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lookingforhappy · 2 months

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TUA: Young Blood Review??

yeah idk what to call this but I wanna talk about this book so bad so here's my thoughts

General (Spoiler Free) Review

It's pretty good! solidly between Okay and Good on my rankings which is honestly a really good outcome for me as I was worried it was going to be much worse.

There's some continuity errors with the lore the show has established (I will go over this later), but they're not glaring, just vaguely annoying because there's some pretty easy ways to fix them (I'll also explain later). But there's also some more fun additions to the lore that's in keeping with the show and the characters.

(there were also quite a few typos that were missed but it wasn't overwhelming, just noticeable enough that they probably should have caught them before they were published - at least one sentence is missing a word and several words are spelt wrong including in one instance the name of one of the OCs)

I could list all the aspects of it that are "okay" but I think u get the picture. in all honesty it's fairly unobtrusive which again, for me, is glowing praise lmao.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book despite all of the issues (that I will pull apart beneath the read more). In fanfiction terms I think it's best described as "fluff" as not much really happens but it's an interesting exploration of the Umbrella's, their powers, and their attitudes in the months before Ben's death.

major spoilers review under the cut ↓

and now, we shall tear this bitch apart lol

Continuity Errors

There's only one big issue that I have and that is the Umbrella's knowing that there were other children born on 1st October 1989. which they repeatedly refer to as october 1st children in the book.

The Hargreeves don't know that there's others, outside of the 7 of them, born with powers to mothers who weren't pregnant. They believe, and were likely told or manipulated by Reginald into believing, that he adopted all of the special children.

as is said in 2x10:

Lila is the first of the other 43 (+?) kids that they meet and is the one to reveal that there were others born with powers like them.

In the book, the Hargreeves' all know that there were other children born with powers (ch23 pg 164). and it's not a throw away line as a big part of the plot is that they meet Ryan, another of the 43.

which... kind of annoying and easily fixable. here's how I would've worked around this issue while still preserving the plot:

Ryan's powers are the ability to determine and gift powers to others. He is unable to gift himself powers and unable to gift new powers, change powers, or remove the powers of the 43. His powers also require a fair amount of effort on his part, as well as his physical touch to bestow them. When he uses his powers, and when those he's gifted with powers use them, earthquakes occur in that persons vicinity and toxic (flammable) dust appears in the air.

note the dust, the dust is the crux of my fix:

Instead of the Umbrella's realising that Ryan is one of the 43 due to prior knowledge, have them blame the powers on the dust making them hallucinate. Once the firefighters arrive and begin evacuating and putting out the fires after Ryan is dealt with, have them blame the hallucinations vanishing on the dissipating of the dust.

Or, have Reginald pose this to the Umbrella's and manipulate them into believing his story rather than their own eyes.

To prevent the universally disliked "it was all a dream" trope have Ryan's existence as a member of the 43 be confirmed to the reader through another POV, such as a third party, Reginald, Pogo or Grace.

Other/Minor Continuity Errors

The siblings consistently refer to Reginald as "Hargreeves" when in the show they almost always call him "Dad"

Diego says he painted his room black because he likes the colour black, but in the show his room is white/greenish with blue and brown wooden accents

Diego also says he hates the Umbrella Academy uniform and that he thinks it's too "cute" and that they should wear black uniforms instead... but in the show, the uniform changed styles between 2002 and 2006 to be a black spandex/leather thing

and Luther continues to wear a version of this outfit into his young adulthood

Since this book is set in 2006, the year that Ben dies, that doesn't give the Umbrella's much time to change (and for this to be one of the outfits that Allison remembers well enough to recall with Claire).

Ben is also a strange case in this book as his powers are more readily described, yet his powerset/style is more consistent with Sparrow Ben or with the new trailer than the actual Umbrella Ben.

The first issue is that Umbrella Ben's powers are only seen 2 - 3 times, but he uses them in a specific way each time:

he lifts/opens his shirt

the horror only comes out through his stomach

he seems to have little or no control over the tentacles themselves

he seems to be in pain or to be struggling each time

he doesn't seem able to move once he summons the tentacles

so it seems that this is the most effective way that Ben is able to use his powers,

however, Sparrow Ben's powers are a lot more controlled:

he is able to control indivdual tentacles with finesse

he doesn't need to lift his shirt but instead summons the portal over the top of his clothes

is not in visible pain or discomfort while summoning them

he is not stuck to one position while using his powers but instead uses them to traverse his environment

and in the s4 trailer his powers seem to have changed even more:

his tentacles are now emerging from his back, not his stomach

he is fully suspended in the air, his weight only supported by the tentacles

now, the Ben in this book has:

tentacles that emerge from his back

is suspended mid air by said tentacles at least twice

has the finesse to use his tentacles to pull a fighting Luther and Diego apart with injuring them.

He also rips his shirt everytime he summons the tentacles and has openings sewn into his uniform by mom to allow them to exit.

obviously this is a strange merging of all three Bens so far which ends in the continuity issue of Umbrella Ben's powers being more refined in this book, set months or weeks before his death, than they ever were while he was that bit older, and dead.

The book also makes a big deal about them not being able to wear anything other than the uniform, but Allison has a lot of clothes in her room as a kid and is seen wearing casual clothes in multiple magazines and posters

aside from Five, it's implied that all the others have casual clothes and are allowed to wear what they want during their free time.

Other Gripes

these aren't particularly big issues but they are choices that I don't personally agree with. If you enjoy/ed these choices then fair play.

I'm not personally fond of the use of the name Viktor and he/him pronouns in a prequel setting, as I'd prefer realism rather than pretending he's always been Viktor. plus I feel like we all know that he's Viktor. But he doesn't yet, and neither does anyone else. So to have Viktor consider why he dislikes the name "Viktor" and wants to change it is a little strange and not very well articulated when the name they're talking about is "Vanya".

I respect that Elliott Page prefers this attitude towards his identity pre-transition but in the context of fiction, and of Viktor specifically, I find it a little unneccesary and overly complicated.

Ben also "dies" temporarily on this mission and the medical inaccuracy continues to bug me.

s1 was so good at showing that they're still human and prone to injury. Diego ends up in a sling because of a bullet nick and Five is caught in an explosion he set off. But in the book Ben falls maybe 4 stories and is unresponsive, so Allison begins CPR without checking for a pulse or breathing. Ben is resuscitated almost immediately and has almost no complications from literally being dead after falling from that height.

It's not only completely disregarding the themes season 1 set, but also a really quite tacky fake-out.

The kids also drive to the party but forget the car and walk back in less time than it took to drive, and without shoes in Allison's case.

Grace is treated as though she is non-sentient. after all of the work and love and care that season 1 poured into showing that Grace did develop sentience, and the ability to love, to see her treated by every member of the academy (Diego isn't innocent either, though he is the nicest) as a machine is saddening.

in s1 she is trapped behind programming and unable to voice her opinions because of that. not because she wasn't sentient. her sentience and love for her children does peek through until she is eventually set free by Diego and Pogo.

her hint to Luther and Allison that she dissapproved of Reginald

her expressing her feelings of longing and loneliness through the painting she imitates

and then her immediately escaping the house with Diego to get out from under Pogo's watch and to confess her part in Reginald's plan

she is so much more than a robot that doesn't understand jokes, movie references, glitches when asked a question she doesn't know the answer to, and throws away clothes that her kids might want.

Ryan himself felt very underdeveloped. We know his powers, and that he's a very good manipulater/public speaker. We also know that he likes Bach and beer, but not modern music. He's lonely and trying to surround himself with friends and those loyal to him by gifting everyone powers.

but all we know of his origins is that he's from a small town called Dobbsville just upstate from the Academy. He dislikes his "friends" from there as they treated him like the only one without powers, and has a bad enough relationship with his family/guardians that he ran away to the City and gifted enough people powers that they let him live in their college dorm (probably illegally and) for free.

We don't know his last name, his family situation, the reason he ran away from home and towards the Academy when he feels fightened and threatened by them. etc etc.

He feels so open and undefined... it's so strange.

Good Things

because I did actually enjoy this book and maybe let's end on some compliments instead

Diego discovered his powers aged 2 & a half by throwing a knife and perfectly shattering a glass - and Reginald being pleased about it

Reginald told Viktor when he was 12 to take a pill anytime he felt uncomfortable - explaining why Viktor takes his pills after emotional upset rather than at a specific time in s1

The scene where they got dressed for the party was fun, I loved the rationale for their outfits and that Allison and Luther were dressed according to the old movies they'd watched rather than anything people would usually wear to parties.

Reginald manipulating them into going to the party just to neutralise Ryan. despite the continuity errors I loved that Reginald knew all along. I was about to be disappointed that they'd gone the route of making him oblivious but I loved this twist.

The Academy becoming unpopular due to Five's disappearance - he seems to be thought of as dead by the public which made them realise that they're not a "cute" organisation and then the support waned considerably until there's barelyanyone left who cares.

#tua #the umbrella academy #tua young blood #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves

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chrisevansonly · 1 year

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𝑷𝒖𝒎𝒑𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒓 | 𝒎𝒂𝒙 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏

☁︎max verstappen x female reader

☁︎you know just how to select the perfect pumpkin, and it’s time your boyfriend learns how as well…

☁︎no warnings, very cute fall fluff!

☁︎my third fall celebration fic! thank you guys for reading and enjoying! it means the world to me!

October was the season for pumpkins, growing up you cherished the time you’d visit local farms and spend the days picking the best pumpkins for your house to decorate for the fall season. It wasn’t until you’d met your boyfriend Max that you realized there really weren’t any places to go pumpkin picking in Monaco. The city itself was filled with luxury in every aspect, which was beautiful but you missed your pumpkins and the fun of picking them in the fall.

“Babe you busy?”

Hearing Max’s voice grow closer to where you sat in the living room you smiled

“No, is everything okay?”

“Mhm just need you to back a little bag”

You looked at him confused, placing a bookmark between the pages of your novel and getting to your feet

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise you’ll see.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, laughing at the skeptical look on your face before he watched you disappear upstairs, returning after a few minutes with a little bag packed.

“Do I get a hint at least?”

“We’re flying to Munich, that’s all you need to know”

Before you could get another word in he was taking your hand and ushering you outside and towards the car, a smile on his face while you were dying to know just what he was planning.

Max loved the element of surprise.

“Can I look now?”

“One second”

“Max….”

His hands came up and untied the blindfold you had on, when your eyes adjusted to the light around you, the sight in front of you brought a smile to your face.

“You-what…? Max you brought me to a pumpkin patch?”

He nodded taking your hand as you began to walk towards the pumpkins

“I know how much you love fall and Monaco isn’t the most fall place for pumpkin picking so I just thought why not”

“You remembered…”

You paused looking up at him as he smiled, placing a gently kiss on your lips

“Of course I did baby”

Pulling him into a bone crushing hug, you couldn’t help the warmth that had spread through your heart at this surprise, to someone else it may have meant nothing, but to you it meant everything.

“So how about you show me how it’s done miss pumpkin connoisseur?”

If Max could replay the sound of your laughter on repeat he would, it was his favourite sound in the world. Watching as your eyes lit up before taking him throughout the rows of pumpkins, all which varied in size and colour, seeing you this happy was worth everything to him.

“Are you listening my love?”

Max hums, snapping himself out of his thoughts to see you standing there with a cart, a pumpkin already sat nicely within it.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I was saying, these are the perfect pumpkin, if they stay sitting when you place them down, the bottoms are flat, these are easiest for carving!”

He nods

“Then we have these ones-”

Pointing to a group of smaller almost gourd looking ones you looked back towards him

“These are more like gourds, so you can decorate your table with them, or make little crafts with them, I used to turn them into turkeys with my family”

Max couldn’t wipe the smile from his face as he watched you so vibrantly explain everything you knew about them. He remained by your side, pulling the cart along as you filled it with pumpkins of all shapes, sizes and colours, making sure to tell little facts about each one.

“Alright, I think we have enough…”

You checked over the cart once more frowning slightly at the amount you’d chosen

“What’s wrong baby?”

“I think I chose to many…”

Max took your chin in his grip softly, tilting your face up so you were looking at him, a smile on his face noticing the hesitation in your eyes

“You can never have too many pumpkins y/n, I brought you here for a reason, I think you chose the perfect amount”

“Really?”

Pressing a kiss to your lips he was quick to answer your question

“Really.”

There was quite literally nothing that could wipe the smile off your face as you took your pumpkins and paid for them, loading them into your rental car and knowing they were coming home with you. Never in a million years would you have thought Max would remember that little joy of yours from growing up, and today he exceeded your expectations, only making you fall more in love with the man who held your heart so gently.

“Thank you for my pumpkins honey…I love them so much..but I do love you more”

Max smiled taking your hand in his as he brings it to his lips to kiss your knuckles

“You’re welcome, I’d do anything for you, including spend a whole day at a pumpkin patch in Germany, if it means seeing that smile of yours”

You leaned over to kiss his cheek as you settled into the passenger seat as he pulled away from the fields of pumpkins

“I love you you just as much baby, I cant wait to see what you do with all of these”

Max was a little scared to see just how many pumpkins you’d picked, and what you were planning to do with them, but he would be more than willing to help you with whatever you’d started to envision.

He was dating a pumpkin connoisseur, it was in his boyfriend job description.

#rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x girlfriend reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen x wife reader #max verstappen fluff #formula 1 masterlist #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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jeridandridge · 1 year

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I like prompt 6!

Thank you for the request! 🩷 Prompt 6 "Why do you always look at me like that?""Like what? "Like you... Want me."

Looks

The first day you started at Abbott was a good one. Janine and Jacob were more than welcoming, Greggory was friendly, and Barbra was kind. The red headed second grade teacher was another story.

You have no idea how to read the woman. Shes reserved and uninterested any time you’re around, but sometimes she looks back at you with this look in her eye. The first time it happens you’re by the sink pouring a cup of coffee. You feel eyes on you as you do so, and when you turn around Melissa has her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose looking up at you.

Feeling self conscious you let out a fake, unbothered laugh going back to the table. “What, do I have something on my back?”

The woman shakes her head looking back down at her phone.

“Nah, you’re good, hon.”

Hon. That was a first for you.

The second time it happens you’re on recess duty. It’s the middle of October, the chilly wind mixed with the rays of the sun makes being outside tolerable, but it’s still chilly.

“Hey, Amir, come here.” You call one of your younger students over noticing he’s only in his Abbott shirt and no jacket. “Hey buddy, wheres your jacket?” You ask kneeling down in front of him.

Little did you know Barbara and Melissa were close enough.

The little boy looks at you with a shrug.

“My mama said next time she get money she get me one.”

“Oh okay.” You hum with a nod. “Well,” you start taking your own jacket off revealing a black zip up underneath. “Would you like to wear this while you play?” you ask holding it out for him.

When Amir puts the hoodie on and runs off, you slide your jacket back on catching a look from Melissa you’ve seen once before.

“That was very nice, dear.” Barbara smiles at you. “There’s a lot of that here in the winter months.”

“I’m sure it’s been done before but what about a coat drive? Not to sound too ambitious or anything like that, I’m not on Janine’s level,” you chuckle, “but that could work.”

Barbara laughs nodding along. “We could do something small like that I’m sure.”

You try to keep your eyes on the older teacher but you can’t help but glance at Melissa by her side in her black leather jacket and pink beanie. She looked incredible, and here she was looking at you like that again.

Melissa Schemmenti is a tough woman, you know that, but there was no way she was into you in any other way than a colleague. It didn’t matter if she bit her lip when she looked at you, if you caught her putting lipgloss on and she kept eye contact with you when she saw. No way.

The third time it happens you decide to say something.

While in the library grabbing new books for your classroom, Melissa comes in to do the same thing.

“Hey, Melissa.” You give her a friendly smile. In the past few weeks the red head became more friendly, warming up to you. You figured Barb had something to do with it.

As she stands with her back to you looking at the other shelf you reach up to grab another book, making your shirt ride up a bit exposing a part of your tattoo that ends on your lower back.

When you turn back around book in hand you see the same look on the red heads face, her lip between her teeth and a glint in her eye.

“Okay what is that?” You point at her, almost sounding annoyed. “This is the third time I’ve caught you looking at me like that.”

“What I can’t look at ya?” The older woman laughs.

“No, no you always look at me like THAT.” You cross your arms.

“Like what?”

You eye the woman, the wave in her hair cascading like red wine, a smirk on her glossed lips almost like she’s challenging you.

“Like you want me.”

Melissa quirks a brow, smirk still on her lips.

“So what if I did?”

It’s your turn to challenge the woman. Arms still crossed you shrug leaning back against the bookcase, your heart speeds up in your chest at the game you’re playing.

“I’d tell you to ask me out.”

Melissa gives you her best smile, eyes crinkling and all. You loved when she did that. Before she can say anything you shrug again starting to walk away throwing a look over your shoulder.

“Come by my room after the dismissal bell.”

Leaving the redhead flustered behind you walk back to your room with a proud smile on your lips.

#abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #wlw #Melissa Schemmenti x reader #Melissa Schemmenti #lgbtq+ fiction

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bad268 · 1 year

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Plot Twist

Breaking News (Part 5/Final)

(Max Verstappen X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Nope (I had an idea, Mr. Krabs)

Warnings: cheating mentioned, toxic parents, overall hella fluffy (HERE is a link to the full playlist if you want to hear them all in a row otherwise each individual song is linked later in the story.)

