#force unleashed: sorta

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Theory: Vanessa Fisk unleashed Bullseye on Matt Murdock

Since Vanessa is still connected to the criminal underworld, she decided to take out the Daredevil trio since they can still tie her to Agent Ray Nadeem’s death. So, she secretly sprung Bullseye loose from the hospital and gave him enough information to go after Matt and friends. Bullseye agrees because he’s crazy and wouldn’t pass up on an opportunity to destroy his enemies. Vanessa chose Bullseye because she could claim that he acted on his own initiative. Also, she could make the argument that she wouldn’t work with a man that tried to kill her.

Vanessa’s plan sorta succeeded since Bullseye managed to get Foggy. However, he let his sadistic tendencies get the best of him by wanting to kill Karen Page up close.

As for how this could affect the rest of the show, Matt will obviously declare war on Vanessa once he finds out she’s the one who was behind Dex’s rampage. For Wilson Fisk, Vanessa will force him to defend her from Daredevil. “You’re my husband, I love you, and I’m in danger”, that kind of thing. But also, Vanessa could blackmail Fisk into protecting her since she can pin the entire operation on Wilson Fisk. Who’s gonna believe Fisk if he tries to claim he’s innocent? Vanessa holds the keys to his money and criminal connections, plus the public is already divided on him due to his Kingpin past. All they need is one major scandal to turn on him.

As for why Dex didn’t just expose Vanessa once he got arrested, maybe he kept silent since she’s the one who paid for his spinal surgery at the end of S3. He kept his mouth shut as a way of paying back the favor.

[queers-gambit]

Aces

prompt: ( requested ) during a terrible storm, you're invited to stay at your boss' house. years of tip-toeing around one another comes to an end when emotions are finally laid on the table.

pairing: Tommy Shelby x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Peaky Blinders

word count: 3.5k+

warning: honestly, it's pretty tame. some cursing, kinda-sorta one bed, most def OC Tommy, fluff, author is def on the Grace Hating Train but it's mild.

With a grunt, you threw the file of paperwork from your hands across the empty room; scattering across the floor. You were agitated, grouchy, beyond exhausted, and yet, there was no use in trying to leave when the worst storm to ransack England was being unleashed from the seediest parts of hell.

All you wanted was to go to bed for about 16 hours, but as midnight ticked closer and closer, that dream was dwindling. You'd be lucky to get a few hours at this point since your job was demanding enough to warrant early mornings and late nights. But this night was later than ever before.

You often wondered if your employer's antics brought this hell-storm upon you all, but figured, God didn't care that much about Small Heath. He most certainly didn't care for the Devil running it.

"Woah!" A voice laughed when the file went flying. "Gott'an arm on yah, love! Nearly took me fuckin' eye out!"

"Ha-ha," you mocked John Shelby, your employer's younger brother. "What're you still doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same," he smirked, squatting so he was in front of you with an exaggerated pout. "Why're you still here, love? Tommy's still gotcha workin'?"

"No, it's my own vocation."

"Tommy don't pay overtime, sweetheart."

"No shit," your eyes rolled. "In case I'm the only one capable of seeing it, there's an outlandish storm outside that prevents me from getting home." You gestured around where you sat on the floor, surrounded by files and other paperwork, "So, what else was I gonna do to pass the time?"

"It's not that bad," he waved you off. "C'mon, I'm off t'the Garrison, come with me, love. We can drink 'til the storm passes, huh?"

"John, seriously, I'm warning you," you deadpanned, watching him adjust his flatcap.

"C'mon, sweet cheeks, we can endure it," he laughed, opening the door and literally being shoved back by the force of the wind. You didn't make a sound, just reaching to hold down the papers around you as he grunted and groaned, trying to shut the flailing door; only able to once he threw his entire weight into it.

"Told you," you mused, his face and coat dripping wet from the short time the door was open.

"So, you're staying here, then?" He asked, panting, trying to play off the entire ordeal.

"I figured I'd get some more work done, it's not like Tommy gives any days off," you shrugged.

"He'd give you whatever you asked for," John smirked, taking his coat off.

"No, he needs me to do shit on the daily, there aren't days off, John Boy," you rolled your eyes playfully. "But I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to work for you idiots."

"Hey," he pouted.

"Oh, honey, if it helps any, you're my favorite idiot!"

"Good," he pointed at you with a small laugh. "But seriously, love, if you need the day off, Tommy would do it."

"No, there's so much to do here," you frowned. "We're on track to reopen in a few weeks, and if I take a day off, we'll fall behind, and you know Tommy doesn't do delays."

The gambling den the Shelby's operated was getting a make over now that The Shelby Company Limited was soon to be up and running. Hence why you were there in an empty room with only files around you and a dimly lit lap, you were trying to get shit organized before furniture could be moved back in.

You would have to restock Polly's office, Tommy's, Arthur's, and John's - all of who were Company members and would need their space to work. Not to mention the completely different office Tommy was currently eyeing to use as his base of operation, something you, as his personal assistant, was expected to help with every step of the way. Honestly, it was a miracle Tommy was ever able to get shit done before you - an organizational Goddess.

"Well," John sighed, looking around for a moment before shrugging and placing his hands on his hips, "want some help?"

You chuckled, "No, it's all right, John, you go on. Surely the lads will be home soon - "

Speak of the Devil! And He will appear!

The door burst open, sending your files every which way from the gust of wind; several bodies shoving their way inside before the lone, single body of Tommy Shelby stalked in last. He shut the door without issue, being a force of nature himself; a professionally observant, silent, lone menace that commanded the attention of any room he walked into. People on the street parted for him like the Red Sea, flocked to the darkened parts of the streets just to get a glimpse of the gangster in motion.

For as long as you can remember, you've harbored overwhelming affection for your boss, but never once vocalized it out of sheer fear of rejection.

He was Thomas Shelby. He was an enigma; a mysterious, stoic man that instilled a sense of fear and respect from those around him. You included, but yet never dare let your admiration for your employer be known in public. You loved him from a distance; admiring him and feeling yourself fall further into your unrequited love due to the intimate proximity you shared. He's always treated you as exactly what you were - a valuable member of the Company and his personal assistant. You worked intimately together on a daily basis, and each night you went home, you would scream into a pillow out of sheer frustration.

Being his personal assistant meant you were constantly in close proximity, and no matter how hard you tried to fight your feelings, it was impossible. He was Thomas bloody Shelby - insanely suave, charismatic, a deep nut to crack, but once he opened up, he was insanely loyal, caring, even decently amusing. He was all you wanted, but never felt secure enough to admit your feelings for him.

You were greeted happily by the men, all piling into the Shelby home to take refuge from the storm. You were left to silently rock to your feet and start gathering the papers that had gone flying in their entrance, glancing up when a hand offered help in rounding up your supplies. "Thank you, Mr. Shelby, but I got it," you insisted quietly, accepting the pages he handed you.

Tommy always had a soft spot for you.

He was silent for a moment, then asked, "What're you still doin' here?"

"Storm makes it impossible to get home," you shrugged. "I was waiting until it lessened, but it doesn't seem to," you glanced out the window, still shuffling files and papers together.

"You've worked all day," he sighed, "c'mon."

"Uh... Where?"

"Think you've earned a drink," he eased, already striding out of the room. You quickly finished gathering your papers, stacking them all together, but was pleasantly shocked when Tommy returned to the empty room with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

"Mr. Shelby, don't - "

But he was already sat on the ground, back against a wall, watching you with amusement. "Think a man's too good to sit on the floor?" He asked, uncorking the bottle.

"When their suit is so expensive that I have to take it to a specific cleaners, perhaps, then yes," you answered truthfully.

"I've money to spare, I can send this suit to be cleaned by another errand boy, you won't have to any longer," he poured two glasses of whiskey, "but tonight's company is too good to pass up."

You laughed, "Oh, no, what did you do?"

"Hmm?"

"You're kissing my arse a little, what've you done? What mess do I have to clean tomorrow?"

He smirked as you finally sat beside him, a bit stiffly, but accepted the drink he served. "Nothing, love, this storm's put a halt on everything," he gestured to the window, unaware that your heart stalled in your chest when you heard him call you 'love'. "What is it you were working on?" He asked, fingering the few files stacked between you. "Ah," he mused, reading the titles of the packets, "trying to get a jump on tomorrow, huh?"

"Not very much else to do," you shrugged. "I... I got a little frustrated. I think I'll need Polly to go over a few things with me."

"I'm sure you've got it," he spoke quietly. "I wouldn't have hired you if incapable."

You nodded, "Right, of course, sir."

Mr. Shelby offered you a look, taking a swig of whiskey. "You know, after hours, you don't have to be so professional."

"You didn't hire me to be unprofessional, though."

"No, I didn't, but this isn't a work meeting," he offered his glass. "We can still be friendly, can we not?"

You clinked his glass with yours, "Sure, of course we can..." How the hell could you be 'friendly' to the man you've pined after for the past two years? "So, I heard Grace skipped town," you started, instantly wincing when you realized what you said. "I-I'm so sorry, Mr. Shelby, I didn't mean to - "

But he chuckled, "You heard correct." He waited a long moment, then offered, "She's gone - for good."

You tested the waters, "Is... That a good thing?"

"It is."

