#d writes

[carlos-tk]

thanks to @carlos-in-glasses @welcometololaland @janto4ev @liminalmemories21 @sznofthesticks for various other tags this weekend - i’m going to use those to tag you all back and kick us off for seven sentence sunday

He finally gives him a reprieve and lets his lips meet the solid expanse of Carlos’ newly exposed chest. Marking him up in ways Carlos knows he’ll be seeing and feeling for at least the next week.

TK’s hands have already made light work of undoing half the buttons on his previously crisp business shirt, and Carlos swears he’s determined to make sure it’s unsalvageable after tonight.

“Off,” TK demands a half second later, interrupting his thoughts and pushing Carlos’ arms up, pulling it the rest of the way over his head, and tossing it to the concrete floor beside them.

“This too,” he mumbles against Carlos’ lips, unfastening his belt with one hand and dragging it out of the loops of his dress pants with some well practised finesse.

He moves onto the offending pants next, fumbling the button open and the zipper down, shoving his boxers down with them and finally getting a hand on Carlos’ aching c*ck.

“Fuck!” he gasps at the needed relief and the touch of TK’s nimble fingers on him.

“TK–god–baby I won’t last long if you keep that pace up,” he forewarns in the hope he’ll slow his ministrations.

TK simply hums where his lips are pressed against his jaw and instead increases the speed of his strokes, slick and rough and punishing.

“Well that’s kind of the point baby,” he teases and pulls away with a smug grin and pointed look.

He appeases him though, pulling his hand off and lets his fingers trace Carlos’ abdomen, a series of teasing touches until he’s instead pinching his nipple sharply between his thumb and forefinger.

Carlos hisses, and his c*ck pathetically twitches and dribbles even more pre-come.

open tag for YOU + tags under the cut 💗

@whatsintheboxmh @celeritas2997 @rmd-writes @strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom

@heartstringsduet @alrightbuckaroo @mikibwrites @noxsoulmate @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@reyesstrand @bonheur-cafe @theghostofashton @reyescarlos @reyestrandd @sunshinestrand

@three-drink-amy @thisbuildinghasfeelings @thebumblecee @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @inkweedandlizards

@orchidscript @chicgeekgirl89 @safeaswrites @doublel27 @fitzherbertssmolder @fallout-mars

@firstprince-history-huh @freneticfloetry @herefortarlos @lightningboltreader @louis-ii-reyes-strand

@never-blooms @mooshkat @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @birdclowns

@vineofroses @basilsunrise @honeybee-taskforce @ladytessa74 @chaotictarlos @nancygillianmvp

[yagrldariv]

Husband! Henry Cavill x Doctor!Reader Headcanon

As request by anon. Hope you like! Send me feedback?

Pure fluff, no other warnings. Henry is such husband material.

If there was one thing Henry was, it was dedicated.

Whether it be books, a new role, gaming or even you.

Whenever there was something in front of him, he was learning everything he could to bring exactly what was needed.

When you first met, you were just about to start your residency.

You were in the bookstore, trying to find some light reading when you ran into him.

He spotted you before you had a chance to look his way.

You were in the section adjacent to him, head stuck in a book. Cue the cartoon rotating heart crown circling his head in that moment.

Your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth and your brows were furrowed, deeply engrossed in the text.

Normally Henry tries to be very respectful and leaves people alone, but everything in him was screaming to go talk to you.

“Sorry to bother, but is that seat occupied?” He pointed to the brown leather chair opposite you.

“No, it’s all yours”.

“Wonderful,” he sat, “best seat in the shop”.

The rest of the day you spent talking, books long forgotten.

That day in the bookstore, Henry decided he was going to marry you. He saw how passionate you were about medicine and helping people and it lit something in him.

For the rest of your break, you spent almost every day with him.

I just know before he’s halfway through the day he’s already planning where he’s taking you tomorrow.

The closer you got to your residency the worse you began to worry that your schedule would ruin what you had.

Henry was absolutely clear he would never feel like you were choosing your career instead of him.

Henry knew all too well what it meant to work hard for years towards a career that you loved.

He absolutely admired knowing he could share the feeling of working long grueling hours, putting absolutely everything into your work just to do it all the next day.