Pronouns: They/them

W.C. 1655

Chapter Summary: The much-anticipated album drop of 'Plot Twist' by Y/n L/n leads to an unexpected plot twist in the end.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

(^Came from 2 pics on Pinterest)

<- Previous Part

July 24, 2024

It is release day, October 16. Plot Twist dropped at midnight, and so far, it’s been received very well! Neither of my previous albums had this much attention, so it was honestly shocking seeing my name and album trending on Twitter.

I was busy in the kitchen, eating some lunch, and avoiding looking at the feedback. I knew that I would waste the entire day reading every little critique the fans had. My publicist knew that I would try that, so they were holding my phone hostage as they worked on planning a live stream. It was a tradition at this point; day of release, I would livestream listening to every song and telling the story or answering questions between them.

I was just finishing up my food when I felt one arm around my waist as another stole one of my crisps. “Hey! That’s mine.”

“It’s one, you’ll live,” Max whispered, leaning onto my back to place a kiss on my cheek after he at the chip. “It’s not like you’ll starve.”

“I’ll tell your nutritionist that you ate a pack of crisps,” I joked.

“It was one!” He complained, turning my head to connect our lips in a few small kisses. When we separated, he whispered, “I’ll buy you more if you’re that concerned.”

“Alright lovebirds, I need to steal the singer,” my manager interrupted the moment.

“I’ll be right over,” Max joked.

“Ha ha, Max,” my manager replied sarcastically. “Are you going to be beside them or behind the camera?”

“I’ll stay back,” he answered, already pulling a chair to sit behind the camera that was pointed at the couch. “It’s your moment.”

“Thanks, liefde (love),” I said, taking my spot on the couch. “Let me know when you start it.”

“If you’re ready, I can start it now?” My manager asked, receiving a thumbs up from me as I fixed my appearance one last time. They pointed to me, signaling that I was live, so I smiled and switched on my stage persona.

“Hello everybody!” I greeted, scanning through the messages flying on the screen. “It’s everyone’s favorite day; release day! I’m going to play my new album, Plot Twist, which is available now on all platforms, and answer your questions about each song. Let’s get started with the first single.”

Track 1-Ava

“Everyone knows this backstory, but something you might not know is that Max helped me with the melody on this one too,” I laughed as Max groaned in the background.

“I helped on basically every song. I should get royalties.”

“I think you’ll live, Mr. Third-Most-Paid-Sportsman-Under-25,” I mocked.

“Oh fuck off,” He laughed, moving to play the next song.

Track 2-Seven

“Again, another very popular single, “I chuckled, “Not gonna lie, was almost titled ‘Fling’ or ‘Freak Out’, but Max thought 'Seven' was more ominous.”

“I did not! Stop putting words in my mouth!”

“Denial doesn't look good on you, schat (darling).”

“I’m not in denial,” He opposed. “I just said ‘Seven’ sounded better than ‘Fling’ or ‘Freak Out’.”

Track 3-Bigger Person

“Think we all know who this is directed at,” I sighed with a look directly at the camera, “But actually, it was a combination of the breakup and my personal problems with my family, and this is one of my most vulnerable songs. I’ve been working on it for a long time, and it is one of my favorites on the album. I think I did the idea justice, and I hope some of my fans find comfort in this song.”

Track 4-Flowers

“Flowers is another very close-to-home song. I used to have a huge fear of commitment, and with my ex, the very first thing he did was introduce me to his family by saying he would marry me,” I admitted, remembering the details of the night I met the Leclercs. Now, I have no contact with Charles, but his brothers and Maman still text me every so often. Arthur actually called me to tell me how much he loved the album earlier today. I smiled at the memories before continuing. “That actually didn’t drive me away as it normally would have, so I felt safe and comfortable with him right away. Maybe that’s why I put up with everything for so long. And anytime there was a big fight between us, instead of talking it out and resolving it, he would get me red roses. It was always an apology, and I can’t look at red roses the same anymore.”

“For everyone always asks why I get them carnations, daisies, or dahlias, this is why,” Max spoke up. “I’m the man that treats you right.”

“Yes, yes you do, Maxie,” I laughed, looking over at him. “I love you. Now, next song!”

Track 5-Somebody to You (Acoustic)

“When I realized that I loved Max, I couldn’t get him off my mind at all. I knew I wanted to be someone important to him, but I didn’t want to be overbearing and make him think it was a rebound,” I explained quickly. “However, even as a kid, I knew I would be with him because we were just always close like that.”

“They came to me whenever they needed support, and same for me with them,” Max elaborated, “We were just always close like that.”

Track 6-18

“It started when I told Max that I loved him for the first time at the Austin Grand Prix last year. He responded immediately saying he loved me since we were 18 before either of us actually understood love. It all just flowed from that moment. Max was actually able to help me on some of the lyrics for this song, but I promised I wouldn’t say what verses he wrote apart from the obvious.”

“Apart from the obvious? Really?” He laughed.

“Y’know, if you’re going to be so vocal during the stream, why don’t you just come on camera?” I challenged, knowing he didn’t want to be on the stream, but he was acting too involved for someone who didn’t want to be here.

“I’m fine here, thank you. Onto the next one.”

Track 7-That Part

“This is our story in a song,” I sighed as I made eye contact with Max, him winking at me, causing me to smile and drop my head. “ I jokingly told my friends and family that I would date Max at some point when we were like 8, so the end was kind of a ‘haha told you so’ to everyone who said I was lying. It was actually a surprise to Max, and he didn’t know I was writing this. When I played this for him the first time, he cried, but he loved it. I hear him singing it every so often, sometimes it’s in English and sometimes in Dutch, but either way, it makes me happy that he loves it. It means I did our love story justice.”

Track 8-Eternally Yours

“Max and I wrote this together. We wanted a song for our wedding, so we poured everything we had into this song. I also pulled in my friends, Chris and Ricky, to write with us. Chris and Ricky are masterminds when it comes to writing beautiful melodies with strong meanings, so I knew they would be the perfect people to collaborate with. If you know their band, you’d know that their more heartfelt songs like Fatal and Sinematic were written by these two,” I said, going onto a short tangent about my friends and co-writers. Then I remembered that many of my listeners don’t listen to them so I said, “Shameless plug here, check out their band, Motionless in White if Eternally Yours is your favorite from the album! They’ve got new music coming soon, but you didn’t hear that from me. They’re actually covering this on that album but with a metal twist.”

As soon as I saw the chat explode, I knew I messed up somewhere. I looked at the messages and found one that said, “WEDDING?!” I knew I just outed that we were engaged by accident. “Well, cat’s out of the bag everyone. Max proposed when he heard ‘That Part’ for the first time.”

My manager let out a loud laugh as they read one of the comments. I looked at them skeptically, so they said, “Chat wants Max to reenact his proposal.”

“Say less,” Max joked to himself as he walked from the other side of the camera to kneel in front of me.

“What are you doing? I thought you didn’t want to be on camera,” I laughed, moving my hands to mess with his hair. He started shaking his head to get my hands away from the strands as he pulled out a box.

“I planned this to be a little more romantic than you jokingly messing up my hair,” He chuckled, using his other hand to fix it. “Can’t really back out now with hundreds of thousands of fans watching, now can I?” He reached out to grab my left hand as my free hand to hide my red face. “I think there’s only one thing left to say, wil je mij voor eeuwig de jouwe laten zijn (Well you let me be eternally yours)?”

“Altijd schat (Always darling),” I whispered as I pulled him in for a kiss as he pulled the ring out to place it onto my left ring finger. “That was pretty close to the first time.”

“Minus you messing with my hair, and you cried a lot more the first time,” He chuckled, sitting next to me for the end of the stream.

“At least now I can wear my ring in public,” I said before leaning in to kiss him one last time. I pulled away as my manager announced their presence again, causing us both to laugh. “Ok guys, that’s the stream. We will see you at the next album stream! Bye!”

October 16, 2024

~~~

Fin <3 (unless y’all got ideas for more. I’m open)

~~~~~

#max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen #charles leclerc #max x reader #charles x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #bad268 breaking news #part 5 #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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ghostofaboy · 1 year

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Kinktober 2023 - October 1st

Day 1: Sex Toys/Strap-on, Mutual Masturbation, Muscle

Frankie 'Catfish' Morales

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 735

Warnings: Sex Toys (obviously)

absurdthirst’s Kinktober List | Ghost of a Boy Masterlist

Staring down at the package in his hands, Frankie’s heart skipped a beat. He’d totally forgotten about his drunken, late-night shopping session online a couple of weeks ago. The one born of beer, frustration and porn. The one that had found him on a reasonably priced site selling sex toys. He remembered ordering a couple of things before the whole spending spree was lost to the morning light.

However, now his parcel was here, and excitement crept up the back of his neck. Pulling open the nondescript box, Frankie grinned at the contents. A bottle of lube, a cock ring and a purple silicone dildo. Grabbing all three, Frankie left the box on his sitting room floor and headed straight for the bedroom. His cock was already twitching at the thought of using his new toys.

After washing the dildo and quickly pulling off his clothes, Frankie settled on the bed. The cock ring was safely tucked away in his nightstand, ready for its time another day. For now, all he wanted was to be filled up. It had been so long, and his only other dildo just wasn’t scratching the itch the same way it used to. This new one was only slightly longer but definitely thicker and roughly the same size as a real cock.

Frankie was already fully erect now, with the tip of his cock gently nudging against his stomach as he lay on the bed. His skin prickled with anticipation as he lifted his knees up and slowly eased in two lube-covered digits. Frankie often used his fingers when jacking off, so it didn't take long for his body to relax enough to take a third, leaving him quickly ready for his new toy.

Head already fuzzy with arousal, Frankie applied some lube to the dildo before placing its bulbous head against his entrance. Slowly, he began to push it into his waiting hole, feeling the delicious burn as it stretched him open and filled that aching need. Then, just as lazily, Frankie pulled the dildo back, almost completely out, before repeating the action. The pace was relaxed as Frankie relished the fire building in him. It had been so long since he allowed his time for himself and so long since he truly acknowledged what he really wanted.

Pumping the dildo into himself, Frankie let his head drop back onto the pillow as he let out a soft moan. This wasn't as good as a real cock, but it would do for now. It would get him where he needed. His own cock lay on his stomach, untouched and leaking, throbbing each time the dildo fucked into him.

He wasn't going to last long, but Frankie didn't care. This wasn't a marathon, not this time. He could do that later with the cock ring and edge himself. But not tonight. Tonight was about scratching a very particular itch, one that he realized had been distracting him for weeks.

With his thighs beginning to ache and tremble a little from holding them up, Frankie began to pick up the pace, pounding the entire length of the dildo into his hole and pulling a growl from his throat. Plunging the dildo again and again into his ass Frankie set a new frantic tempo as the shaft disappeared into his body.

A deep, hungry need began to overtake him as Frankie chased his climax. Moans and gasps filled his bedroom as his red burning cock bounced on his stomach, smearing precum over the smattering of hairs there. Reaching up with one hand to pinch his nipples as he felt his peak approaching, Frankie tweaked the sensitive skin, adding to the red-hot pool about to overflow.

Frankie continued with his desperate pace, faltering every other thrust as he writhed on the bed as whimpers and hisses fell from his lips. Then, with one final plunge and with the dildo buried deep within him, Frankie let out a loud cry and arched his back as he came, shooting a thick rope of come over his stomach and chest.

Stars swam behind his eyes as Frankie squeezed them tightly shut, riding his high for as long as he could before flopping back down onto the bed, breathless and spent. Glazing down at his glistening sweat and come-covered body, Frankie felt a smile tugging at his lips. Perhaps this weekend would be better than the last.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #frankie morales #frankie 'catfish' morales

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familyvideostevie · 2 years

Text

𝕟𝕠 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝕠𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣

a farmer's market steve harrington x reader au part 1 [7.2k] | part 2 [8.3k] | part 3 [13.3k] | part 4 [4.6k] | au masterlist

OCTOBER

The rain starts halfway through the first market of October. It comes without warning; a chilly Saturday with scattered clouds turns dark and the bite in the air seeps into your bones. The crowd thins in a matter of minutes despite the promise of a market rain or shine, since a summer rain can be something free and spontaneous. A fall rain is bound to end in a cold.

"Do you need help?" Joyce asks. It's barely started to drizzle but you can see the dark drops marking her jacket. "I think we can close early. Jonathan is almost done with the flowers, I'll send him over here --"

"No, I'm okay," you tell her. You shove candles and jars of honey into your crates with as much care as you can spare. The pickup is just around the corner and you can load everything yourself even if your back will feel it later. "Really, I'm sure other people can use the help more!" Joyce tuts but runs off. As soon as she does the rain picks up. You can feel it spray onto your face from the wind, feel it soak into the wool sweater you're wearing.

"Eddie --" you say, about to wave him off, but he picks up the other full crate at your feet.

"Keep packing or someone much meaner than me will come over to help you," he says, winking. "I'll put this in the New-Bee's pickup on my way out, okay?" He's off before you can get in a word of protest.

You decide to tackle the rest of the stock before bringing out another crate but your hands are shaking so much from the cold and your skin is wet and everything is wet and you're worried you're going to drop something. You manage to pack one more and are debating whether or not to bring it to the truck when you hear heavy footfalls in the rain behind you.

"I'm fine," you yell over the rain. There's no response so you turn and the sight punches a hole in your chest: it's Steve. He's soaked to the bone, just like you, but he looks like...like...well. His own sweater and flannel combo are weighed down with water and his jeans are a shade darker than usual. You feel a little warmer than you did a second ago.

He jerks his chin up in greeting and he reaches forward to gently grab your elbow. "We gotta go," he says. "I think there's gonna be lightning soon. And you're soaked." He takes in your chattering teeth and the crates around you like he's doing a calculation in his head.

"I gotta get the stock --" His palm is so warm even through your dripping sweater that you have to keep yourself from leaning into him.

He tugs on you gently. "Leave it."

"Steve, I made this stuff." The plea is pathetic in your ears and you wonder if he'll make fun of you for it. You really hope not, since you've been turning over what Dustin said to you for days and it's fair to say that Steve Harrington is a puzzle you want to figure out. If he lets you.

The warm hand on your elbow disappears and you expect him to storm off but he just scoops up the third crate you've finished filling and heads for the truck.

"Gee, thanks," you mutter, squatting to grab the stacks of candles for the last crate. You're really shaking now but you're trying to move fast, so when a peal of thunder finally tears through the air you're startled enough to drop one of the glass jars. It shatters and the candle wax inside rolls away.

You don't think as you start to pick up the shards of glass with your bare hands, don't consider that maybe it's a bad idea until you slice your palm with one.

"Shit!" you yell, staring helplessly as a thin line of blood wells and drips down your skin. It doesn't look deep but it hurts. A warm hand on your back almost sends you careening forward into your mess but another on your shoulder steadies you.

"Woah, what the fuck happened here?" Steve asks, harsh tone at odds with how he's touching you as he crouches down to examine the glass.

You are humiliated to feel tears gathering and your throat getting tight. "The thunder, I --. It startled me and I--"

"Are you bleeding?" He hauls you up and a few steps away from the glass before you can answer. Your hold your injured palm out in front of you like it'll bite but Steve is quick to grab your wrist gently when he notices you shaking. You sniffle and his eyes meet yours for just a second.

"Hey," he says so softly you can barely hear him over the rain. "Hey, it's fine. Lemme just --" He digs in his back pocket with his free hand before he produces a blue bandana.

"That better be clean," you grind out, hoping to regain control of the situation, but the words are thick in your throat. As it is, you feel entirely too caught up in Steve's orbit, in the warmth of his touch and the kindness in his gaze. He smirks as he wraps the cloth around your hand, tying it tight enough that it won't come off. You hiss and he winces.

"Sorry," he whispers. He clears his throat and releases you. "Just this left?" He taps the side of the last crate with his foot. You nod. Steve makes quick work of the rest of your stock before he picks it up and heads out into the rain. You glance at the glass you're leaving behind before heading after him. The rain is coming down harder and lightning flashes before another crack of thunder makes you jump again.

"Told you!" Steve shouts, tucking the tarp over the back for the last time before you both clamber into the front seats. The rain pounds on the roof and the windshield and you're both panting so hard the window starts to fog. Steve is shivering though trying to hide it, jaw clenched as he runs his hands through his sopping hair. You turn the truck on and blast the heat.

"Where's your car?" you ask. Your voice sounds louder now that it's just the two of you.

"Robin drove today." He angles one of the vents towards you. "She uh, took all the stuff back already."

"So you're stuck here?" You can't believe that she'd leave him on accident or even on purpose.

He shrugs. A drop of rain travels down this column of this throat and you swallow. "You needed help." He says it like it's obvious. Like you should expect him to stay through a storm just to be at your side.

"Okay," you say. "I'll-- I"ll drive you home." Steve looks at you like he's seconds away from laughing in your face.

"With that hand?" All at once the pain rushes back, the steady throb of the cut on your palm taking over. The bandana is as soaked as the rest of you so you can’t tell if you’re bleeding through it. "I don't think so," he snorts.

"Steve." It's the softest you've ever said his name and he all but flinches. "I don't want to fight with you."

"I--we're not fighting," he argues, then catches himself. "I don't want to fight with you either. So I'll ask nicely." He clasps his hands like a boy in church. "Please, oh please, will you let me drive?"

Part of you wants to refuse just to be difficult – and because you totally can drive one handed. But you decide right now, in the cab of your truck as it pours, to try with Steve, and maybe this is what trying looks like. Because he stayed in the rain to help you. Because you’re tired of convincing yourself you don’t want to like him. And well, because your hand really does hurt. "Fine," you sigh. "But I'm not going back out there." Stubborn to the last, your dad always says.

