#and can't claim they just 'happened' upon it lol)

[miharuhebinata]

NEVER TRUST TV TROPES BTW TV TROPES IS A LYING FUCK.

[thought--bubble]

Same as it was

Aegon II X (Prostitute Reader)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count: 2432

Aegon Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Snake Banners by @arcielee

Caution Banner by @zaldritzosrose

Warnings:: dirty smut. There really isn't much plot lol. Oral (M & F Receiving) , Squirting kink, Overstim, cum play. Infidelity (technically).

A/N: This is my first attempt on Aegon and is based on some head cannons I have of him. I am totally open to any comments or suggestions about writing him.

"He's a damn usurper!" You whisper hushed to Marella.

Marella is your madame for lack of a better term.

"You're his favorite girl, and he has ordered you specifically. There is nothing I can do. " She grits her teeth and continues shuffling through dresses and holding them up against your body.

"I... I can't! When Queen Rhanyera inevitably comes to claim her throne, I'll be killed!" You bite at your fingernails, anxiety pumping through your body with such harshness you were afraid your knees would buckle.

"You place far too much importance upon yourself. You're a whore. They likely would just pass you off to someone else."

Your stomach turns at the thought. You don't mind working in the brothel. It feels safe. You have the madame and the other girls if something were to go wrong, but this, what Aegon is asking for, It's just too much.

"Why can't he just come here as he always has?" You plead with Marella desperate for her to understand your plight.

"Because he is a king at war. He can not just frolick into town and fuck a whore in his leisure time. He is being watched, and there is a bounty on his head!" Marella chooses a plain looking green dress that hugs your feminine curves. "Here put this on"

"NO! I'm not going!" You rip the dress from Marella's hands and toss it onto the bed. "If there is a bounty on his head and they come looking for that head while I am in his bed, what is to happen to me then?" You look at her expectantly with eyes wide. She couldn't possibly send you there knowing you will most likely be killed. Could she?

"You would most likely be killed. But if you do not do what he tells you to do, you could be killed right now." Marella picks the dress back up off the bed, shoving it harshly against your chest. "Die now or die later. That is your choice. King Aegon has made his choice, and that choice is to have you, up at the castle for him to call upon as he so pleases, I have grown to care for you over the years but not enough to cross the King! Now get dressed!"

You know she's right. Aegon wanted you badly enough that he sent two guards to escort you back to the keep. A place you knew you didn't belong. Queen Heleana is there. You have heard the stories of her generosity and kindness but how kind could she be to her husband's favorite whore?

Not to mention the ever so pious dowager queen, who no doubt would sooner set herself on fire then show any kindness to a whore who regularly services her married son.

"Why me?" You whimper to yourself as you drop the current brown dress you are wearing to swap it with the green one Marcella had chosen for you.

Marcella chuckles from behind you. "Never know with men. Sometimes they find that one thing they like and that's it. Whatever it is for Aegon, it seems you have it."

You roll your eyes and huff as you shake your head in disbelief. "Gods." You look up to the ceiling as soon as you have the dress on. Fighting back tears. He is going to get you killed, and you know exactly why, all because of that one thing you do in bed that he always claims is "so rare."

You straighten your back and shake out your limbs before you exit the room head held high, walking directly to the two men who had been sent to fetch you.

"Put this on." One of the men handed you a hooded cloak. You quickly put it on and lower your gaze. You were going to go with these men and hope that at some point in the future, there would be a chance for you to escape. One of the men grips your upper arm tightly as he leads you out of the brothel, and the three of you head up to the red keep. Each step bringing you closer and closer to your new life as the King's personal whore.

As soon as you breech the gate, the men move faster, and the man holding your arm pushes your head down further. Clearly, this was a mission that was to be completed without alerting other members of the royal family or council.

It is only once you are ushered into a chamber that you are finally allowed to lift your head. "Stay here." is all the man says before swiftly exiting the room.

That final bang of the heavy door slamming makes you flinch. "This is it, isn't it?" You hold your stomach feeling like the little bit of food you ate this morning might make a second appearance.

"I am going to be imprisoned in this room, as the King comes and goes as he wants." You push the hood back off of your head and look around the chamber.

It is the most beautiful room you have ever been in. Luxurious quilts are laying across the top of the large oak bed. A chaise placed strategically by the window a bookshelf to the left.

A small table and two chairs off to the side of the hearth and a wash basin in the corner of the room. If you had to make a choice in being locked up somewhere, this was probably one of the better options.

You take the cloak off and hang it over the back of one of the chairs and reach for the wine that was left on the table. You pour yourself a large cup and start to chug it, and as soon as you finish, move to pour yourself another as you hear the large door opening.

You close your eyes tight, you haven't seen him but you know it's him. That familiar chill crawls up your spine and the back of your neck, alerting you to his presence.

In truth, he is not a cruel man. As far as targaryens went, he was actually quite gentle. But he has a hunger that is incredibly hard to satiate. It's like he is empty and is desperate to fill the empty space with anything, sex, drink, food, anything he can get his hands on.

"How are you settling?" Aegon wastes no time at all quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist as he presses himself up against your back.

"Why am I here? You know you could always just send for me. " You feel him push your hair to one shoulder and start trailing soft kisses along your neck.

"Then I would have to await your arrival and hope you aren't busy with other customers." He gently nibbles up the side of your neck while sliding the flat palms of his hands up your stomach and over your breasts.

"This way, you're always right here when I need you." He presses himself tightly up against your ass. His hardness was evident through his trousers. "And I need you right now." He nips at the top of your shoulder, sending waves of pleasure through your entire being.

"And if someone asks who I am? Why I am here? In such nice chambers?" He chuckles into the crook of your neck.

"No one will ask. I'm the king I do as I like. " He whispers sensually into the shell of your ear as he pulls your dress down off your shoulders. "You know what it is I want"

You know exactly what he wants and how he wants it. That is why you are his favorite. You slide the dress the rest of the way down your form, stepping out of it.

You turn towards him a lustful gleam in your eye as you take his bottom lip between your teeth. "Of course I do your grace".

He takes your head between his hands and kisses you like you are air, and he has been suffocating. The neediness radiates off of him in waves.

You push him back and chuckle as you walk toward the bed. He might be a king and a feared man out there in the land of westeros, but in here, in this room, he is a desperate wanton fool and has no qualms with displaying it. He follows on your heels reaching his hands out trying to get hold of you once again.

You crawl onto the bed on all fours as he excitedly tears at his clothes, desperate to remove them as quickly as possible.

You stay positioned on your knees on the bed waiting for him. You have done this so many times, you know exactly how to start.

He jumps into the bed and lays down flat, pumping himself to hardness while he waits for you. "C'mon, C'mere," He whines as he reaches his hand out towards you.

You can't help but giggle at his desperation as you lift your thigh up over his head and bring your heat just above his face.

"Oh, thank you, beautiful." He says as you smother him with your cunt just the way he likes it. He dives in lapping at your soft inside while flicking your nub with his finger. His other hand pushing at your back urging you to get to work.

The feeling is overwhelmingly good, sending shocks of pleasure down your legs with tingling in your toes. You lean forward and take his cock into your mouth as he grunts loudly into your heat.

"Yessss, that is it" He growls and rubs his entire face into your cunt jamming his tongue inside your body with the finesse of an extremely practiced partner.

You moan onto his cock your drool dripping down the sides and pooling amongst the short silver hairs at its base. He moves his hips up jamming his cock further down your throat.

You make sure to take it as far as you can, fighting the urge to gag as the heat in your stomach builds up to an incredibly compact tightness.

You roll your hips dragging your cunt along his face feeling the smile he presses against your folds. He is in his favorite place burried in the cunt of his favorite whore. He harshly takes your hips in his hands pushing you down further onto his face. Lesser men would suffocate, but Aegon could breath you in all day and remain upright and alert.

He sucks and licks at your clit with precision knowing exactly how to make you topple over the edge and as soon as you do he brings his fingers to your clit and vigorously rubs in quick circles overstimulating the nerve to get exactly what he wants.

When your legs clench tight and you gasp with his cock hanging out of your mouth he knows he is about to be rewarded with his favorite treat. He opens his mouth wide as you gush over his face like a fountain, and he attempts to catch every drop.

He had accidentally found out that you were capable of such things one night down at the brothel and that is how you became his favorite whore. You always found it comical when the other girls would tell you of the borderline torturous overstimulation he would put them through just to test if they would do the same thing.

Aegon laughs with glee as he pushes you off of him. You assume the next position placing your cheek flush against the quilt of the bed, leaning your ass up in the air.

"See? Fully trained. Why wouldn't I bring you up here?" He chuckles giddily to himself as he grips your hips, placing you directly in front of him while he slowly slides himself into you. He loves to watch. He is a visual man this much you had learned. He spreads your cheeks apart so he can see clearly as his cock slides in and out, your wetness collecting at the base.

"I swear it gets better every time" He speeds up his movements gripping your cheeks harder as he continues to watch himself fuck into you with a look of utter satisfaction on his face. "This cunt. Somehow its perfect, does just what I want"

"Yes your grace" You feed into his need to be respected, you had learned that quite sometime ago, he wants to dominate, feel a sense of power and control that he just does not have in his every day life.

He ruts into you harder hitting that sweet spot with accuracy. He's been fucking you for years he knows your insides, probably better then you do at this point.

He brings one hand down around to your clit and rubs against it with moderate pressure.

"One more" He barks out with strained desperation. "C'mon"

As if Aegon's mere voice could command your body, you found yourself spiraling toward another release.

"Yes, your grace, as you wish!" You moan as he drills down into you gasping for air and rubbing your pearl furiously as once, again he makes you see stars, quickly changing the motion of his hand from a circle to a vigorous rub the overstimulation making your legs shake.

"Give me it, Give me it!" He commands, slamming into you with such force the posts of the bed shake. Everything around you slows down as the buzzing in your ears grows louder, and with one final screech, you give him what he wants and splash all over his hand and the quilt beneath you.

He then brings his wet hand up to your hip to hold you in place as he nearly impales you while chasing his peak, he reaches his end quickly with a snarl and as he does he pulls out and releases himself all over your backside spreading it over your cheeks and enjoying the shimmer of your skin covered in his spend as he rides out his high.

Aegon collapses down onto the bed with a laugh as you turn back to look at him.

"This is why you're here. War is stressful." He chuckles. "I won't have time to travel to that damned brothel as many times as I am going to need you."

"Need me?" You move up the bed careful to avoid the wet mess you had just left.

He gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. "Yes, I need you, and once I catch my breath, I think I'll need you again"

To be added to taglist click here

[drive-pdfs-and-stuff]

Hello! This is a blog primarily focused on making animal books (mainly Xenofiction) more accessible to those who can't get them legally (or don't want to support the creators)

I've made two separate drives that contain A LOT of pdfs of said books, such as Warrior Cats, Wings of Fire, Ratha's Creature, Watership Down, Survivors and many more you can see on this list

You can ask for the links through messages or comments!

More details about this under the cut!

Why not share the drives here?

Well, the last time I saw someone do that, the links got taken down, so instead I'll be sharing them through DMs!

Also, don't be shy to ask any questions.

There are two drives, the Main Books drive, and the Mature Books drive (which is mostly still a work in progress)

Please, specify if you want access to the mature books drive, and only ask for it if you're 18 years old or older, I will be checking if you have your age/age range in bio, if you don't have it, you can also say you're an adult when asking for it. (It's not a foolproof system, I know, but It's not like I want to ask for personal details)

The main drive has books that range from Family friendly to other series with an age rating of +13 or +15.

(I usually censor slurs before uploading the PDFs, but this time around, because of my own triggers, I haven't checked the contents of them and left the books the same as they were upon release, including slurs) (just because I left them intact, does not mean I agree with the usage of said words in the context of the books, which is why I added warnings for each slur in a document inside the drive) (I've personally censored every slur I've found in the books of the main drive, however)

The mature books drive has animal books that have a lot of content not appropriate for minors, such as animals going into heat cycles, uncensored slurs and a lot of other dark topics (like SA, for example). (Just because there's animal heat scenes doesn't mean that I condone the enjoyment of said scenes, if I see someone claiming to be zoophile wanting access to the drive, they will be blocked on sight) (This is not a safe space for anyone attracted to animals in such ways)

Some gross people have already asked me for the link to the mature drive, if more people like them keep asking for it i WILL DELETE IT.

For reference, this drive has books like Ratha's Creature and One for Sorrow, Two for Joy.

ALL BOOKS IN BOTH DRIVES HAVE A DOCUMENT LISTING ALL TRIGGER AND CONTENT WARNINGS FOR EACH SERIES.

The trigger warnings were sourced from book reviews and pages focused on giving content warnings.

Here are other questions you may have:

Can I share the link once I have it?

Yes! As long as you don't share it in public internet spaces (comments, public posts, open discord servers with huge amounts of people) it should be fine. I would love to make it public, however I also don't want it to get taken down minutes after sharing, which is why I'm limiting it to private links.

Can I take the PDFs from the drive and use them on my own drive?

Of course! The entire point of this is to make these books more accessible! Take whatever you need from here!

Have a nice reading! I will keep giving out the links for as long as this post is still up (or gets taken down or something happens to me lol)

[meanbossart]

I've been loving the DU Drow as a companio asks, so I've got my own. I was wondering what kind of interactions he would have with the other companions.

More specifically, we know Astarion flirts with almost anyone (for his own reasons) and even sleeps with Bae'zel at the tiefling party if you turn him down as a player. So, since the Drow is in the group now, what would his interaction with Astarion be? Would Astarion assume him to be the strongest and best chance of survival if manipulated? Would Astarion try to sleep with the Drow the same way he would with Lae'zel?

(Regarding the companions in general) Oh I can easily see him and Shadowheart having some cute party banter, they'd poke light fun at each other and have a similarly "darkly dramatic" reaction to things. He'd easily be the most talkative with her, often initiating mundane conversations about stuff you find. I can see some dialogue between them triggering upon finding one of the many drink-stashes you come across where they discuss what they like best when it comes to wine - or what they think they like, at least, considering the state of their memories.

Gale would be eager to inquire him about drow and the underdark, and where he got his fighting prowess from, which would visibly annoy DU drow since he can't fucking remember anything LOL he'd comment about how he always thought male drow were supposed to be a little… Flimsier, prompting a response along the lines of "I suppose my mother must have fed me well. I do have quite the appetite for loud-mouths."

Gale's like :U my goodness. Point taken.

He might talk to Karlach about Avernus, being fond of the savage nature of it. He'd also ask her if "something's bothering her" and when she asks why he's asking, he comments on how she can never seem to be still for long LOL

If Jaheira joins the party later she takes an interest in him (I WONDER WHY) and they could also share a little friendly banter. DU drow ends up asking her things about Baldur's Gate and herself to fill the gaps in his memory, as well as her children. He expresses how, if he thought himself more fit for a father, he'd have some of his own. Jaheira tells him it's probably better this way.

The banter with Astarion would be pretty par for the course - a mix between being flirtatious in nature and a little passive-aggressive all at once. At some point he says he can't keep quiet about how he stinks of carrion - DU calmly tells him that it can't be helped, due to their circunstances, and that he has a pretty cadaveric perfume himself. Astarion gets offended and tells him he knows for a fact that he smells lovely - DU drow tells him those statements need not be mutually exclusive.

He'd also ask Wyll about Mizora and what it's like to be in her servitute, claiming that he "wouldn't mind doing her a few favors himself" and Wyll tries his darn best to brush that off.

Lae'zel picks on him about his, erm, unreliable state of mind and accuses DU drow of basically being a ticking-time-bomb. DU responds that he feels less like a bomb and more like a vent releasing a steady flow of noxious fumes - if that helps her sleep better at night.

He also snorts at Minthara's "jokes".

(Onto the second part of this already far-too-long reply:)

And I THINK SO, I think Astarion would take him for being more easily manipulated than Lae'zel and try his luck there instead.

Small detour: you know, I always thought it'd be neat if some of the companions formed relationships with each other if you didn't pursue them. We see friendships form but romances would be fun too - like Karlach and Shadowheart could get together if you didn't pair with either of them, and Ascended Astarion and Minthara if you happened to have that party configuration in act 3. I don't really see many of the others having that kind of chemistry, but I wouldn't want the whole camp to be in love with each other anyway lol just 1 or 2 other couples would make the party feel more autonomous.

So, in a world where that's a part of the game, I obviously would say they get together if you don't romance either (from a mechanic standpoint player still gets first dibs LOL) and that unlocks unique party banter and dialogue where you can ask them about it once per act and reveal the "status" of the relationship. In act 2 you get to comment about how they seem to "steal away" together often. Astarion implies they're obviously having sex, and that he's always wanted to "try a little drow - but a big one is even better". If you ask DU drow about it he keeps details and motivations to himself, but acknowledges that they have something going on. You can then tell him that you believe he's being used, and DU drow very nonchalantly says that "he's well aware", but that he isn't worried about it.