Once you moved in with him your last year he was so willing to take care of you wherever he could. (Which means literally everywhere)

He definitely is the type to pop by the hospital for your break and bring you a homemade meal (this is also a great excuse for him to you in your scrubs)

And pls when the time comes for you to take your boards-he’s so doting it’s insane.

He stays up late nights, with you while you study, index cards in hand as his quizzes you.

He runs countless cups of coffee back in forth from the kitchen.

And when you find out you passed, no one is happier than him (tbh not even you).

Two weeks later he proposes.

Henry honestly even sweeter as a husband. (If that’s possible)

He takes the title extremely seriously too let’s be real.

He’s so giddy when he finally got to introduce himself as your husband at the hospital Christmas party.

When you’re on call he never hesitates to take over and care for you.

I’m talking cooking you dinner, packing your lunches, getting up before you to make you coffee in the morning.

Also you can fight me on this but Henry is definitely the old school type to take your car for all the regular maintenance without you having to ask or remind him.

He always wanted to make sure you felt supported in your choices and that you wouldn’t have to juggle everything, you could just focus.

On bad days, he’s meeting you at the door with his signature bear hug.

He’s washing your hair in the shower, telling you how much you mean to him before tucking into bed with you in his arms.

And to Henry, at the end of the day, all that mattered was that you were extremely happy with your life. He was set for eternity by your side.

[fictionobsession]

Learning Hurts

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Tav

Summary: Tav totally wanted to learn how to handle a dagger.

Word Count: 2,232

Warnings: knives, blood, maybe ooc astarion sorry, not beta'd

A/N: This is my first time writing a full-length fic in... a minute, so please forgive anything that doesn't make sense lolol but the Astarion brainrot would not leave me alone so you get this, you're welcome or smth

--

The sun was just beginning to set on their little camp as Tav leaned back, hands folded behind their head, watching the routine the group had so easily fallen into. Gale was ordering Wyll to bring him various ingredients that had been left around the camp. Karlach was arm-wrestling Lae'zel for the hundredth time, the latter sporting a triumphant grin at her unbroken winning streak. Shadowheart was using the time for her nightly meditations. And Astarion, never helping or socializing unless explicitly asked, was sitting outside his tent sharpening his blades.

Tav didn't stop themself staring at the way he inspected his work, running a long, slender finger along the deadly edge. They didn't try to tear their eyes away as he twirled the dagger, paying close attention to the way the firelight danced across the metal. Astarion balanced the dagger on one finger, flipped it once, twice, like he wanted to be sure it hadn't lost its balance somewhere along the way. Flip, twirl, catch. Flip, catch, turn. Tav was mesmerized by the dexterous movements of hand and knife, not noticing the smirk that had found its way to the rogue's face, or the sudden increase in complexity of the knife's ministrations.

“I can teach you some tricks if you really find it that interesting.”

Tav's gaze snapped up at the smirk they heard rather than saw, and caught the teasing glint in those lovely red eyes across from them. Tav cleared their throat, trying to sound at least somewhat normal, cringing when their voice still came out as a squeak. “oh, uh, yeah? Yeah! The knife work is very interesting. That sounds fun!”

He motioned to the space next to him, but Tav was rooted in place, looking back and forth between his eyes and the gesture.

“Come on, darling. I won't bite unless you ask me to.”

Tav felt their mouth run dry, and they swallowed hard, trying to contain any reaction they most certainly did not have to that particular statement. They knew they had failed, though, when they heard the snort of laughter Astarion graciously attempted to disguise as a cough – an attempt that may have worked if not for the crinkles at the corners of his eyes giving him away. Tav glared at him in what they hoped was at least a vaguely threatening way before taking a deep breath and moving to hover in from of his tent, a respectable distance from the man himself.

The elf rolled his eyes, an unfortunately common sight for Tav, handing them his off-hand dagger and promptly closing the respectable distance. “Alright, darling, we're going to start very simple, since you're just as like to stab yourself as the enemy half the time.”