"I'll go over you," Steve says quickly. The cab of the pickup is big for Steve to barely brush your thighs as he hauls himself into the driver's seat but you're so close for just a few seconds that you feel your breath hitch. He's dripping wet like you are but you swear that you can feel the warmth that seems to emanate from him through the fabric.

"Does New-Bee's have a first aid kit? Or do you want to go to the hospital?" He adjusts the seat a little and pulls out of the parking lot in to deserted downtown Hawkins.

"Bob has one," you say. "I think that'll be fine." Would he actually drive you to the hospital if you wanted to go? Something tells you that he'd stay with you the whole time, too. It makes you shiver.

Steve eyes you. "Shouldn't take too long," he says. "Gotta drive a little slower in the rain." The thunder rumbles but it sounds far away now. He hits a bump and your hand smacks your own knee and you hiss.

"Green or red apples?" Steve asks suddenly.

"What?" He repeats the question. "Uh...green," you say. He nods.

"Same. Cats or dogs?"

"Both. Steve, why are you asking--"

"Really? You like cats? They're monsters, I swear. Get scratched every time I go near one." The questions continue. Tulips or daisies? Night or day? Sunrise or sunset? He seems delighted that you're playing along with his game, willing to tell him even small tidbits about yourself. You're both only children, both like morning, both hate spinach. He likes sunrises but you like sunsets, and he actually yells in outrage when you say you "can't stand ice cream."

"I always get a brain freeze!" He's waving his hand in the air like he's searching for the words.

"You're just eating it wrong, or something. Who doesn't like ice cream?" You laugh, the pain in your hand forgotten for the moment. Oh, you think. He's distracting you.

Steve pulls into New-Bee's and Bob's truck is missing. He must be out somewhere, maybe caught by the storm which is still raging, rain steady though not dangerous anymore.

"You're coming in, right?" you ask. He nods, once again running a hand through drying hair that's about to get wet again as if it’s a nervous habit. Maybe it is. But you don’t know why he’d be nervous.

"Ready?" He turns the car off and braces a hand on the door. "We can get the stuff later." You nod and he counts down on his fingers before you fling yourselves into the downpour, running towards the wide farmhouse covered porch. The cold is a shock and Steve grabs you mid-gasp, your uninjured hand in his as he hauls you up the steps and out of the rain. Your fingers feel frozen in his but you don't let go.

You start to laugh. Water pools at your feet and you're cold and your hand hurts and Steve is looking at you like you've lost your mind. But you laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

"What's so funny, honey?" Steve asks, incredulous. The nickname only makes you snort and laugh harder. It sounded so sour coming from him just last week and now it's sweet, now he's grinning at the noise you're making. "Besides, me, clearly," he adds before he starts laughing too. It occurs to you that this might be flirting.

"Steve," you gasp between laughs, "you hate me." He stops laughing but you keep going until you smack your hand on your knee again, and this time it hurts so much it brings tears to your eyes immedietly. Steve hisses like he's the one who's hurting.

"I don't hate you," he says, almost as an afterthought. "Can I see your hand, please?" You hold it out without hesitation. Something has changed between you but you can't exactly pinpoint what or when -- just that now you're offering yourself to him easy as anything.

This time his touch burns, callused fingertips and wide palms overwhelming as one gently unties the bandana and cradles your palm. He whistles long and low. He pulls it gently to his face and you bite your lip because it has been so long since someone touched you like this, with care, with attention.

"I want to see it under some light but I don't think there's any glass in it. And it's not deep enough for stitches. And it’s only bleeding a little bit." He’s rambling.

"Do you do this a lot?" you ask.

He's still looking at your hand but manages some sarcasm. "What, play doctor?"

You flush. Definetly flirting. "Steve."

"Nah," he sighs, letting you go. You shiver again. "I've seen lots of small injuries working at Sara's for so long. Let's go inside, okay?"

The front door is unlocked as usual and as soon as it smacks closed behind you the rain starts to pound harder. "Can I drive you back when it calms down?" you ask him as you tug off your soaked boots.

"Sss-ure." Steve fails to hide his shiver. "Where's the first-aid kit?" You wave for him to follow you to the upstairs bathroom.

"I bet I have some stuff you can change into, if you want." He's going to get sick if he stands around in his soaked clothes much longer.

"Hand first."

"I can do it myself, Steve," you say over your shoulder on the stairs.

He smirks. "I'm sure you can."

The bathroom is big enough that you can both stand in front of the sink, the first-aid kit open on the counter next to you. You allow Steve to examine your palm in the dull light, keeping your eyes on the ceiling. Something tells you that looking at him or your hand might not be such a good idea right now.

"I'm just not as good with new people as I thought," he says, picking up on the abandoned conversation from the porch. He rubs an alcohol wipe along your cut and you scrunch up your nose, eyes pricking. You don't want him to see you almost cry again. "There hasn't been anyone new here in a long time. So I just... we got off on the wrong foot." You don't say anything. You feel him start to wrap the gauze and deem it safe to look down.

"I don't hate you," he repeats, eyes on your hand. "That's what I'm saying."

"I don't hate you either," you say softly. Steve looks at you then, eyes warm and hair damp, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin.

"Fooled me." He secures your bandage with a satisfied hum. "You said something about dry clothes?"

He follows you down the hall to your bedroom. Steve doesn't comment on the bare of your walls, the way your suitcases are out as if you're going to use them at any second. His eyes linger on the numerous candles on your vanity. The bottom drawer of your dresser is full of New-Bee's branded clothing that Bob has given you, soft things you've taken to sleeping in. A pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt should work, and you hand them to him.

"Thanks." He turns on his heel to return to the bathroom.

"Bring me your wet stuff and I'll throw it in the dryer!" you call after him before stripping out of your own soaked clothes, the damp denim of your jeans making a wet sound on the floor. Soft pants and a favorite hoodie fill you with welcome warmth as the rain continues to thud on the glass panes of your windows. You almost run into Steve in the hallway on your way to the closet with the dryer and you have to swallow a lump in your throat at the sight of him.

He's --. Well, he's in your clothes, barefoot in your hallway. To see him this way feels intimate in a way you don't know how to handle and it makes your heart do something funny in your chest.

"These are comfy," he says. His hair is a mess and you're staring and for some reason his cheeks are pink.

"You can have them," you tell him without thinking. Oh god, you think. Where did that come from? "I can get more from Bob, anyway." You pull open the washing closet and he throws his stuff in the dryer alongside yours. Your traitorous brain wonders if he's still wearing his underwear.

"Well, now what?" He looks at you through damp bangs, arms crossed. He looks softer than you ever thought him capable of being.

"This will take like, half an hour maybe? So I guess you have to hang out with me until then." He groans and you swat his arm, the venom from your first meeting nowhere to be found. Steve heads back towards your bedroom as you finish setting the dryer and you find him sniffing some of the glass jars he'd been eyeing earlier.

"These smell great," he tells you, eyes fluttering as he inhales one labeled evergreen/lavender. "You made 'em?"

"Yeah." You sit down on the edge of your bed. "Test batches for new scents."

"Still burning your fingers?" He looks at your hands, one bandaged by his own and the other curling into your blankets. You shake your head, remembering how he'd come to talk to you at the market, how his gaze had darkened when he noticed your fingers.

"What were you going to ask me last week?" you ask. He sets down the candle and straddles your vanity chair so that he's facing you.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, well." Maybe he doesn't remember. "I just-- before those kids of yours showed up, you were going to ask me something."

"You remember that?"

"I pay attention." The to you goes unsaid but seems to float in the air between you nonetheless.

"Oh," Steve says. He crosses his arms on top of the chair and sets his chin on them. "I was going to ask you to uh, hang out? But looks like that is happening right now."

"Really?"

"Don't sound so excited," he grumbles. You roll your eyes. "Uh, Nancy is gonna be in town this week and we're gonna have a Friday night...thing. By the lake."

"Steve," you say. You feel warm, warmer than you have all day. Because he wants to hang out, wants to be friends. And he has, maybe this whole time. "I don't know who Nancy is."

"She's Mike's -- the tall kid you met -- older sister. Jonathan's girlfriend. She's at school but she's coming back for her little sister's birthday. Holly, she's a real sweetheart--"

"Okay," you say.

"Okay?" he parrots. "You don't even want to know who will be there?"

"Careful, Steve. It sounds like you don't want me to come after all." He laughs.

"No, no, I want you to come. Now can I ask you something?" You nod, crossing your legs and his eyes follow your movements. "What did Brenda say to you? A few weeks ago, before we, uh...fought again."

It seems to be a day of catching each other off guard. "Does it matter what she said?" He taps his fingers in a random pattern on your chair.

"I just wanna know." His eyes are dark, his expression guarded. You can feel the walls you've only just broken down start to rebuild and you're desperate to keep them at bay. But you don't want to lie to him. Not while he's in your bedroom in your clothes after the day you've had together.

"She...she told me to be wary of you." His eyebrows raise and his jaw tightens. "She said you uh, broke a lot of hearts in high school."

"Why did she say that to you?" Now that is a truth you are not going to tell him. That she caught you staring.

"Dunno," you mutter.

"Is that why?" he asks. "Why we didn't get along? Why you were so mad that day?" How can you tell him it's because he makes your brain fuzzy, because you were hurt that he judged you so fast? That you did the exact same thing to him?

"I don't--. No." You rub your face with one hand. "Steve, I don't even know her. I don't know why she said that to me--"

"It's true," he interrupts. "I was an asshole back then. I guess I still am," he adds. "I guess I haven't changed a ton, based on how I was to you. How I am to you." He snorts and it's a harsh sound.

"Steve," you begin. "Steve, look, you said it yourself. We got off on the wrong foot and I was as much a part of that as you --"

"You don't have to defend me. You have no reason to." Why does it feel like this is turning into a fight? “That’s just my story, I guess. And everyone knows it.”

"I don't think I understand --"

The dryer beeps and he's out of your room in a flash. How have you lost track of the conversation so quickly?

"Steve," you say. "Steve, wait a second." He's in the hallway pulling his clothes out and shoving them into a paper bag he's found on the shelf. He won't look at you.

"I think I better just go. I don't...I don't want to fight again." The rain has all but stopped without your noticing.

"Then don't fight with me! Steve, come on, I'll drive you. It's bound to rain again and you'll get sick. This is a stupid idea!"

"Yeah, well," he mutters. "That's never stopped me before. See you later. Uh, thanks." He holds up the paper bag with his dry clothes as he shoves his bare feet into his boots. And then he's out the door.

"What the fuck just happened?" you say out loud to yourself in the empty kitchen.

____

It's frustration and embarrassment that keeps you from chasing after Steve. From going to see him at Sara's that night and on Sunday. You spend the rest of the weekend furiously making candles only to realize you've just made batch after batch of the one Steve picked up in your room -- an evergreen and lavender scent. Your hand doesn't hurt anymore, the cut already healing into a thin scabbed line underneath the bandaids you keep on it.

"Not that I'm complaining," Bob says when you bring the finished jars into the farmhouse on Monday morning. "But what's the fixation on this candle? You've made enough for three farmer's markets at least."

"Bob," you sigh. "I think I messed up but I don't know why." You and Bob talk most days when you run into each other in the house, but you hardly speak to him about non-farm matters. And yet, who else do you have to turn to? You don't think you can call anyone to talk about Steve, since everyone knows him, and you feel silly about the whole situation as is.

"And candles are going to fix it?" he teases. You groan and he claps you on the back gently. "Listen, kiddo. I know you've had a rough go of it and that Hawkins might not have sold you yet. But you're finding your way. And I know that you've made quite the impression on a few folks already." He picks up one of the candles you're labeling and smells it. "How about you take some of these over to Sara's? Give 'em a few and see if Hop wants to put some up in the store on the property."

Your boss eyes you as you feel your cheeks heat and you shift from foot to foot. "Sure, Bob," you tell him. You realize you have no idea what Steve does during the week, let alone on a Monday. It's time to find out.

You rehearse an apology on the drive to Sara's Farm. "What do I have to apologize for?" you mutter as you the truck bumps down the long drive. But urge to get back the Steve that padded around your room barefoot in borrowed clothes is stronger than your stubbornness. The property itself is huge -- much bigger than New Bee's. There are multiple barns that look well-built and maintained along one side of the fields and on the other you see a variety of livestock grazing. A bright blue chicken coop is next to the small farm store and the farm house sits charmingly in front of what looks to be rows and rows of trees. You wonder where Steve lives.

The farm store is empty of customers on a Monday morning but it's full of beautiful produce and goods: bags of apples of all colors, cherries, and sunflowers. Root vegetables and fresh eggs sit next to baked goods you have a feeling El is responsible for. There are t-shirts and hand-painted canvas bags and flower arrangements with the Byers Flowers tag on them. At the register sits a man you've never met but know on sight -- Jim Hopper. Former police chief, current farmer and collector of wayward individuals, if you've got the story right. That's how Steve ended up here, anyway.

"Uh, hi?" you say. Hopper looks up from a tattered paperback but he doesn’t spook.

"Hello," he drawls. "You here from Bob's place?" He jerks his chin at the New-Bee's bag you're carrying full of your candles.

"I--yeah." You introduce yourself and he sucks on his teeth and stands, gesturing for the bag.

"You're the new girl Harrington talks about," he says. "I'm Hop. Welcome to Hawkins." Your brain is trying to make sense of what he's saying. Steve...talks about you? It's not that strange considering you have been a massive pain in his ass on purpose but still.

"I've been here almost a month," you blurt out. Hopper looks at you over the candle he's smelling. It's a look that says: I know what you’re really here for.

"Belated welcome, then," he says. "You make these?" You nod. "They smell great. I'll call Bob and tell him we'll stock 'em."

You look at your shoes as if they're suddenly very interesting. "Is uh, Steve here?" Hopper sighs and wipes a hand across his face as he mutters something that sounds like damn kids.

"Not today," he replies but offers no details. Your fists clench in your pockets because something about this feels rehearsed. "Hey," Hopper says and you look up. "Maybe if you bring some more candles tomorrow he'll be here."

But when you return the next day with a full crate of candles you find El and the boy you remember as Mike sitting behind the counter. El grins when she sees you and calls out your name. Mike whispers something in her ear.

"Hi El, Mike. Where can I put this?" Mike hurries around the counter to take it from you. There's a clear set of shelves right by the register that he starts to fill.

El rests her head in her hands and smiles at you. "Dad said you'd come by today. That color is really pretty on you." You're wearing a deep green sweater under a denim jacket.

You wink at her and she giggles. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Parent-teacher conferences," Mike says. "Hop's there so we get to run the store today." He carefully lines up all the candles so the labels face outwards. El watches his every movement.

"Are your other friends here?" A screech from outside floats in through the open window followed by what sounds like Max's laughter.

"They're supposed to be collecting eggs," El says. "But the rooster doesn't like Dustin very much."

"And, uh..." You examine a jar of strawberry jam. "Is Steve here? Your dad said he might be." Her eyes are soft as she chews on her response and tucks her hair behind her ears.

"He told me to tell you that he's not here," she says. Mike looks at her with fond exasperation.

"El, I don't think we were supposed to say it like that."

She raises her eyebrows at him. "Steve is being silly and Max and I won't be a part of it. So be glad she's outside because she'd be less nice than me." She looks at you, mouth twisted in a grimace. "I don't know where he is today but if you come back tomorrow maybe you'll catch him."

"Great," you mutter. "He's avoiding me." You blow a raspberry to keep your frustration at bay. "Here's some free life advice, Mike." He looks at you warily. "Don't avoid girls. They'll find you." He sputters and El cackles.

And you fully intend to catch Steve sooner rather than later because this is getting ridiculous. Wednesday morning finds you driving over to Sara's yet again. No candles this time, but you have a plan: search every inch of the damn property for this ridiculous boy and make him talk to you. Because you don't want all of this to be for nothing -- the thing between you that changed from something cold and hurtful to something that made you look forward to seeing him. That, and you want to go the hang-out on Friday without things being awkward.

You bypass the store completely and head for the orchard. It's a bitter cold day, the first one in a while, and you should have worn gloves. As it is you're shivering in your jeans and long-sleeve layered under a the same sweater as yesterday and a flannel and a jacket. The tip of your nose feels like Jack Frost himself blew on it and you're rubbing it when you almost crash into someone popping out of a row of apple trees.

"Hey!" says Robin, arms reaching out to steady you. "You okay?" She looks as cold as you but she's smart enough to be wearing a beanie. You haven't seen her recently, haven't talked to her one-on-one since your first meeting in the library. You wonder if Steve told her what happened.

"Wasn't watching where I was going, sorry." You sigh but Robin's friendly energy tamps down your frustration. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know," she sing-songs. "No classes today, so I'm here to help a bit with apple picking. If you want advice on the best varietals right now I'm your girl. Hopper made us memorize an entire list this year. I think I know more about apples than I ever wanted to." She digs into her cargo pants pocket and pulls out a huge red fruit. "Good breakfast though!" The crunch of her bite makes you smile and she tries to say something through a mouthful of fruit.

"Robin, don't choke!" She rolls her eyes and makes a show of chewing before trying again.

"Are you coming on Friday night?" she asks. "Nancy is psyched to meet you and Eddie won't stop bothering me about hanging out with you and Steve --" She groans like his very name is a chore to say. "Well, I bet you're here to see Steve, right?"

You chew on your lip before responding. "Did he tell you what happened?"

"Sounds like a classic case of Steve getting stuck in his own head and being a jerk. But that's just my opinion." Robin rocks back and forth on her heels and takes another bight of the apple.

"I wanted to apologize but I don't really know what I'm apologizing for," you admit. "I think we were about to become friends."