In Act 3, when you ask again, Astarion somewhat bashfully reveals that the drow grew on him, and if you press on about the topic he reveals that they haven't even had sex since act 1, they just do a lot of talking, as he sheepishly puts it. If you ask DU drow about it he's much more upfront in saying that they've become an item, and that he's very happy in Astarion's company.

[sinning-23]

Piercings Pt.2 (Sanji x Reader)

First of all… THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE N SUPPORT ON THE LAST ONE! Nice to know we all love some Sanji lol.

Also if you want a pinch of context I suggest reading Pt.1 UHHHHH but if not enjoy this lol smut is one of my fs or things to write so uhhhh yeah! I hope I did good lol!

⚠️!THIS IS AN 18+ FIC MINORS BE TF GONE!⚠️

❗️Warnings❗️: Sanji being smug, choking, biting, cunnilingus, unprotected, p in v, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstim, sanji speakin that french

Pt. 1 here

Enjoy!

After the kitchen fiasco, you opted to keep yourself out of there until further notice. The wall ended up being scorched as well as some of the utensils he used. All the windows needed to be opened to clear the smoke out and it didn't help that the smell of charred food lingered for a while.

It has been about 4 days since then and every day you can't seem to keep your hands off each other. He's got his hands on your hips, claiming he just needed to get by with a quiet, "Pardon me, dove." His lips always dangerously close to your ear.

You were no better though, also claiming that you'd dropped something and needed to use his thighs for support when getting up, looking up at him under pretty lashes. This tension was that of a frozen lake, one misstep and you'd fall into him, hoping he embraces you like that of icy water.

Speaking of which, the burn you endured ended up being minor and the cold water did most of the trick. He insisted on bandaging you still. Just an excuse to touch you more.

Touch.

All you two ever did now was touch

And tease, and poke, and prod, in hopes of the other finally cracking and putting all that tension to good use. When you had docked at a smaller island in hopes of finding a marketplace (you did) Sanji didn't even ask if you'd join him.

He just took your hand in his, because it wasn't even a question at this point. You're with him unless you stated you wanted otherwise.

Walking past the vendors, his hand stays at your hip, more possessive than anything. You poin tout something you like? It's yours. See something you want to try? It's yours.

These days you're growing more and more concerned for his wallet. Anytime you'd try to decline he's simple shake his head, draw your hand to his lips, and kiss your knuckles.

"Anything for you, chérie"

The crew could sense this.....energy loomin' over the two of you but of course nothing was really said...that is until Nami nudged her head in the direction of Sanji when you two happened to be on the main deck this afternoon. You quirk a brow as she leans in to try and keep the gossip between the two of you.

"What really happened for the kitchen to catch fire? I mean?" She questions with a smirk, making you laugh, nervousness laced in the tone.

When you two first told the story, Sanji said he had distracted himself and took too long preparing other parts of the mean and he lost track of what he was doing and how long.

You, on the other hand, said that you accidentally bumped the stoved handles making the flames higher, and maybe a towel or something caught fire.

It was all bullshit.

When Sanji had taken it upon himself to plant kisses down your neck, he left something quite noticeable that wasn't there before. It was all bullshit and everyone knew it. You distracted him, and he just couldn't help himself.

"I-I told you what happened Nami. It doesn't matter anyway! The kitchen is back to normal thankfully." You sigh, trying to figure out what exactly you came out here to do?

Oh, that's right.

Find some way to get your hands on Sanji.

"If you say so, but,” Nami shrugs, pausing when she see's Sanji follow to the back of the ship, his eyes focused on you, pupils blown wide. He falters but only for a moment, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Then he leaves, your breath stuck in your throat.

"I think someone's waiting for you to follow them so..." Nami observes, palm coming to hold your shoulder.

"Don't set anything else on fire." She teases, seeing you full on sprint to where he was.

You look around, the hall empty. He just went this way didn't he-

You're snatched up, mouth covered in the quiet of the hallway, a hand firm on your hip. Before you can even process your attacker, a set of lips is hungry against your own, a hand at your throat. You can hardly breathe from the shock, both teeth and tongues against one another as you embrace.

Sanji’s got you close against him, his back against the wall with your chest to his, one leg keeping your thighs apart as you lean into him. He still has one hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you whine, wanting more pressure.

The height difference makes you lean upward, itching to have all of him. Despite the hall being quiet, your little secluded corner is awfully loud with the sounds of your labored breaths combined.

"Sanji...Sanji wait-" You speak between kisses, his hands under your shirt now, immediately massaging the area over and around your back dermals.

"Ne parle plus, je veux juste te goûter. "

That shut you up, quick, the sound of his mother tongue slipping past his lips when he can't seem to keep his hands from wandering.

"What if we get caught." You gasp, feeling him bite down particularly rough on your collarbone.

"Y/n, know that right now, I don't particularly give a fuck. I need you." He huffs, still tasting every in inch of exposed skin he could find.

His lips are soft, brushing over your neck with a smirk. He knows the mess he left over your skin, bark bruises, and indents of where his teeth had been adorning it.

"They know the whole kitchen thing was bs." He chuckles darkly, his next sentence sinking straight to your cunt.

"I'm sure they're well aware of who you belong to now. I made your neck even more of a work of art honey."

You're practically soaking through your panties now, and are in dire need of friction. In an attempt to secretly get off, you grid down against his thigh...

But hes quck to notice.

"Oh, that's why you’re worried. Let's go." He exhales with a smirk, pulling you to his room and swiftly closing the door behind him.

It's not messy by any means, the bed is made neatly with a pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. You would’ve loved to look around more but Sanji is back on you and there was no way in hell you’d complain about that. He’s quick but calculated, sliding his hands under your shirt before pulling it off completely.

There's no time to be flustered, you'd both wanted this for quite some time now and you could both keep up with one another. Your skin prickles with he sudden chill of being topless, your nipples hardening slightly. It's just enough for him to see what else you were hiding.

Beneath your bra, were of course your nipples, but there they were, pierced, the bars through them being decorated with jade at each end. His breath hitches and god had he gotten impossibly harder at the sight. You're sitting on the edge of the bed now, Sanji kneeling before you with pupils blown wide.

All the permissions needed was the slight smirk on your lips and your back arching as if to invite him to touch and taste as much as he pleased. Without hesitation, he's got one in his mouth, tongue swirling around your already sensitive bud. The other he squeezes, thumb brushing over the area.

You can't help but sigh in pleasure, tangling your fingers in his hair while he makes it his mission to kiss all of your torso, noting the matching belly button ring. How did he not see this before? Well, most of your shirts were loose anyway. God he loved how adorned your body was with jewelry, like you were some kind of treasure just for him.

He can tell you're growing impatient with the way you push your hips forward, most likely trying to the feeling to relieve a little pressure with the way your pants pressed against you there.

"Let me taste you, please."He aks, breathless, lips still somewhat swollen from kissing prior.

You nod unable to speak with how damn pretty he looked. On his knees, eyes glossy and lustful, asking for permission to eat you out?! How could you say no? You lift your hips, sliding the jeans down just enough for him to pull the rest down.

You were right, your panties were damn near soaked, your arousal wetting the front. Sanji only moans at this, knowing it's all his doing. The feeling of him pressing kisses to your clothed clit makes you shiver, and he doesn't stop, tongue wetting the area as if to tease.

"Please Sanji, I need-" You pause for a moment, a bit embarrassed to ask for this. He only chuckles and runs his finger up your still-clothed folds, then massages the plush of your thighs.

"What do you need honey, tell me and I promise you I'll make it happen." Hes eager, kissing, sucking and biting at your inner thigh now, the feeling making you dizzy with desire.

"I need your mouth on me...please." You whine, trying to close your legs to relieve some of the pressure but he only spreads them apart again, strong hands keeping you there with a dangerous look in his eye.

"You'll take what I give you. Now be a big girl, ask for it, and stop chasing it, sweetheart." He thinks to himself "My mouth is on you. See?" He demonstrates, kissing your thighs again, one had on your hip, massaging circles there while the other tossed your leg over his shoulder, the action only spreading you wider.

Little shit. He knew exactly that you meant.

"No, you know what I mean. Please. Eat me, Sanji." You plead, feeling him smirk against your front.

He's got your panties off in no time. Almost immediately latching to you as he slurps you up, tossing your other leg over his shoulder now too. Your thighs act as a pair of headphones essentially, your fingers tugging at the blonde locks as he moans in response.

You can feel it now, your orgasm coming faster than you thought with how well he was eating you up. Like a starved man and his first meal in ages. He lapped at your juices, taking a chance at sliding not one, but two fingers into you.

"F-uck!" you stutter, feeling him curl upwards, still sucking at your clit.

He knows you're close, but he doesn't care, keeping that same pace to work this out of you. You can feel that damned piercing, rolling slowwwwly around your clip. Another cues slips past your lips. "Ohh, such a dirty mouth honey? Are you gonna cum for me? Can't even control yourself." He teases, watching you grip the bedsheets as your stomach muscles clench.

There it is.

Somehow his lips are back on yours, swallowing up the moans from your orgasm as his fingers slow in pace, trying to get you to come down from that high. Multitasking came easy to him, so for him to keep fucking you, now 3 fingers in while also using his free hand to push his own pants down was no hard feat.

How many times did he practice that??? Your hands are gripping his shoulders, nails digging into him in surprise when you feel the tip slide against your slick folds.

For a moment your eyes meet and damn do you have a chance to really, really look at him.

His face is dusted pink, eyes bright red. His eyes are glossy, pupils wide, lips shiny and slightly parted as he tries to catch his breath. He's no different than you now, admiring how you look, how you breathe, the way you cling to him like he'd vanish somehow.

It's intoxicating.

Your lips meet, softer this time, your heart beating like crazy with your stomach twisting in delight, full of butterflies. You're soft, and so is he, so much more gentle now in realization of what's about to occur. This means more to you now. It’s not a one time thing. You have no time to overthink because his voice, husky and passionate.

"Are you okay with this? Do I have permission?"He asks, pitch almost a bit higher, likes he’s holding back a whine.

Such a gentleman through it all. It makes your heart swell. You nod, whispering out an awestruck 'yes' before connecting your lips again. And the stretch when he slides in makes you both shiver, his hips stuttering into a pace, both his groans and your heavy breaths filling the space.

Impulsively wrapping your legs around his waist makes him thrust deeper. The feeling makes you arch, a louder moan slipping past your lips and it makes him chuckle a bit before succumbing to his own pleasure with a moan.

"Tu te sens si bien ma chérie" He whispers, your foreheads pressed together more intimately.

"Fuck, you fill me up so well." You whimper, slightly tugging the hair at the nape of his neck.

The action makes him moan back, teeth gritted as he thrust into you faster, his free hand coming to circle your clit. It's almost too much, another orgasm close behind. You'd never felt so full, his dick hitting parts of you that didn't know about. Perfect, like he was meant for your cunt. Your walls flutter around him and his thrusts begin to get sloppy.

"Oh gods, y/n I can't. Please let me fill you up chérie. Please-" He's pussy drunk, but you can say the same about yourself when he keeps hitting that spot. You're both bound to burst.

"Cum for me Sanji, please baby I need you to." You purr, bitting his shoulder, kissing the area to soothe it.

He's got his face in the crook of your neck now, a strangled moan leaving his lips as his thrusts slow. He doesn't stop though, still trying to work one last orgasm out of you and succeeds.

Your body is already spent from when he ate you out but this, definitely put you over. You cling to him, labored breaths all you can hear. He doesn't leave your cunt yet, trying to stabilize first.

"If you were worried about getting caught, I think we were loud enough for the crew to hear so." He chuckles, still fatigued. You shake your head with a smile pressing kisses to his face.

He takes his time pulling out, cum spilling out of you when he does. Your ears don’t miss the slight choked back moan when he does. It's quiet but it's comfortable. He leaves for a moment, bring a towel back to clean you up with. There are plenty of kisses here and there, most likely a pre-apology for marking you up even more then before.

He works quickly, dressing you in one of his shirts, which proves to be too big on you but neither of you care, his heart fluttering at the sight of you in it.

....

"So, nipple piercings and a belly ring, huh sweetheart?"

Tag List:

@minishimi @legalize-arson @vespidphoenix @kira-scarllet @princess-eddie @hobiesrockstargf @peachyminx @thefandomqueen2882 @kira-scarllet @coconut-jam-and @muppet-wannabe @karmazwrld @

[spooky-pop]

So how did rock branch end up coming along for the rescue? I know how it went in canon, but that bc branch lived in pop troll territory.

TEXT WALL LOL:

I have it loosely planned to be made into a comic, but basically Poppy and Branch cross paths a handful of times and have some tense interactions (and negative) up until the Bergens come and attack the village. Poppy noticed Branch coming around Pop Village again here and then, but didn't understand why he's suddenly there and he wouldn't say. He is just a mysterious, charming, frustrating Troll who came and went. He is...not very nice to her, kind of bitter. He is trying to maintain distance between them, and she finds him irritating. Lots of banter and also mystery. Despite being childhood friends, she does not immediately remember him because he was so different from the Branch she knew, and she also believed the Branch she did know probably died out there when he left. She does not realize it's him until later. Branch never forgot about her.

Before the Bergen attack, Poppy is hanging out with her friends when she happens upon a red guitar, partially broken, lost and on the ground, almost as if it's owner dropped it in a hurry. She notices a sticker on the back that causes her to obsess because she WANTS to know where this came from. Her friends try to convince her that maybe the guitar belonged to somebody back in Pop and they would find it's owner eventually. But Poppy knew something was different about it.

When the Bergens come after the big party to celebrate the anniversary of leaving the Troll Tree, Poppy makes the decision to go on her own to get everyone back. Branch appears yet again and gives her grief for her mistake and pokes at her for getting herself in this situation out of carelessness. After some back and forth, Poppy asks Branch if he will come with her since he seems to know his way outside Pop village, to where he says absolutely not, telling her she got herself into this mess and he wants no part of it, and how he just can't wait to see how she will get herself out of this one. He was just here to try and get something of his back, and he would be on his way.

Poppy realized the sticker on the guitar matches a patch he has on his jacket. He was back looking for his guitar. The guitar she found in the woods was HIS, and must have been pretty important if he was here just to get it back. She plays with him and proves to him that she has the guitar, but she'd only give it back if he helped her get her friends back first. Completely annoyed (and a little impressed) by her, he agrees, but only to get his guitar back, claiming he wasn't doing this for her. And...that's how it starts! Then they both go on this journey where they eventually learn more about each other and what happened in their past. Eventually, he wasn't in this just to get his guitar back, because she was more important to him.

I have a lot to iron out detail wise but that's what I had in mind. Branch's guitar is a big part of how things unfold and progress. And of course I'll elaborate WHY this guitar is the most important thing to him. Soon enough ;)

[bitethedevil]

More Than Our Fathers (Raphael x Demigod!Reader): Chapter 1

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five

Read this on AO3

Summary: It was in the years after the Fall of Netheril that fate decided to push the two of you together: the daughter of the God of Divination and the son of the Archdevil of the Eighth. An unlikely pair, but you learned throughout the years that you had more in common than you thought: you were both driven by ambition and you both longed to become more than what your fathers made you.

Word count: 4,968

(Notes: Note that the Reader is named. Her (your) name is Sibylla. I just need to name my characters, I can't even explain it. It literally just means 'Prophetess', if that helps. There is a lot of lore in this one and you can see me explain more in depth on AO3 if you care about it. I'm so excited for this one. For once, I've actually got everything planned instead of my usual 'fuck it we ball' attitude to fics. This chapter is essentially the backstory of their relationship. The majority of the plot will take place from the time of the BG3 canon events. We just have to speed through 1600 years of backstory before that lol)

You were the daughter of a mortal woman and the god Savras. Your father had many titles: Savras the All-Seeing, the Lord of Divination, He of the Third Eye. Once a mortal wizard with an exceptional talent for the art of divination, Savras ascended and became the god of wizards.

You were blessed to have been old enough to remember your father’s greatness and cursed to live long enough to see his fall.

Savras the All-Seeing had been challenged by the powerful mortal wizard, Azuth, and lost. Azuth rose to power as your father fell. It is said that he lost on purpose because he saw something in his visions that was yet to happen. It was a decision that many of his faithful worshippers said demonstrated the wisdom and insight of their god. Wisdom and insight, they called it…You called it docility and wasted potential.

Azuth imprisoned your father in a magical artifact that would later be known as the Scepter of Savras, in the hopes that he could harness Savras’ powers and use them for himself. The scepter disappeared before Azuth’s plan could come to fruition. More than a thousand years after the imprisonment of Savras, the scepter was found and Azuth agreed to release him if he swore a pledge of fealty to him. Savras accepted.

Unfortunately, the scepter displaced itself immediately after Savras’s release, taking with it the majority of his divine powers. Once again, the Scepter of Savras had disappeared and it continues to be lost, constantly moving, with only a chosen of Savras or someone with a touch of the divine being able to wield it. Someone like you.

After his fall, Savras went from being the god of wizards, to the god of divination. He became little more than Mystra and Azuth’s lapdog. A mere shadow of his former glory. You had never been close with your father, but his downfall made him a disappointment to you. After he fell, you felt ashamed to be related to someone as foolish as him. He had wasted his potential.

