

‘So, how did the shows that I missed go?’ you quickly choked out, Jack chuckling at how your voice sounded way more broken than you’d wanted before downing the rest of his drink and setting the empty glass on the coffee table in front of him.

‘Well, on Monday I got to interview someone about his upcoming play, so that was interesting,’ he began, his body turned more towards you as he spoke. ‘On Tuesday, we had a man who sailed halfway around the world and narrowly survived being shipwrecked, and he read us an excerpt from his captain’s log, which he revealed he’ll be turning into a book to preserve the memories of his shipmates.’ He slid a little down the leather, genuine interest in his eyes as he spoke, that another thing you loved about him. ‘Wednesday was Game Night, as you know, and one of our audience members managed to win the jackpot and gave us a victory dance to celebrate. Gus tried to attempt it and fell on his ass, so everyone made me try it and I nearly crashed into my stage, everyone had a lot of fun that night.

His voice started to soften as he moved a little closer, your body frozen in both awe at what you’d missed and also the sight of him starting to fill up your entire view, your drink forgotten in your hands.

‘And then on Thursday we took a call from a man who thought he had superpowers, can you believe that? He truly believed he got them from another dimension, so fascinating.’ He was just about to slide over the middle cushion, your legs pressing tightly together so you wouldn’t touch him on accident, your lip worried between your teeth again. ‘I asked him to come on the show, but he hung up, I hope he calls again next week.’ His arm was completely behind you you finally noticed as his thumb brushed against your shoulder just enough for you to feel it over your coat and his suit jacket, the heat of both starting to make you sweat as he stayed just outside your personal space, ever the gentleman as he waited for you to tell him to back up. 

You didn’t, your tongue darting out and tasting your lipstick as you glanced to the side, seeing just enough of him to know that he didn’t look dangerous, or overly sexual like your fantasy had been, his actual expression one of wonder as he remained just out of reach. You felt like you had to comment on his week, say something in response to what he was telling you but you couldn’t, the sound of his thumb running over the fabric directly in your ear as you finally took your first sip.

‘Sounds like I missed a lot,’ you eventually said, Jack nodding and shifting as he got comfier, the movement sending him a little closer to you. ‘Maybe you should invite me back again, I could probably make time for that.’

‘I’ll have to see if I can get you an actual ticket this time, then, Leo was very unhappy I snuck you in.’ His voice was so low as you took another, bigger sip, his arm sliding off the back of the couch and just barely resting against the very bottom of your neck.

‘Is that what that was? I’ll be sure to use the front door next time.’ Another sip, his other hand in plain sight on his thigh as it traveled down towards you. 

‘I think I’d prefer to escort you in myself, so you don’t get lost, it’s like a maze in there.’ You watched his hand just barely touch the hem of his jacket, a soft hum leaving his throat as his eyes half-lidded. ‘You look good in this, I might have to let you borrow it more often.’

‘You assume I’ll need it again? How presumptuous of you,’ you joked in an attempt to keep things light, but it fell flat as you looked at him while you said it, his expression rendering you speechless in seconds. Now that you were facing him he couldn’t resist the urge to touch your cheek, his fingertips just barely brushing against you and making you shut your eyes as you tried to lean against them, the contact causing shivers to run down your spine at how incredibly gentle it was.

‘I really am glad you came tonight,’ he whispered as he leaned in, breath soft against your face as you both held off from closing the gap, ‘god, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’

You nearly dropped the glass, Jack placing his hand over yours to make sure you didn’t before taking it away entirely. ‘Y-you’re just telling me what I wanna hear,’ you repeated from your fantasy, Jack leaning away to set the glass down before letting his forehead rest against your own.

‘Is it working?’

You grabbed onto his tie and pulled him into you, your mouths crashing together as you kissed him with all the need of someone who’d wanted this for years. He braced himself on the back of the couch as you leaned against the arm, your body arching up as he rearranged how he was sitting to kneel over you. He wasn’t as forward as your fantasy, which was understandable considering you knew very well that he’d only acted the exact way you wanted, but instead you discovered that he was slow, making as many points of contact as he could while giving you space. He was obsessed with kissing away the rest of your lipstick but he never tried to take more than you were giving him, your bodies still too far apart as he caressed you.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ he repeated as his hand left your jaw to travel down to your hip, not to hold down or make you keen but just to feel the soft curve of your body; he was committing you to memory, tracing over each wrinkle in the fabric, each place that made you squirm just a little.