She hums. "Well, he's in the orchard a few rows that way." She points in the direction you were heading. "Just listen for the radio playing Springsteen really loudly. And please, please come on Friday." She pulls you in for a hug so quick you don't get the chance to return it and darts off back towards the farm store. You listen hard and hear some music in the distance so you head towards it, you cold hands shoved in your pockets.

"I'm dyin' for some action," a voice carries over the orchard. "Sick of sittin' round here tryin' to write this book." You quicken your pace along the openings in the rows of trees, head craned to glance down each one in search of Steve. "I need a love reaction," he sings and you try very hard to keep a hold on your frustration. "Come on now, baby, give me just one look---"

It gets harder when you find him at the top of a ladder. The radio is loud from its place in the dirt and he's pulling apples from the top of a tree and tossing them into a cloth bag. Stock for the farm store, you guess. You're content to watch him, drinking your fill after a few days without a glance. The realization that you missed him is a sudden one that has you rubbing at your chest. But its not the ache that you’re so used to – it’s something entirely different. What is this boy doing to you?

As if he hears you thinking, Steve turns over his shoulder mid-singing and spots you. His eyes widen and his cheeks color even more -- he's already flushed from the cold and his efforts -- and he starts down the ladder. "Bee girl," he calls. "Fancy seeing you here." He skips the last few rungs and hops onto the ground to turn the radio down. You realize that he's wearing overalls over a soft green sweater that matches your own. He's not wearing gloves either and his ears are pink and you want to touch him and -- wait, what?

"You've been avoiding me, Steve," you say, your heart beating entirely too fast.

"How's your hand?" he asks. "You keeping it clean?" You hold up your palm so he can see the bandaids there.

"It's fine. Steve, I said you're been avoiding me--"

"Yeah," he admits. "I'm sorry."

"I-- what? Really?" You've come ready to argue again, ready to stand your ground and tell him he's been unfair.

"Really. Did you...not expect me to apologize?" He frowns. "You didn't do anything wrong. I just got in my head about stupid stuff. About the way other people think of me, all that shit." He digs his hands into his overall pockets. "And I took it out on you. So, I'm sorry. I uh, I won't do it again. I swear."

"Oh," you breathe. "Well, then." You laugh a little and Steve smiles hesitantly. "I was ready to fight. Tell you to stop being such a stubborn asshole and talk to me." He grimaces.

"I was embarrassed, actually," he says. "I mean, a girl from high school tells you the truth and I get shitty about it? Not a good look." He takes a casual step towards you to inspect a branch of the tree you're standing by. "I just feel like you're getting all the worst parts of me."

You snort. In the days you've spend thinking about him, you know that's not true. He's stubborn and he's quick to defend and he's possessive. Steve is all of that, but he's also funny and kind and helpful and loyal. You'd be silly not to admit that to yourself. You hope he can see those things, too. "I want to be your friend, Steve," you tell him. His head snaps up to look at you. His eyes are warm and the corner of his mouth curls up.

"I want to be your friend, too," he says softly. A cool wind rushes down the row of trees and his ladder shakes. "Is that safe?" you ask, shivering a little.

"Yeah, it's better when I'm on it, actually --" He notices you shake. "You're cold." He steps forward to rub his hands up and down your arms. When he catches your fingers he hisses. "You gotta wear gloves, honey," he says. The nickname seems to slip out without his notice. It sounds different than when he said it in jest on your porch. It's sweeter than you imagined it would be now that he seems to mean it, almost sweeter than you can handle. "You should go back to the store and make Wheeler give you some free cider."

"Do you want to come?" you ask. Just minutes ago you were ready to fight with him and now you don't want him to stop touching you, stop being near you. This boy is giving you whiplash.

"I gotta keep going out here or Hop will feed me to the chickens." He looks almost pained to send you off alone. "But I'll see you Friday? Are you okay with Eddie picking you up?"

You nod. "Yeah. I'll be there." You eye the ladder again. "Be careful, Steve. I don't need my new friend falling out of a tree!" His laugh warms you all the way to your toes.

Time passes impossibly slowly for the rest of the week. But then it's 7 pm and you're waiting for Eddie to pick you up and you're excited. Over a month in this town and you're finally feeling like you've got your feet under you -- you've got friends and they want to hang out with you and you're making things you’re proud of and you feel good. The night is chilly and you're sure to shove a hat and gloves in your bag along with some marshmallows.

A car honks and you almost trip over yourself on the way out the door. Eddie sits in a van that looks like it's on its last legs. You can hear the music blasting but he turns it down as you climb in.

"It smells like mushrooms in here," you say. He laughs and backs out of the New-Bee drive.

"Usually smells like weed." He winks at you. "I think the 'shrooms smell better. Earthy, ya know?"

"Whatever you say." You're about to start basic small talk when he clicks his tongue loudly.

"So, you and Harrington, huh?" he asks. You try to keep your expression neutral but your eyebrows lose the battle and raise to your hairline.

"Me and Harrington, what, Eddie?"

"I don't know sweetheart, you tell me."

You fiddle with the heat nob. "He's not that bad, I guess." Eddie laughs again. He's a joyful dude.

"Told you so," he sings. "Glad you came around, or I think he'd have blown a gasket starting at you all the time." You look out the window. It feels like things have gone from zero to 100 in the span of a week. Loathing for Steve turned to frustration turned to something warmer, something softer. You want to know him. You want to understand him and to talk to him and to figure out what makes him tick. And you want him to know you.

Eddie spares you more talk of Steve and instead regales you with stories of his band and his odd boss at the mushroom farm, Rick. You deduce that in addition to selling mushrooms legally and weed a little less so, Eddie is perhaps the sweetest, strangest boy you've ever met.

The lake, Lover's Lake, you remember, is dark and you have to walk down a small bluff to get to the bonfire. Steve doesn't seem to be there yet but Robin, Jonathan, and a girl you assume is Nancy all cheer when you arrive.

"There she is!" Robin cries. You pull out the marshmallows. "And she brings snacks!"

"Steve should have the graham crackers and chocolate when he gets here," Jonathan says. "Glad you made it."

"I'm Nancy," the girl next to him says. She's bundled in an Emerson sweatshirt and a jacket you've seen Jonathan wear before. "It's so good to meet the one who seems to be looking after these guys when I'm not around." She pats the spot next to her and you settle in between her and Robin.

"Oh, I don't know about that," you say. "I'm just the new girl in town."

"The new girl in town that we are obsessed with!" Robin adds. "She's great, Nance. An expert in bees already, too. The candles she makes are beautiful." You're starting to feel like a product Robin is trying to sell.

"It's true," Jonathan says. "The kids love her, too."

"Kids," Nancy scoffs. "Mike drove us here, Jonathan. They're hardly kids anymore."

"Your brother is sweet," you say. "And Steve said it's your sister's birthday? I hope you're having fun being home for that." Nancy smiles softly and leans into Jonathan. The easy affection between them makes your chest ache.

"I always love coming home," she tells you. "Hawkins is a special place full of special people." Her smile turns to a smirk. "Though I've heard you've become well acquainted with one of them."

Eddie snorts. He's already got a marshmallow on a stick over the fire. "That's one way to put it, Wheeler." You bury your face in your hands and groan.

"We're friends now, I swear!" you say. "He just pissed me off at first."

"He was an asshole, you mean," Robin corrects fondly. "Oh, Steve. We love him, don't get me wrong. But you were a sight to behold, putting him in his place like you did."

"I really wish I was there for that," Nancy sighs. "But seriously, I'm glad you're friends now and that he asked you to hang out with us. I was going to make Robin do it if Steve didn't get his act together --"

"Munson!" a voice interrupts. "Can't you wait for the rest of the s'mores stuff?" Eddie's marshmallow is now on fire as he greets Steve with a sheepish grin.

"Grocery store is a mess tonight," he says, dropping two plastic bags on the ground by your wood log benches. He's got a thermos tucked under one arm. And -- you swear you gasp just a little bit -- he's in a beanie. "I got graham crackers, chocolate, beer, and warm cider for anyone who doesn't want beer." He passes the six pack to Robin and she, Nancy, and Jonathan take one. Eddie looks between you and Steve and the thermos like he's trying to solve a puzzle before he takes a beer, too.

"Guess this is for you and me, bee girl," Steve says. Robin scoots over and Steve settles next to you on the wood, his thigh pressing warm into yours. "Hey," he says quietly, just to you.

"Hey yourself," you reply. It's no longer a surprise that you're so glad to see him. Eddie starts to ask Nancy about the big city and Steve cracks open the thermos and pulls out two chipped mugs from one of the plastic bags. You take one and his bare fingers brush against yours, warm as always.

"Did you bring gloves?" he asks, pouring hot cider into your mug. "And a hat?"

"Why, you gonna give me yours if I didn't?" you tease. He grins and your stomach swoops.

"Nah," he says. "I forgot my gloves, so I'm just making sure I can steal yours later."

"Wait, I brought blankets!" Eddie runs back to his van to grab them and tosses one to you and Steve. You hold his mug as he wraps it around you both, the thermos held between his legs.

"No need to steal my gloves," you say softly. He snorts a little.

"So," Nancy begins. "I hope I'm not prying, but can you tell me how exactly you ended up in Hawkins?"

"Oh," you say. "Uh." The cider is warm when you take a sip. You wonder if Steve made it himself before coming over here. "There's not much of a story, really." Robin gently knocks your foot with hers and Steve's thigh presses into you even more. "My folks wanted me to go to college so I did. But I didn't like it and I didn't want to waste money so I asked if I could uh, drop out."

"Badass," Eddie says. Nancy shushes him.

"I don't know what I want to do with my life," you continue. "And we had a connection to Bob and my parents told me to try the total opposite of college which is working on a bee farm, I guess. So, I'm just trying to figure it out." You take another sip of your cider. “Start a new story, or something.”

"I'll drink to that," Jonathan mutters. You laugh and it's echoed around the fire. He starts to tell a story about his classes at community college and you pull the blanket tighter around you. Steve is warm at your side and you glance at him. There's no use pretending that he's anything short of beautiful. You've thought so since you first saw him, even when he made you see red. But in the firelight and his hat he looks soft, young, happy. You trace the line of his jaw with your gaze and look away only when you realize you're staring at his lips. On the other side of him, Robin grins at you.

"Who wants to skip rocks?" she says. You realize you have no idea what's been said the last few minutes. She stands up and tugs Nancy from your side. "Come on," she says to the boys.

"Not on your life, Buckley," Steve says, but she's already down the bank with the others. "I hope no one falls in," he grumbles.

"Don't be such a grump," you tease. "They can handle themselves."

"It's too cold." Steve pouts exaggeratedly and you reach up to tug on his beanie.

"Thank you for inviting me, Steve," you say softly. "I'm having a nice time and it's...nice to have friends." His pout turns into something a little more real and his eyebrows furrow. "I like Hawkins a lot. I've just felt kind of adrift, if that makes sense?"

"I didn't help," he sighs. "I made it worse, I'm sure. I'm sorry for --"

"But you're helping now," you say. You put your hand on his knee and he inhales sharply. "No more apologies needed."

"I like the candles that you made," he blurts out. “The new ones that we’re stocking at Sara’s.” You smack your lips and keep your hand where it is.

"How did you know I made them?"

"You told me, just now." He's teasing but his face is flushed. His eyelashes look impossibly long. "Nah, I knew. You're a candle wiz. Even if you're clumsy." He eyes the hand that isn't on his knee, the one that you cut. You hold it up to show him, just like you did on Wednesday in the orchard. You feel bold under his gaze, bold in the darkness with your new friends laughing down at the shoreline. Bold because you've gone from being alone to being wanted in the span of a week and it feels good.

"I made them because you were smelling that one in my bedroom," you confess. "The evergreen lavender tester."

Steve's face does something complicated, like he's sorting through how he should feel about this. "Aren't you observant," he mutters, but it's teasing. His eyes catch your gaze again and this time he's searching for something. Then his hand settles over yours on his knee and you're worried he's going to pull it off.

"Can I try something?" he asks. "You can tell me to go fuck myself if you don't like it." The memory of your first meeting makes you laugh but it comes out as a nervous giggle because Steve is leaning in. He's leaning in and the crack of the fire and the laughter by the lake is drowned out by the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You close your eyes and wait to be kissed.

Steve is warm everywhere. His hand on yours, the line of his body as he turns into you, the palm that frees itself from the blanket to cup your jaw. He breathes into the small space between you for just a second too long and you decide to close the gap. He gasps against your lips and it's such a sweet sound that you smile. It's a soft kiss, sweet and hesitant. His lips are gentle but the hand on your face suggests that he could take control at any point, that he's letting you decide how long to keep this up.

You linger, pulling away only to lean back in for another quick peck against Steve's growing grin. You can't help it.

"C'mere," Steve says, tugging you into a hug. A first kiss has never felt so enormous, so monumental. You hide your face in his neck. "You don't taste like honey, honey," he says into your hair. "I feel kind of cheated."

You pinch his thigh and he yelps.

"We're friends, huh?" you say, knowing that you're crossing a line that maybe you can't come back from. And it's a dangerous move because you know right there, in the cold October night by the fire with his hand on your face and a blanket around you both that you could love him. It would be so easy. He could be your home if you wanted him to be. And that's terrifying.

"We're whatever you want," Steve replies.

___

tags: @cheerupbarry @srrybutno @97soroka @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @sunshinehollandd @katsukis1wife @imherefortea @spideyboipete @lonelywidow @actual-mom-steve-harrington @steveharringtonscarkeys @pennyllanne @ducky-is-dead-inside @ih3artcry1ng @escape-in-time-x @sea040561 @manyfandomsfanvergent @blandyton @liberhoe @annaisweird @mrs-dr-reid @toomanyacorns @darlingoctober @selfdeprecatingnerd @dullsocietyy @keep-drivng @shireentapestry @mintfrostflower @freezaz123

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#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #no good at waiting

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abiiors · 1 year

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by the fireplace 🍷 // ross macdonald x reader

promptober '23 - day 6

a/n: it won't be an abiiors fic without a cosy bookstore somewhere in there cw: alcohol consumption (wine) wc: 800

“fifty quid, ross,” her finger hovers up in the air, pointing threateningly at her boyfriend who looks mildly amused at the whole thing. “fifty quid and no more, okay? it’s your responsibility.”

“what!?” ross throws his hands up in the air, exasperation thick in his voice, “how is it my responsibility? what am i supposed to do—say no to you?”

he’s cheeky, she likes that about him, but he also gets on her last nerve sometimes. like right now, for example. they are in this huge, old bookshop they found in the city on one of their walks. it’s beautiful and cosy, decked with autumn decorations; of course, she couldn’t resist dragging him inside and for all his grumbling, he is simply happy to watch her get excited over all the shiny new hardcovers, the worn secondhand paperback, the bookish merch and whatever else that might catch her eye.

she rolls her eyes and gives him a hard stare. “absolutely not the time to be cute here, ross. focus! i’m serious!”

ross clears his throat, still looking very much like he wants to laugh, and nods his head. “right, fifty quid. even a penny more and i’ll drag you out of here kicking and screaming. happy?”

“and you better stick to it…” she threatens again, this time in a much weaker voice.

her resolve is weakening. in his heart, he knows how this is going to go. like a greedy kid, she will grab a whole stack of books handing them to him absentmindedly while she runs for the next section (he’s already holding one book—and oh, there, she’s handed him another one). then she will turn to him and pout and mumble something about making it sixty quid instead of fifty.

she moves from shelf to shelf, picking up books, reading blurbs, and getting lost in the pages. he follows her, dutifully carrying the growing stack of books in his arms. by the time they reach the till, it’s almost too heavy to carry.

it’s not really a surprise to either of them when the total comes up to £55. ross turns to her and quirks an eyebrow.

“so who’s getting the axe?”

her face falls, mouth curving into a pout that he’s seen on her so often and ross almost caves. it’s not like 5 quid would make a huge difference…

but she sighs, coming to the conclusion on her own. “i guess this one can go.”

quickly, he glances at the book, a small collection of essays that she picked out fom the second or third section. quickly, he makes a note of the title.

the house is chilly when they get home. that’s how unpredictable october is, cosy and warm in the afternoon, but freezing by night. and ross knows her all too well… he knows that she’s going to make a beeline to the fireplace.

as if on cue, she shivers, rubbing her hands over her arms. “i’m lighting the fire,” she announces, then turns to him. “there’s a bottle of wine in the fridge if you feel like it?”

“mm-hmm, i’ll go get it!”

a wine and a cuddle in front of the fire does sound absolutely delightful. besides, he’s missed the intimacy. so he grabs the bottle from the fridge and two glasses and makes his way back to the now-cosy living room.

she’s bathed in the warm glow of the fire, just setting up some blankets on the settee for them to use. ross pours them both a glass and settles onto the sofa to watch her excitedly dig a book from her new purchases. her face is a mask of pure concentration—comparing and contrasting each blurb, each cover review with a hawk's eye before she settles on a cover that’s bright yellow. then she walks up to ross who opens his arms happily.

“had fun today?” he asks when she snuggles into him, opening her book to page one. ross knows once she gets into it, he will be inviting death by talking to her repeatedly. for now though, she seems content, sipping on her wine and letting him nuzzle his face into her neck.

“loads,” she hums happily. “did you?”

“mm-hmm. still thinking about that book you left behind though, aren’t you?”

at that she scrunches her nose. guilty as charged. the light of the fire dances on her skin, golden and incandescent and he almost wonders if it’s possible to fall in love with someone all over again every single day.

“don’t worry about it,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “i already placed an order for it.”