A potential that you would happily exploit yourself, should you ever get your hands on the Scepter of Savras and claim your father’s old powers…

You were born with an innate gift for divination magic. It made you a sorcerer by technicality, though you would eventually study and become a powerful wizard as well, following in your father’s footsteps. Sorcerers were widely looked down upon by the wizards that made up for most of the population of the city you were born in, though you had been a special case because your father was still the god of wizards at the time.  

Your powers allowed you glimpses into the future. Your visions were quite random, though they became clearer with age, and you had found a way to strengthen them: by physical touch. When touching another person’s skin, you were able to look at the threads of fate and time that bound them: their past, their present, their future. You only needed to know what to look for.

You were born in the kingdom of Halruaa. It was the same place your father had once lived before he ascended and became a god. It was a land of magic in the southern part of Faerûn. The magocracy of Halruaa had once been created by Archwizards who had foreseen the fall of Netheril and fled the empire.

You yourself had been born a few hundred years after Netheril’s Fall, but you vividly remembered the stories of Karsus’s Folly that were told to you by some of the old Netherese refugees. It was because of one of those survivors that your own threads of fate were to be bound to Raphael’s.

It was about 250 years after Karsus’s Folly and some hundred years before your father would fall to Azuth in battle. You were at the very beginning of your immortal life. Your mother had died when you were just a child. A 500-year-old wizard by the name Melesmer had taken you in and he became like a grandfather to you. You looked up to him, listened to his endless reminiscing about Netheril and clung to every piece of wisdom he bestowed upon you.

Melesmer was most likely the last person alive to give first-person accounts of the old empire at that point, but he was also at the end of his time. Old age was starting to eat at him despite the magic that had slowed his aging. When you were only twenty, you had seen him die peacefully in his bed in one of your visions. You knew you only had a year or two left with him, but you did not have the heart to tell him that.

Melesmer spoke Halruaan like you, but the more his old age started to eat at his memory, the more he started rambling to himself in Netherese. Sometimes it seemed as if he had completely forgotten everything around him and found himself back in Netheril. You had learned just enough of the Netherese language to understand what he was saying over and over again:

“They are screaming and crying…” he would mumble in Netherese while his eyes looked empty. “The children. They are under the rubble. Our children…”

You had one day come home from the market and you heard the sounds of talking coming from inside the house. There was nothing odd about that in itself. You were used to young apprentice wizards visiting Melesmer every now and again. They would often be seeking out the old wizard’s wisdom or wanting to listen to the stories he told of the old empire.

What made you stop in your tracks, was the fact that they were speaking in the common tongue. Melesmer never managed to adopt the same skepticism towards foreigners that was commonplace for the born and bred Halruaans who feared that outsiders would come and steal their magical secrets.

You put down what you had in your hands to go and see who this foreigner was that was visiting.

You entered the room and the man in front of Melesmer looked up at you briefly. The man looked young, around twenty like yourself. He had brown hair, brown eyes and was dressed in expensive Halruaan silks, no doubt in an attempt to fit in with the local customs. The young man gave you a brief polite smile before turning his attention back on Melesmer.

There was something odd about the stranger and you felt it immediately. You put your hand on Melesmer’s shoulder, to interrupt his talking and ask him about his guest.

“Grandfather,” You greeted in Halruaan and then nodded to the stranger. “Who is this man that you are talking to?”

“Sibylla, dearest,” Melesmer answered in Halruaan. “This man has travelled far to hear about the fall of Netheril and Netherese magic.”

“Raphael,” Melesmer said in the common tongue, addressing the stranger. “This is my ward, my pride, Sibylla. She is the greatest seer in Halruaa there have been since her father became a god and left the city all those years ago.”

“Grandfather,” You said sternly, warning him not to speak any more of it in front of this stranger.

“Is that so?” Raphael asked. His eyes had lit up by what Melesmer had said, and his smile widened. He got to his feet and walked closer to you.

“I swear it,” Melesmer said, the old man’s voice full of pride and his soft features turned into a bright smile.

“What an honor,” Raphael said and took your hand. “It’s not every day that one meets the daughter of a god.”

Raphael looked you in the eyes and placed a kiss on your hand.

You took the opportunity of the touch to figure out who he was and what he wanted.

When Raphael touched you, a vision flashed behind your eyes, and you saw what he really was. You withdrew your hand from him immediately, as if you had been burned.

“Leave,” you hissed at him. Magic was crackling around your fingertips in warning.

Raphael smirked at your realization.

“Grandfather, this man is a devil. This vermin is taking you for an old fool,” you said to Melesmer while not taking your eyes of Raphael for a second. “He is a son of Mephistopheles himself.”

By his reaction, Raphael seemed to at least know the Halruaan word for ‘devil’, and his smug expression faltered slightly at hearing his father’s name. Melesmer blinked in confusion and looked at Raphael.

“It is quite rude to talk over one’s guests. Especially in another language. My Halruaan is rather unpracticed these days, so I will simply assume that whatever you said was a compliment,” Raphael said smoothly with a tight-lipped smile and narrowed eyes. “I am not here to harm anyone…I am merely seeking information.”

“You’re seeking the Crown of Karsus,” you said to him.

Raphael looked genuinely taken aback for a second, but quickly returned to his smug self.

“I am…” he said.

“Your father has it in his vault where it will stay for at least a thousand years more,” you said coldly. “You’ve got more than what you came for, cambion. Leave.”

He looked at the ground as if in thought for a moment and a flash of fury washed over his face, though you got the sense that his anger was not pointed at you. His fists clenched and his eye twitched slightly before he looked up at you one last time.

That look sent another vision through you, this time manifested through a feeling: familiarity. This would not be the last time you saw him.

“Thank you…” Raphael grumbled and then snapped his fingers. He disappeared in a flash of smoke and embers.

You would not see each other again for another couple of hundred years, but ever since that day the devil was keeping an eye on you.

You changed a lot as you grew older. After your father’s fall, you completely discarded his teachings and dogma. You were not supposed to use your sight to further the goals of others or to meddle with fate, and you were also supposed to only ever tell the truth of your visions. You threw it all away and started your new life, cutting the already fragile and barely-there bond to Savras.

You had long since left Halruaa behind. Your services became well sought after and your reputation as a powerful seeress quickly spread throughout Faerûn. Your reputation often proceeded you whenever you arrived in a new city, and you rarely ever had to seek out your clients yourself.

You whispered in the ears of dukes, emperors, and kings, ensuring their rise or their downfall, depending on how you felt about them and how they could further your goals or fill your gold purse. It came with enormous power. A few whispers in the right ears could mean the rise to power for one person, while hiding parts of the truth could make another walk carelessly into their own doom.

Even though you were a savior to some and a villain to others, it never changed how many wanted your help. Your luck was that dead clients usually could not complain about your services and if anyone dared to question how your earlier clients met their demise, you would simply tell them that they did not heed your warnings.

You quickly became well-known and your recognizable features, that spread both awe as well as fear amongst the smallfolk, worked to your advantage. You had the silver hair and ghostly pale eyes of your father.

The widespread myth about you went that your ghostly appearance was caused by you looking into the future and seeing something that terrified you so much that your eyes and hair lost their color. What you had ‘seen’ varied depending on the region you were in, you noticed. Some say you had seen your own death, some the end of the world, while others had a whole third wilder theory. You never had it in you to tell them you were simply born that way.

It pleased you to no longer be known as Sibylla, the daughter of Savras. You were simply Sibylla the Seeress, now. Your own person and removed from your father, who you hoped would be forgotten to time eventually.

It was in the then young city of Athkatla in Amn, that you would run into Raphael again, a few hundred years after your first meeting. Your client in the city was amongst one of the city’s most powerful men. A rich merchant by the name of Bernard Barth.

Barth was an old and greedy man who had grown paranoid in his last days. He was certain that the younger rising star amongst the city tradesmen, Garrick Mordell, was out to steal his place amongst the nobility of the city.

Barth was an excruciatingly frustrating client. He was a loud, opinionated, and stubborn man. His son, who would one day take over his father’s business, was even worse. They were the perfect image of the overindulgent upper class. It was so clear that they had never had to struggle a day in their life, and it irked you, but the Barth family’s generous payment for your services were more than enough to sway you to stay.

You were sitting in Barth’s opulent office, and the two of you were waiting for someone. You had seen who would be joining you in your visions: a middle-aged dark-haired stranger. You did not think much of it before the man entered the room.

You immediately recognized that there was something about him. He dressed like all the other upper-class citizens of Amn, but you could have sworn that he looked familiar. As if you had seen him somewhere else, though you could not quite put your finger on it and no visions sprang to your mind.

“Raphael,” Barth lazily mumbled in greeting. “You’re late.”

“Saer Barth,” the man greeted with a bow and a smile. “My deepest apologies.”

That voice and that name. You had definitely met this man before, but where? You would have to touch him to learn more about him.

You rose from your chair and held out a hand to him.

“I’m afraid we haven’t met before,” you said with a smile. “Sibylla.”

“Raphael. A pleasure to meet you,” Raphael said with a smile and shook your hand.

Your brow furrowed slightly when no visions came to your mind at the touch. You looked down and noticed that he was wearing gloves. You kept smiling politely but your eyes narrowed at him. He looked at your expression with a teasing smile, before sitting down and turning his attention to Barth.

You were barely listening to what Barth was rambling about. He wanted Raphael’s help for getting rid of his competitor, though you could not figure out how exactly. All you learned were that Raphael seemed like a man who had good connections. Besides that, it sounded like Barth’s usual paranoid speeches about Lord Mordell’s rise, so you tuned him out.

You were much more interested in who this man was. He seemed so familiar and yet it escaped you who he could be. Your eyes kept drifting to Raphael as you tried to place his face in your mind. At some point he caught you looking. He looked back at you with a knowing smirk, which only made you even more frustrated.

He knew who you were, there was no doubt about it, you thought. Now you had to figure out who he was. If only you could somehow touch him, if only for a brief moment.

“That’s the short of it,” Barth grunted after rambling for about an hour. “We will reconvene tomorrow and see if you can come up with a solution. Leave me.”

Barth waved the both of you away with his usual rude and entitled manner that you had grown so accustomed to. You both left the room, and you walked slightly faster to catch up with Raphael.

“Saer,” you called to him. “A moment of your time, please.”

Raphael turned around and faced you with a smile.

“Yes?”

You got a chance to study his face a bit closer, but it still did not ring any bells. There was just an overwhelming sense of familiarity.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” you said. It was less of a question and more of a statement.

“Have we?” Raphael asked with a mock innocent expression. “I am quite certain that I would recall if I had met someone like you before.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. A look in his eyes told you that he was playing with you.  

“Yes, we have,” you said. “Who are you?”

His smile widened.

You got frustrated and reached out to grab him, trying to pull his gloves off or get your fingers under his coat.

“My! Aren’t you eager?” Raphael laughed and raised his arms so that you could not reach them. “I did notice how you were stealing glances at me in there. I’m afraid I’m not interested, dear.”

You reached out to touch his face instead, but he dodged it.

“We know each other!” you said stubbornly and pointed at his face.

He laughed at your frustration.

“So insistent,” Raphael said and pulled off his glove.

He held his hand out to you, and you took it. A vision passed your mind’s eye. Your eyes widened in recognition. Then your brow furrowed, and you looked him up and down.

“A pleasure to see you again,” he said smoothly.

“You got…old?” you said with a slight sneer. “You looked younger when we last met. I thought your sort didn’t age.”

“I look more matured, not old and we do not. My appearance is by choice,” Raphael explained.

“Why would anyone choose to look old?” you asked. “Eternal youth is one of the few upsides of immortality.”

“I do not look…” Raphael closed his eyes and sighed, before changing the subject. “You are taking all this in stride it seems. I would have expected more hostility from you once you remembered me. Not at all that fiery young girl I remember meeting all those centuries ago, it seems.”

“Things changed,” you said with a shrug. “I’m just trying to make a living. Same as you, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” he said with a smile before changing the subject. “I heard about what happened to your dear father. The great All-Seeing robbed of his place in the Heavens and trapped in a stick that no one seems to be able to locate. What a shame.”

“A scepter, not a ‘stick’,” you said. “What’s it to you?”

“I merely wanted to offer my deepest condolences,” Raphael said with a smile that showed the complete opposite meaning of his words. “I do wonder if this is the reason for this little rebellious streak of yours. I hear all sorts of surprising things about you these days, little goddess. Recently, I’ve heard rumors about a certain powerful noble in the city of Illusk whose family met a quite brutal death when a horde of orcs had invaded the city district that he ruled over…”

Your pale eyes narrowed at him. You knew exactly what he was talking about, but he should not be able to know about that.

“So?” you asked with slight shrug and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Don’t play dumb, dear,” Raphael purred. “He was a client of yours, was he not?”

“He was,” you said. “And?”

“One has to wonder why you neglected warning him about this. I also find it such an odd coincidence that the High Captain of the city seemed so well-prepared for the assault, though he did not spring to action before after the horde had marched through your client’s district. The High Captain who, coincidentally of course, was also known to be very outspoken about his low opinion of your client.”

“Yes,” you said with another shrug, smiling. “What an odd coincidence.”

“Isn’t it just?” Raphael said with feigned wonder.

You looked him up and down. You had to at least be impressed by the fact that he had managed to do his research so well.

“I told the High Captain, and he offered me a small fortune if I did not warn my client of the assault,” you admitted. “As I said…I’m just trying to make a living…”

Raphael chuckled.

“My dear, you would put some devils to shame,” he said. “I wonder what old Savras would think if he knew what his daughter were up to.”

“Couldn’t care less,” you said coldly and avoided the subject. “Are you spying on me or something?”

“’Spying’ is such a cynical term. I’m keeping an eye on you, yes,” Raphael said. “You seem like a useful person to know. Not to mention, I find you deeply fascinating. Especially now that you are no longer clinging to the boring and rigid dogma of your father.”

It irked you that he kept mentioning Savras. Especially when his own relationship with his father seemed to be at least as messy as your own, from what you saw when you touched him.

“You keep bringing up my father,” you said with annoyance and defensiveness. “Should we talk about yours instead? I saw plenty of interesting things to talk about when I touched you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Raphael said with a hint of annoyance, though still smiling.

“I thought not,” you said with a smile. “What are you doing here? Out for old Barth’s soul?”

“Did your little visions fail to reveal my intentions to you?” Raphael asked.

“What I saw was a mess of contradictions, which suggests that you are undecided on the matter, so no,” you said and looked him up and down. “All I really care about is if you intend to kill my current employer.”

Raphael smiled.

“Would you be opposed to it if I was?” he asked.

You raised an eyebrow at that. There might be an opportunity here, you thought.

“In principle, no. Let the old bastard rot in the Hells for my sake,” you answered coldly in a lowered voice in case anyone was eavesdropping. “Though the old bastard in question is still paying me a ridiculous amount of money, so what do you have to offer in return if I let you?”

Raphael’s smile widened.

“Perhaps, you and I are not so different after all,” Raphael said in a lowered voice as well. “You help me procure the soul of both old and young Barth, and I will give you all of the gold that Lord Mordell has offered me in exchange for their demise.”

Your eyes widened a bit at the revelation. Perhaps Barth had not been as overly paranoid as you had thought. Mordell really was out to get him it seemed. Though Raphael must have been instrumental to his plans because you had not seen any threats of Barth’s demise in your visions yet.

“How much gold are we talking?” you asked.

“Fifteen thousand,” Raphael answered casually.

Your jaw almost fell to the floor. That was twice the amount you had managed to squeeze out of Barth during all your time with him. At the time, it was enough gold to buy a house or two.

“And you would just hand that over to me?” you asked in disbelief. “I find that very difficult to believe.”

“I’m a devil, dear. Gold is of little use to me. The economy of the Hells runs on souls…” Raphael explained.

You studied him for a moment. You were interested in the idea, but you had to make sure that you were not letting him somehow rope you into a deal. You would also have to be sure that this would not be traced back to you.

“I will encourage them to sign your deal. You will pay me half before their death and the rest after. I don’t care how you mean to kill them, but make sure it’s not too messy and it can’t be traced back to me. You will also leave their wives and children alive…gods know they’ve suffered enough by having to deal with those two idiots…And I am also not signing anything.”

“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” Raphael said with a smile. “Fine. We have an agreement.”

As soon as you received the vision of your client’s demise, you left the city. You were staying in an inn, well on your way to Esmeltaran when Raphael popped up out of nowhere. You jumped at his sudden presence. He snapped his fingers and a bag of gold appeared on the nightstand. He looked around your room before seating himself in an armchair.

“Not quite living accommodations befitting a demigoddess, I would say,” Raphael said while looking around at the shabby room of the inn you were staying in.

“I don’t like staying in one place too long,” you said. “You’ve handed me the payment...”

“I have,” he said with a smile and snapped a bottle of Amnian dessert wine and two glasses into existence.

“So…” you said and made a shooing motion with your hands. “Go. Leave.”

“Is that any way to treat a business partner?” Raphael asked and feigned offense. “Where are your manners?”