‘Jack…’ you sighed as he pushed both coats aside to gently kiss at your neck, small things that made you want beyond the sweetness, the love. ‘Don’t make me wait anymore, please…’

He pressed a single kiss to your jaw at that, sitting back just enough so he could look at your face. You turned away, embarrassed by your neediness, but he turned you back to him with only a whisper of a touch, a plea instead of a command. ‘How long have you been waiting?’ he asked, lips hovering just above yours, pulling away when you tried to close the gap.

‘Years.’

He kissed you again, a little rougher this time as his own need was made clear, his body shifting down until he was laying himself on top of you, and for however real your fantasy had felt, it was fucking nothing compared to the weight of him pressing pure want directly into your waist. It made you gasp how good he felt, your legs spreading until your skirt wouldn’t stretch any further, the desire to hike it up all the way so you could feel him a little better making you almost actually do it. It was him who made that move when he felt you struggling, your legs pressed into his almost uncomfortably, and he placed his hands at the hem and waited for your okay, not wanting to do anything without your permission.

What a fucking gentleman.

You nodded and he lifted your skirt, your back arching off the couch so it could be bunched up, your underwear on display just the smallest amount before your skirt was let go. That small amount made him blush, his lips parting as he then palmed himself to ease the strain of his own clothes, his nice suit pulled taut over his dick as he kneaded. It made you want him even more, the fantasies of seeing him like that deciding to play like the world’s longest and lewdest film in your mind, reminding you of every single thing you wanted to do to him, what you wanted him to do to you.

‘I want to feel you,’ you told him, his eyes fluttering shut like the quicktalking showman Mr. Midnight couldn’t handle a bit of dirty talk; he was so cute it almost hurt as he moved his hand aside for you, granting you access to the space while he tried to undo his belt. You rubbed him over his pants, listening to the sounds he was making and letting your desire grow with each one, and when his belt was undone and his zipper was down you tugged just his pants over his hips just enough to show off his bulge a little better. It strained over the opening, the sight so tantalizing that you’d risk staying hypnotized forever if this really was just another dream, his body laying down over yours again as you wrapped your leg around him.

He started to grind against you, the fantasy definitely not doing him justice as a sinful heat warmed you up in an instant, the coats much too hot as you tried to strip them both off. He helped you but didn’t stop moving, each thrust just enough to create the best friction you’d ever experienced. There was no audience this time, no one to risk ruining this for you, and you took full advantage of that as you let out a deviously loud moan when he rubbed against you just right. 

‘God…’ he panted into your neck, hips moving just a little faster, and it felt good but it wasn’t what you wanted, not entirely. You reached down between where your bodies touched to try and get a hold of his boxers, your nails catching over the waistband just out of reach. He felt your attempts and knew what you were trying to do, his face unsure even though he still couldn’t stop. ‘Are you sure?’ he needed to know, his hips finally stilling for the most part, your eyes watering with how much you meant it as you told him yes. He groaned as he reached between your legs, feeling your wetness seeping through your panties as you moved against him, your head instantly falling back.

The sounds you let out were indecent, he wasn’t even inside you yet and he was making you fall apart just because it was him who was doing this, his fingers rewriting your brain and telling you that you’d never be able to get off on just your imagination ever again. He played with you as his other hand pushed his boxers down the rest of the way, his dick falling free and making him hiss as he gave himself a few strokes, the sound getting you to look up. Your legs twitched as you almost came just from the sight alone, his eyes shut tight as his head lolled to the side, his impressive length looking even bigger in his hand as he got himself ready.

As soon as he felt your eyes on him he locked onto you, his big, showman smile showing a little more teeth than usual as he let you watch, his own sounds almost addicting as he let you know exactly how good his own hand felt. Between the sight and his hands making the both of you feel good, you didn’t know how much more you could take of this before you were shoving him down, Jack sensing your desperation and leaning back over you. He pulled aside your panties and rubbed you a couple more times before pressing his waist against yours, spreading your wetness along the underside of his shaft, grinding against you this way until you were practically begging him to do more, please.