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies@sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied

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#promptober75 #the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross x reader #ross x you #ross macdonald fluff #the 1975 fluff #fluff writing #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann

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the-passenger-if · 1 year

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We get to see Roach tease the MC about their romance insterests; how would Roach tease the ROs about being interested in or having a crush Newman? Roach's sense of humor is great and them embarrassing everyone around them is top tier friendship trolling.

Happy May!

And happy October to you, anon n_n”

I imagine Roach would tease Fiama while they're stuck in the cabin, maybe while Newman is cleaning themselves in the bathroom:

“Good for you,” Roach says, and Fiama looks at them.

“Are you talking to me?” She holds Bruno closer to her.

Roach chuckles. “No need to use the kid as a shield. You’re obviously taken.” They throw a pointed look at the bathroom, before looking at her again, “In more ways than one.” When Fiama's only answer is staring back at them, Roach stands up and stretches themself. “Hey, it's fine. To be honest, you duped me; I thought you would get up and leave, yet here you are.”

“And I should care about what you think because…?”

Roach grins. “Oh no, you shouldn’t.” They look like they want to add something else, but their amused expression turns softer little by little. “You’ll take care of them, won’t you?”

“I’m planning to,” Fiama replies, her chin high, and Roach realizes she doesn’t appreciate the sudden probing. It’s fine; they wouldn’t either.

“Good. Good for you,” they repeat. “Good for them.” And they mean it.

●○●○●○●○●

They would tease Jonny in the cabin too because Roach has no chill:

“How does it feel to be the latest obsession of a monstrosity from space?”

Jonny doesn’t look at them, but his eyes jump to the tiny bathroom before shooting elsewhere.

Roach sighs. Thinks about resting their head against his shoulder for half a second before just going for it. Jonny doesn’t shake them off, but he tenses up—more than he usually does, for a longer time than he usually does. “Jonny-boy…” It’s a plea but they don’t care.

“You two are laughing at me.” Not an accusation, just facts being stated, which is worse somehow.

Roach rests their forehead against his shoulder. “We so aren’t.” They nudge Jonny until their friend sighs. When they look up, he is watching them with a blank expression. “Maybe you’re just that enchanting?” Jonny clicks his tongue, and Roach hugs him. “They are into you, dumbass. They really are.” He says nothing; he just stares wide-eyed, so ready to believe them, and also so afraid. “Don’t chicken out now.”

“I… no, I won’t.” Jonny swallows down and makes to stand up so Roach lets go of him.

When both of them are on their feet, Roach gives his skinny ass a friendly slap. The unimpressed look Jonny throws them has them holding up their hands. “For good luck. Go get them, stud.”

●○●○●○●○●

Lastly, they would tease Horizon before shit hit the fan in CH7. They would invite themselves into the Domini’s cabin one evening receiving a vexed look for their trouble:

“So,” Roach begins, paying no mind to Horizon. “Domini, you are a smart cookie. Do you like crosswords?” When they blink in confusion, Roach holds up the magazine they brought along. “Been squeezing my brain for over ten minutes and I can’t find the right word.” They lie the magazine on the table, clear their throat. “Group of whales. And it’s a three letter word.”

Horizon thinks about it for a moment before saying, “A pod.”

Roach grins as they jot down the answer. “Hah, I knew asking you was a good idea. Alright, another one, a container for holding and pouring liquids that usually has a lip or spout and a handle.”

This time the reply is immediate. “Pitcher.” Horizon approaches the table as Roach counts the squares and lets out an impressed whistle. “You’re a walking thesaurus, Domini.”

“Well, I—”

“Third one: someone who is in love slash sexually aroused by their own deity.” They look up at Horizon forming a perfect o with their mouth. The shocked look on the Domini’s face almost makes Roach crack up then and there. “Well well well, this crossword is spicy.”

After that, Horizon isn’t in the mood for games anymore; they are quick to usher Roach out and close the door behind them. Roach is giggling to themself when Horizon reappears.

“And the word is theophile,” the Domini hurls at them.

Roach opens their mouth, reply at the ready, but Horizon shuts the door in their face. Of course, that doesn’t deter them in the slightest. “And you would know everything about that, wouldn’t you?”

#ask #spoilers #tp fiama #tp jonny #tp roach #tp horizon #actually the word seems to be theosexual #but apparently that wasn't a thing before 2001?

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mfporky · 2 months

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I feel like people forget just how many Nintendo IPs got proper revives on the Switch, so I made a big fat thread about some

The biggest one in my eyes, a series that holds strong importance to me, is Pikmin. After getting a pretty damn good game on the Wii U back in 2013 the series was propelled into a limbo-like state with Pikmin 4 being "On My Way!" for a decade straight. Mainline wise, nothing, we don't talk about Hey Pikmin. Absolute crickets for awhile and then almost overnight it became THE system for Pikmin games. Pikmin 3 Deluxe, which is way more than just a port, with a bucket full of new content and an alternative campaign, released October 30th 2020. Back to crickets for a few years until all of a sudden, Pikmin 4 and ports of Pikmin 1 and 2 released on the same day of July 21st 2023. All incredible games in their own right, the supreme ports of all, insanely proud Nintendo treats their small fish franchise with such delicate care; if you're using this list as a game suggestions list, check out Pikmin you will NOT regret it.

Famicom Detective Club, which was one damned to eternal obscure Nintendo fanatic knowledge hell, has arose from its grave and is unironically making strong waves. The last original game being made in 1989 and then having "Super Famicom Satellaview Remasters" in the mid 90s, which are damn hard to find proper info on. Other than that, tombstone. Only real thing of note being that it was the first project Yoshio Sakamoto sunk his pen into, other than that it was doomed to niche oddity and a footnote in gaming history. The Switch changed all that, with remakes of the first two games being bundled together and released May 14th 2021. That's not all, a brand new game in the series, "Emio - The Smiling Man", is currently set to release August 29th 2024 as of writing

F-Zero, technically got a new game! It's pennies compared to everyone else's quarters and dollars, but after a 20+ year hiatus its worth a mention. With the last game in the series, ironically called F-Zero Climax, released on the GBA there were crickets after that. Gone but not forgotten, it got the occasional rerelease onto the latest system's virtual console, and it still had a spot in Smash Brothers. Granted if you were me growing up you'd figure that Captain Falcon was just some wack original character, but shit the representation matters. It was like that until September 14th, 2023, when a brand new game in the series with online got announced and released later in a Nintendo direct! Sure it was just a battle royale game, another drop in the bucket with the 99 subtitle, but it counts for this list.

Metroid, the series infamous for its dry spells, has been an oasis of new content recently. The last chronological game in the 2D Metroid series was Fusion, released in 2002, with the Metroid Prime game getting its third installment in 2007. In terms of original games, that was it. There was a remake of Metroid 1 on the GBA, and a remake of Metroid 2 on the 3DS, and there were spinoffs here and there (Metroid Prime Pinball is my GOAT baby); other than that, nothing. That is until the Switch came along, with Metroid Prime 4 being announced within the same year of the Switch's release. It took literally 7 years to get more info about Prime 4 but its with confidence to say that the game is coming out, sometime in 2025. 2D Metroid, long dormant and stagnant and almost two decades without a game got a surprise announcement in a Nintendo Direct; the highly anticipated and teased Metroid Dread, long thought to be a cancelled DS game but emerging in the flesh brazen as ever. Released October 8th, 2021, Metroid is officially back after what felt like centuries of wait.

2D Mario has been stuck in a rut of unoriginality for a decade and a half now. Since the release of New Super Mario Bros for the DS in May 2006, 2D Mario was stuck in a loop of distilling the same damn game over and over, with it getting stripped more and more of what once was in such a short time. It hit a boiling point in November 2012, with the release of "New Super Mario Bros U", the second New Super game to release that year. After that, nothing. People were sick of what felt like the same damn game, sure they were passable but it felt emblematic of everything 2D Mario shouldn't be. Then, almost like an angel from the heavens, came Super Mario Bros Wonder; the antithesis of New Super, it had original concepts in boatloads and felt like a proper evolution of 2D Mario. New concepts in spades, so much extra content, brilliant new artstyle in a new kingdom. It feels like going from store bought freezer pancakes from Walmart to a French chef from a 5 michelien star restaurant making you your breakfast.

The Mario & Luigi series, although a cult classic series, never quite got the mainstream attention it deserved. Even with classics like Bowser's Inside Story, Dream Team, Superstar Saga, the financial backing from the public and internal was just never quite there. After Dream Team (sleeper hit, if you're interested check it out!), it was the beginning of the end with the release of Paper Jam. Reused assets, real basic baby story, padding aplenty, dialogue that hits the senses like pulling teeth (fuckin leave Luigi alone), there's no way this was anything other than a cash grab. A collaboration with Paper Mario too, another cult classic series, it was insulting to both Paper Mario fans and M&L fans. After that, no new original games. Alphadream pumped out two remakes, which are pretty alright, and them they went bankrupt. God bless Alphadream, but the writing was on the wall when they kept making 3DS games long after the Switch came out. It was a dark time, felt clear as light that the M&L series will remain to be past tense and just a footnote in the large conglomerate that is Mario now. Until recently, with the announcement of Brothership; a new spanking game in the M&L series releasing in November of this year.

Genuine generational run Nintendo is going on right now. List could've droned on for easily triple the length, and I might make a sequel to this one day. Could've been even more if i talked about new Nintendo's new IPs or just how much better everything's gotten. It rules we live in this time now, especially after the dark ages of the Wii U.

#nintendo switch #nintendo #mario #super mario #metroid #f zero #mario and luigi

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ficbrish · 8 months

Text

The Truth of It

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 20th - Thighfucking]

[[TW/CW: Cptsd, blood, suicide (mentions, ideation, past attempts—girliepop goes through it), death mentions, self-hate]]

Summary: Vistri opens up about her suicide ideation.

Act I - Mountains camp - After the failed zaith'isk/Githyanki cure

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

“Vistri?” Shadowheart called out her name a second time; right next to her, on the same bit of seating, and she still didn’t answer. Not even her favorite people could shake Vistri from the mood she’d fallen into, bog-like and hollow.

The back of her neck stung hot with Astarion’s consistent frown. His eyes, sharp with professed concern, had stalked her ever since she’d messed with the Githyanki’s purification device. It wasn’t the first time she almost died in front of him. With that face, if she were gone, he could easily find another bedroll to slake his lusts. Vistri didn’t know why he was pretending to be so bothered about it! Her disappearance should be a non-issue.

A general or an artist would be able to point it out, someone who could look at the lay of the land and positions of its people, and read stories. While everyone else was gathered in a group circle, passing around open hearts, laughing smiles, and shared bottles, Astarion stood in front of his tent, glaring at his lover who could hear nothing but the displeasure in his eyes.

As Shadowheart called her name for a third time, Vistri stormed off with a growl.

She’d been a puzzle to Astarion for most of the day, but this really took the cake. It was alarming to see her blink Shadowheart out of existence like that. Sure, they’d all known each other for only a few tendays, give or take, but from the outside, those two could have grown up together. If Shadowheart couldn’t take control of her storm, Astarion had no idea how his ship would fare it. All raging waters, she stomped in his direction like a 50ft wave.

Before he could get a word out to question why she marched over in such a fitful state, she huffed, “Stop it.”

Something in her tone and approach immediately ruffled his feathers. The sheer unpredictability of her made his anxiety appear before she spoke, and whatever it was that got under his skin, spiked it. He didn’t expect these kinds of feelings to ever be molded by her hands. It was always quite the opposite.

Betrayed, he swallowed, then bit back, “Excuse me?! Stop what?”

“Augh!”

Astarion clicked his tongue and lightened his tone, “Oh, dear. Did you misplace your charm? Because I do miss it ever so much.”

Thankfully, none of the others were nearby to witness Vistri’s moment of disgrace. They were all sitting around the old cistern, laughing and having a pleasant evening. Even Lae’zel, who popped a vessel every time they stopped to rest and whose “cure” turned out to be a lie of her people, was unusually animated. She kept egging on Karlach to ask Gale more questions about his grandad. Vistri was more likely to elbow a dear friend out of the way for a better view than sit there unresponsive. Her favorite thing to do was fuck around, and she hated being serious.

So, again, what was she doing bothering him for? What-the-fuck did he do?! He was used to getting in trouble, made a habit of it actually; all he wanted was to know was why.

Astarion raised his brow, pointing to the merriment she’d left behind to come fuss at him. Then it knitted with the other one, “Are you sure everything’s all right—”

“No! That! Stop that!” One more version of, Are you okay? from his so obviously deceptive lips and Vistri swore she’d jump into the campfire.

“I’m sorry?”

“Augh!”

“Do you…? Do you need to sit down? Or?”

“I do not need anything. I’m fine! Please, spare me your false concerns.”

“False con—! Oh, I’m sorry! Did I dare to give a shit for once? Fuck me, I’m never doing that again.”

Frustrated tears began to well up in Vistri’s eyes. A crater opened up in her stomach, “No!”

“No?”

Because the thing was that nobody cared. No one who fucked her ever asked if she was okay, because Vistri was always fantastic, and even if one doubted that for even a second, all they needed to seek relief was just to sit back and enjoy her show. The audience may gasp at a particularly nasty fall, but she always shot up afterwards with a grand smile and confetti rained down on her head. Astarion asked without really being the first person to ask. He said the words, his brow screwed up, but there was no way in any of the hells that he meant it. And if she could just say, You scare the shit out of me because none of it can be real, then maybe he’d be able to clear things up for her.

But all she could articulate was, “Augh!”

Astarion sighed to calm his excited rage, “I’m lost. Am I speaking to Vistri? Or is this some sort of residual, pissed-off-tadpole effect?”

She bit her tongue to stop herself from spitting back with something truly nasty she didn’t really mean and would forever regret. Astarion looked like he was doing the same. His eyes were as sharp as his smirk, and there was something dangerous in his air. Like he was ready to fight to the death, and by the gods, so was she.

Vistri balled her hands into fists, so wanting to break whatever laid at the root of his giving a shit. To snap it like a twig, and watch it die in his eyes.

It was the only thing she deserved.

The tender glint in his eyes sliced through her, sharp like papercuts. She would lose his frowning lips, and the memory of her would disappear as others sucked them. Vistri wanted to kiss them before it was too late. Tangle herself in his tongue and his arms and his chest, until she was nothing but raw heat, just something for him to take. So the rage had nowhere to go.

She blinked back her revulsion, and the overflow spilled down her face. Embarrassed, her voice cracked, “My head…”

Astarion’s defenses shut down. His heart seemed to obey her voice; whereas before it raised his shackles and grit his teeth, it now stilled his rage and broke it down into tenderness. He stepped closer with the care he’d just promised never to show again. Instinctively, he caressed the sides of her head, as if touch could cure it. The gentleness of his gesture, its complete lack of hesitation, tore Vistri’s heart in two, with one side empty as the void and the other full to bursting.

“Did that wretched Githyanki device hurt you, love?”

She nodded. That wasn’t it, but it was an easier story. Besides, if everyone believed in it enough, maybe it would become true.

Astarion sighed, “I think you deserve a good lie down. Why don’t we head inside my tent?”

She shook her head, “I don’t want to be inside.”

He lifted her chin up with his finger to peer inquisitively into her face. Astarion’s eyes met hers with kindness, forgiveness, “What about a walk to clear your mind?”

She nodded her head gratefully.

“Then we’ll take a quaint little stroll around the cliff,” his voice was soft and a little cheeky, “Would that be nice?”

It was embarrassing for Astarion to act with the patience of a paladin, and even more so for Vistri to act in a way that required it. They wore those roles like ill-fitting clothes. With that awkwardness lingering around them, making the air sharp, they took a step forward. He led her to another part of camp, away from all the others and their merriment. To get uphill, they had to first walk a decline. He carefully guided her passed rocks that stuck out and ground that slid, like she was someone frail. A ghost had more presence than she did at the moment.

Discordant bits of laughter from the group carried over on the wind and hit their backs like mocking jeers, even though it had nothing to do with either of them. The only rooms they’d ever known filled one’s absence with group whispers. Astarion swallowed such blaring thoughts. Willing them away, he turned to the task at hand and gently brought her to the spot they claimed for themselves the other night.

“Care for a roll in the hay?”

She’d clicked her fingers, and about three bales of it exploded into existence around their feet that night. The proud cockiness in her smirk was too delicious not to lick up, and he’d devoured her with a similar pride. Guilty lusts settled in now with those memories. Astarion shook his head to clear it.

“Come sit,” he insisted, his tone harsher than he meant, “We wouldn’t want you falling over, and you seem rather dizzy.”

“Better?” he asked as she did.

Vistri nodded, but he saw it for the lie it was. Astarion knew more than most that sometimes there was no better. He sucked his teeth and sat down next to her.

“Does it hurt?”

“Hmm?”

“Your head, darling. Does it—?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

The way she blew off his rare kindness brought him right back to his previous rage, like he’d never left it. His mood visibly soured.

“You’re doing it again,” she muttered.

Astarion scoffed, “Pray tell, what am I apparently doing again?”

She shook her head, “It’s so silly.”

“I could use a laugh.”

Vistri sighed, admitting bashfully, “You’re… You keep frowning at me. Like you care what happens to me—Or something! I don’t know what you’re playing at, but we both know what’s what here and I’d rather that than be played a fool.”

Her words struck his heart, and reminded Astarion of who he really was.

“Well… That wasn’t very funny. Try again.”

Vistri laughed, “You prick!”