Raphael smiled at you and held out a glass of wine. You looked him up and down and reluctantly took it.

“To us,” he said and clinked glasses with you.

You were looking at him with a deadpan expression.

“You are getting off on this, aren’t you?” you asked. “The fact that you managed to strike a deal with a demigod. That’s why you keep talking about it, isn’t it?”

“Perish the thought,” Raphael said and sipped his wine. “Can I not simply be thrilled about managing to strengthen the bond between myself and an incredibly useful acquaintance?”

You rolled your eyes and sipped the wine.

“This is a one-time thing,” you said. “And I would really appreciate if you stopped spying on me.”

“You are making it very difficult for me to do so when you are so fascinating to spy on,” he said. “I don’t see why we should not do this again. I think you would find it quite useful to have friends in low places with the direction you are currently headed in, dear. We could be good for each other.”

“I can see how my moral compass is a bit all over the place at the moment, but that does not mean I want to work with you, cambion,” you said and sipped your wine.

“You keep calling me that, as if it is meant as a slight. I am what I am…Although I do much prefer the term ‘devil’,” Raphael said. “I have long since raised above the station of a simple cambion.”

“I’m sure you prefer that, but it doesn’t make you any less of a cambion,” you said. “You are a half-mortal, like me, and there is no running from it. You are no more a devil than I am a god.”

“What a depressing way to view things,” Raphael mused and swirled the wine in his glass. “We are what our father’s made us, are we not? It is their blood that ensures that we are still alive, where had we been mortals, we would be long dead. It is their blood and the powers granted through it that has gotten us here. It is evident to anyone that there is nothing mortal about us, and yet you cling to the notion. Do you really think that we cannot be the same as our fathers, if not one day more than them, simply because we were once carried in mortal wombs?”

What he had said struck a chord, but you were never going to admit that to him.

“Thank you for the wine…and the philosophy lesson,” you said in a stern tone. “You should go.”

Raphael smiled at your urgency to get rid of him.

“I am sure you will warm up to me eventually,” he said. “We have an eternity to get to know each other, after all.”

His persistence was starting to truly infuriate you. You were not going to be business partners, or even acquaintances, with a fiend. You had heard all the stories about the vermin of the Lower Planes, and you did not want to be associated with them. It was beneath you.

“No,” you quickly said and emptied your wineglass before putting it on the table. Your eyes turned threatening. “You will leave me alone after this, do you understand? I am not interested.”

He chuckled at your growing hostility.

“Or what?” he asked with a smile. “Will you smite me, little goddess? I am at least a couple of thousand years your senior, do you really think you could take me?”

Raphael walked closer to you until he was right in front of your face. He was still wearing his smug smile.

Your eyes had turned thunderous at the blatant provocation, and magic was crackling over the skin of your hands in warning. Raphael looked down at your hands, without moving his head.

“Should we find out?” you asked with a tight smile.

His eyes drifted from your hands and back to your face. He was still smiling as his eyes went from the smile on your lips to your pale eyes. You saw a hint of admiration in his eyes. He lifted his hand, ready to snap.

“We will see each other again, Sibylla,” he said in a low voice and then snapped.

He disappeared in a flash of smoke and embers. 

[therobotmonster]

So... Shapeways is going bankrupt.

This is particularly irksome for me, as that's a good 1/3rd of my monthly income, so I'm crossing my fingers while I start setting up a new store on cults. I have literally thousands of items so getting them all up is going to take ages.

But why did this happen?

Well I'll fucking tell you what I think happened.

It was a company run on arrogance and cowardice.

Shapeways made its mark as the cafepress of 3d printing. The weight of this was their marketplace that let people sell prints directly to customers without having to do the printing themselves. At its peak, I made more from Shapeways than from my day job.

The problem was that Shapeways put zero effort into the marketplace. They'd send some of us to a con to promote the idea of 3d printing game minis a couple of times, sure, but when it came to actual site maintenance and design every suggestion and request by sellers was roundly ignored. We asked for better search and categorization options. We asked to be able to name variants in our stores. We asked for better communication from the print techs. We asked for accurate subcategories that actually reflected how customers looked for items. None of it was done.

As such, the site was baffling to customers and difficult to understand. This was made worse by Shapeways' continual renaming of their materials. So after a couple of years Shapeways announces that they're not going to do anything for the marketplace because it's underperforming, and are going to focus on B2B, and in doing so they buried the marketplace in a tiny little link on the front page.

Overnight sales plummeted. We complained again, nothing was done. We asked for a different URL that went straight to the marketplace (something that would literally cost them $80 to do) that we could direct customers to, we were ignored.

The marketplace is underperforming, so we won't put in the effort needed to make the marketplace perform. Makes perfect sense.

Prices go up. Shipping goes up substantially, and then it was a thousand little cuts. The auto-checks were altered to make it impossible to verify anything manually with any accuracy, so it became harder to design for the limitations of their printers.

The site slowed down substantially so every click had a several second pause, making shopping and maintaining frustrating and unpleasant. Shipping costs to many areas of the world became insanely high, effectively cutting off entire markets.

Want to not be Shapeways? Then remember this:

Your users know more about your site experience and their own needs than you do.

If you have a sales site, and the people selling through it say "this isn't working, we need this" then maybe you should listen to them and not just say 'you're wrong' to their faces.

Oh, and also, if goddamn Rolls-Royce comes in filing false DMCA claims over the use of the word "Phantom" in any context on your site, you don't take every item through a multiple day review for every edit and say "LOL, we can't do anything"

You take them to court for abusing the system on behalf of your user base, you fucking bootlicking cowards.

OH, AND I ALMOST FORGOT!

I HAD TO FIND OUT ABOUT THIS FROM A DM ON TWITTER.

They've sent me a check every month for half a decade and they don't even send a "We're closing shop" email.

Look upon my prints, ye mighty, and despair.

If you want to help me though the meantime, here's my paypal.me and my gofundme.

[skxllz]

𝐩𝐚𝐮𝐥, 𝐰𝐡𝐨...

gives you his pinky ring on a silver chain to wear around your neck. you claimed that he calmed your anxieties - and he knew he couldn't always be there for you, but a part of him could be.

actually learns to play the guitar for you because he knows you prefer live music over recorded. the way your eyes lit up when he strummed a song out for you during bedtime warmed his undead heart.

caresses your cheek and holds your hand every chance he gets. both of you guys’ love language was touch; he wanted to always feel your warmth, for he was as cold as the ocean at night. it comforted him and reminded the vampire just how fragile you were.

compliments you every minute he can because he knows you have self esteem issues. you don't have to worry about being insecure; with paul around, a negative thought can't even enter your mind.

leaves a rose at the foot of your bed every night. he knows romance fell through these days, but he wouldn't let yours die out anytime soon. a rose a day keeps my baby at bay, was his go to phrase since he knew you love romantic gestures.

let's you ride in front on his motorcycle because you told him before you were afraid of falling off of the back. he wouldn't dare let you get hurt. and although he believes it wouldn't happen, just comforting you eases him.

picks you up by the waist and flees from the room whenever a spider is spotted. neither of you like them, but he rather his partner be out of the way first hand.

kisses each of your knuckles individually everytime he comforts you. the first time he did it, you were having a panic attack and he immediately noted it soothed you. he's done it ever since.

throws you over his shoulder when you're sad. you hate it, and he knows it; making the blood rush to your head makes you laugh and he rather it be out of frustration than watch you sit around with a frown upon your lips.

hides david's cigarettes when he raises his voice to you. he knows you hate being yelled at; no one crosses that line, not eben him. he'll be damned if his brother gets away with it.

that's all I have for now <3 this is lazy lol.

[twitteringthings]

Chapter 56 - Second Spoiler Analysis

Okay everyone, my gears have been TURNING and GRINDING. So, I am going to analyze the shit out of this second spoiler because why not throw caution to the wind and come up with the most bizarre predictions 2 days before the new release?! Beware!! lol XD

My thoughts are under the cut!!

Body Language!

As far as I know, we haven't seen D hold Y in this position before, it's protective and provocative at the same time. Idk, looks like D's staking his claim to me...And trying to provoke something from Y. Confession? Truth? Desire?

D still has all of his clothing on, he hasn't even taken off his gloves, what this says to me is that Y probably said some snarky shit and D couldn't take it anymore? But Hoooowwww did they get from the couch to here?! I'm assuming Yashiro tried to walk away from and dismiss Doumeki AGAIN, but he said 'NOOPEE, not this timeeee."

Yashiro is obviously nervous/stunned/literally backed into a corner. So, I assume we are at the point where D gives Y another ultimatum? ORR he's provoking him with his words? "Why did you want me instead of Kamiya?" "I know you only respond to my touch" "You know you want this" "Why do you hold yourself back with me" "I know" "Yashiro-San, do you actually have feelings for me?" LOL I'm spit balling here!

Y isn't looking D in his eyes (he's looking down), almost like he can't face the TRUTH of his emotions. Maybe that's what D is trying to probe out of him here.

Not a prediction buuut...Look at D's hand on Y's ass! :0 Anyone else getting hot/nervous?

I really think D is asking Y a question here, his mouth is open slightly and Yashiro is sweating and looking down as if he's trying to find the "right" (shit to say that won't give his feelings away) thing to say.

Yashiro's right hand is slightly raised, will he touch D? Put his hand on his chest? Caress his scar?? I'm going to explode, it's not safe for me to run away with my thoughts like this LMAO.

What Could D Be Saying?!

I honestly think he is either bringing up past situations he realized that were acts of care/desire from Y or telling Y that he knows about his impotency/true feelings.

"What you said about me to Tsukanawa was a lie, you threw me away because you couldn't handle falling in love." AHHH IDK IDK!

"Tell me you want this - tell me you want me, and I'm yours." HAHAHHAGSUGAHSGSHA

"Are you still afraid of me - to be with me?"

Who knows at this point?

Final Thoughts

First, Disclaimer: I could be wrong about literally everything here, but what can I say? I like to get my own hopes up! These are just my humble opinions and hopes that I share about my favorite love story <3

I think the confession is upon us. Unless Kamiya interrupts again, if that happens, I will break the fourth wall myself and tie him up in my basement. Or if Nana calls...but it's the middle of the night so I doubt either things will occur. Anyway, I think this is the chapter we will see Y take what he wants, and his walls totally crumble. Who knows, he may even cry again but this time he will allow Doumeki to comfort him. Will Yashiro make love to the Doumeki from all those years ago? Will Doumkei finally take off his pants?! Will Yashiro touch Doumeki? Whatever happens, I'm just happy to be here, lol.

It's so fun predicting Yoneda-Sensei's next move, I'm terribly thrilled for whatever is in store!!

[yuri-is-online]

Hello yuri, first time anon here 👋👋.

Love your works. They converted me into an aceyuu stan lol. But also consider:

Aceyuu to "Rewrite the stars" from the greatest showman.

It could be the time loop au, soul bond au, or just regular au. It could just be in the song's regular pov (Yuu having their hands tied by going home and not wanting to break Ace's heart or Ace literally defying and turning back time to keep Yuu alive despite the prefect's inevitable death) .

but imagine the singers could also be swapped (like Yuu being the first voice that says their love could work, and Ace being hesitant to outright act on his feelings (and still failing)).

I've just been fed this vision of a brainrot for the past 3 days and I don't know what to do with it XDD.

Lots of love and stay hydrated 💞.

|˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉ��� hello annon nice to have you here. I would apologize for inflicting aceyuu brain rot upon ye but I would not have received this ask and I happen to rather like your idea. There are so many good songs for aceyuu and this one is an easy add to the list. Given how the stars are literally able to grant wishes and astrology is very real it's especially fitting! Yuu's stars spell out a grim fate indeed, it would be an impossible task to rewrite them alone. Lucky they don't need to do that ¬‿¬

Now let's see...

Honestly, both povs suit both Ace and Yuu, especially in the time loop au. I can easily see Yuu pleading with him to accept their fate, not because they don't want to be with him but because they can't stand seeing him destroy himself over and over again. "You know I want you//It's not a secret I try to hide//But I can't have you" But Ace, he's just so determined to save you specifically that nothing else matters so he keeps. Going. At it. To the point we get to that classic Madoka/Amnesia trap where both Ace and Yuu are sacrificing something to save the other because the stars decided to give them opposing fates. Ace wants to save Yuu, who wants to save Ace who wants to save Yuu who wants to save Ace who can stop me if I decide//That you're my destiny? No one, that's the answer. Something else has to give because it isn't going to be either of these stubborn bitches.

Same with normal timeline stuff. Ace is singing the second pov out loud but the first one is more in line with his actual feelings. He would complain the entire time, but he would rewrite fate for you and claim he just happened to be in the area. Yuu's actual attitude is up to the player's interpenetration, but I like a Yuu who gets so frustrated with Ace's one step forward two steps back that they sing the first pov out loud even though they're very conflicted about going back home. Sort of like how both singers fall into a blended pov at the end. Both of them want to rewrite the stars, but have doubts about if it is possible. Doesn't mean they won't try.

SoulBond au Yuu more fits the second pov. Especially the bit about "not [being] the one you were meant to find." Yuu really thinks there has to have been a mistake, if they were meant to be with Ace why weren't they born in Twisted Wonderland? They're going to get sent back eventually won't they? That would just be too cruel a fate for anyone. Ace though... he has this voiceline in his Master Chef card where he says if he is told he is not supposed to do something that's just a guarantee he's going to do it (he's such a youngest child ◔_◔) and that doesn't change just because it's soulbond bs. Sure, he might not be crazy about the concept but he is crazy about you, and just because you might have your doubts and he might not have made the best first impression but your bound. No one, not the stars, not Crowley, not whatever gods exist in your world or his get to say what you are to each other because you can both feel the truth. You're soulmates, bound by a strange magic most consider a curse, and that won't be stopped by something as trivial as you being from a different world.

c: thank you for the ask annon

[skitskatdacat63]

Happy 5/14!!!!

Aaaaahh not sure if this is my best work 😭 I just really wanted to draw smth for vettonso day but my brain hasn't really been functioning well LOL so I kept dreading working on this, especially bcs its so important to me, y'know? I hope it's good????? I'm happy with the concept, but I was just so unsure on so many of the angles and it was killing me. I did the color thing bcs I thought it'd add something interesting to it :) since I didn't paint it as I usually would

Anyways! Process!

Now I will explain all of them:

Boy king au is where it all starts of course. I think their relationship is the most developed in this compared to the others, but at the same point, they just start from such a different point, especially affection-wise. All of these kinda have a power dynamic, except the last one, and this is the most imbalanced. Fernando is being subservient, the only part of Seb he may kiss(in public lol) is his hand.

Matador au next. They hurt themselves when they try to be affectionate, because they live in the culture of a sport of violence and death. The sword separates them, their love for the sport keeps them apart, in fear that they hurt each other. Seb, yet again, looks down upon Fernando. Seb haunts Fernando's whole career, the constant overhanging presence. Also aside from that, shame that you can't see his three musketeers look bcs of the black background 😔

2012 core!!! I think this one is pretty easy to understand. Both of them often kiss their trophies, more so than any driver. So they're both trying to claim the wdc trophy by kissing it. Maybe you guys should just get rid of the trophy altogether and claim each other! But yes, just like the sword in the matador au one, the trophy and their ambitions divides, keeps them from ever bridging the vast gap between them, at least at that point in time.

The conclusion! Aka what I wish we will get at Imola 2024- kidding kidding. But it is 2024. Finally there is no conflict between them, there's no big thing keeping them in conflict, they can finally come together. Finally they can touch, there is no gap to bridge, they can appreciate each other, and appreciate what they failed to in years past.

The thesis is basically that they always have their aspirations between them, and their aspirations happen to be basically the same thing. Until those are resolved, the gap between them is too vast for them to recognize and/or find any commonality. How do you get along with someone when you're both fighting for the same thing? How do you get along when it feels like one of you is winning more? How do you get along when there's such a vast gap?

In boy king au, it's going to take a while before they both feel settled about the issue of the throne. That's what makes that au interesting, they're trapped in this state of non-closure and they have to actually solve their issues without the matter of one of them simply removing themselves from the equation. They have to find a way to get over themselves and their aspirations, because like it or not they're stuck with each other. I think with the hand kissing, it represents how Fernando, at that point, is only willing to play along with the game if it's tradition, and he often won't budge in other ways. Yes, I will show subservience, but only in this detached, formal way that I don't connect personally to. He's still holding his own bitterness over meaningfully appreciating Seb. Though it's not like Seb isn't at fault. It takes a while for him to not hold things over Fernando, and constantly humiliate him. One day they will meaningfully show affection, and it won't be some sort of power play.

I think matador au is pretty similar to real life, and the 2010s era(it's basically just their actual plot line but in the context of bullfighting.) They're forever going to have this big elephant in the room, and it only really gets resolved when one of them leaves the sport. Once they're not fighting directly against each other, they realize what they've been missing out on and what they were not appreciating for so many years beforehand. They finally come together because they can't just rely anymore on the sport keeping them together. They actually have to make that step to be in each other's lives, rather than just taking their presence for granted.