It was a joke, or at least mostly a joke (excluding that one time), but Tav's face went hot with embarrassment anyway. They held the dagger like it might try to jump from their grip, knuckles white from the pressure. Astarion raised an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for Tav to figure it out. They loosened their grip a bit, rubbing a thumb over the lightly worn leather on the hilt, the texture grounding them and letting some of their anxieties disappate. They tried a few different ways to hold it, almost cutting themselves more than once, before Astarion found himself reaching out to adjust their grip. Both pause at the contact, but Astarion quickly waved it off with a murmured excuse. “Wouldn't be much of a teacher if I let you hurt yourself in the first five seconds, would I?”

He took a step back, pulling out his own dagger and showing off a quick grip change that looked like a simple flick in and then out. Tav recognized it faintly as the way they'd seen him reposition after a stealth attack on an enemy. Not that they were paying attention to his hand positioning in combat, just simply watching for timing for the rest of the group, of course. “It's important to be able to switch like this so you can react to enemies from multiple directions without adjusting your whole stance,” he explained as he demonstrated a few more times. Tav started to move slowly, clumsily, tucking the blade back and down, then out again. They kept at it, increasing speed as they went, until they got it pretty close to what Astarion was doing. They looked up, pleased with their progress, just in time to see an unfamiliar expression swiftly disappear from his face. If someone didn't know better, they might've described it as fond. Luckily, Tav knew better. “Sorry that took a minute, I know it should've been easy. Could you show me how to do the flip thing you were doing earlier?”

Astarion's brow furrowed at the request, and he was already shaking his head before the question was finished. “Absolutely not. You can barely do this, and I will not be responsible for - “ he noticed the pathetic, begging, ridiculous eyes Tav was giving him. Normally, he would've been unaffected by anyone's big doe eyes, but something about Tav at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to say no. “Oh, alright. But when you hurt yourself, I will not be feeling sorry for you. Are we clear?”

Tav nodded fervently, afraid he'd change his mind.

“I said, are we clear? Use your words, darling, or I'm putting these away.” A quick gesture with his knife, that playful gleam in his eye. Tav knew he was trying to get under their skin, make them uncomfortable enough to walk away from their little lesson. But Tav, stubborn as they were, would never give him the satisfaction. They brought their eyes up to meet his, back straight, exuding a confidence they weren't sure they actually possessed.

“Yes, sir. Very clear.”

And if they allowed themselves a satisfied grin when Astarion almost dropped his dagger, well, nobody needed to know.

He blinked hard, face contorting into another unfamiliar expression, this one almost akin to his “I just got punched in the face” expression, before he resumed his normal aloof grin. He tossed his dagger, letting it flip twice in the air before catching it. He shook his head and tossed it again, only letting it flip once before catching it this time. He did it again, again, again. Finally he nodded approvingly and turned back to Tav. “Alright, you're going to try to flip it once, like this, and then step back. You want to flip it forward so it goes more away from you than towards you. Then you let it fall to the ground. I don't want you to try to catch it yet. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

They felt the weight of the blade in their hand and tried to avoid looking directly at Astarion, lest their hands start to shake. They took a deep breath, tossed the knife harder than anticipated, and watched as it flipped not once, not twice, but three times before gravity pulled it back down...point first. Tav's eyes widened as Astarion yanked them away, their back suddenly flush against his chest. The surprise wore off quickly, replaced by embarrassment when they felt rather than heard their companion's laughter from behind them. Astarion didn't try to hide it, forehead hitting Tav's shoulder as he shook with giggles. They pulled themself from his arms and stumbled to pick up the dagger from where it had stuck perfectly in the ground, glaring at the still-laughing rogue.

“Are you sure you want to learn this?” The elf managed to huff the question between bouts of giggles. Tav narrowed their eyes in his direction, causing him to throw his hands up in surrender. “Maybe try that a few more times before you attempt catching it then, if you think you can manage to not stab yourself in the head.”

Tav's outrage came out as a very dignified squawk. “You – I'm only distracted because you're watching! Quit looking!”

“I didn't realize I made you so nervous.” An eyebrow cocked in amusement. Tav fought the urge to stomp their foot in a childish fit of annoyance. “Fine, fine. I'll turn around. Just make sure you step out of the way, please. I really would hate to lose my favorite traveling companion.” A wink shot Tav's way as Astarion turned to watch the flames of the campfire.