He chuckled at your reaction before taking himself in hand again, spreading it even more before holding himself up to your entrance, one last chance to back out. You made sure to lock eyes with him as you grabbed his tie and pulled him down to you once more, your mouth falling open as he pushed deep inside of you the more you pulled. You didn’t stop until you were full, the two of you panting into each other's mouth before he started to move, both of your legs wrapping around him this time as you tried to take him even deeper.

It was hot, you were sweating, you could see the sheen on his cheeks and forehead again as he suffered in the almost entirety of his suit versus your outfit, and you helped him relieve some of his suffering as you started to unbutton his shirt. You shoved it off one shoulder before he was tearing it off of himself and tossing it away, your own shirt pushed up to reveal a heaving stomach, muscles working hard under the flesh as he thrust into you, your body unable to move with him thanks to the arm of the couch keeping you in place.

It ensured he always hit the deepest part of you since your body couldn’t shift away, one of your hands on your stomach while the other took his own and placed it on your chest. He began to knead you over your bra, it soon out of the way as he yanked it down and wrapped his mouth around a nipple, his motions speeding up a bit as you tangled your now free hand into his hair. ‘You feel so good,’ you couldn’t stop yourself from saying then, starting to get overstimulated, and at your words he jerked a little erratically, like it’d made him stumble. ‘You- you were so handsome tonight, did so well, I couldn’t stop staring at you…’

He was moaning nonsense into your chest as you praised him, something about what you were saying making him fall apart; his head rested against you as he rutted into you with wild abandon, your hands just holding him there as you kept whispering what he wanted to hear. You meant it, every word, but to know that this much was making him practically whine against you was also addicting, needing him to know everything you felt for him, how proud you were of him, how you’d never be able to feel anyone but him for the rest of your life.

‘Come inside me, make me yours, I want to be yours,’ you pleaded, Jack grasping at you like a drowning man grasps at his saviour, a few more thrusts making your head fall back before he did just that. His hips jutted a few more times as warmth filled your insides, the sensation mixed with his broken gasps bringing you over the edge as well, his nails digging into your flesh where he held you, your hands thoroughly messing up his perfectly styled hair. When he was done he collapsed against you, his weight once again so incredibly nice as he pinned you against the cushions, the leather sticking to your skin and keeping you very much in place.

‘If I’m too heavy-’ he started to say before he shifted and cut himself off with a whine, his attempts to get up thwarted immediately.

‘You’re not,’ you reassured him, your fingers attempting to straighten his hair back into place, a small courtesy for him letting you grab him so hard in the first place. ‘We can just… stay a while.’

‘Do you wanna risk that? I might fall asleep on you like this,’ he asked like it’d be a bad thing; what a gentleman.

‘I think that’d be worth the risk,’ you told him as you kissed his forehead, Jack reaching up to cup your cheek before gathering all his strength to kiss you goodnight.

[blacktabbygames]

Relationships in Scarlet Hollow

Have you ever wondered why every playthrough of Scarlet Hollow feels so different? It isn't *just* from branching off of major decisions. A lot of characters make use of a hidden 10-variable relationship system that maps to their perception of the protagonist.

These variables influence a *lot* of dialogue, as well as the sprites and emotional range of these characters in a given scene, and tracking this much information lets us take a very nuanced approach to PC/NPC relationships.

It's also why SH will probably never get voice acting.

So instead of just looking at someone likes or dislikes you, we can look at "trust" as its own value separate from surface-level likeability

ex: You and your cousin can be at each other's throats and still trust each other with your lives, or you can be cordial and share nothing with each other on an emotional level.

This system also dovetails into other parts of our narrative design, often unlocking different paths or scenes based on who someone is to you.

Your relationship with your cousin, for instance, has the possibility to unlock an entirely separate outcome in episode 3.

We go out of our way to not show off this system, even though it's a big part of our secret sauce, mostly because the whole point of it is to make our story and characters feel more alive and dynamic.

Having a meter to see that x statement gives you y openness points with Tabitha would ruin that immersion and gameify things to the detriment of the narrative.

When you're making decisions and choosing what to say in Scarlet Hollow, it shouldn't *feel* like a game, at least not in the sense of it being something you're playing on a meta-level. You should pick what feels right for you, and the game should respond accordingly.

Hiding the system has other benefits as well, including being able to *change how it functions* as time goes on without calling attention to those changes.

Values move A LOT (almost every dialogue choice) in episodes 1-3 as you make a first impression on characters, but by late episode 3/early episode 4, most of the characters in Scarlet Hollow have decided who they think you are, and it starts to take big, character defining moments to move that needle.