Also the text on the comic. "We keep missing, and missing, and missing, and finally kissing." It's basically: we keep missing the point of it all, we keep failing to appreciate each other presence in our lives and in our own individual grand stories. But when we're not forced together anymore, we have to make the choice to come together again ourselves. We keep missing what we actually need to do. Missing each other in favor of our aspirations. Etc etc. One day we will finally embrace and there will be nothing keeping us apart.

[ginnsbaker]

what comes of telling the truth (or even part of it)

Summary: The guilt, more than anything, is what Yelena wishes she could wash away. She wishes she could stop the cycle, stop using Kate as a balm for her wounds. She wishes she could face her head-on, with honesty. But in this very moment, all she can do is rinse, lather, and hope that someday, she finds the strength to break free from her own destructive patterns.

Word count: 10.7K+ | Pairing: Yelena x Kate, Past Yelena x Reader | Tags: Light angst, fluff-ish

A/N: This is for all of my ILGOSS readers. Requested by anon:

Wait may I ask for a short story or one-shot on how Yelena and Kate ended up together? I'm still kinda curious tbh lol. Kate's patience is applaudable, but I can't help but think what if Kate is just a rebound

I had fun writing this oneshot because I have a soft spot for the sex-first-feelings-later trope :P

Masterlist

-

It's not stalking if you just happen to be in the same row of seats at the same event. Even if, for instance, you're based in New York and the event is in Chicago, and attending isn't exactly obligatory.

Right? 

Kate Bishop insists it's not. She's read numerous discussions on Reddit about stalking, and none seemed to describe a situation like hers. 

The thing is, she didn't exactly think it all through. Just like any rich girl prone to making impulsive decisions when money isn't an issue, she snagged the first flight to Chicago upon hearing about a chance to see Yelena again.

She didn't factor in that Yelena had upped and left with only a text as a goodbye. She didn't ponder over the fact that Yelena seldom replied to her messages since moving to a different state, if she even did at all. Had Kate truly heeded these signs, she wouldn't be anywhere near the front row where Yelena sits, nonchalant with a passive countenance. She wouldn't have spent the last half hour or so ruminating on how to approach her. Instead, she'd be back in the Hamptons, sipping on Piña Coladas without a concern, because that's what Bishops customarily do on their weekends.

Except, reading the situation has never been her strong suit. She's always been forthright with her feelings and actions. It's what Yelena claimed to like about her, so here she is, simply being herself.

Kate glances towards Yelena from the corner of her eye, trying to discern any signs of emotion. For anyone else in the room, Yelena appears unmoved, but Kate, with her intimate knowledge of the girl, can see the minute shift in her posture, the almost imperceptible crease in her brow. She's always been good at noticing the subtleties in people, especially when it came to Yelena. But perhaps this is where the problem began.

They never labeled what they had. It started off as casual. Friends with benefits, they'd joked in the beginning, no strings attached. Yet Kate, somewhere along the way, had tied a rope around her own heart. Her mistake was entering the arrangement already having fallen for the girl. And it didn't even begin when they started sleeping together. It happened way before Kate got to know the taste of her skin, the way a smile would sneak onto her lips with a contented sigh after she climaxed, or the way she'd clutch at Kate's shirt when Kate did something just right—too right.

Kate had believed she was okay with it, that she could handle being just a detour in Yelena’s life. But then she saw it—the way Yelena's walls crumbled when you came into the picture. It was a poignant twist of irony, watching Yelena fall unapologetically in love when she’d always been so cautious, so guarded around Kate. The woman who had so adamantly refused to be ensnared by love was openly enthralled by it when it came from someone else. Kate would listen, forcing a smile, as Yelena talked about you, and it would eat away at her insides. She tried to be supportive. But that didn't work out either. In the end, Kate still lost her.

And now, sitting mere feet away yet worlds apart, Kate grapples with truths that are lodged in her throat. She wonders if Yelena will ever see her as more than just a diversion, a temporary harbor. It's a cruel thought, and one that Kate can't shake off. But she knows herself. She won't run from the situation. Instead, she'll face it, no matter how much it tears at her. Because, for better or worse, that's just who she is.

-

She only gathers enough courage by the end of the seminar.

When the final speaker steps off the stage, and the flurry of applause begins to die down, Kate takes a steadying breath. She tells herself it's just Yelena—even though everything has changed. Her heart pummels against her ribs, a restless plea, as she forces her legs to move in Yelena’s direction. 

“Yelena,” she calls out softly when she's a few steps behind her.

Yelena turns, and for a moment, there’s no recognition in her eyes. Then, something flickers—surprise, confusion, a touch of alarm.

“Kate?”

Kate nods, her palms sweaty. “Yeah, hey. It's been a while.”

Yelena’s eyes scrutinize her, searching for something. Perhaps a reason for why Kate would be here, in Chicago, after all this time and after everything that's happened.

“What are you doing here?” The question isn’t accusatory or harsh. Just curious.

“I…uh, I wanted to see you,” Kate admits, more to herself than to Yelena. “I mean, I was already here for this convention, saw you walk by, and thought I'd drop in to say hi.”

Yelena’s smile is a little too tight for Kate’s liking. This isn't unfolding anywhere near how she had hoped.

“Hi,” Yelena utters nonchalantly, her gaze skimming over Kate's shoulder to whatever holds her attention beyond.

Kate swallows the lump in her throat, trying to push past the frosty reception. “I was going to ask if you wanted to grab coffee or something, you know, catch up,” Kate says, offering a lopsided smile that she hopes might charm Yelena into agreeing. 

But Yelena merely offers a tepid one in return, her eyes hard and unyielding. “I appreciate it, but I have plans,” she replies.

“Oh, okay,” Kate responds, doing her best to conceal the sting of rejection that pierces through her. She fumbles for a moment before managing to continue, “Well, if you ever change your mind, I’m staying at the Evergreen Hotel for a couple more days. I'm on the 32nd floor, room 3206. Not that...uh, you need to know...but just in case.”

Yelena’s green eyes remain inscrutable. “It was nice seeing you, Kate,” she finally murmurs. “Enjoy your time in Chicago.”

And just like that, she's walking away, leaving Kate standing amidst the dissipating crowd, trying to make sense of the chasm that has seemingly formed between them.

-

Someone rings her hotel room at 11:45 in the evening.

Kate, snug in her pajamas and reading a brochure about the local Chicago sights, isn't expecting visitors. She moves to the peephole and is caught off guard when she recognizes the eyes staring back. Yelena's pupils are dilated, clearly indicating she's made several stops before her feet brought her here.

Opening the door hesitantly, Kate takes in Yelena's entire demeanor: the set of her jaw, the tightness in her posture, the fiery look in her eyes that seems to oscillate between anger and something that immediately shoots a jolt of desire down her core. “Yelena?” she whispers, a hint of trepidation in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

Yelena doesn’t answer. Her breathing is ragged and uneven, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on Kate's.

“Look,” Kate says, her voice shaky, “if you could just give me a moment to change out of my pajamas, maybe we can get coffee in the hotel lobby or—”

“Why did you tell me you were staying here?” Yelena questions, her voice dangerously low.

Taken aback, Kate blinks a few times, panic bubbling up in her throat. “I-I don't—”

Without a word, Yelena steps forward, closing the distance between them. Her hands cradle Kate’s face, and she crashes into her in a kiss that’s hard and desperate. Kate is momentarily stunned, her thoughts obliterated by the sudden onslaught of lips and tongue. But then she reacts, wrapping her arms around Yelena’s waist and nearly lifting her as they move deeper into the living room. She uses her foot to kick the door shut behind them as Yelena takes command of the kiss, pushing into Kate with an urgency.

It’s been too long. But still—

But still, it feels instinctual, the way Kate's lips gravitate to that spot just below Yelena's ear, applying just the right amount of pressure to elicit that familiar sigh from her. Yelena's hand finds its way to the nape of Kate's neck, fingers intertwining with her hair before pulling roughly to break the kiss.

“Yelena…”

But Yelena pins her with a look, a surprisingly vulnerable one. “No talking, please,” she breathes. “No talking.”

Yelena's never begged her before. To Kate's embarrassment, it's usually been the other way around. It's only hitting Kate now that their months of estrangement have deeper repercussions than she initially realized. 

But before she can process the thought further, Yelena’s fingers are impatient as they fumble with the buttons of Kate's shirt, all while her lips never leave Kate's, each kiss deepening in urgency. Kate's hands, equally fervent, roam over Yelena's back, gripping at her shirt and pulling her even closer. They maneuver around the space, half-stumbling, half-guiding each other towards the bedroom. With a soft thud, Kate is gently pushed back onto the plush mattress, Yelena hovering above her. 

The ritual is as familiar to Kate as the back of her hand, yet a feeling stirs within her that this time might stand apart from the rest—perhaps the moment when her dreams finally bleed into reality.

So she gives Yelena everything she has to offer—and then some. 

-

When it's all done and Kate is lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, with Yelena softly snoring beside her, a thin sheet loosely covering her bare torso, Kate's mind spins erratically. 

Yelena’s proximity, so desperately craved for months, now feels like an intrusion into a grief that she’s scarcely begun to comprehend. She acknowledges that her sudden appearance in Chicago, after everything that transpired, may now seem more self-serving than she'd intended. 

She hadn't fully grasped the depth of Yelena's pain—pain so consuming that Yelena felt the need to flee to another state just to find a semblance of peace.

-

Morning light seeps through the curtains as Kate busies herself in the hotel kitchenette. She tries to make breakfast, aiming for familiarity in a situation that's anything but. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla fills the hotel room as she meticulously flips pieces of golden-brown french toast, trying to keep herself focused on the task.

Then, the muted sound of a door draws her attention. Yelena steps out of the bedroom, dressed and seemingly ready for the day. Her appearance, so sudden and unexpected, makes Kate's heart race. She becomes acutely aware of her own state: clad in nothing but an oversized shirt that barely reaches her thighs, exposing her legs and the curve of her panties.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” Kate offers meekly.

Yelena gives a slight nod. “Thanks, but I think I'm going to head out.”

Her eyes momentarily drop to the floor. Then, with deliberate steps, she closes the distance between them. Leaning in, she places an awkward kiss on Kate's cheek, then sidesteps her and makes her way to the door.

Kate remains still, eyes locked on the french toast that's now charring at the edges. With a sigh, she turns off the stove and contemplates what other sights Chicago might offer beyond the iconic bean.

-

Kate has her dinner early in the evening and waits by the door, just in case Yelena decides to show up again.

She doesn’t.

After spending another 48 hours sequestered in her hotel room, she packs her bags to head back to New York.

-

As soon as Yelena arrives at her apartment after her night with Kate, she heads directly to the shower.

The hot water cascades over her, but it does little to soothe the turmoil roiling inside her. Each droplet feels like a sting of reality, a reminder of the choices she’s made. She rubs the soap with more force than necessary, the lather not just cleansing her skin but also representing her desperate attempt to wash away the guilt.

It's not Kate she's trying to forget. It's her own actions, her own reasons for going to that hotel room. She’s aware she’s used Kate’s affection for her own comfort far too many times, each encounter chipping away at what little integrity she feels she has left. She hates herself for it. For taking refuge in Kate's warmth, for using her time and time again, and then leaving her in the cold morning light.

The guilt, more than anything, is what Yelena wishes she could wash away. She wishes she could stop the cycle, stop using Kate as a balm for her wounds. She wishes she could face her head-on, with honesty. But in this very moment, all she can do is rinse, lather, and hope that someday, she finds the strength to break free from her own destructive patterns.

-

Months pass without them seeing each other until Yelena returns to New York. Her media company sent her back for training, placing her under the guidance of someone who, in Yelena’s opinion, was a “complete unknown”. It's only a matter of time before she runs into Kate Bishop.

That happens sooner than Yelena expected when three days after her arrival, they bump into each other at a more upscale gathering. Yelena's attendance was mandated even before her first official workday, with the primary goal of extensive networking. She wears a sleek black strapless gown that reveals a fair amount of cleavage, but even that doesn't catch Kate’s attention. Instead, Kate's focus is clearly on the date accompanying her, arm-in-arm. Yelena’s hand is clutching the arm of another man, but he's just a work friend of hers who, coincidentally, is also gay. Clearly, she's not the one with the upper hand in this situation. Not that she—

Yelena is taken by surprise, not noticing Kate's approach until she's almost beside her. “Yelena, hi,” Kate says softly, standing just centimeters away. She looks stunning in her three-piece suit, her hair pulled back with a few curly waves framing her oceanic eyes.

Yelena manages a, “Kate,” in reply, before turning to her companion and saying, “You said you wanted to talk to the chief?” Her friend appears confused for a brief moment but then nods in eager agreement. She excuses herself quickly, not catching the brief, tight smile that graces Kate’s lips.

“Chief? Really?” her friend teases as soon as they're safely distant from her current source of distress.

Yelena rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. “I needed a quick exit strategy.”

Chuckling, her friend replies, “From Kate Bishop? Come on, Yel. You two have history. Ducking away like she's the plague isn't the mature way to handle things.”

Yelena lets out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I know, I know. It's just... the last time we met, the morning after was... less than ideal.”

“The morning after?” His eyes widen in realization. “You slept with her again?”

Yelena bites her lower lip and nods. His gaze sweeps the room, likely searching for Kate, before settling on her attempting to subtly look in their direction. “Well, that complicates things,” he muses.

“Tell me about it,” Yelena mutters, taking a sip from her champagne glass.

“Why don’t you just talk to her. Set things straight—”

She arches an eyebrow, “You think one casual chat is going to fix things?”

“Reminding her that you don’t have feelings for her and never will might just do the trick,” he says with an amused grin. “You don’t have feelings for her right?”

Yelena hesitates for just a moment, her eyes not meeting his, “Of course not,” she replies, her voice not as steady as she'd hoped.

He studies her, a knowing look in his eyes. Just as he's about to comment on her poor lying skills, Kate approaches again, this time without her date.

Kate's eyes are fixed on Yelena as she draws closer. “Mind if I steal her for a second?” she asks, not really waiting for an answer as her hand gently wraps around Yelena's elbow. Her touch sends a chill through Yelena, an electrifying jolt that she’s been trying to forget for months.

He simply nods, giving Yelena a sympathetic glance before prancing towards the bar.

Kate guides Yelena slightly away from the crowd, not to a secluded corner but just a few steps away to offer a modicum of privacy. Yelena finally extricates her arm from Kate's grip, building a wall with her posture. “What do you want, Kate?”

“I want to talk,” Kate simply says.

Yelena lets out a sigh, her jawline tensing. “Go on.”

Kate takes a moment, ensuring her words would be precise, “I'm not here to rekindle anything or chase after you. I'm not that naive anymore. You don't have to avoid me or disappear when I'm around. I'm over you. And I just... I want us to be able to coexist, especially in circles like these.”

Yelena's lips slightly part in surprise, the slightest quiver of something akin to pain shadowing her features upon absorbing Kate's frank words. Kate, with her perpetual, unfiltered candor, always did have a way of stripping a situation down to its stark, naked truth. But isn’t this precisely what Yelena wanted? To be free of the guilt, of the heavy, choking shroud that's been her constant companion since she left that hotel room months ago? Kate doesn't want her anymore. This should ease things, shouldn't it?

Yet, why does a peculiar tightness settle in her chest, a subtle ache that she dare not explore? Yelena swallows hard, facing the blunt force of Kate's liberation with a brittle nod. 

“If that’s what you want,” Yelena manages to say.

Kate tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as they scrutinize Yelena's face, seeking, probing. A ghost of a smile curls on her lips, devoid of genuine mirth as she observes the other woman’s discomfort, palpable even amidst the high-society glitter surrounding them. 

“What I want?” she echoes, voice imbued with a tempered steeliness, “Yelena, I'm handing you exactly what you've shown you want.”

Yelena’s eyes flutter away from Kate’s, uneasy, yet a stony facade refuses to let her susceptibility bleed into view. 

“You’ve always made it abundantly clear where I stand,” Kate murmurs. “And I’ve been nothing but annoyingly stubborn about it.”

“Kate, I never intended to—”

“It’s okay,” Kate interrupts softly. “I kept coming to you with these expectations, but you were clear from the start. You said it was just about sex—nothing more. I just hoped... maybe that could change with time.”

Yelena's throat constricts, the words she needs to say lodged firmly behind a barrier of guilt and self-reproach. “I’m sorry,” Kate adds, her voice thin and fragile, yet it reverberates loudly in Yelena’s ears.

“I—” Yelena begins, but the words falter, the apology sticking in her throat. It was her who owed Kate apologies—a sea of them, for every late-night encounter, every hurried departure in the dawn light.

She inhales sharply, fingers twitching at her side. “Kate, if there's anyone who should be apologizing, it’s me,” she finally says. “I’ve been selfish and unfair, and I took advantage of your feelings because it was convenient for me, and it allowed me to ignore my own.”

“I'm not blameless here either,” Kate says.

“It's not the same," Yelena persists, “I knew what I was doing each time I—”

“But so did I, Yelena,” Kate breaks in, her steadiness unwavering. “Every time I came to you, I knew what it was and what it wasn't. I chose to stay, each time. That’s on me.”