He stayed facing the fire for what seemed like ages, listening in barely concealed amusement to the thumps of the knife hitting the ground, almost always followed by a huff or grumble of annoyance, until he heard the faintest oh instead. “What's wrong, my dear? Tired of dropping things yet?”

“Uhm...” His eyes narrowed as Tav trailed off. “Yes, I think I might... might need to practice more a different time.”

Their voice was shaky and weaker than usual, none of their confidence and joking nature present. Astarion whirled around, unmasked concern evident on his face. The first thing he noticed were the tears pooling in Tav's eyes. The second thing was the intoxicating scent of their blood hitting him full force. His lips dropped into a perfect o as he stared at the drip, drip, drip of blood falling from Tav's fingers.

“Astarion? I'm sorry, I know you said you weren't going to feel bad. It's okay, my fault for trying to catch it, really. Please don't be mad.” Their small voice brought him back to the moment, only slightly disgusted with himself for getting distracted.

“Oh, love, what have you done?” He took two long strides toward them, grabbing their hand. He rubbed a thumb so gently near the wound, gauging the depth and severity. His expression softened as he looked up at Tav. “I'm not mad at you, but it must hurt. Do you want me to go get Shadowheart?”

“No!” Tav winced at the forcefulness of their own words. “No, no one needs to know how ridiculous this was.”

“They are right across camp, I'm sure they'll know regardless. Besides that, you shouldn't have to be in pain just because you're clumsy, you know.” He pulled his hand away, and caught Tav watching him inspect the blood left on his thumb. He brought the thumb to his mouth and licked a bit of the blood off, smirking at Tav's nose scrunching up in response. “Delicious.”

Tav reached up to smack his shoulder lightly with their uninjured hand.

“Sorry, love. I just can't help myself.” He paused before continuing. “Hm. Well, if you're insistent on suffering, can I at least help you clean up?”

Tav's imagination immediately took over, providing detailed visuals of how Astarion might “clean up” a bloody mess, which did not help the tightness in their stomach caused by him licking the last of the blood off his own fingers. Their mind wandered from there, unbidden images of Astarion, always teasing, always flirting, using that beautiful mouth for licking, kissing, biting... They shook the thoughts from their head, just in time to see him emerging from his tent with a cloth too clean to be found anywhere nearby. He held it up to them, offering to literally just clean the wound.

Tav sighed, mentally reprimanding themselves for having those thoughts about a companion, a friend, that clearly just wants to help. It had been a while, they justified to themself, since they had found anyone as intriguing, mysterious, hilarious, attractive as Astarion. There was no crime there, right? It didn't mean anything, and certainly wasn't anything they would act upon. Friends could have the occasional thought about each other right? It didn't matter that it was always the same friend. Or that those thoughts were certainly becoming more than occasional at this point. Gods, they were fucked. This would definitely be a problem later.

Tav's inner monologue continued as Astarion took the white cloth, folded it twice before taking Tav's warm hand in his cold one again and wrapping the cloth around the injury. He winced along with them as he tightened the bandage.

“'m sorry. I'll be done in a moment. I have to wrap it tightly enough to stop the bleeding.” Tav had never seen such a naked look of emotion on the man's face. They felt like they might faint, not from the blood loss, but from the sheer amount of concern present there.

“It's okay, Star. I know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose.” The smile Tav gave him could have outshone the sun. Astarion suddenly found himself with shaking hands, unable to identify what the hells this feeling was. He tried to finish the wrapping quickly, wanting to put distance between himself and the object of his racing thoughts. He turned Tav's hand, making sure the bandage was secure from all angles, and stalked toward the woods without a word.

Tav calling his name got only the slightest pause. “Thank you for trying to teach me. And for cleaning me up. You didn't have to do that.”

His steps stuttered, and he turned, not quite facing them, though they could see the pained look on his face anyway. “I think I did.”

He slipped out of view, leaving Tav standing, head tilted like a confused puppy, staring after him, completely unaware of the crisis of self they had just thrust upon the unsuspecting vampire spawn.