For that second, he wasn’t a leech, and she wasn’t an empty glass. They stepped out of their roles to be Astarion and Vistri sharing a joke together. Then reality set in.

“I don’t like to see you hurt,” he said out loud, trying it on for size. It wasn’t wrong either. He felt like rats had been chewing through his veins as he watched her twist and shriek in the grasp of that alien machine.

“Afraid of the goods getting damaged?”

He smirked, “Obviously.”

Vistri pulled apart a bit of hay, watching it break between her fingers without seeing it, “I don’t know how to take… I mean…”

Astarion waited for her to continue, but more words never came. His hand reached for hers, “Vistri, I—I don’t want bad things to happen to you.”

That desperate look in her eyes pleaded for truth, but Astarion was lost as to what that was. A chill ran through him. She deserved so much more, and all he had to offer was himself, a falsehood.

He watched her try her best to believe in his words, and squeezed her hand, “Do you think it brings me pleasure to see you in pain?”

Vistri raised an amused brow.

Astarion chuckled, “Yes, of course that, but it’s not the same, is it?”

She smirked and scratched the back of her neck, “No.”

“Even with that, it’s not so much seeing you in pain, as it is seeing you let me do it.”

“Seeing me let you do what?”

His smile was devilish, “Anything I want.”

A bit of shyness colored her agitation. The more he watched her expression, the more it seemed to change to sadness. There was so much beauty to take in from the distance, but Vistri was staring out at nothing.

“Yeah,” she said.

Astarion brought her knuckles up to brush them with his lips. And kissed them bump by bump.

“My pretty pet… What is it that bothers you so?”

Vistri sighed, “You’re being nice outside of the bedroom and it’s weird.”

He scoffed and dropped her hand, “I’m nice!”

She leaned in and raised her brow.

“Don’t look at me like that. You make me nice.”

“Why?”

“Why? I don’t know why. It… Ugh! Maybe it rubs off!”

Uncomfortable with the heaviness, Vistri joked, “Gods know we do a lot of rubbing.”

He chuckled, looping his fingers through hers.

She looked out into the distance again. So did he.

As they sat there, Astarion played back every word and interaction he’d had with her that day, the day before, and basically any time they’d ever spent together. He was trying to figure her out on his own, and the more he contemplated, the more vileness crawled up his throat like bile. Every detail he went through made her more vulnerable, which made him more of a monster.

“What is it about this time?”

He was surprised she spoke. It had been a while since either of them said anything, “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes. I’m asking because I really want to know.”

“Now, now, darling. We don’t bite without asking.”

Vistri smirked her apology.

“I didn’t know I was being any different. Except… Why did you jump into that thing? That device? Wait—Don’t answer that, just listen. Because then I thought… That’s not the first time I’ve seen you jump in like that. Countless times… And then there’s me. And that’s the thing that explains it all, isn’t it?”

“What are you on about?”

“I think you’re hoping something’s going to come along and finally kill you. Like you died ages ago, and the moment to pass on keeps running by and you’re just… Well, maybe you’re just trying to catch up to it,” Astarion spoke plainly, without any weight, just a statement. He cleared his throat upon finishing his last word.

Vistri dropped his hand and laughed, “Silly boy!”

They’d held on for so long, letting go felt like losing a limb. Their empty, damp palms were chilled by the air as it breezed by.

“Right. Silly me,” he said with the absence of amusement.

“What do you want here?”

“What do I want? I don’t want anything,” he made a grand gesture with his hands, “I’m simply revealing my revelations.”

She scoffed, “What? That I’m just waiting for death? Aren’t we all?”

He sighed, “Forget I said anything.”

Vistri felt her lips tremble. She felt so stupid, “That’s it?”

“I was concerned. I said my bit. We can move on if you don’t want to discuss it further.”

She sat there and raged. Who the fuck was he to pretend to know her?

“You don’t care.”

“I never said I didn’t,” he didn’t know if that was true.

Biting her lip, Vistri tried to pull herself together. She needed to breathe, but a big wave of something ugly threatened to slip out with every bit of exhale. Her past was like an octopus, and the constant vibratory tension from his worry ripped a hole through the steel walls neatly containing it in a forgotten corner of her mind. Like a clean, empty facility, it was abandoned, yet well-tended to. His queries poked through the hole and reached around inside, and if even one tentacle got wind of the crack, all eight arms could slip out, and its head would follow like liquid.

Astarion could see she was on the verge of telling him something but needed a bit more encouragement. He grabbed her hand, “I think I do care. At least enough to wonder what that’s all about.”

Again, he didn’t know if it was true, but it felt… not like a lie.

“Promise me you’ll laugh?” she asked.

Astarion sighed, “If that’s what you want, I’ll do my best to oblige.”

“All right, then,” her smile was unnerving. It wasn’t just out of place in the moment, it was equal parts ‘grimace as a silent shriek’ and ‘grin of a delighted fey’, “I could tell you the story of what I was doing before the Nautiloid snatched me up. Does that sound good to you?”

“I guess…”

She still wore that same horrific expression, “I was on a cliff just like this one, trying my best to jump right in, as you put it before.”

As shocking as that was, it really wasn’t. He might’ve placed his bets on someone else if he’d have guessed, but he also wasn’t that surprised. Of course he was drawn to another soul as wretched as his. In the best of cosmic jokes, Astarion picked a mirror to play Cazador to.

He answered slowly, carefully as if navigating a minefield, “Yeah?”

Vistri pouted, “You promised to laugh!”

Astarion gave a weak, “Ahahahaha…”

She rolled her eyes, scoffing, “It’s funny!”

“Sure it is.”

“Whatever.”

“While the thought of you going splat is endlessly amusing, your delivery was all wrong, love.”

“What a critic!”

“Try again.”

Vistri cleared her throat, ready to be dazzling, "Okay, Hold on... It was a day just like any other day—”

“Gods! Not like that!” he teased, “We’ll be sitting here until the sun rises again.”

She glared at him, “I see you expect perfection.”

“I accept,” he spread his fingers and collected them back with a sweeping wave, “No less.”

She smirked at him slyly “There once was a Drow named Vistri, who some say was quite the mys-try!”

Astarion nodded his approval.

She proudly continued her improvised little song, “She went to jump over a cliff, but it was a miss. She took a step forward, oh my she was tortured! Then down from the sky came a very bad guy, and a tentacle scooped her up northward!”

Astarion couldn’t help but actually laugh with her this time, “It’s not funny! But—While you were stepping over the edge?”

“Yes! One foot hovering over the abyss,” she giggled, “Then poof!”

“If that would happen to anyone, it would happen to you. Or me, come to think of it.”

Vistri wiped the tears from her eyes, “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s truly amazing, is what it is.”

“It never works for me, you know,” she said, “Any time I try to… Well. You know. It’s something in my magic, I was born with the powers of an old dragon I didn’t do anything to earn. My magic is always there—I didn’t ask for it, and more than just a survival instinct, it’s like a vengeance of life.”

“A vengeance of life? I can identify with that. I think I survived those two hundred years just out of pure spite. A stake through the heart felt like letting him win.”

“No matter what I try, it’s always okay in the end,” she continued, “I can’t even take myself seriously after a while. More than half the times I’ve… I’d be going over plans in my head of what to do later that evening. And after all those times, I’m still here.”

“I don’t hate that you’re still here.”

Vistri scoffed, “Yeah?”

“No, I mean it. I’m glad,” he took her hand back, “I benefit, at least.”

She smirked, but her eyes were dead. They filled and ran without noticing, just sitting there in her skull, barely looking out.

One “Ha” of a laugh escaped him that was more like a huff, “And immediately after, you had to fight for your life.”

“What?”

Astarion pointed to his head, “Tadpole. Big ship? Took us up? Remember?”

She chuckled, but it was so empty, “Shut up.”

“Do you really want me to? Or can I ask you another question?”

“Go on,” she said weakly.

“It’s rather broad, are you all right with that?”

She shot him a suspicious glance, but the accusation quickly melted into something else, “All right.”

Astarion sighed, and then simply asked, “Why?”

Like a child, she brought her knees up to her chest, and rested her chin in the crook of them. Her expression was thoughtful, not refusing. She looked like she was going to answer, and was just deciding how.

And then she didn’t. She just sat there and stared ahead.

The broken way he eventually said, “Oh, my darling…” pulled at her thread that was holding everything together.

“Don’t!”

Vistri was stiff as the rock around them. So unmoving, she was shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said very calmly, “Is there anything I can do?”

She shut her eyes tight, and began rocking, “No. Stay there. Shush.”

He nodded and waited for her signal to do anything other than watch and freeze. The timelessness of the hells fell over their heads. Gravity felt steeper. Now was forever.

“Okay,” her voice broke the spell, and she looked up at him, nodding, to repeat, “Okay.”

Astarion flew around her, and for the first time outside of a whoopsie in battle or moment of fun, held her tightly, so tight, for the sake of his own aching heart. He kissed the top of her head reflexively. Warming her back with one hand, he cradled her face against his neck with the other. He genuinely wanted to do it, felt no ulterior motivation, but at the same time, a part of his mind marked his victory. Catching her up at a vulnerable moment, and being the shoulder she leaned on, would bind her to him like a warding enchantment.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered senselessly, “I’m so sorry.” He had no idea whether he was apologizing for whatever she couldn’t say, or himself. Perhaps both. Perhaps a bit more for his own wrongdoing.

Only it didn’t feel wrong. And that scared him. Frightened him.

Vistri knew she was crying but couldn’t feel herself doing so. She knew she was being held by him, but rather looked out and saw it from above and off to the side. She thought she looked terrible, and he looked so fine. Dashingly picturesque and tragic.

Nobody ever held her the way he did now. She never felt such warmth, and they were both such cold people. How was it possible? Was it some dream?

She started speaking, “We’re more similar than you know.”

Right then, Astarion predicted the gist of what she was about to say. He could tell by the look on her face and the way her tone itched at his brain, she had her own Cazador. She also walked around weighted by invisible chains held by a very nasty man. Same prison, different jailor; he was understood. He found a home there in that knowing. Still, he’d give her his own rusted shackles just to lighten his burden, even if it meant crushing her under them. Anything to soothe the wound.

He’d warned her so many times; he was a thing that ate. He had real no say in the matter, the curse that fueled his undead life was a restless jaw. If Vistri was looking for a guide to a kinder world, she wouldn’t find it in his arms. They belonged to another very nasty man. Even though it was different this time, he’d take her with him to Cazador’s lair and someone would die. If only one of them were to make it out of this mess alive, well, he was a scrappy survivor, and she was the type to ball up and welcome oblivion. Anything to be free.

“Yeah,” was all he said, and it was so warm. Like an embrace, it held her softly, making her feel like something meant to be protected. She nodded tearfully into him. Leaning on him like this was an indulgence, but he tolerated it at least enough to let it happen. Vistri knew she had to pull herself together. The home she found was rented, and she could only borrow so much. Astarion had more to give, but it wasn’t for her. There was no way she’d be one of the lucky ones.

He kissed her head again, and caught himself, “Sorry. Is it okay to touch you?”

She nodded harder than the last time.

His chuckle was relief. To her, it was a song. He held her tighter. She dissolved. He’d taken off her mask, stripped her of her costume, and naked, she cried into his chest, “I just want to die. I want to be dead. And I can’t. I keep trying, and I can’t!”

Holding her at a moment like this was a key part of his plan. Step one, open her legs. Step two, her heart. It was a system as efficient as it was ugly and cheap. And it made him ugly and cheap, but it also made him safe. He closed his eyes, Vistri’s tears soaking through his shirt felt like fire and it burned into his cursed, cold skin like a holy symbol; a brand. It was like her body knew what lurked inside his, called him out for the parasite he was even as she was oblivious to it, and fought back to defend against him when she couldn’t.

Vistri sunk into him, tucked into his warmth. She found her breath again in his arms, and in the moment she came back to herself, started to laugh.

He peeked down, “What are you chuckling about in there?”

Her eyes still freely flowed, silent and thick, but she was more present than before, “In where?”

“My shirt,” he said, “My damp shirt, mind you.”

“How is that my fault?”

He glared at her, “What do you mean, how?”

“I told you not to ask questions.”

“Well excuse me for wondering about your tendency to… To—”

“Try to kill myself?” she finished, her tone too light.

Astarion sighed. She threw her head back and laughed. He didn’t join in.

“You promised!”

“Let me let you in on a little secret about me and promises,” he said dangerously sardonic, eyes lowered, “Besides, I already pretended to laugh earlier.”

“Faking it doesn’t count!”

“Maybe I’d find it funnier if…”

“If what?”

If what?

If the others wouldn’t kill him before her corpse was cold? If they didn’t rely on each other every battle? If the very thought of her…

“Oh, I don’t know! I don’t want you dead! Is that so horrible to believe?”

His grumpiness was sweet. They were always pretending, with each other, with everyone else. Vistri knew it the moment she first laid eyes on him. That’s why every word he uttered that she ever wanted to hear made her ache all over with a dull sorrow, and why the words he pushed her away with were such tender caresses.

“Of course it’s horrible,” she joked, smiling, “I can’t give you what you want and kill myself! However will my two worst impulses co-exist?”

Astarion smirked, “Shithead.”

She smiled, and that sign of life from her made his blood rush.

He kissed her cheek to whisper in her ear, “If you ever feel such a desire coming upon you in the future, come to me, darling. I won’t provide you a real death, but I have plenty of little ones to give.”

His advances flooded Vistri with relief, she knew who she was within desire. Who to be and how to be had familiar answers, and reuniting with any sense of self was such a comfort, she had her first real sense of stillness since breakfast that morning.

He was so close, she prayed he didn’t hear the way her breath gave out.

“I heard that,” he muttered against her cheekbone.

“No, you didn’t,” she giggled heatedly.

“Yes, I did. Now, I know you want it, but I can’t give you that yet. There’s something you must do first.”

“Gods!” she groaned, “Please tell me you’re not about to request I promise not to throw myself right off this cliff!”

He chuckled, “I wasn’t born yesterday! That’s not a promise you’d keep in the long term. Then I’d have to call off whatever this is between us because you’d be lying just to get in my pants, and that would be awkward because your lie would have been exposed just after you tried to off yourself.”

She laughed loudly, “I wouldn’t lie! I would just refuse, and eventually you’d fuck me anyway.”

He grabbed hold of her wrists and leered at her seriously with a piercing expression. Time seemed to stop.

Astarion observed her reaction to pick apart her every emotion, willing his own to remain carefully neutral. Her confidence was so hollow. Her eyes gleamed with the delight of having him wrapped around her little finger, and yes, gods yes, he’d suck it and moan and beg for more, but he was the one really in control. He had all the power because he was clearly giving her something she never had.

The first cut and all that.

Her fingers played with his chest through his open shirt. His heart skipped on its own at the brush of their tips.

“And what about you?”

His mind had wandered, and while he was away, one of her arms broke free to reach for him, “What?”

“How tempting is this cliff?”

“Me? Oh! Right. That, uh,” he paused with a scoffing chuckle, “No, my dear. Sadly, it was my wish to live that landed me in this spot in the first place.”

“And since?”

Releasing her other wrist from his grip, he answered dryly, “Everything’s been fairies and rainbows, and all my days have had happy endings.”

Vistri smirked, raising her brow, “Well, they do now, at least.”

He flashed a heated smile and lowered his eyes, “Why do you care to ask?”

She squinted at his question, like it had the sting of an insult, “I don’t know! Why do you care to ask me?”

“You’re right. That was horrible! Let’s never care again!”

He expected her to laugh but she looked rather serious. “I didn’t mean for you to worry,” her tone was small, and younger than he’d ever heard.

His smirk was friendly and understanding, “If it helps, I was more curious than anything else.”

“Curious?!”

There was a contentedness in his playful tone, “They call her Vistri, ‘cus she’s a mys-try!”

“Oh, stick to readership, darling.”

He growled and tackled her to the ground. She was breathless underneath him, laughing like every spot on her body tickled at once. Some might call it happiness, and maybe it was; Astarion felt it as acceptance. Overwhelming acceptance. So adored, he was given anything he wanted, completely spoiled. And if he was invited to take, why shouldn’t he?

“Remember that favor, my dear?” he asked, pinning her forearms above her head. Before she could answer, he leaned in for a kiss, one that was gentle and hungry.

Her sighs were moans, “Maybe I’ll wait it out.”

He kissed her neck and whispered, “Could you?”

The way she shivered was her answer. Astarion grinned and stroked her throat with the tip of his nose. From the base of it to her chin, and sealed his gesture with another longing kiss.

She was his.

Even if it meant degrading herself. Being his little slut, bent over and drooling. He moaned on the next stroke of her tongue, overcome by the whim to fuck her senseless. His mind reeled with possibility. Just how far would she go for him, out in the open air, with the others just off into the distance? How could he give her a taste of a life that was worth living?

“Get yourself off for me, dear.”

“Here?” Vistri asked, grinning. Her heart pounded faster than it already was.

They weren’t exactly discreet, but only ever touched each other tucked away in the woods or his tent. Here, out on the cliff where anyone might see… It was like he was claiming her. Like maybe some small part of his mind, or some feeling deep down, knew how important she was going to be to him once he realized his truth. That if he asked her to cum in the open air under the evening glow, she was worth something.

“The sun is disappearing, and I’ll cover you.”

Her grin grew wider, even reaching her eyes. She tried to tug one of her arms free from his grip.

“Ah, ah! No hands."

She looked at him curiously. Maybe he’d changed his mind about her. Maybe he had a delightfully naughty idea. Maybe this was the start of his attempt to toss her off the cliff.

He unwrapped one of her legs from around his, and slid his thigh between hers, “Use me.”