"I thought you liked the barmaid?"

"I thought I did, too, but I've been wrong before."

"I doubt that."

"No, truly," he smirked, "I've made my fair share of mistakes."

"That you'd be willing to admit to?"

"Well, that's a different story," he mused, downing the last of his glass. "C'mon," he decided, sitting up, "the others are in the den, if you'd like to join?"

"Oh, no, I don't wish to intrude."

"Where were you going to sleep, then? If this storm doesn't die off in the next hour?" You gestured to where your coat and belongings were bunched up beside you, shrugging lightly. "No, absolutely not," he glared when he took in your makeshift bed, "you're coming in, you'll stay the night here."

"No, you lot are having family time - "

"And why do you assume you aren't family yet?" He asked sharply, making you reel back a little. "Three years, you've worked with my family, a portion of that before any of us came home. C'mon, love, you're more family than others wish to pretend to be."

"You mean that?" You worried softly.

He offered a look of mild offense, "I don't speak to hear the sound of my own voice. I would not say it if I did not mean it."

The whiskey in your system encouraged you to offer a sharp look, snipping, "It would not kill you to just say, 'Yes, I mean it.'"

Tommy smirked lightly, nodding, "Yes, I mean it. Come, you'll stay here tonight."

You couldn't fight off the smile even if you tried. With your coat and purse in one hand, Tommy took the other to help you off the floor. Like a gentleman, he took your belongings before leading you further into the Shelby home; leaving the empty gambling den to find the others all stuffed around a table with a card game loudly being played; fireplace stoked to life.

Polly greeted you happily, not knowing you were still here. Tommy set your things to the side as Arthur wrangled you into the seat beside him - insisting you had to be on his team! A quick sniff of his tea mug assured he was waist deep in the whiskey.

"Okay! New player at the table!" John announced, yanking all the cards back to hand over to Polly. They were all smoking, minus you and Finn. "You all know the rules - hey, hey, hey, no! Tommy's not on her team!" He pointed at you and his brother, who had sat beside you to sandwich you between Shelby's.

"Why not?" Tom asked, accepting the tea from Polly as Finn handed you your own.

"Thank you, little love," you whispered, pecking his cheek as he giggled.

"Becuase you two can communicate without words - it's fucking weird!" John insisted. "All right! Polly, you're with Tommy - the fucker likes to cheat."

"Being better than you isn't cheating, John Boy."

"Is when there's money on the line!" John laughed, Arthur leaning over to explain to you the game. He was actually a very good teacher, and even for a few rounds, you weren't a "viable player" just to let you watch and get the gist of things.

However, when you joined the game, it was far more intense than you had given credit for. But the Shelby's were competitive lads, Polly just happy to laugh and remind the boys of the rules; letting them dominate the table as you were content to just watch, laugh, and sip your tea. After a few rounds, Finn came over and hopped up on your lap, declaring you two a team now, and believe it or not, you won the next three hands!

"CHEATERS! AYE!?" John yelled, laughing right after as a boom of thunder rattled the home.

"No, call that beginners luck!" Arthur tried to defend, Tommy lighting a new cigarette.

"Or maybe John's just not accustomed to losing?" You grinned. "Especially from a lady?"

"I lost to a lady? Where? Where is she?" John looked around comically, earning a swift kick under the table that rattled the tea cups.

"All right, all right, next hand, we play for money, come on, come on, bets in the center," Polly instructed. "Finn, don't," she warned and you reached up to push the lad's hand down as he was ready to toss in a few pounds.

"Here, I'll cover us," you told the little lad, both grinning when you offered money to the center. Unknown to you, Tommy was keeping mental track of however much you were betting - intent to pay you back. Yet he didn't say anything, content to watch you and Finn have fun together.

Arthur and John were the most vocal of the group, arguing about scores and tallies and who won which round. You chuckled as Finn leaned into your chest, everyone waiting for the two to finish arguing; Polly looking over with a broad smirk before dropping her gaze. Tommy had seemingly naturally moved closer to you, one arm extended behind your chair to keep you close to his warmth.

Neither seemed to notice.

Not even when you would turn to crack a joke directly in Tommy's ear, his lips spreading in an easy smile that made Polly fight off her own grin. Grace was something special to Tommy, sure, this was true, but after the time together, she could tell that the two of you had become something more - without even verbalizing it.

Never realizing.

Hours passed, the storm still raged, two cartons of cigarettes was smoked between the lot of them, and there was no clear winner in sight. Finn had fully deflated into your embrace, asleep despite the loud thunder and blinding flashes of lightning. Your head had lulled onto Tommy's shoulder, sleep clawing at your eyelids as you listened to a drunken John and Arthur still argue about the card game. Polly eventually called it quits and bid everyone a goodnight, smiling softly when she noted the cozy seating between you and Tommy.

The longer you sat there, you more exhausted you became.

"C'mon, love," Tommy whispered softly, rousing you from your half-sleep, "let's get you to bed. C'mon, up you get," he smirked, aiding you from your chair as you kept a firm hold on his little brother. "We'll see you lot in the morning," he told his brothers.

"Night," John and Arthur waved, still deep into their argument, but smirking to one another when Tommy lead you up the stairs. When you were gone from sight, John leaned in and asked his eldest brother, "Think Tommy'll make a move tonight?"

Arthur glanced up the stairs, musing, "If he doesn't, he might be stupider then we thought."

John agreed.

Upstairs, Tommy opened the bedroom door and let you lay Finn softly on his bed, pausing to tug his shoes off and cover him with his blanket; moving his stuffed teddy bear closer and watching his sleeping hand naturally curl around it. You snuck out of the door, Tommy shutting the door, and tangled your hand with his.

Silently, he lead you to his bedroom.

It was small, ridiculously small, but it was enough for his single person. Tommy shut the door after you, moving around, muttering, "You can sleep in this," as he handed you one of his shirts, "and I'll be in the drawing room if you need me - "

"Tommy, I'm not kicking you out of your room," you sighed. "I can sleep on the sofa for the night, it's not - "

"I'm not letting you do that," he refused sharply.

"Then we seem to be at an impasse," you decided with perked brows. "Either we're both sleeping on the sofa or we both crash your bed. You choose."

He chuckled dryly, "And here I thought the whiskey would make you less stubborn."

"Wishful thinking."

He nodded, letting you have the room to change and get under the covers. It was decently cold in his room, more so without pants; the storm doing nothing to remedy that, and when Tommy returned, everything felt different.

A good different, but still different.

Neither of you made eye contact, him joining you in the absurdly small bed after blowing the candles out. You settled on your side, facing the wall, and after a few moments of adjusting, Tommy was settling down - but hesitating to deflate in comfort.

"Is it all right if I, uh... If I...?"

"Yeah, 's all right, Tommy," you whispered, reaching for the hand that hovered over your waist and pulling it so he was curled around you. It was all he needed to readjust, sigh to himself, and deflate against your back. You shivered slightly when his warm breath fanned over your neck and shoulder; his hand splaying over your belly and rubbing his thumb mindlessly. "Thank you for letting me stay the night," you whispered.

"Wasn't gonna send you home in this weather," he answered, voice vibrating the shell of your ear. "Besides," he whispered in a sigh, "this is where I wanted you, and where I wanted to be."

You chuckled, "Oh, yeah? So cold in here you need a warm body in bed with you?"

"No," he whispered, "but I've been in love with you for months now that I didn't want you far from me. Doesn't feel right, seeing you go home without me - everyday. I was overjoyed to come back and see you still here."

"What?" He didn't let you turn around, just kept you both there; locked in your spoon. "Tommy, what're you saying?"

He took a sobering breath, "That this is what I want, this is where I want us to be."

"That's the whiskey talking."

"No, love, it's you," his lips danced across your ear, making you shiver. "It's always been you, but I wasn't in my right mind to do anything about it."

"And now you are?"

"I might be, I couldn't go another minute with you thinking I don't want you - that I don't value you in my life. The fact that you were ready to sleep downstairs hurt me more than I'm willing to admit," he sighed, "and I knew, I needed to confess a few things so you know, you're welcome in this family. You won't ever sleep downstairs, love, you're meant to be here... With me... If you want to be."

You had to slap his hand to get him to loosen his grip and let you turn around to face him; but his hand remained on your, moving up to grip your ribs. In a whisper, you asked, "You're being honest? Genuine?"

"I can't lie to you, you can always tell. So, am I lying?"

"I don't think so," you whispered with skepticism, eyes narrowed. Neither of your voices rose above a whisper, "Why say any of this, Tommy?"

"Because the idea of going another day without at least trying to tell you how I feel was beginning to feel suffocating."

"What about Grace?"

"It's taken me a bit, but I know now that I was infatuated with her simply because I had already decided you were out of my league."

"Do you hear yourself?" You grinned, caressing his cheek. "You're everything I've wished for, Tommy, but know I can't have. You're the one in a league of your own, I'm the one unable to touch you."

His head shook, "You're all I've wanted and more. I wasn't sure you'd think it appropriate - my affection for you - given you work for me."

"The same reason I feared voicing my affection for you, too."

"Now that it's in the open," he whispered, "how do you want to proceed?"

"We can figure logistics out later," you smiled, tracing your fingertips over his face, "but for now, I just want to enjoy this. I never thought you'd look at me the same way, and now that you do, I don't want to look away."