[kitkatabasis]

Return by OK Go is such a post-play Benvolio/Bencutio feelings song

“You were supposed to grow old

Reckless, unfrightened, and old

You were supposed to grow old”

[ginalinettiofficial]

just saw someone do this and am FINALLY in the mood to participate in a trend ☺️❤️

so:

WRITING POLL

rules: make a 24-hour poll with the names of your wips and then for whichever wins, write one sentence for every vote it gets (but you should also write 1 sentence for every vote each of them gets)!

[eatingfireflies]

Sometimes I get hit by a writing bug and the first sentence is really all I need and nothing gets finished

So here is a manslut Caelus fic no one asked for and will likely never get finished

[ddanosaur]

her smile carries me into the new year

hello!! i've never posted a fic on tumblr before but here's my gift to @idlyingabout as part of a secret santa exchange! prompt was for some college lanamia

summary:

Lana smiled, and it was warm in the winter chill and made Mia’s stomach flip, her cheeks heating even more. “Wonderful! It’s a date then,” Lana said as they got back to the library. “I’ve got some things to take care of, so I’ll be heading out. Talk to you later, Mia.” “Y-yeah. See you later, Lana.” Mia just stood there and waved as Lana walked away, a grin that she couldn’t fight on her face. And then Mia’s brain caught up with her. Wait? Did she say it was a date!?

[justdalek]

Woooo! At long last, Detective Craig and the Fairytale Unit Part One has been posted!!!

[teddybeardoctorr]

Me and @sidehowriting are creating a beautiful lemony ST fic and I think yall will love it

[littlelightfish]

This... this is a whole different kind of psychic damage here. When nightmares got Marcille, we get to knew that her's biggest fear is outliving her friends. This isn't even canon probably, but look at this. This isn't a "I don't want my friends to die" kind of dream. This is a "I'm terrified of loosing my daughters, of something killing them, and being incapable of stopping it" kind of dream. It's so simple yet it explains perfectly the whole of chilchucks character. He loves, he cares, deeply. But he, or doesn't acknowledges, or doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

Besides that. Someone had to wake him up after this. Imagine the devastation in this man after he wakes up. He just saw his three little babys murdered corpses (or maybe he saw them die, wich isn't better). He would possibly not talk about it, and that would worry the hell out of the party, because we'll, they see him all down and only one of them knows what he saw. Imagine being the one to pull him from that nightmare. Seeing this man, usually so composed, fuking staring with tears and terror in his eyes to the composes of what you can only assume are his daughters. It would be heartwrenching.

Idk, I love this man so much...

[hhhhunty]

How funny that she never considered that.

[carlos-tk]

thanks for the tags @thisbuildinghasfeelings @redshirt2 @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @sznofthesticks @lemonlyman-dotcom @strandnreyes @bonheur-cafe @heartstringsduet @alrightbuckaroo @carlos-in-glasses @kiwichaeng @birdclowns @louis-ii-reyes-strand @orchidscript @whatsintheboxmh 💗

I’ve been mostly distracted by the tennis during any of my free time this week, so here’s a tiny little snippet for this weeks wip wednesday ✍🏼

TK sighs, his head heavy and feels his sleepy smile falling.

Carlos knows, notices like he always does, halting his chopping and dropping the knife on the countertop with a soft clang and reaching TK in a few quick strides.

He tugs TK to him by the bottom of his sleep wrinkled t-shirt and TK falls into him easily, like a puzzle piece taking up its rightful spot.

Carlos’ arms are a comforting weight around his shoulders, as he wraps him under his arms in a hug so tight, TK thinks his bones might shatter.

TK’s face is squished into his neck, as Carlos mumbles an I love you into his hair, breath ghosting across his forehead.

TK returns the words, a muffled love you quiet against Carlos’ clavicle.

no pressure tags below 💗

@welcometololaland @celeritas2997 @rmd-writes @inkweedandlizards @wandering-night19 @reyescarlos @reyesstrand @three-drink-amy @reyestrandd @theghostofashton @thebumblecee @detective-giggles @fitzherbertssmolder @freneticfloetry @fallout-mars @firstprince-history-huh @liminalmemories21 @herefortarlos @reasonandfaithinharmony @ladytessa74 @lightningboltreader @chicgeekgirl89 @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @noxsoulmate @never-blooms @basilsunrise + an open tag for YOU 💗

[yagrldariv]

Boyfriend!Chris Headcanon

Not requested, I just watched an interview with him and I could not stop thinking about it so 🤷🏾‍♀️ Let me know what you think and request more!