Just like in real life!

Anyways if this stuff interests you and you want a longer read on it, please take a look at this devlog!

Or if you haven't played the game, try episode 1 for free!

[basilpaste]

here it is! the elle thing!!

Loop picked their name on the spot. From the moment they introduced themself — it was something you'd known. It's the name they chose to represent themself with, though! You don't have a right to question it. It wouldn't be fair if it was a name they liked. It would be even less fair if it wasn't. You don't want to push. To risk hurting them.

That's kind of cowardly, isn't it?

Ah… but um. Calling them Loop feels kind of strange sometimes? You usually call your friends nicknames! Loop is your friend, aren't they? In your time stuck in the same two days they've grown into someone you really trust. So it feels too formal when you call them it! Especially when they don't call you your name… ever.

You also wonder if… maybe they called themself Loop in an attempt to dehumanize themself? You don't want to psychoanalyze them, that feels cruel, but it makes sense, doesn't it? Whatever happened to them — the thing that did this to them — you have a feeling that their information on the loops you're trapped in is… more than just bestowed knowledge. It feels awful knowing that someone like them (like Sif, you don't let yourself think) could be trapped like you are now. In what world is that fair?

Maybe they used the name because it was easier. Easier to claim to just be related to the loops. Fundamentally less than human. A guide and nothing more.

You don't like thinking about someone you care about like that. They've let their walls down a lot since you met them! Even if they won't admit it. They aren't as cold as they were when things started. It's comforting to have someone on your side through all of this. You hope that maybe, somehow, you're a comfort to them, too.

So… you finish your prayer to the Change God. Sif passes you right on schedule, finished making their wish. You wave even though they can't see it (it's good to have habits!) and make your way back to the Favor Tree. This is routine, too, but you let yourself hope things will be a little different this time. You have a plan, after all! Something you'll change!

You slip past the low-hanging branches of the tree and sit across from Loop on its roots. They regard you with a simple nod. You wave back cheerfully.

"Hello, Fighter."

Ah! It's go-time. Okay! Play it cool, Isabeau! It's just like any other nickname you've ever given a friend! You give people nicknames all the time! You shouldn't be nervous! Oh crab, why are you so nervous??

"Hi, Elle!"

The flow of the conversation shatters before it's even really begun. You catch Loop's eyes widen just a fraction before they force themself to settle. It seems like reigning in their expression let something else slip, though. They let out a startled laugh. Wildly different from the rehearsed 'teehee' you're used to hearing from them. It's high-pitched and fluttery and when they realize it's happening they slap a hand over the mouth they don't have to muffle it.

It reminds you so much of the first time you called Sif 'Sif' that it makes your chest ache. You push past it. Now's not the time to be thinking like that. You're talking to Loop, not Siffrin.

"L?" They say finally, a barely restrained wobble in their voice.

Somehow — you know they aren't thinking of it the same way you are.

"Yeah!" You nod, "Elle like… E-L-L-E. Like the first letter in Loop! But just calling you a letter felt kind of weird, heh."

They look at you for a long time. You think you've gotten pretty good at reading their expressions, but… you're not quite sure about this one. All you know is that there's a lot of emotion they're working really hard to hide. Oh no! Is this anger, maybe? Did you step in it? Maybe you should backtrack, pretend this never happened—

"Elle." They whisper, holding a hand over the shape on their chest — right where their heart would be.

They turn away from you, "You really are something, Fighter."

Oh. You think they're trying not to cry.

[kyumisyumi]

Duet

It would've probably made more sense for me to write this about Soap but there's tonnes of Soap content and I'm tryna feed the starving.

Warning: Quickly written, barely proof read

Ship: Nikto x Banshee!Reader (F)

Word count: 1k

⊱⊶Taking requests⊷⊰

It was like throwing up pins and needles, using your voice after so long. The sounds clawed against your throat as if begging to never see the light of day. Your own song fighting to return to the darkness of your vocal chords, wishing to never be uttered. But this wasn't your song anymore and that's why it needed to be sung. Needed to be released into the cool air to meet the oracles in the stars. It was an ugly tune; gargles and keening as your emotions morphed into rancid sound. Your bloodline had ended decades ago. You remember the moment the elder, happy without child, closed her eyes for the last time. The final composer of your songs laid for eternal slumber with a smile turned towards your distant figure. Her end marked the beginning of your hibernation. A solemn existence. You lied to yourself that it was a prize for centuries of dutiful work, but loneliness festered inside your core as your wondered for years without purpose.