"You won't have to," he whispered. "I'm in this for us, my sweet, if you are."

"Nowhere I'd rather be," you whispered, cuddled close, and simply breathing the same air. For a single moment, Tommy felt unparalleled peace; the shovels quiet, heart content, and body warm.

requesting rules and masterlist

Peaky Blinders masterlist

[eff4freddie]

Touch | Epilogue

Joel makes good on his promise to date you, at least once.

Words: 4k

Warnings: Just a slutty lil farewell to our resident Jackson masseuse and her grumpy-arse maybe sorta boyfriend, smut, vaginal fingering, sexy times, stockings that are far too thin for early Spring. Minors DNI

A/N: Another thank you for your support of this little story that ended up being a bit bigger and more complex than I expected. I went there because of your encouragement. Thank you, always.

Part Eight | Series Masterlist

The season was turning, but there was still a chill of a nighttime. It had been six weeks since Joel returned to Jackson, the medical supplies he and the second expedition managing to find and defend ensuring a healthy and safe Jackson for at least another two winters. The whole energy of the place, the optimism, was back in the community, and you had thrived in it, started to bloom alongside the wildflowers dotting the pathways into town.

You’d spent the time working, teaching Ellie, occasionally hanging around Joel’s place while he convalesced, first in his bed, then on the new-ish couch Tommy had found and dragged in through the back door. It wasn’t leather like his old one, and the springs stuck out in the centre so that you had to be very careful where you sat, but it was better than the rocking chair, and it was enough for him to sit still in for at least a few weeks.

He kept promising that he was going to date you, at least once if you’d let him, and each time you’d fobbed him off, telling him he had to get better first, that he was no good to you limping, that you wanted him marginally less grumpy if he could manage it. You weren’t sure why you were stalling, other than that you felt you were toes to the edge of a precipice.

When you were little your little family of four had driven out to the Grand Canyon, and you’d stood on the edge of the red dirt and been totally overwhelmed by the size of it, of all the negative space, the absence. You’d found yourself, aged eight and a half, ready to cry and even now, thirty years later, you remembered the howling wind, the echo of it.

You thought about the beauty of it, now. Now that you had seen so much worse, so much more, you reminded yourself that people used to travel entire countries to see the Grand Canyon. In your mind’s eye you entered your memories and stood beside yourself, your child self, and took her hand. You pointed to the sky, drew her eyes up and away from the ground beneath. Felt her pulse race under your touch as you showed her that the magnitude of it was the beauty in it, was the point of it all.

You accepted Joel’s invitation for the next Friday night. Then you ran to Maria’s to find something to wear.

--

You were supposed to meet at 8, a respectable time after dinner so as not to feel like you needed to have a meal; a more casual time, a more intimate time, when you could drink and chat and only stay an hour if you found it wasn’t working. It was both an in and an out.

Except that you were late, your last client having not only stored muscle tension in his fascia but emotional tension as well, and as soon as you had pushed into the glute he had unleashed years of mourning, of loss, of fears. You had stopped, wrapped him in a towel and pulled him upright, stood back and let him shake with the force of it. It wasn’t new, that people would come with muscle aches and discover trauma aches instead, but you lost track of time trying to put him back together again, trying to assure him of his safety. Tommy was right; sometimes it doesn’t come out until you feel safe enough to let it.

But it meant by the time you were pulling your door open you were about forty minutes late. Your cheeks burned with the shame of it, your timekeeping one of your strengths in the before-times, in the times when you had no other responsibilities other than the hell of being 15.

Joel was coming up your path and you stopped, nearly dropping the jacket you were still trying to pull over your shoulders. You couldn’t read his expression in the dark but his eyes were on you, and he was coming up, fast.

‘Joel, I’m so sorry,’ you started, as he strode towards you and up your porch. ‘I got caught up with a client, I couldn’t leave until they were…’ his hands were on you then, gripping you to him, your jaw resting in his warm palm.

‘You OK?’ he asked you, his eyes searching yours.

‘I’m fine, of course I am,’ you said, flustered, under the intensity of his inspection. ‘I just couldn’t…he was so sad, Joel. I had to stay.’

He nods at this, his jaw ticking. You resisted the urge to reach up and sink your fingertips into the masseter. ‘Were you worried about me, Joel?’ you asked, and he narrowed his eyes at you, then, suddenly freezing up.

‘Thought you weren’t coming, or that you were…thought maybe something had happened,’ he said, and you felt yourself soften.

‘I’m fine. And I would never stand you up,’ you said, moving to hold him around his waist, to circle him in your arms, only able to reach halfway around him, broad as he was. He avoided your eyes, the worry etched deep into his brow.

You still hadn’t kissed him. All of the things he had done to you, the way he had pulled you apart under his hands, his mouth, spread around his cock, nothing so intimate as a kiss.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said again, low and velvet in your throat. ‘I really like you, Joel,’ you went on, and he finally met your gaze, again. The naked vulnerability in it making you pause. You wondered how many people had ever seen this side of him. You suspected he could count them on one paw.

‘It’s late,’ he said, and started to pull away from you. ‘Maybe we should try again some other time.’ To your dismay he had nearly turned his back to you, and without thinking you grabbed him around the middle and tried to turn him back.

‘Wait,’ you said, and he hissed then, his muscles seizing. You let go of him, horrified.

‘M’ok,’ he muttered, raising his hand to stop you from rushing toward him. ‘Just…still gettin’ there, is all.’

‘Come in, please,’ you said, not touching him, not moving towards him, hoping your voice would be enough to get him to stay. ‘It’s cold, I have a bottle of whiskey Tommy slipped me when you were in the hospital, I can…’

‘You needed whiskey, baby?’ he said, and he had that lopsided grin on his face again, and you wanted to lick it off him. ‘Were you worried about little ole me?’

Never mind, you wanted to slap it off.

‘Oh for fucks sake,’ you said, rolling your eyes and turning back to your door. ‘Don’t get all cute just because I got scared when you nearly died,’ you said, and you heard him chuckle. You entered your house and turned to him, one hand on the door. ‘In or out?’ you asked, and you knew that you were talking to the both of you, knew that he wasn’t the only one facing the indecision, knew that you palming the responsibility off onto him, that you would accept his decision even if it meant never talking to him again. He hesitated, but only for a moment.

--

He was back in your kitchen, on the same chair from a more recent before-time, from before he’d found a place for himself somewhere under your skin. You were both sipping your whiskey, listening to the crackling fire in the other room, letting the silence seep out and blanket you. He was still enormous, still took up nearly half the space, and you ceded all of it to him.

‘Ellie speaks the world of you,’ he said, after a while, and you knew that this was important to him, that first and foremost he was her dad, her keeper and her protector.

‘She’s a lovely kid,’ you said, and then corrected yourself. ‘Not a kid. She’d fucking kill me if she knew I said that.’

He chucked into his glass. ‘Won’t tell her,’ he promised.

‘How’s that healing?’ you asked, gesturing to his wrist. It wasn’t in a splint anymore but it was still tightly bandaged.

‘S’just weak, aches in the cold,’ he said, and you nodded. You reached out and pulled it towards you, lay it on the kitchen table between you. You slipped the bandage away, watched the blood rush back in and pink up the flesh underneath it.

‘You need to stretch it, keep it strong,’ you said. ‘Bones probably healed but now the muscles’ll be lazy.’

‘Yes, doctor,’ he said, and you glanced up at him, at the crinkles in his skin and the warmth in his eyes as he teased you.

‘I mean it,’ you said, pretending to be offended, using it as an excuse to slip your hands around his wrist, his forearm. You felt the chords of the muscles there, the sinew and the veins. You rubbed your thumbs in firm circles, like you had shown him to do on your knee, all those weeks ago. You blushed at the thought of it, at the echo of the pleasure he had wrung from you not ten paces away.

He grunted a little, shifted in his seat, and you pulled his arm up at a right angle, so that his elbow was resting on the table. ‘Here, do this,’ you said, and you slipped your fingers between his, rested your forearm against his, leant in a little to ease your combined weight onto the joint.

‘I’m going to try and push your hand backwards, you push back,’ you said.

‘We arm wrestlin’?’ he asked, smiling again.

‘We will if you don’t behave yourself,’ you shot back, and he grinned.

‘Tell me when,’ he said, and you nodded your head. He grimaced at the strain through the joint, but you felt it stretch, felt it working under the force you were applying to it.

‘That’s good,’ you said, without thinking, ‘doing real well.’ He sucked a shy little breath in through his teeth. You stopped pushing, looking up into his pink cheeks. You continued to hold his hand, your eyes fixed to his.

‘Say it again,’ he said, and your mouth went dry.

‘Doing real well, Joel,’ you said, and watched as he blinked slowly, drinking it in. ‘Doing so good.’

He pulled you then, by the arm, out of your chair and into his lap, his mouth finding your neck and suckling, hard, as you struggled for purchase on his thighs. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans, the pulse of it pushing into your cunt as you settled yourself down on him, your thin little stockings under Maria’s borrowed dress doing absolutely nothing to provide a barrier against his throbbing for you.