Pretty much fluff? If you can call it that? No warnings

I just know being with Chris Evans means you got abs for days from the amount of laughing.

Chris definitely has his serious moments but let’s face it he’s a comedian.

This man is a whole child and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Even if he is being serious, there’s most likely a string of hilarious but absolutely inappropriate jokes firing off in his head.

Every time you’re with him you’re always laughing with each other about the stupidest shit.

And once one of you starts, of course the other has to keep it going.

All of your friends think you guys speak in stares and facial expressions but really you both are just 8 years old.

And honestly Chris loves to say he’s introverted but he definitely draws energy from being around you.

Every time you’re giggling at his stupid jokes it just fuels him to keep going, upping his ridiculousness until you have tears in your eyes

Also he loves scaring you.

He’s always hiding behind some door or in a dark room waiting for you to walk by so he can jump out

He loves hearing you laugh even if it’s at his own expense

The amount of times you’ve both tried to be serious and absolutely failed is the reason you’ve had to stop going to formal events with him.

The last awards show you went to together, you both were tipsy at the bar just cackling about one of the questions he was asked.

And tbh it wasn’t even a funny statement you both were just children (and let’s be honest a lil tipsy)

Chris kept doing an impression of the interviewer and you could not stop laughing which in turn fueled him to laugh.

The lights started flickering and you both were still dying, you were gripping his bicep trying not to fall over

“Ok ok Chris, we gotta sit down and be serious”

Chris led you to your seats as the lights dimmed and you caught his eye as you were sitting down and you bit your lip trying to contain your laughter

Chris noticed this and unfortunately due to the drinks he could not help himself (well he could he just didn’t want to)

He leaned over and just said “Hmmmmm not what I was expecting” and you lost it.

You let out an unexpectedly loud cackle and Chris couldn’t hold in his laugh, gripping his chest and your forearm

You slapped a hand over your mouth and playfully nudged Chris with your thigh trying to get him to stop laughing so you could stop.

People started looking towards your table and you two mostly stopped

Until Chris decided again to whisper in your ear, again and again the whole night

You almost chewed a hole through your lip from biting it so hard throughout the night

That’s when you learned to never to trust Chris at public events bc at the end of the day, he’s getting those jokes off, even if it’s only for you.

[fictionobsession]

Jailbreak

Pairing: None

Word Count: 806 (is just little)

Warnings: none!

A/N: this is a between-game blurb for the multiplayer campaign I'm doing with @elfinbloodbag and @tripleyeeet so this is really for them - hope y'all like it <3

--

Pippin was mid-sneak, trying to take some potions out from under the nose of the injured tiefling, when Boone poked her head through the door of the prison.

“Hey, Pip, a moment please?” The whisper-yell wasn't quite enough to get the attention of the surrounding Grove inhabitants, of course, but Pippin cringed anyway. Pippin stepped back onto a squeaky board. Stupid old shack, what's wrong with dirt floors for godssake.

Luckily, the tiefling was too out of it to acknowledge such a tiny sound, and Pippin quickly made her way to the Druid's makeshift prison, making sure no one was watching as she slipped inside. Boone was standing in front of a cage, hands on hips, staring into the face of a goblin woman. Goblins have genders, right? Surely. Probably. Should probably learn some more about goblin culture. Do they have a culture? Everyone's got a culture I'm certain. Silly question.

“They've got 'er locked up.” Boone gestured to the goblin.

“What'd she do?”

Boone shrugged and looked up as Virru strolled casually into the room. “Best I can tell, she's just in here on account of being a goblin, and may have been with that crew we just...handled.”

“But, well, that's technically not a crime, is it? If she didn't hurt anybody?” Pippin asked, more thinking out loud than actually wanting an answer. She looked over at Boone, who let out a rather impressive yawn.

“She did say she'd get us into the goblin camp. Trouble-free. Jailbreak?”