It feels like they’ve reached an impasse, neither knowing what comes after telling the truth—or even a part of it.

“So, what do we do now?” Yelena murmurs.

Before Kate can muster an answer, the sound of footsteps draws their attention. Kate's date slides smoothly into view, holding two glasses filled with a bubbling amber liquid. Upon seeing her for the second time, Yelena notices that she's an incredibly attractive woman who carries an air of elegance about her with effortless grace. 

“There you are!” she exclaims to Kate with a smile. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Kate, her eyes still lingering on Yelena, slowly pivots towards her, an almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. She gives her date a brief smile before glancing back at Yelena one last time. 

“It was nice seeing you, Yelena,” she says, mirroring the same words Yelena had used months ago, before turning away to enjoy the rest of the night with someone else.

As the noise of the event surrounds them, Yelena's friend returns, looking between her and the departing figure of Kate and her beautiful date.

“Is it over?” he asks cautiously.

Yelena's gaze is distant, her eyes unfocused, but she finally blinks, pulling herself back to the present. 

Her voice is a little shaky when she replies, “I need a drink.”

-

Kate was the first person she felt a connection to when she first came back to New York. The city's crowded streets and glaring lights felt foreign, like a twisted mockery of a place she once called home. The skyscrapers towered, the taxis honked, and the people bustled about, but none of that felt familiar to her—as if the welcome banner had been replaced with a glaring message that this was not the same place she had left eight years ago.

The airport had been a blur of faces, each one more indifferent to her existence than the last. She half-expected, perhaps even hoped, to see her sister's familiar face waiting for her among the crowd, but all she was met with were strangers hurrying past, engrossed in their own worlds. Natasha was continents away, in places she couldn’t know about, shouldn’t know about. 

And then there was you—the only other person she considered family, the only other face she yearned to see upon her return. Yelena could've called you if she wanted. Natasha handed her your number, with the faint hope that Yelena might muster the will to congratulate you over the phone. But she never did, aware that she wouldn't genuinely mean it if she said she was happy for you. 

Her fingers itched to grab her phone and dial your number, knowing you'd come to pick her up. Not necessarily because you missed her in the same way, but because you were always the kind of person who'd pick up a friend from the airport—and it wouldn’t matter to you that you hadn’t spoken a word to each other in years. 

Yet, as much as Yelena yearned to see you, your image was interwoven with the pain of unattainable desire. She didn't want to see your face, so happy and fulfilled without her in it. Because the memories would flood back: your smile, the scent of your skin, the way your voice would tenderly wrap around her name. You were married—have been married for quite some time now. And that simple fact was a barrier, insurmountable and cruel.

“Need a ride?”

Yelena quickly turned to her left, where a woman about her age stood with dark hair and soft blue eyes.

“Cabs are pretty scarce around this time,” the woman explained, adjusting the strap of her leather bag on her shoulder. “I mean, you could try booking one, but…”

Yelena's cheeks flushed. It was one thing to come back to a city after so long and feel lost; it was another entirely to admit it. She hesitated, wrestling with the unfamiliar interface of the rideshare app on her phone. “ll just wait,” she said defensively, trying to hide her discomfort.

The woman gave her a skeptical look but seemed more amused than annoyed. “I'm Kate,” she said, extending her hand with a warm smile. “Kate Bishop.”

Yelena took a moment before she accepted it. “Yelena.”

“Well, now that we're not strangers, how about that ride? My car's right outside.”

Yelena paused, studying Kate. The offer was tempting. There was something disarmingly genuine about Kate, and Yelena couldn't detect any malice or ulterior motives in her eyes. Still, she was guarded, her defenses up.

“Why would you offer me—a stranger—a ride?” Yelena asked.

“You're not entirely a stranger, Yelena,” Kate replied with a chuckle. 

Their eyes locked, and in that brief moment, Yelena felt an odd sense of kinship. A sigh escaped her lips. “Okay, fine,” she conceded, “But just to Manhattan.”

Kate's smile grew, reaching her eyes. “Just to Manhattan.”

-

Yelena steps into the high-rise building, an architectural masterpiece of glass and steel, shimmering under the vibrant New York sun. It’s her first day on this temporary assignment, and her stomach churns with a blend of anticipation and anxiety. 

She catches snippets of dialogue as she goes: project timelines, deadlines, and weekend plans. Yelena keeps her gaze forward, absorbing the understated opulence of the work environment. It’s a world she recognizes with every fiber of her being, and she’s ready to play her part.

As she steps into the elevator, ascending towards the upper levels of the corporate tower, Yelena takes a deep breath, bracing herself for the introductions, handshakes, and the performative exchange of pleasantries. The first day in a new environment is always a bit disconcerting, but she’s not new to adapting, to molding herself into whatever shape a situation requires.

“Yelena, right?”

The elevator door opens to reveal a woman Yelena recognizes from the previous night. It's not just any woman she encountered during her diligent networking; it's the very woman who was on Kate's arm, that Yelena begrudgingly recalls she paraded around like some kind of trophy throughout the evening.

Yelena nods, maintaining a neutral expression, as she exits the elevator and the woman steps in, effectively switching places.

“I'd love to chat more when I return. Just need my coffee fix,” the woman says, winking at Yelena just before the elevator doors close between them.

Yelena lets out an exasperated sigh as she searches for her cubicle. She doesn't anticipate having that chat and silently hopes that today's encounter is the last time she'll see that woman, or if possible, for the duration of her time in this office.

-

The next several moments don't go the way Yelena expected. Especially the part where she discovers Kate's date is her new boss.

Yelena feels a slight pressure in her temples as she hears the name. “Georgia Thompson.” The friendly demeanor and confident handshake of the woman in front of her sharply contrasts the casual, almost indifferent demeanor she exhibited at the gala.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Thompson,” she replies, trying to sound as composed as possible. 

Georgia offers a polite smile, her eyes assessing Yelena for a moment longer than she’s comfortable with. “Likewise. And please, call me Georgia.” It's only now that she picks up on the accent and realizes she's British.

Blonde, British, her boss, and apparently Kate’s new girlfriend. Just great. The universe couldn't be clearer about how much it enjoys playing tricks on her.

Yelena nods, pushing down the nerves bubbling inside her. She mentally kicks herself for not doing a thorough background check on her new employers, but how was she supposed to foresee this twist?

“I've heard great things about your work, Yelena. I'm looking forward to seeing what you can bring to our team,” Georgia says.

“Thank you. I'll do my best.”

Georgia leans back in her chair, the slight quirk of her eyebrow revealing she’s perhaps more perceptive than Yelena initially gave her credit for. “I hope you find the environment here conducive to your work. Everyone is very supportive, and we like to think of ourselves as a family.”

Yelena wonders if the emphasis is deliberate, a subtle hint at the glaring elephant in the room. Neither has acknowledged their encounter from the other night.

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Yelena responds, trying to steer the conversation back to professional matters. “I've already been given some assignments, and I'm eager to delve into them.”

Georgia nods approvingly. “Good. If you have any questions or need any support, don't hesitate to ask.”

Are you aware of my history with Kate? Do you plan on making my life a living hell for the next several months?

None of these questions escape her lips. Like every job, this one comes with complexities and trade-offs that she has no choice but to endure. She believes she can manage. After all, enduring seems to be all she's doing these days.

-

Kate eventually drops by the office one evening. It's just a week later, and with everyone gone, Yelena is saddled with another article destined for the fluff column for the following day. 

Kate's unexpected entrance startles Yelena, her fingers slipping from the keyboard and sending a disjointed string of characters cascading across her screen, a stark contrast to the meticulously formulated words she had previously been weaving together. A sigh escapes Yelena as she straightens in her chair, muscles tensing, her gaze fixating on the other woman’s reflection in the darkened computer screen next to hers.

Thankfully, it’s who Kate speaks up first. “Working late?”

“Deadlines,” Yelena mutters, rubbing her forehead and trying not to sound as exasperated as she feels. “And what brings you here?”

“Was in the neighborhood and thought I'd surprise Georgia,” Kate replies with a nonchalant shrug, though her eyes are searching Yelena's for any reaction. “But I guess she left already.”

“Seems so. You just missed her by maybe half an hour.”

Kate hums, letting her gaze wander around the mostly empty office. “This place hasn't changed much since I interned here,” she muses.

“You interned here?” Yelena's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Yeah. Before everything,” Kate says with a faint smile. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Her eyes roam the open workspace before settling on Yelena's and the stack of papers next to her. “Looks like you’ve made yourself at home quickly.”

Yelena shrugs, fingers lightly drumming against the edge of her desk. “Work doesn't do itself.”

The semblance of casual conversation can't veil the tension that simmers just beneath the surface. Kate’s next words are a soft, cautious probe, “How have things been with Georgia?”

She’s testing the waters, Yelena observes.

“Professional,” Yelena replies curtly.

A small, almost rueful smile grazes Kate’s lips. “She’s good at what she does. Keeps things running smoothly.”

“She seems to,” Yelena agrees, resisting the urge to delve into whatever Kate is aiming at. “Is there something you needed, Kate? I'm on a tight deadline here.”

Kate’s eyes, instead of responding immediately, drop to the takeout bag in her hands, then flick back to Yelena’s face. It's as if she’s doing a calculus of how far to press, of how much of Yelena's abruptness to overlook.

“Actually,” she starts, her tone light and easy, “I came bearing food. It's way too much for one person.” She tilts her head, hoisting up a slightly crumpled brown bag. “Care to join me?”

Yelena is on the verge of formulating a polite refusal when her stomach, as if on cue, betrays her with a telling growl. She winces, slightly mortified, realizing her last meal was hours ago.

“Sounds like someone's hungry,” Kate teases, her grin infectious.

Yelena considers the offer, her resolve wobbling precariously on the edge between pragmatic hunger and the need to maintain an emotional distance.

“I don't think—” she starts, but Kate, undeterred, strides closer, placing the bag on a nearby empty desk.

“No strings, Yelena,” she says, an undertone of sincerity seeping through. “Just dinner. It’s been a long day, and it looks like you haven’t moved from this spot for hours.”

A small fortress of skepticism still guards Yelena’s expression, but she doesn’t stop Kate as she begins unpacking the containers from the bag. The rich, fragrant scents of stir-fried noodles and spicy broth waft through the air, momentarily making the whole room feel a bit warmer, a bit friendlier. It reminds her of the countless nights they shared meals at the office, back when they worked for the same company, a time when their friendship flourished alongside their physical hunger for one another.

Silently, Yelena concedes, rolling her chair over to join Kate, who’s already begun dividing the food into two portions. They eat in relative silence for a few moments, when Yelena then, prompted by a momentary surge of curiosity, asks, “Where did you guys meet?”

“We were seated next to each other on my flight back to New York,” Kate says after a thoughtful pause. “From Chicago. When I… when we attended that convention.”

She's torn between laughing or pressing her lips together upon learning that Kate met her new love on a plane, at an airport, echoing their own initial encounter.

“Does Georgia know about…”

Kate raises her eyebrows inquisitively. Yelena just motions between the two of them, drawing a soft chuckle from Kate.

“Right. Yes, she's aware. I told her the moment she said you’d be working under her,” Kate says.

Yelena's heart pulses an erratic rhythm at Kate's words. She fiddles with her fork, twirling it aimlessly between her fingers.

“And she was okay with it?” Yelena asks.

“Georgia is...different. She believes in leaving the past where it belongs,” Kate says. Yelena knows she probably doesn’t mean anything by it, yet it subtly pricks at her own propensity to keep one foot persistently anchored in the past.

“I'm glad,” Yelena finally murmurs. “I just... I didn't want it to be a problem.”

Kate reaches across the table, placing a reassuring hand over Yelena's for a fleeting second. “It won't be. We're all adults here. Just... make sure you're okay, alright?”

Yelena nods slowly, taking a deep breath. It's obvious to her now, more than ever, that some bridges aren't burned but simply left to weather the passage of time.

-

Yelena tries to get back into the dating scene. She registers on three distinct dating apps, uniformly using the same profile photo and an unvarnished bio that reads: Female. Twenty-nine. Single.

Her inbox becomes a conveyor belt of recycled greetings: “Hey”, “You're cute”, and “What are you doing tonight?” It's an endless cascade of faces and screen names, none of which pierce through the monotony of singledom. 

She swipes through profiles, a sea of faces belonging to people she will never meet, let alone speak to. There’s the overly chiseled man with a bio that hints at a penchant for arrogance. The vivacious woman with wild curls, a quote from Virginia Woolf emblazoned on her profile. The musician, shrouded in a cloud of recreational smoke, guitar in hand, always accompanied by a loyal puppy—because, of course, there's always that magnetism of a puppy. And then there's the corporate maven, every strand of hair in place, an entire life airbrushed into LinkedIn perfection.

But Yelena is searching for something else—though what exactly, she is not certain. Yelena’s fingers hover over her phone, frozen mid-swipe, as Georgia and Kate emerge from the former’s office. Dressed less formally than usual, with Kate in a chic blazer and jeans combo and Georgia in a strikingly simple dress, it’s evident that the office is not their final destination for the evening.

Yelena inadvertently becomes a secret spectator to their private moment, and she ducks her head back down, suddenly intensely interested in the glowing screen before her. But her attention strays, her ears fine-tuning to the whisper of their voices as they linger by the office door.

“...really looking forward to tonight,” Georgia is saying, her slightly husky with an intimate inflection.

“Me too,” Kate replies.

Yelena feels an involuntary lump form in her throat, and she realizes she’s holding her breath. Why the sight of them, so blissfully unaware of her prying eyes, should stir this maelstrom within her, she isn’t quite sure. It’s not jealousy, she tries to reassure herself. But what is it then? Resignation? Loneliness? 

Regret?

They depart, leaving behind Yelena’s questions unanswered. A notification pings—a message from a woman whose profile Yelena doesn’t remember viewing. She clicks on it in a semi-distracted state, reads a greeting that is refreshingly devoid of clichés or overtly sexual overtones, and something, just something, flickers within her.

-

Twenty minutes over their agreed time, and her date is nowhere in sight. She had replayed their messages in her head, made certain she got the place and time right. Had even arrived a little early to ensure she wouldn’t keep her date waiting. But as the minutes tick by, Yelena’s optimism dwindles. 

Her hand flutters to the hem of her dress, pulling it down nervously. She had chosen it with such care earlier, wanting to make the right impression. Now, she just feels stupid for even trying.

Yelena glances out, her mood sinking further as she realizes she's been stood up, and now she's trapped by the rain without an umbrella. Taking a deep breath, Yelena signals the waiter, requesting her bill with a tilt of her head and a brief but curt nod. Just as she's slipping her phone back into her purse, her focus inadvertently drifts towards the entrance of the restaurant. 

And there you are.

How could she not notice you? She could pick you out from any crowd. Your jaw, sharply defined, always gave way to the tender curvatures of your facial features in a manner that she found endlessly fascinating. Your ear, peculiarly unique in its shape, partially covered by wet strands that have escaped your messy ponytail. 

She watches, a strange tightness forming in her chest, as you speak to the bartender, presumably ordering something to alleviate the chill from your damp clothes. Yelena’s voice, when it finds its way out, bears a semblance of leniency that was lacking the last time they saw each other. 

“Y/N?”

Your eyes hesitantly veer towards her, interlacing surprise and something else she can’t quite discern. There’s a beat of silence where you simply regard each other, before you navigate through the tight arrangement of tables and subdued chatter to join her.

“Hi,” you murmur, a tentative smile on your lips as you hover near her table, waiting for an invitation to sit across from her.

She nods, eyes minutely tracing the droplets of rain as they adhere to your eyelashes, “You’re soaked.”

You glance down, surveying the damage of the moody weather this afternoon. “It seems so.” 

Before she can think about whether she'll regret this later or not, Yelena motions, inviting you to take a seat across from her.

-

Later that night, as she walks back to her apartment, she comes to two realizations.

First, that she’s no longer in love with you. When she asked you about Wanda, she detected a shift in your expression, a subtle hardening of your features. You had explained, sipping on that hastily ordered whiskey, that you and Wanda spent a year apart, and you didn't return to her on the day you had promised to reunite. You’d been in Montauk for the better part of a year, caring for your ailing mother. It's a noble thing, to put one's life on hold and step up for family. It’s endearing and also a bit tragic. Your brief time today in Manhattan was to check in on Wanda, having boarded a three and a half hour train just for a mere five seconds of her.

She remembers your slight smile, a tad rueful, when you mentioned passing by the café. “Wanted a glimpse of her, you know? Just to see how she's doing. Then, the rain,” you'd said, rolling your eyes at the unexpected twist nature had thrown your way.

The irony wasn’t lost on her, that this could have been her third chance, her third window to potentially be with you. You were there, and you were single, and you were still the person she used to love. But there was no stirring of old romantic sentiments, no lit flame of rekindling feelings. She was touched, not tempted, by your vulnerable predicament. 

Like a raging inferno that had burned brightly, fiercely, and then reduced to warm, comforting embers. It wasn’t gone, and she knew it never truly would be, but it had transformed into something else. She thinks love works in that way; never diminishing, but perhaps always changing. Her memories with you, sharp and painful, have softened around the edges, allowing her to accept things as they are, not as they could have been.