He gasped, looked up at you as you perched above him. His pupils, blown wide with want, mirroring the ache you felt between your legs and in your heart for him. He tasted like peppermint toothpaste and you wondered idly if he’d brushed his teeth before heading to the Bison, if he’d hoped this would be the end result of the night or if it was just habit. You smelt the leather of his worn jacket. You reached up and let his salt and pepper beard scratch at the skin on your fingertips.

‘So good to us, Joel,’ you said, and you heard the gentlest whimper catch in his throat. ‘Looking after the town. Keeping us safe.’

‘Want to keep you, baby,’ he whispered, his eyes dropping to examine your lips. ‘Keep you tucked up all warm and safe, keep you under my roof where I know you’re protected.’ You shivered, at the heat of it, at the sincerity in it. ‘Be the one to shield you. All sweet and soft in your little kitchen. Wanting me, waiting f’me.’ He finished, biting his bottom lip.

‘I want you,’ you said, simply, feeling his cock jump underneath you.

‘Yeah?’ he asked, and you nodded.

‘Been waiting,’ you bit out, realising for the first time that it was true.

‘M’sorry baby,’ he said, playfully goading you. ‘Where did ya want me?’ he whispered, tucking his head under your chin and licking a stripe up your neck, chewing idly on your earlobe. You shivered again, a shuddering little thing that also came with a whimper. You took his hand from your waist and dropped it to your pussy, pushed his fingers to cup you there, gasping when he ran a fingertip along your seam.

‘Everywhere,’ you whispered, and he grunted, shifting his weight. With one warm hand splayed across your shoulder blades he leant you back, his eyes running up and down your body, devouring you. He kept his hand on your cunt, idly running a finger up and down where you ached the most for him, and you worried for a moment that he would feel how wet he’d made you just with his gaze.  

His breath was warm across your cheeks when he exhaled. He took the hand from between your legs and cupped your breast, rolled the nipple through your dress, made you whimper.

‘Joel,’ you whispered, and you watched as his eyes lit up, as the sparks caught on kindling and turned into a forest fire, as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing from the strain. You wanted to run your tongue over his bottom lip, nip at it.

‘Sssh, baby, I know,’ he said, pulling you up off his lap to stand in front of him, your knees shaking. His arms bracketed your hips, gripping the table behind you, so you were surrounded by him. He remained seated, watching you from under heavy eyelids.

‘Take it off,’ he said, and you felt your pulse in your neck, thunderous.

‘Which?’ you asked.

‘Maria’s dress you don’t think I recognise, those silly little stockings that ain’t doing nothin’ to keep out the cold.’

He leant back on the chair again, kicked his legs out so that you were standing between his ankles now, leant his arm on the back of the chair and scratched at his beard. ‘Well, go on,’ he said, and you felt so exposed to him then, vulnerable in the heat of his stare.

‘Help me,’ you said, feigning not being able to get to the zipper, just for the excuse of turning away from him, from his eyes that were taking you apart atom by atom, from his hands resting on his thigh, from his thick fingers you wanted to slip into your mouth, let him push down on your tongue and suckle at him.

You felt his hands on your back, the zip coming down, the way he slipped the dress from you like he was unwrapping a present on Christmas morning. You leant over a little, trying to slip your stockings off and you heard him moan, felt his hands on you again, his warm paw on your lower back pushing you into a deeper bend, the other pulling on your hips to bring you closer to him, his hands gripping you, positioning you. You heard his sharp inhale when you slipped the stockings over your bottom, felt your cheeks blaze when he reached up and slipped your panties off along with them, bent over and completely exposed to him, wet and glistening in the light of the kitchen, the sound of your gasped little whimpers mixing with the ever-present whir of your forty-year-old fridge.

‘Oh, my girl,’ he said, and you wanted to launch yourself at him, seat yourself back on his lap and bury your head in his neck but he was running his hands up and down the back of your thighs, edging himself closer on the chair, pushing you forward so that your breasts rested on the kitchen table, your cheek flush to the cold wood.

He bent his head and placed a single kiss at the base of your spine and you worried your knees would buckle, worried you would collapse onto the kitchen tile. As you gasped he brought his hands up to cup your bottom, spreading your cheeks enough to slip a thumb into your cunt, probe the warmth and feel the wet collecting on his fingertip. You startled, trying to buck away, trying to buck towards him, circling your hips to capture him inside you, and you heard him chuckle, felt his lips dip lower to your tailbone as he twisted his hands, his thumb still inside as his fingers came around to cup and rub at your slit, your poor little aching clit caught between his fingertips.

‘Jesus,’ you cried, finding religion despite never having set foot in a church.

‘Want to keep you full of me,’ he muttered, sitting back down on the chair again and pulling you with him, spreading your legs over his so you were open wide, obscene and dripping in his lap, pulling your legs apart with his and whispering filth in your ear, cupping your breast with one hand and the other sliding into your heat.

‘Want to keep you here, my pretty girl all safe and warm in my arms, full of my cock and my fingers, crying out for me when I’m not there.’ You were gasping, your vision narrowing, barely able to concentrate on anything except for his words, for his fingers stretching you, his legs pulling you impossibly wide. ‘Won’t let nothin’ hurt ya, baby girl,’ he grit out, and you felt a sob rip through your throat, the pleasure he was drawing out of you mixing with the comfort, with the intoxicating allure of him protecting you, of him standing between you and so many terrors.

In your right mind you wouldn’t have believed him. Would have known there were things out there even the great Joel Miller couldn’t topple, that there were threats known and unknown, seen and unseen, things out there wanting to spill your blood, the blood of the people you cared the most for. But Joel was inside you, in your cunt and in your ear, and his words were chipping away at your resistance, sliding under the door long ago locked tight. You were far from your right mind. You surrendered to the seduction of it, of the intoxication of it, of the myth this man was peddling that you would buy again and again and again.

‘There she is,’ he said, as you came on his fingers, your cunt gripping him and your hips rolling, his face pressed hard into your neck as you twisted into the agony of it, your mouth open and gasping, your face turned to the Gods.

You felt his fingers underneath you, one hand wrapped tight around your torso to hold you steady as he released himself from his jeans, and you felt him then, pressed against the back of your thigh, the velvet heat of his length, the thundering throb of it. You had barely caught your breath, had yet to fully come back to yourself, before he was pushing himself into you, pulling you onto him, your neck caught in his teeth as he bit down on the nape, tried to stifle the groan blooming in his chest.

He felt bigger this way, the stretch even sharper despite his best attempts to prepare you, and your walls fluttered, fought to accept him. You shuddered, the sudden sting slamming you back into your body, and you gripped his hands to stop him, to pause. He stilled immediately, his breath hot and gasping.

‘Give me a minute,’ you gritted out, leaning back onto his shoulder and burying your nose in his jaw, panting, placing a placid little kiss to the salt and pepper patches there.

You felt him reach around you, his finger finding your clit and gently circling it, collecting your slick and pushing it over the nub to rid you of any friction. You groaned, arching your back against him, your hands digging into the meat of his thighs underneath you.

‘So beautiful like this,’ he whispered into your ear as you felt the pleasure overtake you, the throb in your cunt synchronised to your thundering pulse. ‘Can feel you gripping me,’ he went on. ‘Stuffed fulla me, baby.’

‘Stop,’ you gasped, the moment suddenly too intense, a fear gripping you then that if he kept talking you would give him anything; the shirt off your back, the blood in your veins. He chuckled, watching you struggle to take the pleasure he was pushing into you, through you.

It was wrong but you couldn’t figure out why, because it still felt so fucking good, and you wanted more but couldn’t figure out how it was possible, not sated by him seated fully inside you, not close enough to him as you pressed your body entirely against yours. You huffed, frustrated, standing before he could stop you and pivoting to face him, straddling him again in the chair and sinking yourself down on him in one swift motion, so that he gasped and then groaned when the heat of you enveloped him, joined you in a harsh cry when your clit met his hipbone and you settled there, shifted your hips to press into the nub.

‘S’better,’ you said, and you watched his lopsided grin emerge.

‘My girl miss seeing me?’ he asked, and you rolled your hips to shut him up, watched any semblance of cogent thought leave him when you gripped him there.

‘Say it again, Joel,’ you said, sliding your hips forward and back in a way that you knew wasn’t enough for him, but was making your clit throb when it grazed over his skin. He grunted, suddenly finding it hard to think clearly, and his brows saddled.

‘Keep you safe?’ he said, uncertain but meaning it anyway, and you shook your head.

‘Keep who safe?’ he asked.

‘You,’ he answered, still not following, and you planted your feet on the floor, raised yourself up just to bounce back down again.

‘Who am I, Joel?’ you asked, nearly breathless, and finally, finally he understood, his little huffed out laugh sending a thrill through you as he reached down between your bodies, felt where you were joined.

‘My girl,’ he said, finding your clit and edging his fingertips across it, sending fireworks up your spine. ‘My beautiful girl, so tight and wet, so needy for me, cryin’ out for me in her kitchen.’

You groaned, feeling him grip you around the middle with one arm, lifting you up and down on his cock, rocking into you and always, always, always watching your face, nibbling at your chin when you leant back to gasp for air.

You were going to come. It was too fast. You still had so many other things you wanted to say to him, wanted him with every atom of you, with every fibre, the neurons in your brain lighting up just for him. Wanting to live in the torrent of pleasure he brought out in you, wanted to twist and writhe in it. You felt, again, on the edge of tears, but not for wanting, this time. Not for the losses.