Then came the sound; timber against timber. The click of a composer's wand. Something you never thought you'd hear ever again. Click click. You were being summoned. Called for by Death to let you know your job was not finished. Like a hound to its name, you followed it. Your apprehension and confusion weighed heavy but no force inside you was stronger than the instincts pumping through your inhuman form. Click click. Like children to a dinner bell, you followed it. The fabrics draped around your greyish body clipping in and out of reality, snagging on branches when it unfortunately caught only to dissolve into mist. Stones and twigs piercing your feet before phasing through your ethereal form. Click click. Like sunflowers to the morning rays, you followed it. Something inside you beating feverously; a life that wasn't your own cradled within your chest. Click click. Like a magazine into a gun, because that's exactly what it was. When the thrumming inside your chest calmed down, you could finally hear the sounds of gunfire whizzing through the air. Hoof beats storming the ground revealed to be the boots of man. Soldiers. They bolted through the concrete and dirt of wrecked structures, firing their weapons into their own kind. None of that mattered to you however, you had seen war plenty of times. All that mattered were the clicks that called for your song and the person holding the gun. Click click.

It alarmed him, naturally, when he began to hear the eerie melody of a woman's song. It first reached him amidst a fitful attempt at rest within his small tent. Nikto wasn't sure what to make of it. Another case of his mind playing tricks on him? That the enemy had released hallucinogens into the air? However, when he'd asked his comrades if they heard it too all he'd received were worried looks in response. It was in his head then. Was this karma? Had all the lives he'd taken conspire in the afterlife to haunt him? If so, this was an odd tactic; to sing him hymns rather than rip his soul from his flesh to drag it down where he belonged. He'd tired himself out clawing at the walls of his mind, trying to find a source within. And so he just listened, all of him. It drove him insane almost as much as it brought him peace. Words he could not decipher being whispered in a tune unknown yet somehow familiar. A song that wasn't in his memory but somewhere deeper, somewhere more him than he could ever conceptualize. No matter how much it unnerved him to hear this mysterious singing, the way it warmed his body and stilled his mind became a drug to him. If this was a new level of madness, he had little complaints.

When he heard it in the midst of battle, the effects were reversed; it riled him up rather than calm him down. Like the being was singing life into him. It diffused into his skin to settle within the nerves and muscles beneath his flesh, pushing him ever forward. It whispered truths he'd always known. That he was a harbinger of death, a machine of violence serving those who wrote his cheques. How he felt about it made no difference to what he was. Nobody. Not a person, just a weapon. It felt almost blasphemous to commit acts of cruelty to music so beautiful but his body called for it. A head he'd bashed into a wall, a spine snapped beneath his feet, this bloodshed was his offering to the being that sang for him. To the unknown creature that had decided to take up residence in his mind.

This felt right, this felt like destiny. Nikto carved his path into the enemy stars like the bullet through his chest. Falling to his knees like a man in prayer before laying to meet the Gods.

It was only then that you went to his side, looking into the confused blue eyes of your composer. They searched yours, forgetting where he was and what he was doing as the shrouds of your body filled his vision.

"женщина[woman], sing for me." His voice was much like the metal instruments he played.

You held his hand in both your own, watching the calm slip into his eyes as he listened to your ugly wails. You'd heard the lyrics he filled in. Oh, how they made your heart bleed. But now, in his final moments, you sing to him in words he could understand. Serenade him with the truth of who he was, cradling him to hide his tears. The thumping in your chest was slowing down as your song mellowed to it's end. The final verse came in the sound of a rattle.

[sarahisslytherin]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 || 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒

summary: a bet between friends gives legolas a chance to tell you how he feels. contains: tooth rotting fluff, me attempting period appropriate language. a/n: first lotr fic so take it easy on me pls.

legolas watched as you drew back the bow, missing the bullseye yet again. his giddy laughter could be heard from across the clearing, but you wouldn’t let him deter you just yet.

“do you surrender?” he called out jovially, his ribs still shaking.

“never!” you cried out, and drew yet another arrow.

it was the night before that led you here. you’d all been sitting round the fire, trading tales and sharing laughter when legolas became the subject matter, and with that, the butt of the joke.