Her keys jingle in hand as she unlocks her apartment door, step inside, and decides that she is ready to take the next step with you and be your friend. 

As she closes the door behind her, Yelena is hit with a second insight: she longs to fall in love again. She realizes she's kept her heart guarded for a long time ever since you took up residence there and then left. 

With a slow exhale, she leans back against the door, allowing the coolness of the wood to seep through her blouse, grounding her in the present moment. She allows a laugh, letting it envelop her to her heart’s content. She's weary of being the Yelena that left you, the one that wasn’t chosen by you. More than anything, she wants to be reborn. To become a Yelena who no longer clings to the misguided notion that love, to be real, must come with an undercurrent of hurt. 

Her hand presses against her heart, feeling its steady beat beneath her palm, affirming her presence, her life, her capacity to heal and be whole again. Yelena realizes that she wants to fall in love where it does not require her to fragment herself, to withhold pieces in safeguard against an inevitable heartache. Love should be able to exist, she thinks, without the persistent ache of sacrifice, without the constant dread of its impermanence looming overhead.

Finally, as Yelena drifts into the embrace of her bed, she imagines that future, feels the potential of it thrumming in the space around her. A face lingers in her thoughts—perhaps, if circumstances change and she offers Yelena a second chance to reciprocate all she's given, that face might belong to the future she yearns for.

-

Yelena's documents fly everywhere as Georgia slams them down onto her desk.

“This is not up to our standards, Yelena. You can do better,” Georgia snaps.

Taken aback, Yelena tries to form a response, but is cut off. “I need this revised and on my desk by the end of the day,” Georgia orders.

Throughout the day, it doesn't get any better. Every time their paths cross, Georgia finds something to pick at, each criticism more biting than the last.

Desperate for a semblance of understanding, Yelena decides to shoot Kate a text during her lunch break. With a forced lightness, she types, What did you put in my boss’ coffee today? 😂 She's tearing through everything I submit!

Send.

The little ‘delivered’ sign morphs into ‘read’, yet the response she half-hopes for, half-dreads never comes. Yelena stares at her phone, then back to her computer screen, the cursor blinking accusingly at her. A deep sigh unfurls from her as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and refocuses on the draft. She can't help but be bothered that Kate leaves her on read, especially since Kate used to reply to Yelena immediately before.

This inattention is, paradoxically, an attention to the details Yelena wishes she could ignore. She had wanted to step out of this, out of feeling sidelined, unimportant.

However, Yelena squares her shoulders.

If Georgia desires perfection, Yelena will morph her work into an epitome of immaculate journalism, and she will do it without riding on Kate’s coattails. Biting down gently on her lower lip, Yelena delves back into the article, rephrasing and refining. But even then, as she polishes each sentence, part of her is attentive, waiting for the buzz of her phone, indicating Kate has replied. Yet, the only sound accompanying her through the ensuing hours is the rhythmic clack of her keyboard.

She doesn't hear from Kate for the rest of the day.

-

Two days later, the entire atmosphere of the office seems to have undergone a transformation. This is especially evident with the heady scent of lilies and roses filling the open space. Yelena, having arrived early, watches from her cubicle as coworkers trickle in, all casting appreciative or curious glances toward the opulent floral arrangement in Georgia’s office.

When her boss arrives, she’s an entirely different persona from the tempest of the day before. There's a different air about her today—lighter, tender, almost apologetic.

Georgia, making her way to Yelena’s desk, clears her throat, a barely-perceptible flush gracing her cheeks. 

As Yelena makes her way to her workstation, Georgia calls out to her. “Yelena, a moment?”

Cautiously, Yelena approaches her desk. “Yes, Georgia?”

Georgia stands up, her posture relaxed and her face apologetic. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It wasn't professional or warranted. I had a lot on my mind, and it was wrong to take it out on you.”

Yelena nods, her relief merely presented as a tight smile on her lips. “Thank you for saying that, Georgia.”

Georgia smiles faintly. “It's the least I can do.”

Late in the afternoon, Yelena hears the unmistakable sound of Kate's voice, its playful timbre unmistakable even from her desk. She's arrived to pick up her girlfriend. She’s greeted by Georgia's lit-up face, and they exchange a quick, affectionate kiss which Yelena pretends not to notice, even though it plays at the edges of her peripheral vision.

But then, Georgia pauses, pulling her phone from her bag with a look of mild annoyance. “Damn, I forgot about this call. Give me a minute, okay?”

Kate nods, shooting Georgia an understanding smile. “Take your time.”

Kate nods, a small but genuine smile playing on her lips as Georgia steps away, phone already at her ear. Yelena, sensing an opportunity, doesn’t let herself overthink it. She rises from her desk and approaches Kate with measured steps, her heart pulsing a bit harder in her chest.

“Hey,” Yelena begins nervously, hands slipping into her back pockets, unsure why she feels this way. “How’s it going?” Small talk doesn’t come naturally to her, but she hasn’t heard from Kate, and a small voice in her head is screaming that she probably did something wrong.

Kate, slightly startled, turns to face Yelena, her expression neutral. “Yelena.”

The exchange is awkward, stilted, but Yelena is not giving up just yet. “The flowers look beautiful. You picked perfectly,” she says genuinely.

For a fraction of a second, Kate's demeanor seems to soften, but it's fleeting. “Georgia likes lilies,” she states flatly.

Yelena swallows, pressing on despite the stonewall response. “Kate, is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Kate responds, the single word sharp and clipped, her gaze darting elsewhere, anywhere but Yelena.

Yelena's patience wears thin, and she scoffs, “Clearly, it's not.” Taking a deep breath, she admits, “Look, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry.”

“It’s not you,” Kate cuts her off, voice cold, eyes finally meeting Yelena’s with a veiled hardness. “It’s not about you.”

Yelena, taken aback by the frigidity in Kate’s words, hesitates but doesn’t back down. “Then what is it about? We can talk—”

“No,” Kate retorts, an unsettling firmness in her voice. “We can’t.”

But before Yelena can argue, before she can claw at the barriers Kate's erected, Georgia re-emerges from her office. She has finished her call and strides over, her arm sliding through Kate's with an intimacy that seems second nature.

“Oh! Yelena, you’re still here. Working late again?” Georgia asks.

Kate, without offering Yelena another glance, merely nods in Georgia's direction. “Ready to go?”

Georgia beams at Kate. “Yes, let’s.” Then she turns her attention back to Yelena. “Good night, Yelena. And thank you for the hard work. I’ll see your draft on my desk first thing tomorrow?”

Yelena nods, though her focus is still on Kate. “Of course, Georgia. Good night,” she murmurs, stepping aside to let the pair pass by her.

She clenches the Broadway ticket in her hand, the one she had intended to give Kate if she'd been allowed to apologize for... well, for whatever she evidently did wrong. Because to Yelena, that distant demeanor doesn’t resemble 'nothing' at all. Kate has never shut her out like this, not even when Yelena repeatedly broke her heart.

-

She can't remember the last time she and Natasha hung out alone together. Oh, actually, she does remember. The memory just makes her cringe now, to the point where she wishes she could crawl into a cave and never come out. It was at Natasha's apartment, the morning she decided she was leaving you, with only enough clothes for the night.

Yelena plays with the olive in her martini, stirring it idly. Her sister smirks behind her own drink—the usual on the rocks—and says, “You're doing that thing again.”

Her reference is obvious, even without the specifics. But still, Yelena looks up, an innocent look on her face, the corners of her lips quirking in a half-smile. “What thing?”

“That deep-in-thought look. The same one you wore when you first came home, trying hard not to ask about her.”

Yelena sighs, her gaze dropping to her drink. “Is it that obvious?”

“To me? Always.” Natasha gives a knowing smile. 

Rubbing her forehead, Yelena nods slowly. “I ran into Y/N the other week. And then there’s this awkward situation with Kate and her girlfriend... who also happens to be my boss.”

Natasha’s eyebrows lift subtly at the mention of Kate—at how Yelena said her name. “I see,” she says cautiously.

“And Y/N…” Yelena’s voice trails off as she momentarily loses herself in thought, the stirred feelings forming a tight ball in her stomach.

After a pause, Natasha gently prompts, “What about Y/N?”

Yelena sighs, fiddling with the stem of her glass. “I miss her. I partly blame myself for, sort of, pushing her to be in a relationship with me—”

“You didn't, Yelena. You can't force anyone to do anything.”

“Perhaps,” Yelena interjects, raising a finger. “But I'm not going to ignore my own faults in everything that transpired between us. She wasn’t ready to be with anyone, and I should have been a better friend instead of stepping into the role of a girlfriend.”

“Alright, alright,” Natasha says, leaning back, trying not to roll her eyes. “So what happened next?”

“And we talked about her current situation with Wanda. Did you know about that?”

Natasha nods. “It’s complicated.”

Yelena snorts, “When is it not?” Taking a pause, she adds, “But that’s not why I brought her up. I had an epiphany.”

“Oh?”

“I finally moved on. Like, truly moved on from her.”

Natasha smiles. “Yelena, that’s… I’m happy for you.”

Yelena takes a breath, preparing herself for what she’s going to say next.  “And that revelation led to another—”

But Natasha smoothly beats her to it. “You’re in love with Kate.”

Yelena's laughter is louder than she expects, as she quickly responds, “No, I’m not.”

“Okay, maybe you’re not in love with her. But I’m pretty sure you more than like her.”

Yelena's grin fades a bit. She sips on her martini, trying to buy herself some time. “What makes you say that?”

“That slightly panicked look you have right now? Classic.”

“It’s not…” Yelena starts, then stops, searching for the right words. “It’s not like that. We're friends. Good friends. And it's complicated.”

“Nothing worth having ever comes easy, you know?” Natasha says, signaling the bartender for another drink.

Worth having. Kate has always been worth it, Yelena realizes now. What she isn't sure of is whether she's worthy of Kate. But it shouldn’t matter if she is right? 

Kate has Georgia.

Natasha reaches over, placing her hand over Yelena's, like she can read every thought that’s going inside Yelena’s head right now. “You won’t know until you try. And whatever you decide, remember that it’s okay to be happy. It’s also okay to have wishes and regrets. We’re all human, after all.”

Maybe time is yet to be on Yelena’s side. Still, she silently bargains with the universe, or whoever might be listening, for another chance to try.

-

Yelena walks through the low-lit ambiance of the pub. A corner has been reserved for the surprise party. Colorful balloons float above tables and a banner reading, Happy Birthday, Georgia! is draped across the exposed brick wall. She struggles a little to carry the collective gift from the office on a reserved table, her eyes scanning the room before landing on Kate. The brunette is across the room, arranging last-minute decorations. She recalls her own birthdays this very woman made special for her, from surprise parties to intimate evenings with just wine, cake, and conversations that stretched till sunrise. 

Taking a deep breath, Yelena approaches her, hoping to clear the air between them.

“Hey,” she says, holding up the gift. “I brought the present from everyone.”

Kate looks up, her eyes cold and distant. “You can put it on the table.”

The curt response irks Yelena, and she finally lets out her frustration. “What's your deal?”

Kate looks around, seemingly trying to avoid the confrontation, but Yelena’s gaze stubbornly follows her every move, keeping her grounded. “I saw you,” Kate finally admits with a sigh. “With Y/N.”

Yelena sets her jaw at the mention of your name. She hadn’t realized Kate knew about that. How did she know? Albeit defensively, she responds, “So? We're friends.”

“Why is it so easy for you to be friends with her?” Kate's voice notches higher, catching the glances of a few restaurant staff nearby. “To make an effort to be in her life? Why do you make it so hard for me to stay in yours? Why do you push me away?”

She should’ve anticipated that Kate wouldn’t beat around the bush when confronted, but it still didn’t prepare her for how hard Kate’s words hit her. In a split second, Yelena grabs Kate's arm, gently yet with urgency, pulling her towards the restroom. Inside, she locks the door behind them, making sure they wouldn't be disturbed. But even as they are locked away from the prying eyes of the outside world, Yelena tightly holds onto Kate's wrist, her heart pounding against her ribcage. But Kate retreats from her personal space and leans against the cold tiled wall, her breaths uneven. 

“You need to start from the beginning,” Yelena says firmly. “How did you know I saw Y/N?”

Kate’s gaze drops, “I was nearby that day, getting a gift for Georgia. I saw you two together.”

Yelena, feeling cornered, repeats, “We're just friends. Can't I have friends?”

“It's not about you having friends. With Y/N, it seems effortless. But with me? It feels like pulling teeth,” Kate's voice cracks.

“What—I don’t know what you’re—”

“Don't, Yelena. Don’t pretend you don’t know why this is happening,” Kate huffs. “I talked myself into being okay with how easily you coast through our friendship, as if we didn’t sleep together in Chicago and you didn’t avoid me for months.”

Yelena blinks rapidly, memories of that trip to Chicago flooding her mind. The hotel room, the smell of the cologne Kate wore, the way Kate's lips had felt against hers. The guilt she felt afterwards, causing her to distance herself. Her chest constricts, eyes welling up as Kate's words cut through her defenses. Chicago was a sore spot, a turning point that she hadn’t allowed herself to examine closely since it happened.

“I can’t justify my actions after Chicago,” Yelena whispers, even if the slightest hitch in her breath can be heard in the small confines of the bathroom. “And I can’t even begin to explain why I did what I did. Just that…” She sighs, grappling with the words. “I felt horrible. Not just about Chicago, but about feeling like I used you for a long time.”

“I have never resented you for not returning my feelings,” Kate says with a small, sad smile. She's never overtly asked Yelena for more, even though it was clear she wanted it. Yet, it still hurts her how easily Yelena seems to let her go when things get tough between them. 

“T-That's just it, Kate. With Y/N, it’s s-safe. Safe in a way I knew what to expect. I knew she could hurt me, and I knew I could handle it, survive it. But with you...” Yelena hesitates, turning to grip the edge of a sink. “With you, it’s not safe. It’s terrifying because you could break me so easily.”

Kate's eyes soften even as her chin trembles. “I would never want to break you, Yelena,” she says just when the image of her girlfriend comes to mind—her girlfriend who’s arriving in half an hour to celebrate her birthday, the very one she organized. “Georgia... she was there. She wanted to be with me and didn’t make me feel like I was hard to love.”

“I never thought you were hard to love,” she confesses quietly, “I just—I wasn’t—”

“What?” Kate all but screams.

Yelena closes her eyes as she allows the words to finally fall from her trembling lips. “I just thought I wasn't good enough to love you.”

Kate steps closer, her smile edged with a hint of madness, her eyes glistening as they catch every veiled truth in Yelena’s carefully shielded confession. “What the hell are you talking about? You were always enough, Yelena. You were always more than enough.”

In that split-second, Yelena closes the distance between them, lips angling towards Kate's, driven by a longing that has simmered below the surface for too long. But just as their lips are about to meet, Kate abruptly pulls back.

Clearing her throat and breaking eye contact, Kate mutters, “I-I need to check if Georgia's already on her way here.”

Yelena feels as if a bucket of ice-cold water has been dumped over her. She feels her cheeks warming with shame. She takes a step back, forcing herself to breathe steadily.

“I... I'm sorry,” she says. “I shouldn't have done that.”

Kate runs a hand through her hair, looking just as frazzled. 

“Go,” Yelena urges softly. “You should go see her.”

For a moment, Kate seems torn, caught between staying and leaving. But then, she nods slowly and exits the bathroom, leaving Yelena still reeling from the almost kiss.

The door clicks softly behind Kate, and Yelena lets out a long-held breath. She turns the tap on, letting the cold water run over her fingers before she splashes water onto her face, the coolness of it a brief respite from the burning behind her eyes.

Minutes feel like hours, but eventually, Yelena gathers the courage to exit the bathroom. The room outside is livelier now. Among the new arrivals, Georgia stands out, her laughter echoing as she wraps her arms around Kate from behind. Some people wave at Yelena in greeting. She musters a weak smile in return, but her focus is on leaving.

Without looking back, she immerses herself into the evening, letting the city lights guide her away.

-

She's not masochistic enough to complete her temporary assignment in New York, enduring the sight of Kate with Georgia at least three times a week, and hands in her resignation the following Monday.

-

On her last day, Georgia squeezes her hand as she thanks Yelena for all her hard work. When she offhandedly asks Yelena about her future plans, Yelena simply shakes her head, replying, “Back to Chicago, but beyond that, I'm not sure.”

-

She thinks about what’s next for her the entire plane ride back to Chicago. But mostly, she thinks about Kate, about what-ifs and once-weres. She wonders how long this person will haunt her, just as you once did.

-

However, she's blindsided when she discovers Kate sitting on the floor next to her apartment door.

Yelena freezes, keys in hand, as her gaze settles on Kate. The hallway lighting softly caresses Kate's face, highlighting the weariness in her eyes and the strands of hair that fall out of place. She's cradling a coffee cup, and her coat is wrapped tightly around her, but Yelena can still see the trembling in her hands.