For the having. Of Jackson, of the wildflowers on the paths pushing past the cold. Of the little family you had eked out at the end of the world, of Ellie, of Tommy and Maria and Robin. Of this man under your body and on your kitchen chair, calling you his and promising to keep you safe. Of this man, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion and clinging to him, willingly readying yourself to cascade over it.

‘Want you right here, always,’ he grunted, and you keened, felt it then, that you were wanted, that you belonged.

You didn’t have the words for it, vowed in that moment that you would spend the rest of your life trying to find them. For right now you did the only thing you could think of, leaning over and gripping his jaw, angling his face to you as you landed your lips on him, kissed him as you felt a tear streak across your cheek and onto his skin, as you shuddered and felt your cunt milking him, as he spilled into you and you joined him, the ecstasy and the pleasure and the warmth of it. In your little house in Jackson, behind enormous walls, to hold you.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

@kathaaaaaaa

@anoverwhelmingdin

@pedropascalsbbg

[gachawolfiebloom]

Love Malfunction

Chapter 3: Operation Infiltrate The Castle

Summary: Love is in the air as the Mushroom Kingdom is celebrating Valentine's Day, except for a certain someone. Mr Puzzles has hated the holiday ever since he can remember, seeing how nobody loved him his whole life. That is until he unexpectedly runs into his loathsome enemy, Mario. After the encounter with the stupid plumber, things only get worse for the television as he starts hacking up flower petals, pink ooze drips from his screen, and for some reason these symptoms worsen anytime the TV man gets around the red Italian. Now the both of them must fix this before their days of romance turn into disaster.

"Mario, did you finish cleaning the kitchen yet?"

Smg4 peaked into the kitchen to find it was exactly the same as how he left it. Pasta sauce everywhere while a discarded broom laid in the center that was identical to the one he had politely asked Mario to use for cleaning up this mess of his own doing, except the red Italian wasn't there.

"THAT DOUBLE CROSSING...CROSSER!"

Even though it made his blood boil to see his best friend ditching him like that, he was sorta expecting this dumb*** to avoid work like he always did. Four sighed and picked up the broom, forced to clean the kitchen himself until a knock came at the door. Without a moments notice, the blue eyed man discarded the responsibility as well and marched over to the front door in a mixture of relief and hard feelings. "Thank god, Mario probably came back because he forgot some leftover snack in the fridge or-"

Upon opening the door, Four was ready to unleash a barge of questions on the inconsistency of his annoying best friend, but was instead greeted by the lowly face of his ex-rival, Smg3. "Sup dude, you got any spare coffee beans? I just ran out at the cafe."

"O-Oh...Three. What a pleasant surprise."

The bearded man crooked an eyebrow in confusion as he wasn't used to such a warm welcome by Four. Usually, he'd just let Three barge in and "borrow" whatever it was he needed. "Uh, you...good?"

"Yeah!" Smg4 replied back almost instantly. "I just thought you were Mario. I asked him to clean the kitchen and he just up and left." This was certainly not news to Three as he knew the sneaky plumber almost as well as his partner did. Shrugging it off in a dismissive manner, Smg3 imposed again "So...the beans?"

"Ah- Right!"

Four turned his head towards the kitchen for a second before reverting his attention back to Three and instructed him "Just sit tight and I'll go grab them from the cabinet!" He put his hands up in reassurance, but Smg3 wasn't 100% convinced by that gesture. However, before he could say something, Four slammed the door in his face and ran over to the kitchen, startling Three in the process. The bearded man blinked for a moment, but then scoffed and crossed his arms. He hated when Smg4 wouldn't tell him when something was bothering him, but getting such a rude gesture in response. Three was on the verge of calling it quits and coming back another time until he heard the sounds of crashing from inside as if pots and pans were tumbling down on someone.

Finally, Smg3 reached his limit and let himself in, mumbling something that was probably an insult towards the blue eyed man. He peaked inside the kitchen, only for it to look like a natural disaster had struck the place. The sauce stains were still deep in the walls as ever, kitchenware had turned the floor into a minefield, and in the center laid poor Smg4 with a pot on top of his head. Three couldn't help but snicker at his state and said "Guess I know why Mario was avoiding cleaning now."

He cautiously hopped over knifes and cutlery while Four tipped the pot embarrassedly over his eyes. He just wanted one normal Saturday, instead he was making a complete fool out of himself in front of his former archenemy. Four tried getting up as quickly as he could until he felt a soft hand interlocking with his and slowly pulling him up. Three removed the pot from his head, allowing Four to see his small smile. "You need some help with this?"

"You'd do that for me? Does that mean you care!?" Four squealed in excitement as he did anytime his partner did something unexpectedly nice for him.

"N-NO! I'm just doing this so I can get my coffee beans and go!"

"Sureeeee~" Smg4 teased with a smirk as Three blushed and turned his head, muttering "Y-You...Baka."

Jokes and teasing aside, Four grabbed a broom and began sweeping while Three set down the pot he was holding onto a counter and went to help. However, neither of them realized the two figures spying on them from outside. One of them said in a hushed voice "They're distracted, now's our chance!" The other shouted in his cheerful stupidity "Okie dokie! Es-mg-4 and Es-mg-3 will never know that we're-"

His sentence was suddenly cut off by someone's silhouette smacking against his mouth. Three and Four whipped their heads around and the two shadows ducked down before the boys got suspicious. If only they knew that Mr Puzzles and Mario were now huddled down underneath the window outside the castle, preparing a devious plot to get inside. The Italian flapped his arms like a bird and made muffled screaming into the pale white gloves of the TV-headed man, but he huffed back "Shut up or you're going to give us away! Nobody else can know about this!"

Mario showed no signs of stopping so Puzzles sighed and kept him pinned down on the ground while he took another gander inside. The two meme guardians were still focusing on their work, occasionally getting on each other's nerves with some playful banter, but nothing special for Mr Puzzles to take note of.

"Okay, phase one is complete. This setback should work in our favor by keeping Smg4 and Smg3 out of our antennas." He turned a dial on his TV box and his screen changed to a camera stationed in the game room of the castle. "Phase two is now set in motion. This 'game room' is our objective so the best course of action is to sneak in from the front. Lead the way Mario!"

His eyes then shifted down to the flimsy Italian, his cheeks now puffed up and his skin turning blue. "Mario?" At first he thought of what an odd power this mustached man had, but then realized his hands were still blocking his airway. "Ah! Sorry!" Puzzles traced his arms back with a nervous smile as Mario sat up and panted heavily, clasping onto his chest to feel the air return to his lungs. Mr Puzzles replicated his actions for some reason, except his chest felt a slight tug of discomfort. A sign that this strange illness was worsening. "You could have killed Mario you stinky!" the upset Italian retorted in backlash, but the only reply the television could give right then was another case of hacking flowers. Mario stood in silence as Mr Puzzles bent over and coughed for a good few minutes. Mario didn't want to interrupt him, in fact he didn't exactly want to do or say anything in that moment.

After Puzzles finally found peace again, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and croaked "Forgive me Mario, I'm not quite myself right now. I can tell something's wrong. It's not like I can keep this up forever." He hugged himself in fear and tensed his shoulders. Rocking back and forth, he felt like was going through some intense deja vu. Like any moment he would wake up and be back at...

Sluggish arms snaked around Puzzles' neck and something soft nuzzled into his TV box. He glanced upwards and saw Mario hugging him from behind, his bushy mustache sending sparks down Puzzles' back whenever it tickled his surface. "We're going to fix this, okie TV-man?" For the first time that day, Mr Puzzles smiled genuinely and patted Mario's hand. "Right, right. I keep forgetting that." Mario pulled him up, but surprisingly didn't let go. What was even more weird was he was now dragging Mr Puzzles in the opposite direction. "Wh- Where are we going?"

"Mario knows a secret way into the castle through the roof. Not like he ever snuck in when Mario wasn't supposed to."

The TV-headed man could have sworn the front door was unlocked. Was Mario really that concerned of what his friends might do if they found him here? Oh well, guess he's gonna wing it.

~

One secret ladder trip and supply stock-up later, the duo were now standing on the roof of Smg4's castle, dressed in thick black suits over their casual wear. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but why do we need to be dressed in these silly costumes? It looks like we're about to rob a bank!"

"Don't worry TV-man!" The fat Italian assured while breaking through the roof with a crowbar. "We can do that after the break-in!" Puzzles' eye twitched as he tried searching for any sense of that response. "You- what!? I don't understand! Are you trying to get us arrested or something!?" Mario ignored his pleas and busted a hole just big enough for a person to slip through. "Oooooo hope Es-mg-4 has insurance." He then grabbed a rope and said "Now just lower Mario down and he'll swing over to the game room." Mr Puzzles stared glaringly at him with a lowbrow expression.

"Oh yeah, sure of course. Anything you say Mario! NOT!"

He swiped the rope out of Mario's hands and tied it around his waist. "If anyone is doing this then it's going to be me! I know all about crime shows!"