Virru nodded. Pippin looked between them, already pulling out her lockpicking tools. “Never done a jailbreak before.”

Boone raised an eyebrow. Pippin's cheeks turned pink, suddenly very focused on the lock. “Well, never for someone other than myself anyway.” She rolled her shoulders and stuck her tongue between her teeth. The lock gave a final click, and the door swung open. The goblin, Sazza, she said her name was, sauntered out. Boone quickly pulled her weapon and aimed it at the escapee.

“I ain't gon do nothin'. Toldya I'd get ya in the camp, so I will. The Priestess will want to meet you. Put that down.”

Boone lowered her weapon – slightly. Virru leaned against the wall, watching. “So, not to be the voice of logic, but, now what?”

Pippin blinked at her, expression blank. Boone groaned, throwing her head back. “Nobody ever thinks things through.” She shot a glare at Pippin.

“Hey! I didn't do it this time! You said 'jailbreak' and I jail..broke? Anyway, I did what we all agreed on! I figured you had a plan!”

Boone grabbed the goblin by the elbow and started to lead her out of the prison area, only to be immediately stopped by the nearest tiefling. She turned Sazza around and went directly back into the room where Virru and Pippin were barely containing giggles.

When Virru was certain she could hold it together long enough to speak, she grinned up at Boone. “What exactly made you think that was going to work?”

“Was worth a try. Why go through all the effort of making an elaborate plan if you can just walk through the front door?”

“Well, we obviously can't walk through the front door, so what do we do? Pip, you have any ideas?”

Pippin shook her head and plopped to the floor. The others quickly joined her on the ground, regretting their lack of planning, and trying to figure out how exactly they were going to escape with the goblin.

They snacked on some food they had snagged from the Grove trader, not thinking or caring to share with their charge. Several suggestions were made and shot down for various reasons. The party's varying talents were quite useful most of the time, unless it came to things like sneaking or successfully lying. Boone was the worst at sneaking, and Pippin couldn't lie to save her life – literally.

virru narrowed her eyes at Sazza. “Does anyone have a scroll of disguise self?”

It was the first idea that had made any sense. The group all dug through their bags, coming up short on any scrolls or items that could help disguise the goblin.

They sat for what felt like ages, until Boone started pacing and Pippin started rooting through chests and crates looking for anything interesting. Pippin wandered around, finding a spot to jump down to a little area with bright orange mushrooms.

She noticed a glinting light just around the corner. “Hey guys? I think there's something back here.”

Virru was the first one to join her, with Boone following close behind. Virru squinted, trying to figure out what the shiny area was. “You know, that kind of looks like... a door? Why would there be a door back here?”

They shared a look, Boone striding forward to be the first through the door.

[kitkatabasis]

Gilded Serpents

In an alternate England governed by mage dynasties, the impending death of a family head means a competition among their heirs. The prize? A ritual taking of the head’s life, and with it, their title, and the combined magic—and souls—of all their dynasty’s previous leaders. The competition, is, predictably, fierce.

And it’s never fiercer than when it’s for the crown.

The eighty-year-old King of England is dying, and the whole country knows the competition will begin any day now. None know it better than his three daughters:

Gunnel, 24, ruthlessly practical and constantly overworked, who tried—and failed—to fill the space the absent Queen left behind, and hides her longing for a life ruled by herself alone

Aikaterine, 22, easily personable and subtly manipulative, who resents her status as the forgettable middle child just as much as she uses it to her advantage, and secretly has no idea who she is by herself

Calla—her father’s unabashed favorite—16, prodigiously powerful and incredibly principled (and autistic), who memorized every subtle rule of behavior to survive, but now is adrift as her father grows unpredictable

As the days pass, the King’s behavior gets ever more erratic, the competition approaches, and a certain bastard’s resentment of his family grows, it becomes clear that this will be a competition to remember.

Let the games begin. 

[ginalinettiofficial]

having so much urge to write but also so much writers block. devastating. cannot get past this stupid fucking chapter. cannot decide how to write it. everything i write is not RIGHT. but it’s a necessary fucking chapter ugh !!!!!! anywho. this is real this is me i’m exactly where i’m supposed to be now gonna let the light shine on me