“K-Kate?” Yelena blinks several times, attempting to make sense of Kate here in Chicago, right outside of her apartment. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“A few... hours,” Kate says, stifling a yawn.

“Why didn't you call or text me?”

Kate shakes her head, a faint, melancholy smile touching her lips. “Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”

Confusion clouds Yelena's features. “A surprise?”

Kate sighs, looking down at the coffee cup she's clutching, “I mean... a romantic surprise.”

Yelena feels her heart skip a beat. “What are you saying?”

“Georgia and I... we're over.”

“Since when?”

“Since the morning after her birthday party,” Kate reveals grimly, not with regret but with sadness. It’s quiet for a while, neither of them saying anything until Kate looks up, and her eyes aren’t sad anymore, just hopeful. “I realized I had to end it the moment I felt how strongly I wanted to reach out and kiss you that day in the bathroom. When you tried... I couldn't ignore what that meant for me.”

Yelena takes a moment before she slowly lowers herself to sit beside Kate on the cold floor. The two of them side by side, shoulders nearly touching.

“So, you've been camped outside my door for hours because of... feelings?” Yelena teases, barely restraining a foolish grin, still acclimating to the sensation of allowing herself to be happy.

Kate leans back, her head hitting the wall with a rather loud thud and Yelena can no longer hold back a chuckle from escaping her. “When you put it like that, it sounds rather silly, doesn't it?”

“A bit,” Yelena teases, but her eyes are kind. “You could've just called.”

“I didn’t want to call,” Kate murmurs. “I needed to see you.”

“And where have you been this past month, after breaking up with Georgia?”

“Waiting for you to finish your stint working under her.”

Yelena quirks an eyebrow.

Kate grins and tenderly tucks a strand of Yelena’s hair behind her ear. “I want to do everything right with you.”

Yelena covers Kate's hand with her own, holding it in her lap. “I’m sorry about Georgia,” she says.

Kate narrows her eyes and half-smiles. “You’re not, but thanks.”

Yelena lets out a breathy laugh, her thumb tracing circles on Kate's hand. “I’m sincere about that,” she says. “I thought she was good for you, and I am truly sorry if I ruined things for you.”

“No, Yelena, you didn’t complicate things. You just...” Kate pauses, swallowing dryly, “It's always been you I've wanted. I’m not used to lying to myself. I couldn't be with someone else knowing there was even a sliver of hope you might feel the same.”

“Kate, I—”

Kate tilts her head, waiting, a hopeful expectancy hanging in the air.

“I feel the same,” Yelena breathes out, so softly that Kate leans in to catch every syllable.

Kate's lips curl into a smile, and it grows and grows to its brightest, and Yelena thinks about how she wants to be the one to cause it, over and over again.

“You do?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it, to admit it. I'm not used to...this.”

“To what?” Kate asks.

“To being loved first,” Yelena confesses with a shrug. “I’m always the one who cares more, the one who waits, who tries harder. I didn't recognize it when it was given to me without having to fight for it.”

Kate cups Yelena's cheek, her thumb brushing against her skin tenderly. “Well,” she whispers. “You better get used to it then.”

Tears form in Yelena's eyes, but she brushes them away quickly. “It's going to take some time,” she admits. “To trust, to believe that this is real and not just another heartbreak waiting to happen.”

“I promise to be patient,” Kate says, and Yelena finds it so easy and natural to believe her every word. “So, what happens now?”

“Dinner,” Yelena says, nodding towards her apartment. “And then we figure it out together.”

With a nod, Kate leans in and Yelena meets her half way. 

They kiss for the first time after laying all their cards on the table.

[sinkingquail]

an analysis of taliesin through the lens of astrology

DISCLAIMER: i don't claim to know everything about taliesin (i haven't beaten the game with him yet, oops). or astrology. nor is astrology for everyone. please take everything with a heaping spoonful of salt, thank you /gen. tl;dr at the end.

when you first meet taliesin, he's a cornered animal. he's surrounded by people he killed, about to bleed to death (and is hallucinating lol). then, a stranger comes up and sees a thalmor agent next to a ton of corpses. and what does he do?

he very matter-of-factly states that he did, indeed kill all the people around him and laughs about it. he insults your outfit when you call him a "monster". he tells you that he "carved out the heart" of a man because he insulted his dagger. what the heck, bro??

(this is of course not the most normal of circumstances)

holy fuck, if that doesn't scream deflection i don't know what does. this is a guy that is doing everything in his power to not show weakness, especially in such a dire situation.

for this reason, i believe taliesin is a scorpio rising. scorpio is what we call a "fixed water sign" which is essentially ice, so think cold, calculating, takes a while to warm up. scorpio risings are known for giving off stand-offish, dark, yet magnetic vibes. they're also known for putting up tons of walls when they're feeling vulnerable.

as you travel alongside tally, he opens up. he's still his sarcastic, incredibly straight-forward self (if you're playing an argonian, he will ask you if you're related to... smaller lizards lol). but he'll also make comments on how beautiful the night sky is, he'll tell you about how he wants to visit raven rock and elsweyr after exploring skyrim, he'll likely leave if you weren't adventuring, this mer wants to GO PLACES after being stuck doing lord knows what with the thalmor for who knows how long. i'm not quite sure if this guy has ever had the chance to just be his own person for once. ANYWAYS

i think a sagittarius sun best describes taliesin. they're what we call a "mutable fire sign" which combines the passion of the fire element with the fluidity of the mutable modality (this is basically a fancy way of saying "going with the flow"). these natives are known as "truth-seekers" for their inexplicable desire to understand and do not give a fuck if challenging the status quo is frowned upon (ok, with the thalmor it's a bit harder to do that). they're really philosophical, adventurous, and absolutely detest being tied down.

okay, now we're gonna move to the moon sign which is arguably the side of taliesin we see last: his emotions. i'm going to start byanalyzing this quote from him:

"Ah, a fellow insomniac. Seems you and I might have more in common than anticipated. My nights will be less lonely now."

what a roundabout way of saying "i can't sleep and i'm alone with my thoughts, i would really appreciate companionship". he's blunt about other things (this man does NOT pull punches... especially when it comes to your clothes lol) but when it comes to opening up further about his loneliness? nope nope not happening lol. it's like he's hinting at his emotions instead of flat out saying them. this sort of detachment also comes up in the next quote:

"To think, I could be bleeding to death peacefully in a pristine forest"

except this time, it's less about being emotionally vulnerable and more about thinking about his own death, but like, he's prodding the idea with a six-foot-long pole. regardless, he leaves the "wow, i would have died without you" part unsaid. he's using humor to neatly skirt around the part where without the player's intervention and random luck, he would've died. (he also has a quote about haunting you if he dies, which is a lovely example of his dark humor)

to me, this is indicative of a capricorn moon.

these guys are compartmentalizers. they want to push all their emotions into little boxes and hide them in the attic but forget that everything will break down eventually from the sheer weight. they are PRACTICAL, and they don't really believe that there's room for emotions when it comes to getting shit done. and they do indeed get shit done. they also tend to have incredibly high expectations for themselves and kinda just assume the worst in others? this makes a pretty weird dynamic with his sagittarius sun, which absolutely does want to be optimistic and open-minded. there's (probably) a lot of conflict there on his world outlook.

deep breath

okay, so for taliesin we have sun in sagittarius, moon in capricorn, and scorpio rising. the moon in capricorn + scorpio rising both contribute a lot to his seemingly cold and detached exterior, especially in the beginning. it's hard for him to open up ("well this has been fun, making myself emotionally vulnerable") but at the same time, makes his emotions run deep. once he opens up it's a whole new story.

he also has a self-proclaimed "lust for life", which i believe is the influence of his sagittarius sun. i think that taliesin really does want to go out there, explore the world, ponder life's questions, and grow, which of course he couldn't do with the thalmor.

okay, last one i swear:

we're gonna talk about my favorite, which is the asteroid chiron. it symbolizes what we call the "wounded healer" in astrology, and gives insight on where your "life wounds" are and how to heal from them.

his… less than kind childhood thanks to a shitty father points to chiron in the fourth house, which is essentially indicating some sort of wound that is related to his home life (the fourth house concerns home, family, and security).

but how does this manifest in him?

aside from struggling to find a "true home" or place where he's accepted for who he is, i think taliesin also (especially as an older sibling) feels the need to take responsibility (aka: stop the ldb from doing stupid shit), probably struggles with feelings of inadequacy, and is fiercely protective of the dragonborn ("You want them? You'll have to get through me first!", he also says something along the lines of "don't go too far ahead, i don't want to lose you in the fog". he also latches onto them very quickly which i'd love to talk about, but alas)

as a result of this, i believe his chiron is also in capricorn. people with their capricorn in chiron feel a constant need to prove themselves - when you combine this with chiron in the 4th house, it basically says:

taliesin grew up in an authoritative household that placed incredibly high expectations on him. as a result of this pressure, he struggles with deep-rooted self-esteem issues (i have the feeling his aura of self-confidence is a way to convince himself of his positive traits, fake it til you make it ig) and perhaps, a need for control in his environment. the ldb is so so so important to him. they bring a sense of stability, purpose, companionship, and genuine acceptance of him, which are all things that he hasn't really experienced. brb, crying

i might just be pulling all of this out of my ass, so again, don't take this too seriously lol i barely know what i'm talking about

TL;DR taliesin's scorpio rising gives him a somewhat cooler exterior that hides his emotional vulnerabilities (cough chiron in capricorn) that is further swept aside by his capricorn moon. however, there's a deep passion for adventure and a quest for truth from his sagittarius sun, which helps balance out the more cynical sides of him, especially when you take into account all the trauma this mer has. this has to be the weirdest crossover of my interests i've seen. i know not everyone cares for astrology, but i find it to be a really interesting way to analyze characters and is an excellent tool for introspection. taliesin is doing a great job. he's really respectful about boundaries, i like to think he's gone to therapy at least a little. keep it up, tally <3

[xplrvibes]

Have you seen the crazy person on Twitter claiming that Colby's using Sam and that Sam is carrying the channel and Colby's not doing his job because he's not posting on instagram.

The guy is fucking editing, leave the man alone, go touch grass.

Need you and Golbrocklovely to state how hard Colby works again so bitches can understand the man works soooooooooooo fucking hard to the point he actually needs to take a break!

I've heard a bit about that. I also saw quite a few problematic shenanigans happening on tiktok and instagram recently, so I know this isn't a problem singular to one crazy person on twitter.

Before I say anything else, let me say that shit like this really drives home the point @golbrocklovely and I have been saying for years: people afford Sam a general sense of respect that they simply do not afford Colby. Colby is their little punching bag, rage room, therapist, fantasy boyfriend and Sim character...but he certainly isn't a human being who they feel deserves privacy, common respect, happiness, etc.

So, thanks for proving us right. We love that lol.

Back to the main point: let me take this opportunity to point out the obvious, here. When Colby was posting on instagram, people were pissed cause he was posting his girlfriend instead of working or sitting around like an unplugged toy waiting for Sam to have use for him or whatever it was people wanted (cause I guess only Sam can have a life and hobbies outside of the snc collective). Now he's stopped posting, and they are *checks notes* pissed because he's NOT posting, so therefore he NOW he ISN'T working?

Pick a lane, I am begging.

As far as the editing goes, they literally just spoke about this in the Quackity stream last week. Colby takes all of the raw footage - HOURS upon HOURS of raw footage- and cuts it down and arranges it into a story, after which it is handed over to Sam and the other editors to gussy up and make presentable.

In Colby's own words (starring at 1:15:40 in the Quackity stream vod on YouTube, for those who would like to experience it for themselves): "We have our own roles...so I cut everything, so I like assemble it and make the story, and then [Sam] does everything else," and my favorite part:

"We have an editor right now that helps out with Sam's job; but I can't give up the assembly, the cutting part."

So, please understand what that means. This man spends HOURS per day meticulously cutting up raw footage and turning it into a 1 hour story. And he does it BY HIMSELF.

You are lucky you see and hear from him at all, quite honestly.

And I mean that. This shit with Colby has been going on for YEARS. He said it himself once: he gets judged for everything he does. Every move he makes (or even doesn't make) is dissected to high heaven and used against him. He gets death threats for growing a mustache. He gets canceled for wishing women a Happy Women's Day. He spends 8+ hours a day editing, only to be accused of not working...while Sam can go off and post about riding in private jets and getting haircuts and training for a marathon and golfing and STILL SOMEHOW, Sam is carrying the channel and Colby is apparently spending his days doing nothing but fucking his, what was she being called again? Plastic Chucky doll of a girlfriend, was it?

I'm telling you this right now - Colby has one foot in the grave when it comes to interacting fans and it's because of this bullshit. Who would want to deal with this? Especially when all around you, your friends are being celebrated for being in openly cheesy relationships and having free time to explore hobbies?

He isn't a perfect human, nobody is. But holy shit is the shit that gets shoveled at him not warranted.

Also, because I have seen this going around tiktok and I have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to this: anyone who thinks wishing a cancer survivor would get cancer again or makes degrading and offensive comments about said cancer survivor's body or health all because he's got a girlfriend and you can't handle that - put all of your money into therapy. Seriously. You need the most professional help money can buy, and then some.

Anyway, I think that about covers the situation.

(And since I know, I KNOW, the only problem people will see with this is that I singled out poor Sam, the patron saint of dealing with lazy partners: I'm not saying Sam can't have hobbies. I'm saying it's ridiculous to compare the content both are posting on social media and come up with the idea that only Sam works. I'm also saying it's ridiculous to act like Colby can't have hobbies or days off while praising Sam for...having hobbies and days off).

[muzzleroars]

Where in the timeline do you think god died? My best guess would be soon after the crucifixion/resurrection/ascension considering the whole plan behind that was the atonement of all humanity's sins (which would also deny Hell new souls) using his own aspect (the son) as the perfect sacrifice.

Yet it failed, humanity is still wrong and Hell is still being fed, and he can't claim humanity is beyond saving because he's god! there could be no more pefect of a lamb to wipe away his humanities mistakes than himself!, but the son lived among them for so long and got to understand them on a level that he could never do as god and upon rejoining the trinity brings this knowledge and allows for the realisation that was he was the problem, he can't fix sin because he himself is nowhere close to the perfection he demands from all of his creation. And I think that would cause all the cracks to finally break.

This would mean that Mary would live her life, ascend to Heaven to find it in chaos with her son nowhere to be found.

This would also give quite a long time for Lust and Greed to build themselves up before Heaven sorts itself out, 2000 years is a long time for a human but not much for a husk and even less for an angel.

I hope this all makes sense!

ouuuugghhh this is interesting, because i think this can work from a scriptural sense - though there is no appointed time for the second coming, some of the gospels could be interpreted as suggesting it would happen within the contemporary generation. however, it's wholly possible here that the son changed this timeline and ran everything off the rails entirely because of what he saw and learned in his human life. human life is fill to the brim with complexity, with ambiguity, with strife and joy sometimes all at once, and being so infinitely limited in their scope and with such a short existence, i think his ideas just. shifted. sinners are often stuck in situations they didn't choose, they are often powerless and rendered unable to change through stigma, and he knows this because so many transformed instantly when all he did was offer them a bit of help and compassion. yes, there are cruel and wicked people, those that worsen the existence of others for their own gains, but so many that he once condemned as god, sinners of necessity, of ignorance, of mistake, he could no longer see evil in. and so when the trinity is reunited, when the son returns to the father and the holy spirit, he is not in sync with them. this is ultimately what i see as the reason for god's destruction, that the holy spirit, analytical as always, interprets god himself as the problem and so self-destructs essentially.

and it makes sense in the timeline capacity too, for lust to have been so built up, would take....a VERY long time if you consider all the components that had to come together to do this. they would first need to get used to the lower rate of angels, which may be a pretty long period before it reaches the point where they realize their presence has been permanently drastically reduced. then minos would have to be able to organize the people, which seems a difficult task since so many are traumatized or reduced to their husk instincts (i tend to think lesser husks have the capacity to be much more human, but the environment doesn't allow it). finally, he (and i assume other greater/supreme husks) would need to plan, to mine resources, to acquire the materials necessary and work their technology from the ground up all in the hostile world of hell (unless it was too interested in their trajectory and granted a reprieve. just to see what happens lol) to have this functioning society with a massive city that's all now left in the past would take incredible amounts of time. and like you say, 2000 years is long on a human scale, but likely very little to the immortal angels of heaven.

i sort of have the idea that many of the angels, particularly human-born ones, were kept in the dark about god's disappearance. it would be easy enough, i think, as he is likely rather distant from them and the new arrivals wouldn't know the difference but....it's an impossible sell to someone like mary or the apostles. it's likely that gabriel would have been the one to inform them of the situation, especially when it comes to mary - he was the annunciator, and additionally he is depicted perpetually adoring her in dante's paradiso. yet even he cannot tell this mother where her son has gone, and it quietly tears him apart. he wants to believe in the eternal existence of god, that he is all things, yet informing mary of his absence makes him see the all too familiar grief reflected in her eyes. all of it was too good to be true, she thinks, and gabriel begins to consciously think the same. all of it was always too good to be true.