“Okay.”

Showing her how to proceed, Astarion rubbed himself against her middle. She bit her lip and began to roll her hips. Her obedience was like a drug, and they passed it with their tongues where it melted into them and infected their minds worse than those tadpoles ever could.

“Good,” he praised, just above a whisper. He fondled her neck, and the hand he let go of shot to his curls. His fangs throbbed, so ready to take her that he gasped as if biting into something hot whenever they touched her skin.

She made a sound he had to shush, it was too personal and way too explicit.

“I can block you from view, but I cannot stop your sound.”

She nodded, sighing and rocking against his thigh.

“All the pieces come together,” he said as she pleasured herself on him, “You’ve always given yourself to me so willingly. Let me bite you. Now I know why.”

Vistri tossed her head back, craning her neck, and sighed, “There are worse things than dying in the arms of someone pretty.”

“And if I had killed you that night?”

“I hope you would have drunk me up.”

A full, wanting, warm acceptance of himself—Not just his charm, but the monster, the ugliness in him. She wanted all of it, treasured all of him. He’d never been good enough for anyone before, just a disappointment under an illusion. But she made him feel like a god.

He groaned, composure slipping, “Ohfuckme…”

“Okay.”

“Not yet,” his grip on her arm loosened enough for him to travel up her wrists and interlace their fingers, “You haven’t earned it.”

She shouldn’t surrender. It would just be another attempt at non-existence. Why couldn’t she have answered with something along the lines of coming back to life just to drive a stake through his heart? Astarion wished it had been anything other than wanting him to have his fill, even if it meant her destruction. It was her will to be his sacrifice, to be truly devoured. He shouldn’t yearn for her so completely; cherish the way, I hope you would have drunk me up, fell out of her so blissfully, like belonging to him was a good thing.

Vistri playing with the point of his ear made him twitch and toss his head. The moan that betrayed him sounded so pathetic.

“I could wait you out.”

He chuckled, “No, you couldn’t. As much as I want you, I’m stubborn. Thrill me all you want, love, I’m determined for you to be absolutely dripping before I give you that.”

She arched her back, “I’m close.”

She wasn’t.

“Already?”

Not nearly, but worried she couldn’t give him his fantasy, she played the part.

The muscles on her face squeezed up real tight, and as her breath grew more shallow, she exhaled with high-pitched, little cries. Her tension peaked and melted away, “Already.”

It didn’t fool him one bit. In fact, he was sure that wasn’t even her finest performance. Like she’d started to pretend and went somewhere else, forgetting she was still on stage. Or a whore with ‘first day’ nerves. He was frowning when she opened her eyes.

“What?”

“Did you just fake it?!”

Vistri’s eyes grew real wide, and having been called out, laughed breathlessly, “Gods!”

“I was right! You faked it!”

She got caught up in another wave of laughter, “I’m sorry!”

Astarion smirked and tickled her sides, “Faking it doesn’t count!”

Squealing and wriggling to dodge his hands, she protested, “It wasn’t a lie! It was an attempt!”

“An attempt?! What is that supposed to mean? An attempt!”

Vistri couldn’t get a word in. She couldn’t breathe, “Please!”

He stopped tickling her so she could answer. Her breasts bounced with her heaving chest. His palms roamed over to cup them, “Did you not like it?” He’d thought of it just for her, and played with her nipples to distract himself from sudden choking disappointment. Buried in arousal, the sting ebbed away.

“No, I love it! Your thigh is heavenly, but you have other, better parts for pleasing—”

“How much better?” he interrupted in a heated tone.

Laughing, she answered, “Better than anything in the world! And not just this,” she brought her hand between his legs and gave that beloved, rock-hard part of him a squeeze, “Although it is wonderful, you have so many other parts for pleasing.”

“Just not my thigh.”

“It pleases, just not enough to bring a bout of ecstasy.”

“Do you want to stop?” He would at her command, but wasn’t ready to lose her.

She ran her hand along it, “No.”

A bright feeling ran through his spine, “You’d like to continue?”

“I do,” her hips resumed their flowing movement.

Her validation killed his fears, and so grateful for the throne to her world, a soft smile nestled in his expression, tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Give yourself time to get there, darling. It’s the journey, not the destination. I can watch you burst any time I want, but for now I want to observe as you slowly unravel.”

“Okay,” she moaned.

“And no performances this time. I will be very displeased. Do you want me displeased?”

She shook her head, “No.”

Anything but that. She’d be good for him so he wouldn’t throw her out.

“Good. Now slow down. You’re not just any rutting pup. You’re my little dragon and these sensations are your treasure. Lurk among your treasures, dear. Survey them, indulge.”

Her thrusts followed the command of his voice. She let them linger, like a slow drip.

“That’s it,” he praised, squeezing her breasts until she gasped.

Astarion looked around, and no one was in sight. The others would stay on the other side of camp for most of the evening and had no reason to pass by other than Lae’zel and Shadowheart, but it was still unlikely either of them would see.

He tugged her shirt lower, stretching it until her breasts spilled out through the top. Gravity squished them into perfect spheres under her neck, and her nipples just peaked out.

His tongue felt so warm on them. The impact of bumping into his thigh and the tight grinding against his femur were her favorite treasures, and then his roaming mouth was added to her pile. She could feel her pants bunching up as they soaked with her, and the damp cloth pinched at her skin as she humped him. The sting of it was a rainfall of coin over her glittering pile of sapphires and amethysts.

Kissing her deeply, Astarion took her hand and moved it back to his bursting laces. Their fingers tangled, undoing them together. When they were loose enough, he pulled her hand through the opening and wrapped it around his cock.

“Gods!” he groaned as she stroked him skin to skin.

Throbbing under her fingers, pulsing, hard; the perversity of her hand dipping into his trousers, riding his leg, nearing completion; his taste, his smell, his focus trained on only her: These were diamonds, so sharp they cut her. But they were so beautiful! And clear, and shone so bright!

“If I outlast you,” she sighed, “Then I win.”

She might win. Astarion did his best to hold back, but he was leaking in her hands.

“What would you win?”

“The mess of you all over my skin.”

He tried to think of something else, anything else, other than the image that conjured. It brought him too close. Teetering on the edge and planting his feet there, he moaned and it sounded like something dying.

Vistri gasped as it met her ears, bringing her closer.

His hands wandered down to her bum, and squeezed it in both hands, adding more pressure to her thrusts, bringing her closer to him. Closer and closer. Her bones started to hurt, ground away by his, but that ache was a handful of rubies, red and lush.

“Harder,” she said.

Astarion tightened his grip, leaned into her movements. He held her so near she could nuzzle her face into his shoulder. His skin was a pearl against her cheek.

“Kiss me,” Vistri pleaded, and when he did, she lost.

“I’m—” a little possession, a bit of a wail, and she could no longer speak.

In her rapture, she ceased her stroking, gripped him like a pulsing cunt, then left her palm hanging limply under his laces. His eyes were fighting to roll back when she let go, and even as he was grateful for it, just the brush of her unmoving hand was enough to be dangerous.

He pinned it above her head to take it away, “And now you’re mine to take.”

Her face was flushed, her breath still gone. “Yours to take,” she repeated as consent.

Pulling down her trousers, he found a river of her. He pushed her thighs up into her chest and took a look between them. Her pants were soaking, their slit a dark spot.

“All mine?” he asked.

She nodded, giving herself to him entirely. The fact that he wanted it made her blissful, like she belonged.

“Well, well, well,” he brought his face lower and spoke between her legs, “Might I have a taste? You smell de-licious!”

“Yes,” she whimpered, trembling. He gave a long, lingering lick along that dark spot, and she arched her back, groaning.

Astarion lifted his head to take another look around. The position they were in now was a bit more conspicuous. A dark part of him wished the others were around to watch him feed.

He kissed the back of her thighs, and she didn’t let even one of them slip by without a reaction. His tongue wrapped around the soaking strip of her pants, and he peeled them up to the crook of her knees with his teeth. A hungry whine left him, being so close to her skin flushed with pumping supper.

His nose nuzzled the back of her knee, tangling in her underwear, “Turns out a taste was just not enough. Mind if I take a bite?”

“Please!”

Her back writhed pleasantly against his cock as he sunk aching fangs into her flesh. He hadn’t anticipated the force of her leg pushing against his face. Her arms were so much weaker, and her neck never offered any resistance. Oh, but he liked it! Astarion felt vicious, attacking and taking something that fought back.

Having taken enough, he forced himself to stop. He pressed his tongue against the wound until it closed and gave it a kiss. Then he licked up every drop of crimson dripping down her lavender thigh. His tongue strayed its course, finding her middle. Vistri grabbed his head as he indulged in another kind of meal.

It was one of his parts she said was good for pleasing. She’d already earned him with one little death, but he gave her another, and another.

After the fourth, she summoned her very best begging voice, “Please, fuck me!”

His face was covered and shining with her wet. It even dripped down his throat, mixing with smears of her blood, “I thought I was.”

“Bury yourself in me.”

He made a quick vow to himself that it wouldn’t be over the moment he did. Then dove in with an uncomposed groan, “Fuck’ssake!”

The genuine sounds of what she tried to fake earlier were in his ears, right under them.

“Already?” he asked.

“Already!”

His face screwed up tight with hers, and as she pulsed around him, he yelped with the effort to hold back.

At the end of his cock, her chest pried open as if split down the middle, exposing her insides like two heavy doors creaking their welcome. Astarion felt himself crawl up her gut and slip into her heart, where sitting inside it, he could reach up with clawed, wretched fingers and tear at her throat. Then he’d kiss it better, the only one able to do so, and she’d never leave his side.

He felt her fingers on his chest, and found himself facing a pair of attentive eyes.

“Come back to me,” she asked like it was a favor, with a touch of light affection, an air of breathlessness, and enough simplicity that it was safe to come back.

“Hello there,” he smiled.

Vistri pulled him close for a kiss so full of gentle, living heat it was a hearth.

“It’s okay,” she said, forehead pressed to his, “You can let go.”

Starved of something in her tone, his body released into hers.

“Vistri!” he called out her name like it was the only thing that could save him. Then caught himself, realizing he’d been loud enough to carry across camp, “Shit!—Huh!”

Her arms flew upwards, wrapping around his head as if to help him keep his soul from seeping out. She couldn’t help the way her body responded to his echoes of pleasure by leaping into another wave of ecstasy. Just to be with him. A reflex of hers that must’ve been borne from her haunting impulse to follow him anywhere.

Unable to leave her, he let himself slide a little in and out; slow, slight strokes. Then finally stilled. They stared at each other a long while before moving apart.

“We should get cleaned up.”

“Right,” he muttered, “Right.”

She kissed the tip of his nose and giggled, “You have to get off me.”

He pecked her ear, “But I don’t want to.”

She laughed heartily and tossed him aside, “Get off me!”

“I was comfortable there!” he whined.

“Tough shit,” she grinned.

Astarion smiled back with empty eyes, sure that her grin was meant for someone else; the person he pretended to be.

“Are you all right?”

Apparently, he was unable to hide. When a lie didn’t work, there were always deflections.

“I’m more than all right! How’s your head? Didn’t steal too much of you, did I?”

“Astarion.”

When deflections failed to take, the only thing left was trading one truth for another. What could he sacrifice to keep the main thing hidden? It had to fit the same feelings as those he already wore.

“I just keep thinking… And excuse me, it’s quite selfish,” he moved some hair out of her face, “If you’d gotten what you wanted, you and I would never have met.”

Her round eyes were so fragile as they looked into his. All of her walls were knocked over, and the part of her that sat there was all raw existence.

She grabbed his hand, kissing his fingers. “All right then,” she rolled those round, breakable eyes, admitting, “I’m glad we did.”

Vistri was his. He squeezed her hand as if to tell her, never let go.

Rooted to the spot, they sat together and looked out at the view, actually seeing it this time. They deserved to have a nice sunset. One nice sunset.

“You’re unusually quiet.”

“I’m just taking everything in. Look at it! Aren’t you glad we aren’t just stuffed in your tent?”

Astarion raised his brow, “Insulting my castle is no way to get invited back, you know.”

She giggled and nudged his shoulder with hers, “It wasn’t meant as an insult.”

“You sure?”

She laughed, “Are you scolding me, Astarion?”

“No!”

“You are! Like you’re my mother or something! Well… Not my mother. She wouldn’t give a shit if I hurt myself. She scolded me plenty, but only over being an embarrassment or an inconvenience. Sometimes both.”

Vistri never talked about her past with any of them. Not even himself, who couldn’t stop telling her about Cazador once he started. It made Astarion hold his breath, afraid to chase away her confessions with the slightest disturbance.

“Gods! How in the hells did I end up talking about my mother? What a silly thing…”

Astarion leaned back, “I don’t know. Probably for the same reason I mention Cazador from time to time. If she’s as bad as she sounds.”

Vistri chuckled, “Her and Cazador would probably be friends.”

“He did often call me an embarrassment and an inconvenience.”

Vistri looked down shyly, “You’re not either of those things to me.”

Astarion took her hand, “Thank you. And neither are you. You know that, right?”

“You flatterer,” she teased.

His smile was a heapful of sorrow. All his lies were true, and his truth was a lie. His pretty songs echoed his real heartbeats. His determination to trap her was a sham, for he’d got caught up in it himself. She was right, Astarion was a flatterer, but he also wasn’t.

Neither confirming nor denying his accusation, Vistri settled for the worst case answer. He was probably looking for an excuse to leave. They always met up for this so much later in the night, and the sun hadn’t fully set yet.

Not wanting him to go, she turned her attention back to the view around them, “You know this big crater around us was probably an ocean before?”

“Actually?” he asked, grateful for a change of subject.

“It’s what must have made this shape. Well, that or a god’s great big fist,” Vistri rambled, “But I bet we’d find a lot of old bones in this stone if we looked for them. That’s what would tell us for sure.”

Astarion brushed his fingers lightly over her fist. She opened it so his fingers fell gently into her palm. He stroked along its curves until she closed her fingers around them.

“Would they be fish bones?”

“Ancient fish bones! And they probably wouldn’t even look like any fish we know. They might even look like monsters!”

“You like those,” he smirked, “Don’t you?”

“I don’t think of you as a monster. I think of you as a vampire.”

Like he was part of a species and not just a classification of Undead. Natural, and not a twisted version of life. Heart aching with the idea, Astarion’s eyes softened, showing Vistri an emotion she wasn’t sure he was capable of. Something she’d given up on ever earning from anyone.

“A rather refreshing perspective. Just look at that waterfall! Isn’t it darling? And that little river that runs with it.”

Vistri nodded her head against his breast and stated theatrically, “All that remains of a mighty, prehistoric sea.”

The colors in the sky were candy-bright before they grew dark. They were still holding onto each other’s hands when the stars came out, even though they’d shifted positions as often as conversation topics.

It was only allowed because they pretended not to notice.

Lying down was better for looking out at the stars, but Vistri was so exhausted, it was hard not to slip into trance whenever she blinked her eyes. Astarion watched it take over, her face tucked in the nook of his shoulder.

Poor thing. She didn’t deserve to be cast under his spell, another of his cursed conquests. Even though Baldur’s Gate was still far away, and the tadpole took away the power of compulsion, every time his heart skipped for her, it sang, Caz-a-dor, Caz-a-dor, take her to Caz-a-dor! Any time he felt a part of himself wishing they’d met much sooner, Astarion was reminded she would have just been discarded like all the rest.

Sighing, he tried to slip into his trance. He closed his eyes. Opened them. They were on a cliff, how stupid would they be to remain unconscious here. Careful not to rouse her, Astarion untangled himself from her grasp to get up and carry her.

With his cursed heart pumping her dragon blood through his muscles, she was so easy to whisk away. He had to look where he was stepping, but her face proved such a distraction. The moonlight bounced off her silver scales and set her periwinkle skin aglow.

He smiled, stopping for a moment to appreciate—”Mother of fuck!”

Lolth didn’t guide her Drow towards pretty memories, she filled their heads with living nightmares. Whatever Vistri saw in her trance, it wasn’t bunnies. Still deeply within it, she’d reached out and punched Astarion vaguely in the nose with a whimper. He almost dropped her.

“Hells, girl!” he muttered, readjusting her in his arms.

At least some part of her fought back. The pulsing pain in his face was a reminder of what he deserved. As he walked passed the dying campfire, he leaned over and blew angrily into it, hoping that was enough to revive it but not really giving a shit either way. Then he tucked them through his tent flaps, and set her down with care.

She was simply the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Just one part of her face; whether the metallic scales across her brow with her eyes closed under them, the shape of her nose and a peek of cheekbone at the side, or her pouting lips that rested over her chin; was equivalent to an entire sunset watched from a cliffside, on a mountain, towering above lively rivers and waterfalls. Such beauty required a tenderness he was too base to give. Pride in ownership soiled the sweet whispers of his heart. Greed reverberated through him, and loathing for himself echoed out of every pore.

Astarion frowned as he surveyed Vistri on the floor of his tent. She couldn’t be too comfortable. Torn between the idea of fixing it and accidentally waking her, he started to pace around for a solution.

Like a sickly, potent stomach acid, he’d consume her slowly; digested through the mouth, by his tongue. His doing. He had a rot he needed someone else to hold.

With no good way to toss her into a bedroll, he made a nest of some blankets, and rolled her on top. Treating her like a baby bird, he adjusted her neck to rest on a cushion. He moved hair away from her face, caressed her cheek, and stopped himself from planting a peck on her brow.