"But Mario has played Supa Luigi goes to prison! Let him go!" He tugged on the rope as hard as he could while Mr Puzzles stuck out his arms to keep from falling. "You made that up! I have the better experience here!" His foot then stumbled on a loose piece of debris that broke off and fell to the floor with a thud. "Quit it before you make the whole ceiling collapse!" The mustached man relentlessly tugged until he also slipped and dragged Puzzles' down with him in the process. They landed on each other face to face, the rope tied around their waists.

It didn't take long for both their faces to go immediately red and hot, trapped in a sticky situation. They sat up and struggled as hard as they could, begging to be relieved of this awkward situation. Mr Puzzles couldn't take this anymore as he burst out "ALRIGHT! You can go! Just get me out of here!" He pulled the end of the rope that was holding them together and scrambled off him, covering his flushed screen. "Yippee! Mario always gets his way!"

"I'll never understand you..."

Mario was slowly lowered down as Puzzles carefully declined the rope with intense precision. One wrong move and they were busted. The red Italian couldn't care less about the stakes as he called up to his partner in crime "Lookie TV-man! It's like we're real spies!"

"Just...get...to...the...room!" the television hissed in slow mouthfuls as he clung onto the rope tightly. Mario looked down and realized he was at the bottom of the castle's lobby, the game room right across. "Oooo I gotchu!" Mario replied with a thumbs up back up at him. He stretched his arm out with those freaky cartoon physics of his and placed it on the shiny doorknob, but he needed more weight in order to pull it. "TV-guy!" The mustached man alerted Mr Puzzles.

"What!?"

"Mario needs his whole body weight to open the door! Swing Mario over closer!"

"Are you kidding me!? I'm barely hanging by a thread right no-"

Unfortunately, poor Mr Puzzles' bad luck was bestowed upon him again as a small cough emitted from his scratchy throat. Mario swung a bit as he held out his unused arm to regain a steady balance. "Woah! What's going on TV-guy?" Puzzles started letting out more coughs, his grip loosening on the rope. "No...not now. I can feel the rose petals coming up again."

"Hold it in TV-man or else our spaghetti will be toast!"

Hearing these delicious words coming out of his mouth, Mario smacked his lips with drool dripping from his mouth. "Mmmm spaghetti toast~"

"Snap out of it you filthy worm! This is no time for your food filled fantasies! We've got to get to those computers before-"

In that moment an irritatingly itchy feeling got caught in his throat as if something sharp was scratching his neck. Mr Puzzles couldn't hold back anymore a let out a painfully loud cough, letting go of the rope in the process.

"TV-MAN!"

The Italian was about to hit the floor, but his screams alerted Puzzles just in time so he could grab the end of the rope and pull Mario up. The force of the impact regrettably sent Mario flying straight into the wall with a loud thud that could have shook the entire castle if it was any harder.

Smg4 and Smg3 heard the suspicious sound from the kitchen, making them stop what they were doing instantly. "What the hell was that?"

"Ooofff Mario's head feels dizzy." He put a hand up to his spinning head while Mr Puzzles clung to the last bits of rope. "H-Hold on! I'll- COUGH COUGH COUGH!" All this hacking was swinging the fat Italian around, throwing him into walls with repeated thuds.

Three and Four kept looking at the door with raised eyebrows as the bearded man spoke up "Seriously, is Bob having another breakdance party out there?" Four, on the other hand, knew exactly who was creating all that noise. And he wasn't happy when he figured who it was.

By this point, Mr Puzzles was down on his knees, coughing in agonizing pain. "T-This is even worse t-than the l-last t-time!" He was so caught up in hacking up that damn flower that he couldn't hear the sounds of crumbling beneath him.

Eventually, Smg4 slammed open the door and yelled "What is all that-" but got caught off guard by the flying Italian heading his direction. Quickly, Four ducked down as Mario soared over his head and then swung back to the center. Smg3 came rushing out to find the mustached man dangling by a rope, nervously waving. "Hiya Es-mg-3..."

"Mario! You better have a good explanation for making me clean up your crap!"

"And smashing up my walls!"

Four yelled in a tone just as frustrated as Three's.

"About that...Mario can explain." But before he could get a word in, the two heard screams of terror as a certain TV headed man came falling down below, dragging Mario down with him as they fell into the floor, all tangled up in the rope and each other. Now Three and Four were really confused. As Puzzles woozily sat up, he found himself being stared down by his enemies. "WHAT IN ALL THE LAND OF MEMES ARE YOU DOING HERE!?"

"Uhhh...."

Mr Puzzles scratched his head, realizing he had to come up with an excuse and fast.

"We're...doing a spy comedy show?" He stuck his hands out sheepishly while both men thought that was the stupidest idea they ever heard. "Ha! Nice try! Why are you really here?"

"I-"

All of sudden, he gripped his neck tightly and leaned over, coughing out dozens of flower petals. The red plumber sat up and laid eyes on the suffering sight. "TV-MAN! ARE YOU OK!?" He ran over and rubbed his back comfortingly while his two best friends gasped. Mr Puzzles stuttered "I-I'm running out of time...we've got to get to the game room."

"You were trying to break into my game room!?" Four accused as Mario's eyebrows went stern. Slowly, he helped the television up, clinging onto him while he said defensively "We had no choice! TV-guy needs to know what's wrong with him! Mario caused this and he's going to fix it!"

"That doesn't mean he gets to barge in here like he owns the place!" Three retorted as Mario didn't listen to a word he said. If anything, he was disgusted by his friends' behaviors.

"Mario doesn't care! If we don't do this, TV-man might DIE! Our archenemies don't deserve to die! No matter how much of an a**hole they are! Right!? RIGHT!?" Mario looked like he was about to burst into tears, awaiting their response. Four and Three were silent, struck by past experiences of their own. They glanced at each other, thinking about a certain event before looking solemnly down at the ground and muttering in unison "I guess..." Mario and Puzzles sighed in relief, but then the Italian subtly pushed their luck. "Sooooo can we go use the computers now?"

He whined like a puppy, putting on his best acting chops as Four sighed and said "Fine, ONLY if you go clean up your mess in the kitchen!" That was good enough for Mario as he cried out in a megaphone styled cheer "WHOOPEE!" Mr Puzzles formed a small smile and whispered "Thank you...for your help Smg4." He reached his hand forward, but Four smacked it away and told him "I'm not doing this for your sake! Mario is just very persistent! Once we figure this out, you're getting out of my castle and never coming back again! Understand?"

Puzzles looked disheartened, but gave a small nod and slumped his shoulders with a bit of grievance. Seems Smg4 hadn't changed one bit.

~

Their plan had failed, that's for sure, but now thanks to Mario's stupid convincing words, Mr Puzzles was now standing in the game room with his forsaken foes, listening to the clicks and clacks of Smg4's fingers on the keyboard. Their past resentment left a bitter silence in the room, nobody bothering to start up some past drama except for Three and his annoying complaint of "I just wanted my coffee beans..."

After a while, Four pulled up the internet's top search site, Ooogle. "Alright, what are we searching for?"

"Spaghetti pox!" Mario chanted before Mr Puzzles kicked him in the shin and calmly replied "Flower related diseases." The blue eyed man swiveled his chair back around and typed in a few words. He scrolled through the results for a while until something interesting popped up. "What about this? 'Hanahaki Disease.'"

"Hanahaki? Never heard of it." Mr Puzzles squinted in confusion at the screen as Four clicked on a link that took him to some information sight and read the description. "Hanahaki is a disease in which its victim coughs up flower petals when suffering from one-sided love." Mario's mustache instantly grew when he heard those last words, leaning on Puzzles seductively and teased "Oooooo is TV-man in love with someone?"

"W-What!? NO!" He pushed the mustached man off him and reasoned "I can't be in love! I grew up knowing nothing about love! My parents never approved of me and it's not like anyone here has made me feel any different!"

"You sure about that? You certainly have had it out for squid these past months." Three questioned as Mr Puzzles shook his head and said "No...Leggy was my loyal friend. I started feeling this way for her long ago. This can't be what this is!"

"Well...this is the best lead we've got so far. I mean, just listen to this." Four pointed at the screen as the TV headed man drew closer for a better look. "The symptoms take many forms depending on who it infects, but each case is strongly connected to the root of the flower, growing in either the victim's heart or lungs."

"What the hell does that mean? How can we possibly know which one it is?" Mario rubbed his mustache crinkly and stared off into space. "Hmmmm Mario doesn't know. Does TV-guy have any clue?" Mr Puzzles stared down at his hands, not saying a word since he heard that particular paragraph.

"Spit it out! Do you know which one it is or not!" Three spat as he finally got a drained response.

"Yes. I know."

The trio gasped in shock as Mr Puzzles clenched his fists and spoke "I...I don't have lungs. I lost the need for many human organs when I replaced my head with a TV."

"So this rose is growing in your heart?" Four prompted in curiosity, placing his hands together.

"I...guess. I do have a heart, but it's a mechanical one. Not only that, but it's the core of my body. All my wires are connected to it, giving me the electricity I need to function."

The idiot plumber stared up derpily at him, not understanding why he was saying it so sadly. That was, until the weight of the situation began to sink in. "Wait. Does that mean if this hoo ha keeps growing, TV-man could shut down...for good." Puzzles didn't dare face him, not providing an answer, but he knew that Mario was right.