“how hard can it possibly be to shoot an arrow?” you’d poked at him, a goofy drunken smirk on your face.

“for me, not at all.” he’d replied. “for you, however…”

you clutched your chest in faux offense. “how dare you?”

legolas couldn’t fight back his laughter at that. “you must be the clumsiest person i’ve ever come across!” he said. “the other day i saw you run into a tree!”

“i saw you step on a branch that jumped up and smacked you in the face!” gimli added.

the hobbits laughed ferociously imagining your clumsiness. it was an easy thing to picture, they knew it well.

“anyone else?” you asked snarkily, arms crossed defensively.

“i saw you close a door on your fingers.” aragorn snickered under his breath. you smacked him over the head with a smirk before setting your drink down, all seriousness and sobriety.

“fine, you know what?” you slurred, meeting legolas’ grinning gaze. “tomorrow i’ll prove to you how easy it is to shoot an arrow. i’ll do it myself.”

the men oohed and aahed like children, eager eyes flitting between you and legolas. “why don’t we make this more interesting?” he proposed, earning more sound effects from the fellowship.

you leaned in, like a dog whose ears had pricked up. “i’m listening.”

“if you do not hit a bullseye before sundown, you’re on night watch for a whole week.”

“and if i do?”

“you’re very optimistic.” he smirked, but you remained stone-faced. “then i’ll do whatever you wish for the week, i will be at your beck and call.”

“challenge accepted.” your hands met each other over the fire and shook.

now the sun was beginning to dip dangerously low, falling closer to the horizon by the minute. legolas had been stopping by to check on you, most of the time to tease and sometimes just to watch the angle of your arms, burnt from so much sun, the furrow of your brow, lined with determination and the way your eyes followed every ill-fated arrow, falling with them.

you reached back once again, only to find you’d run out of arrows. there’d be no time to get more and return before nightfall. legolas had won. you knew it was only a silly challenge between friends, but you couldn’t deny part of you wished to impress him, to make him proud.

“no luck yet?” he crept up behind you, a smile barely playing on his lips.

“gloating does not suit you, legolas.” you rolled your eyes, letting your hands come to rest at your sides, the bow with them.

“how fortunate i did not come to gloat then.” he grinned openly now, his palm covering your hand as he placed an arrow between your fingers and angled you just so. “do not think too hard about it.”

you took a deep breath in, legolas clouding your senses. he smelled of moss and earth and magic. his hand over yours, his shallow breath at your neck. these were the only things you could think of as you let go and watched the arrow fly for the bullseye as if on its own.

“there you are.” legolas hummed in satisfaction, reluctantly letting his hand fall from yours and stepping back. “just needed a helping hand.”

you turned to face him. “it doesn’t count if you helped.”

“the rules can be bent.” he shrugged. “i do make them.” for a moment he was cast in the last golden hues the sun had to offer before finally slipping past the horizon.

“but i wanted to- oh, forget it.” you sighed, turning away, not before legolas could spin you back to face him.

“what? what did you want?” he asked like a hound sniffing out a scent.

“i simply, i simply wanted to impress you. i know i’m clumsy and you’re so graceful and breathtaking. i only wished to make you proud, so that you could see me as i see you.”

legolas’ face had gone slack while you spoke, but now his brow furrowed with confusion. “is that what you believe? that i don’t see you as you are?” he asked in earnest. 

“you may be clumsy, and yes, we do tease you for it, but i assumed you knew it was only because it is the only fault you seem to have. you are brave, kind and intelligent. you make all of us smile, men, dwarves, hobbits and elves alike.”

he leaned in, cupping your face as if handling porcelain. “certainly you know- i’m afraid now i can’t be certain of anything.” he laughed and so did you, “but certainly you know of my feelings for you.”

“i think i do.” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“you think you do?” he smiled. “well, allow me to rid you of doubt.” you nodded, and then he kissed you. you threaded your fingers through the silver locks, careful not to ruin his braids. eventually, and much to your dismay, you both pulled back for air, nothing but your uneven breaths filling the night air.

“you’re much better at that than you are at archery.” legolas teased, earning a playful shove.

“it seems i’ve won though.” you smiled. “you said it, one week you must be at my beck and call.”

“oh, love.” he sighed fondly. “i already was.”