He changed his mind as he settled in next to her. His racing thoughts made trance unreachable, but when his lips met her cool forehead, a peace came over him. Astarion took a deep breath through his nose before pulling away, and his eyes thickened with a bit of moisture.

“Rest up,” he whispered. And when he next closed his eyes, trance came to him. Unlike hers, it was his only refuge from nightmares.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

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usedpidemo · 1 year

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Update - 2nd year anniversary! (plus a reflection, and future plans).

Hi everyone! π here.

Today, May 13th, is the day I officially opened up this blog and began writing degenerate and immoral stories! 2 fucking years have passed, how time flies. So much can change in a year, and so do some of the stats!

First work: Sandwich - Red Velvet Wendy (published 05/13/21, 4:03 a.m.)

Highest note count: Awards after-party affair - Itzy Yuna (published 10/23/22, 1167 notes)

Number of works published: 80 fics (1 fic every 9.1 days)

500 followers: June 18, 2021 (36 days or 1 month, 5 days)

1,000 followers: October 12, 2021 (152 days or 4 months, 30 days)

2,000 followers: June 18, 2022 (401 days or 1 year, 1 month, and 5 days)

3,000 followers: November 12, 2022 (548 days or 1 year, 5 months, and 30 days)

Follower count: 3,953 followers (5.4 followers a day)

I wish I had something awesome lined up to celebrate this milestone, but I don't have anything prepared XD I've been busy and lazy at the same time. (Is that even possible?)

Actually, yeah, I do have a whole week's worth of cool things lined up this week! If I can even follow through with this one...

Monday: AMA

Tuesday: Reader Poll

Wednesday: ???

Thursday: ???

Friday: ???

I don't want to make the fun section of the update elaborately long, so I just want to say thank you so much to everyone for the support! Even though I'm not as active or as productive as I used to be, your eagerness never wavered, and you guys enjoy me talking about random shit on the side, whether it be song lyrics, Pokémon, or literally posts without any context to them. I love you guys. Here's to another year 🧡

Everything else from this point is a brief reflection and introspection of what I've been feeling since then. You can ignore this if you wish to do so.

So today marks the second anniversary since I opened up this Tumblr and became a degenerate writer. The work I've been putting up is getting worse—in a sexual and filthy way, not objectively—and my mental health has been getter much, much better! When I made the same anniversary post around this time a year ago, I was at an all-time low, mentally speaking. I really felt like I had not much left to give at that point, my skill has stagnated, and I thought there wasn't much for me to improve on. If you asked me if I had any future plans for this blog, I'd say I'd be done by the end of 2022, if not sooner.

It's now 2023, and I believe I'm as good as I can be right now. Slumps happen for a reason, and you can't always win, but it's how you bounce back from the lowest of lows that you reach highest of highs. And I believe I can still get better.

Genuinely, not to sound arrogant, because Lord knows I'm not the best fanfic writer—fuck no—I'm not anywhere close, even in a theoretical top 1000 list, but I do think some of my finest work have come up in my most recent fics. I don't know, it feels more polished and there was more effort and deliberation put into it. The numbers don't lie, either; every single work I published since May 2022 has over 400+ notes, and I've even passed the 1000+ note barrier twice! It goes to show that you guys are enjoying what I'm putting out as much as I love making them, slow and difficult it may be. I can fondly smile at last year's additions to my masterlist and say, "I can't believe I did that."

I do want to apologize if my output rate has drastically slowed down, and if I'm not as active as I was before. It's unfortunately part of the sacrifice needed for better quality control, and also because I have more personal commitments to attend to. 2023 has been fantastic for me so far in almost every department, except maybe physically—I could use more exercise—but that can be worked upon.

I do believe I'm on borrowed time. Again, look at the gap between fics over the past six months ago, and it's only going to widen once I enter my third year of college. I also have to begin considering what hobbies and other things I should do to occupy my free time, so I can be more productive as a person. This isn't to say I'm definitely quitting, but I expect more responsibilities to be shouldered onto me in the future, and having time for myself is going to be pretty much a birthday gift with how rare it might be given, and I'd prefer spending my time off recharging and relaxing instead of stressing over inconsequential or 'fun' things.

There's a lot of people I want to thank specifically, because while I was struggling with my own personal battles, they've been encouraging me to continue fighting and have been absolute lads—and lasses—throughout the past year. When I needed someone to talk to that wasn't my therapist, they were there, and I took solace in their comfort and companionship. I can't tag you guys, but if you're reading this—Chunk, Raf, Peach, Aaron, Sol, V1n, Iz, Ddeun, C.o, Kaede, Frisky, Smite, Shaun, Sins, Jett, Eros, Prael, Ken, Cray, CJ, Sooya, Gray, Svn—I sincerely thank you. God bless each and every single one of you. And to Tim, I really hope you can see this, but I'm truly, truly sorry. I hope we can find a way to bury that fracture in our relationship in the past, and we can reconcile. If not, then I just want closure and peace for the both of us.

So in closing, I want to thank you so much for sticking with me through the bad times and prospering with me through the good, and I'm always humbled that you've taken a chance on me when I started, when I was a hopeful newbie, two years ago. Now here we are. I appreciate every single one of you, be it a fellow writer, a reader, or a lurker.

With grace,

Peter / π

#update #anniversary

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celestial-corner-of-desires · 1 year

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IMAGINE GOJO....

...leaning on the doorframe of Minka, observing the interaction between his students and his beloved, joking around and teasing one another. Being known as the strongest sorcerer of his time, Gojo doesn't seem like a man who would be willing to stay with someone, based on his responsibilities and personality. But, who would have thought that you would drill your way not only into his heart but also his every thought?

You were nothing but a grade-1 sorcerer back in Jujutsu High years, while he was in a special grade. He acknowledged your existence back then, but didn't make an effort to get to know you. After Geto left Jujutsu High, with the determination to eradicate every non-curse user from existence, there was a null feeling inside of Gojo. The memories of fun times, when both of them were laughing and making fun of one another, while silently protecting one another. Nothing seems to get Gojo's mind out of the dark water his mind drowning him in. Until you choose to step in. Despite being obnoxious and self-centered, he reminded you of a cat. Somebody who knows and acts like the world belongs to them, but still craves attention and approval. You knew when you came to Gojo as he sat in his pit of loneliness that you couldn't help him automatically feel better, but you decided to give it a shot. You asked him if you could chat with him, only to receive a small nod, before sitting close to him. You started off with the small talk, trying to loosen up the tension. Though Gojo gave small responses back, it seemed to lift his mood a small bit. So thinking of a way to get him to talk, you asked him what is his favorite memories with Geto. That got you a weird look from Gojo, suspicious of why you were curious, but seeing that he had nothing to lose, he indulged your curiosity. Gojo was expecting you to get bored of his rambling and leave him be, but you persisted, asking questions and arguing over Gojo boasting about his amazing brilliance, when in fact he was a dummy. This got a small chuckle from Gojo, saying "Of course this is true. Why would I, Satoru Gojo, lie about myself?". From this interaction forward, you and Gojo began to chat more frequently, with him walking with you to your classes and back, going out to arcades, and eating out at fast food restaurants. What you failed to notice as you were having fun with Gojo, was the way Gojo began to look at you when you noticed something that piqued your interest. He would crack jokes just to hear your sweet laughter. Hell, he even went as far as to help you perfect your cursed energy techniques, being patient and caring, but stern as well. After a while and countless nights of denying his attraction, Gojo decided to ask you out. You were surprised at this sudden proposal, but you chose to give it a shot. The best decision of your life, according to Gojo. After the first date, came the second, then the third, and so forth. The Gojo clan elders were seething with venom and acid, but who cares about that when the meaning and the light of his life were you? You, his lovely beloved, who stood with him through rough times, through blood and tears, always being there for him. To ensure that there won't be a day that he doesn't hear your voice, see your smile, or feel your lips on his, Gojo had to do something. To make his and only his, he asked for your hand in marriage. Let's just say your soul left your body for half a second from pure excitement, only to jump at his kissing his face with joy.

Now being almost married half a decade, Gojo can't help but think how lucky his life become since that day you got to know each other. As he watches his students experience the same kindness from you, he feels proud that you are here for them as well. Deciding to join your little circle, Gojo thought that after his mission tomorrow, he should take you for a small vacation out of the country. He hasn't spoiled his beautiful one in some time.

It was October 30, 2017.

(Do not repost without permission. Sharing is allowed with credits.)

#celestial corner of desires #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you

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glindaupland · 9 months

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The Phantom of the Opera | Seoul, South Korea | October 8-14th, 2023 [REVIEWS]

Wow it's about time I posted these reviews that I kept lying about (this week! tomorrow! in 10 years!) Better late than never?

In this post I'll drop a few general things about the production, but the performances are analyzed in my reviews linked here. I recommend reading those all in order since I revisit points about actors I've made previously along the way to avoid repeating myself. Also leaving a disclaimer that these performances are from October so there are some changes in what the actors are doing now (with the exception of Jeon Dong-seok since he left in November) Apologies in advance for my wordiness, but this is more of a "release my feelings for my sake and if anyone else likes it that's cool too" kind of thing? Listen - I wrote a lot of notes on my performances there. So just go in knowing this is the more coherent version of my insane looking notes app!

Before I start I want to thank a few lovely friends who helped me out with this trip because it wouldn't have gone as well as it did without them!

Thank you to @lucygold95 for helping me so much with planning over the past months and for giving me the best time in Busan. Thank you @capitanogiorgio for all the shenanigans we went through and the most special time going to the 1500th and meeting Yoon Young-seok. Thank you to @fadinglandtragedy for the fun talks and the good advice before my trip! The best part of things like this is making friends of course! : )

PERFORMANCE REVIEWS:

STAGE & THEATER

This was as close to the original staging as possible. So I was able to take it in one more (or I guess 6 more?) times post-Broadway closing. The Charlotte Theater is a lot smaller than the Majestic so every view was pretty solid in my opinion, even the second to last row. I took a video of my view from 4th row under the chandelier during the exit music on October 11th so you can see! The angel and chandelier are shown halfway through. I'd say 5th row was almost the cut off for the chandelier drop (that was my spot next day) Broadway seats in this area were always too expensive for me so I'm glad I was able to grab these spots for this production

There were photo zones you can take pics at which you've probably seen. One was a large rose wall, the other was the cute statue of their mascot 오유령. People also take forever lining up for the cast boards for photos and yes I was one of those people. Here's a comparison of the cast boards from the second season (pictures I found when reading old reviews on Naver) and the cast boards now (I forgot to take a photo of one on the top floor though)

I found this review where someone took more detailed clean photos than I did if you're curious about the layout and decorations!

MERCH AND GIFTS

The tickets had these designs! If you booked on Yes24, you received a special envelope and a ticket holder with the face of the Phantom performing for that show

I only didn't receive a second Ju-taek because that was booked on another site - Interpark (bottom middle ticket). I also received paper masks with printed autographs every day I went to commemorate the 200th performance of the run/100th for Seoul and the 1500th overall Korean performance. We used them for the curtain call photos on those two dates (with Jeon Dong-seok then Kim Ju-taek). There are multiple versions of the program book and at the time of writing this I have all except the Daegu one. The first Busan program book was pretty bare and only had the teaser pictures - the same was the case for my Les Mis program book in Busan. -There are different photos in each one, so to me it was worth grabbing them all. My third version signed by Kim Ju-taek is currently on display as you can see below! (The writing says "내 노래를 날게 해 주오 - Make my song take flight") Once again thank you to Lucy for this! 🥹❤️

Here's some of my POTO merch (including a spare cupsleeve from the coffee shop next door, I also had a keyring, but I forgot to show it) RIP to the second program book I sacrificed for scans I still have the pages stored/displayed though! I'm not wasteful! I'll have more to post soon after sharing these reviews

TRANSLATION

Let me emphasize this: my Korean abilities are limited, so don't look to me as the expert on this at all. But I'll still share my notes and perspective as an outsider who's studying The lyrics have changed quite a bit since 2001-2. There are still lines kept or songs that are mostly similar. MOTN had a lot of similarity to 2009-11 even with its changes, STYDI was identical to 2009-11, but Angel of Music was pretty different from even the last season, etc etc. The Phantoms all have unique lines sprinkled here and there, mainly in MOTN (this happens sometimes in Korean musicals). You get some things like random single line changes in some parts depending on the actor or different order/wording of the same lines as well. Just tiny diversions from the script. This is the case for the Christines and Raoul to a lesser extent. Additionally, actors are often permitted to do some occasional improvisation/ad libs. Some unique lines are pretty normal parts of their interpretations now, some appear depending on the feeling of the performance, some are one time only events. I'll mention some of the actor-specific ones and such in their actual reviews, but I have been trying to mark down all of the differences like these for example

Of course, some things obviously have to be adjusted to make sense because of cultural / linguistic reasons. So one example would be the "Wrote...written" line in Notes I. Firmin speaks rudely and informally, but quickly tries adding a more respectful ending particle 요 after Raoul and André give him a shocked 'what did you just say?' kind of look. So "대체 뭘 썼다고 하는 건데...요!" is pretty much like "What the hell are you saying I wrote?" André would look so embarrassed by this each time 🫣

퇴근길 / STAGE DOOR

Stage door doesn't really work the same as it does in places like New York, London, etc. Most of the time if an actor comes out it's more like a quick greeting or chat with the fans. Some actors (not in this case) might sign or take photos in designated spots, but it really depends and it's not so common. It's gotten more restricted ever since COVID as well. 퇴근길 -> "way home from work" is literally what this is called. Dong-seok did wave at us a few times happily after the 200th performance, Gun-ha briefly came out to thank fans after the 1500th while Ceci and I waited to meet Young-seok who had agreed to meet us. I did not have the time (or strength) for the Seung-woo mob, but he usually greets fans after shows.

I literally asked Yoon Young-seok directly on Instagram if Ceci and I could meet him and give him gifts because I figured it didn't hurt to try! When he agreed, my anxiety was not necessarily about meeting an actor, but more about my ability to express my thoughts in another language. But he was truly the sweetest guy and incredibly patient. I think he got that I understood everything he said, but that replying was a whole other challenge. I'm glad I was making enough sense that he was able to get my points and helped me finish sentences if I looked stressed about it 😂 I basically told him I had been planning this trip since the cast announcement because it was too perfect to miss and that I came for 6 shows. I really like to listen to his Phantom on the cast recordings and I thought he made the shows I had seen so far so much fun.

We both said where we were from (the US and France) and he was amazed. He was also shocked when I pulled out my original Korean cast recording (I still laugh thinking about the way he said "와, 세상에!" like "Wow, oh my god!" and enthusiastically took it agreeing to sign when I was mid-way asking him haha) I also thought it was funny when he asked Ceci if she saw his Phantom last season. We wish! But she mentioned she had gone to Busan a few times and he looked very touched and appreciative that we went to multiple performances 🥹 This poor man was tired he signed our things with November (11.13) though and he also spelled Ceci's name wrong first time, but it was the 1500th show though okay. And if he says it's November...who are we to question him? Ceci should also legally change names so he isn't wrong. Anyway, ramble over you can find the art we made for him in this post

OTHER

Here's just bonus fun I had that I will manage to connect to POTO despite it not being POTO because I love doing that. I mean I went because I like these musicals as well (otherwise I would've been foolish enough to go see Ben-Hur but I have, uh, standards for my plots sorry to Park Eun-tae 😭), but it's fun to point out these things. I'm happy to share my show experiences in a different post if anyone's interested in my thoughts on those

Rebecca

I went to see Rebecca, mainly focused on seeing a scheduled date for 이지혜 Lee Ji-hye (Ich) and 장은아 Jang Eun-ah (Mrs Danvers). The whole cast was fantastic. Some Korean musicals have special encore bits they do where the leads sing a part of a song from the show during bows so that was really fun. Unfortunately, we don't get to have fun at POTO like that haha

Lee Ji-hye was in Y&K Phantom as Christine in the same cast as Jeon Dong-seok (Erik), Yoon Young-seok (Gérard Carrière), and Lee Sang-jun (Cholet). Two other cast members in Rebecca were in Y&K as well - 에녹 Enoch (Maxim) who was Philippe and 신영숙 Shin Young-sook (Mrs Danvers) who was Carlotta. Sadly, they had such few shows this season due to a busy schedule, so I couldn't see them (when will trot give Enoch back to musicals). Original Korean ALW Raoul and Y&K Erik 류정한 Ryu Jeong-han was also on rotation as Maxim, but I picked another day for my show so I didn't see him either

Les Misérables

I went to opening night of Les Mis in Busan! It was the Dream Theater, same place POTO played at before. As many of you already know, Choi Jae-rim is playing Jean Valjean at the same time as the Phantom.

I could recognize him easily as the Phantom, but honestly when he appeared at the very start of Les Mis it took me a minute to process that it was him! While I did enjoy his Phantom a lot, I think I enjoyed his Valjean performance a little more. It was only opening night, so curious to see how things develop!

The actor who played Javert that night, 카이 Kai (stage name), was a former Y&K Erik for two seasons too. So many Phantoms!

Frankenstein

On the last day I got to see Dong-seok and Ji-hye once more in a concert for the musical Frankenstein which they have been in together. So have some pics I took without a mask blocking his face!

Ending Note

Thinking back to December 2022 when I said: "Maybe I'll go to Seoul and see Dong-seok once or twice and that's it, I can have my first international POTO" That was funny. That was really very very funny and silly of me to say. 9 performances and 6 of those were POTO! But I'm so grateful and I have zero regrets about it. This is one of the best experiences I've had even if it might look ridiculous to some people to do something like this...I don't care! I hope my crazy essays can help paint a good picture for you!

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