The Italian was trembling with frightfulness. He spun around and ran up to Smg4, screaming in a panic right to his face. "WE HAVE TO CURE HIM NOWWWW! FIND SOMETHING ES-MG-4!"

"Okay, okay, geez man!" He scrolled the mouse wheel down further and smiled when he saw the next line of text. "Oh, here we go! It actually can be cured!"

"Really!?" Both the television and the big nosed Italian rushed up to hear more while Three noticed their tendency to copy each other's actions. He wondered, was Mr Puzzles in love with...Mario? Four read off the article "Hanahaki ends when the victim's lover returns their feelings or when the victim dies." Puzzles' excitement wore off. "Ah..." Disappointment struck as Mario questioned "What's wrong?"

"If I did have a crush...which I don't...they wouldn't feel the same."

Four kept skimming the article and piped up "Hold on! There's another way...but-"

"But what?"

"Mr Puzzles would lose all his romantic feelings, including his memories."

Author's Note: Hey guys! Thank you for being so patient while I finished Chapter 3 of Love Malfunction. Sorry I've been on indefinite hiatus, but not even a frequent poster like myself can keep this up all the time. I was on a family vacation and got sick afterwards so these past few weeks have been spent trying to get better. Thank you all for the support on this story while I've been working on it. It means the world!

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Assigned | Alex Mason x Reader

Summary: Mason gets a new assignment, you, a woman under witness protection, and gets a bit too attached to you, too quickly.

Word Count: ~4.2k

Warnings: smut, fingering, p in v, wall sex?, mild overstimulation, mentions of death, violence, strangulation, gun violence, very minor character death, fem!reader, blood, mention of 9/11, flashbacks, mentions of suicide, PTSD, cuddling, they sorta barely know each other but whatever

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: this was a lovely request from @leavemealoneplsandthx , honestly I don’t think this is good since writers block hit me like a freight train and it took me nearly a week to get it done, but I hope you can still enjoy<3

Requests are open!

His feet echoed against the marble floor, numbers, and voices clawing at the edges of his vision before he willed them away with a patience he’d been forced to learn.

It felt like it had been years since he’d been here, though he knew it had only been months.

The U.S. Capitol.

“As you know, your assigned staff psychiatrist, Dr. Adrienne Smith, and Chief Analyst, Ryan Jackson, have both determined you to be unfit at this moment to re-enter full service just yet.”

His shrink. Threatening suicide to her just to get his way hadn’t done him a favor.

And Jackson. That wasn’t a new name, he’d heard it before, probably just in emails and mission reports.

Mason was fit for service. He knew he was. He was in shape, mentally sound on a good day, he could hold a gun and he knew how to slit a throat. If Hudson would just send him back out—just for a moment, with Woods, he could—

“We’ve found you a new assignment, to keep you…occupied.”

Hudson’s nearly flat voice had almost a hint of suspicion, maybe even worry, though Mason had personally never seen Jason Hudson worried over anything simple, as it echoed around the large room they passed through, its dome-shaped roof with a painting at the top, the Apotheosis, it’s angels staring down at him with judgment.

Not like it mattered.

He already knew he wasn’t going to Heaven, anyway.

Forcing his mind to refocus, he narrowed in on Hudson, his own legs carrying him after the man, the itchy material of a suit annoying him. Hudson was also clad in a suit, the man having shaved for once, smelling of expensive cologne and aftershave. His head was smooth enough that Mason could probably see his reflection in it if he looked hard enough.

His eyes shifted to their surroundings, the marble carving as they left the rotunda room, shined dress shoes clacking against the floor a bit louder than Alex would’ve preferred.

Marble was everywhere, the white staining his eyes until he blinked, and then suddenly, they were at the door. He’d been here before.

A room. A round table, and as he walked in, he was greeted by John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

The numbers clawed at his mind, static from TVs surrounding a chair, electric shocks worming their way through his mind, secure keys, ascend from darkness, reign fire, unleash hordes, skewer the beast—wield iron—raise hell—freedom—

“Focus, Mason.” A familiar low, rustic voice with a Russian accent murmured.

No, it was George H.W. Bush sitting in that chair in front of him, Hudson gestured for Mason to step into the room, to take a seat after a simple salute, and Alex did.

“Mr. President.”

Hudson said with a nod, and Mason gave a little nod himself, shaking Bush’s hand.

The man looked analytical, watching, surely careful after the recent terrorist attack. The Twin Towers were ruined, and the Pentagon hit, though they were still attempting to cover it up, thousands dead and more injured.

An absolute mess.

“Mr. Mason, I understand that you are the best we currently have available for this.”

The door shut behind them, but Mason could still feel Hudson behind them. Not risking anything, not after the JFK incident. He could already see it in his head, Hudson’s hand on his pistol, finger all too ready to pull the trigger.

The door opened. Someone else stepped in, the pat of feet against the carpet reaching his ears, just as he stood and turned, reaching for a gun at his waist that wasn’t there, as he’d been banned from having weapons within the White House years ago.

Hudson was equally as alert, but visibly relaxed, giving Alex a clear motion to sit back down and settle as a woman entered, face hidden under the hood of a long jacket, guards on either side of her, and stood almost expectantly as the doors closed.

Bush stood, shaking hands firmly with the woman, before turning to Alex.

“This is…”

He paused, before shaking his head and continuing.

“You’ll know her as Sydney Harper. She is, at this moment, and for the foreseeable future, under extreme witness protection, as a witness to the killing of someone…important. That’s all you need to know.”

His new assignment. To babysit someone who’d witnessed a murder. If it had been him, he would’ve just put a bullet in your head and been done with it, no witnesses.

Mason had done witness protection only once before, and his assignment had ended up dead after running off on their own, claiming the measures they went to were too extreme.

Alex stood, going to shake your hand, only to be met with possibly the most wet-fish handshake he’d felt in quite a while.

“A pleasure, Mrs. Harper.”

Not your real name, surely, but witness protection meant you had an entirely new identity.

Not just a new identity, you’d need a new job, new interests, new hobbies, new clothes, everything. Witness protection was always a pain in the ass, especially for him.

Hudson cleared his throat, adjusting his dark shades to sit better on the bridge of his nose, giving a pointed glance to Mason.

“Mason, this is your assignment.”

And that was the nail in the coffin. No more missions for him, just this assignment.

Well, if his job was to protect you, then he’d do a damn good job at it, at least.

~

“So you’re…what? My professional babysitter?”

You asked, looking at the man across the table from the house you’d been taken to. Your ‘home’ now.

Files sat on the table, backstory, information, medical history, credit card info, everything about your supposed new life stored away so sterile and impersonally it almost stung.

Your name? Completely changed. Everything was changed, most likely done by a bored CIA department worker.

They’d find you a job in the future, according to Hudson, the bald man you’d talked with, and give you insurance, a salary, and more for you to “blend in” so nobody found who you were. Everything you’d loved about your past life was gone, however, so was the society that had always been suppressing you.

You were still adjusting, as culture shock settled in, to the newer freedoms you were allowed.

Where you’d previously been? It was nothing like now. And though the United States had its problems, its freedoms gradually disappeared as corrupt figures took over, at least you had the bare minimum of rights here.

You at least had the First Amendment, until they took those.

Until you fully adjusted and learned to blend in, your job was simply to stay alive, and unnoticed.

“Essentially, yes.”

The man looked bored, but paying attention, his eyes going around the room, identifying entrances and exits, though you didn’t know it. His hair was slicked back, the faint smell of a cheap gel coming from him.

He stood with his arms crossed, occasionally readjusting the sleeves of his shirt, having changed into some jeans, a loose shirt, and a black leather jacket that looked as if it had been through hell and back. A poor attempt at looking civilian, in your opinion, but god knows the man, “Mr. Mason”, as you’d heard him being called, looked like he wasn’t used to being anywhere other than a battleground.

“And you are…?” Your voice trailed off, looking him up and down, finding him to not be terrible eye candy, despite his shockingly stiff demeanor.

You at least wanted to know the name of your glorified babysitter, especially if he’d be stuck by your side for the next few months, years, or god knows how long.

He seemed a bit surprised by that, glancing up at your eyes, looking for the intent behind that question. He’d expected you to be frazzled, maybe quiet, withdrawn from witnessing a brutal murder, but you seemed quite the opposite.

Snapping at him, demanding, he found that he quite liked it. A woman of your caliber wasn’t one he found often.

“Alex.”

He answered simply, grabbing your new ID from the table, studying it for a moment, and slipping it into one of the many pockets of his pants. Your brows wrinkled as you tried to snatch it out of his hand before it was shoved away, failing.

“What was that for? That’s my ID, you know—“

He waved a hand dismissively, moving to the door of the small apartment the two of you were staying in for now.

“Yeah, yeah, got it, hon. I oughta start charging you for all these questions.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, I don’t even have any money!”

You slid your old shoes on quickly, running after him, his brisk walking pace combined with his long legs not exactly helping you keep up.

“I accept payment in other methods.”

He quipped back, raising a brow at you, the sass in his tone evident.

Maybe he wasn’t as boring as you’d thought.

You didn’t bother to bite back a scoff, looking at him as if he was insane, the both of you moving to the streets.

“Oh, please, I'm not that desperate,”

You retorted, glancing at the front of a store, as Alex led you inside, taking a deliberate step closer to you until you could almost feel his body heat against yours. His hand slipped around your arm, till the two of you were linked together like a middle school couple in the hallways.

Wondering if he was normally this protective over his assignments, you mused to yourself as you watched him immediately find the people in the shop, studying them, ensuring they weren’t a threat.

He must’ve seen your mouth about to open, because he answered what he’d assumed was about to come out of it.

“You’re going to need new clothes. Your old shit ain’t gonna cut it, we need something you’ll look “natural in”.”

The last bit of the sentence was said almost sarcastically by him, in a way that made you let out the slightest snort of amusement.

“I’m guessing that last bit is from Hudson?” You asked, amused, and he threw a small hint of a grin back your way, all the while leading you up to the women’s section.

There were racks upon racks of clothing, all of which seemed nice, the sort of comfortable that you would wear to a laid-back church, but also relax in at home.

Dresses, shirts, jackets, sweaters, pants, skirts, socks, even bras and panties, and a few selections of shoes awaited you. A worker was nearby, wearing a company uniform, tidy and neat.

Her blond hair was curled in beach waves, and she held a cigarette between her fingers, fluttering her lashes at you two—more notably, at Alex, as she let out a small giggle at the sight of you.

You thought she sounded like a squirrel high on cough medicine. Alex didn’t seem any more impressed than you. This time, your hand was the one to possessively slide around his arm, a strained smile filled with poison as you looked at the worker.

“Oh, well aren’t you two a cute couple—need any help..finding anything?”

For some reason, you didn’t want to tell her that you two weren’t a couple. Mason didn’t say anything either, gaze pinning the woman down in a way that didn’t even seem vaguely friendly.

“No thanks.”

He spoke carefully, his words measured with a sharp, precise calm that seemed unnerving even to you. The girl must’ve caught the hint, walking away as her shoes clicked against the floor.

A sound you liked.

Alex glanced down at your grip on his arm, your nails digging into his skin, leaving little crescent half-moons, and cast you a glance, amused and knowing, though a hint of his earlier eeriness remained.

“You’re enjoying this.”

You hissed at him, letting go of his arm and giving his foot a solid stomp on the toes, only for nothing to happen, as he was wearing steel-toed boots. Of course.

“Can you blame me?”

Military men.

Moving away from the living, breathing headache of a man you might’ve grown a bit attached to, you began looking through the clothing, trying to find something at least presentable to wear that was comfortable too.

He stayed by your side, achingly close, as you skimmed through a few of the lighter dresses, appropriate for the hotter weather that would probably be upcoming in this area. If you were going to get new clothes, they would at least fit the weather here.

“That one’s pretty.”

Alex spoke, gesturing to a floral dress, and he wasn’t exactly wrong. Its colors would match you, and it seemed the right fit.

But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right.

Looking it up and down, you grabbed it, evaluating it, until shrugging.

“It’s alright, I can try it on later.” He stayed nearly stuck to your side for the next thirty minutes, at some point his eyes lingering on that same worker, watching almost too carefully for your liking.

You glanced over at him, finally having picked out all of the clothing you were willing to try on, and potentially buy, only to catch him staring again. This time, he glanced at you, obviously seeing the pissy look in your eyes, and his brows furrowed a bit. Almost confused.

“I’m going to go try these on. Have fun staring at her all day.”

Maybe his neurons finally connected, because he opened his mouth to speak, maybe explain himself, until you stormed off, going to the changing room, hanging the clothes you’d picked out on the hangers.

You decided to try the dress he’d picked out first, maybe just out of spite, the venom churning in your stomach, or the fact that you hoped it looked awful on you just to get back at him.

Slipping your shoes off, you tugged your clothes off, leaving only the underlayer on, and moved to slip on the floral dress. The fabric was soft and a bit stretchy, letting it easily mold over your body, tight in the right places, but there was a pair of buttons on the back you just couldn’t get your hands on.

Sighing, you turned around, brushing your hair out of the way, looking at your back in the mirror to try and help with the buttons, failing miserably even at that.

If you had someone to help—just a bit, even Alex, as double-sided as he was, flirting with you then not keeping his eyes off of another woman, would be useful in this situation.

As if on cue, you heard footsteps entering the rows of stalls of changing rooms. Surely, it was Alex. The store hadn’t been too occupied when the two of you had entered, and it was likely him just trying to follow after you.

“Alex, can you come help me button this?” You called, and only silence rang out in the bathroom. A hint of embarrassment, that maybe it hadn’t been him, rose, but before it got far a knock sounded on your stall.

The small feeling that something was wrong hit, but you pushed it down, holding the back of the dress together with your hand as you slid the lock of the stall open.

It wasn’t Alex.

The sting in your face registered before the man before you, the one that you definitely knew was not Alex Mason, did in your mind. Then, you came to the realization that he’d hit you, and everything seemed to move in a blur, time slowing as you watched him move into the small stall-like room, pushing the door closed as he slipped a small, black gun out of his jacket.

Panic kicked in, your sympathetic nervous system kicked in as fight or flight took over, and common sense flew out of the window.

You tried knocking the gun out of the man’s hands, all the while moving forward and kneeing him in the crotch, his face blurring as you focused on the gun, hell, you’d later find you would barely be able to recall what he’d looked like at all, panic overriding everything else.

He let out a grunt, the gun being knocked loose, clattering to the floor, and you both lunged for it, him elbowing you as pain sparked through your nerves, and you biting the elbow that made contact with your face as hard as you could.

Your hand was close—just a few more inches—

He struggled to his feet, forgoing his earlier goal of grabbing the gun as he instead wrapped a burly arm around you in a headlock, squeezing your Carotid arteries and cutting off the flow of blood from your brain.

You tried yelling for help, finding no sound would come out at all. Your nails clawed at his arms, trying to pull them off to no avail.

Attempting to reach for the gun with your foot, you managed to get the tip of your sock on it, before the man grunted and kicked it behind him.

The dark spots in your vision grew bigger, the world turning to dizzy blotches of color as you tried to breathe, lungs burning, head throbbing. You couldn’t last much longer.

Just before you nearly succumbed to the lack of oxygen, you heard the smallest sound, though everything sounded as if you had cotton balls shoved in your ears, and it was of a gun cocking.

Your arms went limp, and the silenced weapon fired.

“Jesus—“

A familiar voice—Alex’s voice—spoke, shoving the man off of you. You took a gasp of air, throat aching and sore, as your lungs burned with each intake of air.

Your hands were shaking as you grabbed ahold of Alex, vision coming back in little spurts as you nearly hyperventilated, looking at the body of the man on the floor, now registering the full details of his appearance.

He’d been tall, taller than you at least, with dark hair and an unkempt beard, now with a bullet hole lying between his furry brows.

A little trickle of blood slid down his nose in horrifying detail, before Mason forcefully turned your head away, and you heard a shuffling noise, another stall opening and closing, and when you looked back the body was gone, and Alex stood before you with his arms crossed.

“You don’t get to run off like that—not when things like this can happen,”

He began, not even bothering to avert his gaze from your body, seeming to rather enjoy the look of the dress that hadn’t even yet been buttoned on you.

“Oh, right, as if you weren’t distracted by the employee, if I hadn’t known better I’d think she was your assignment.”

You snapped, hand going to pull the back of the dress together again as you gave him a look. His eyes narrowed as he took a step toward you, though not threatening, he knew better than to try and threaten you after such a close call.

His head tilted slowly to the side, in almost mocking curiosity.

“You thought I was trying to flirt with her?”

The words made that hint of embarrassment flare up again, the fact that you already felt a claim of ownership over a man you’d only met a day ago.

“Am I wrong?”

A step closer. You were up against the wall, swallowing thickly. He was mere inches away from you, breath fanning against you.

“You’re my assignment. She wasn’t.”

Wasn’t. Not isn’t.

He was closer, so so close, until you could smell the subtle hint of pine and snowy wilderness surrounding him, an intensity in his eyes.

You leaned forward, hands timidly going out to touch him, one landing on his shoulder. He stiffened as you slid your hand up his neck, all the way until cupping his cheek, hesitancy danced in his eyes as he tried to hold back, faltering when you leaned in just a bit more.

He reciprocated, gently pressing his lips against yours, before pulling back again.

For a moment, the air seemed still, and both of you simply stared in something like shock, until he reached forward, his calloused hand sliding to the back of your head as his lips collided with yours again, this time not gentle, a fierce kiss.

You leaned in, head spinning as your hands pawed at his jacket, sliding down his chest as his tongue shoved between your lips, being met by your own until your fingers caught on his belt.

Both of you pulled away only a moment to take a gasp for air, you being breathless for a different reason than a few moments ago. A much better reason, now.

“We shouldn’t..”

You breathed out as his hands went to his belt, yanking the metal clasp open and off, tugging the belt off and the front of his pants down. His brows furrowed as he palmed the bulge in his boxers, his hands soon moving to the back of the dress.

“But you want to. I want to.”

He murmured, leaning his body a bit into yours as his hands slowly tugged the clothing off of you, hand slipping into your drenched panties, running thick, calloused fingers through your folds.

Your breath caught, eyelids flickering shut just a bit as you felt his finger slip into your cunt, only testing the waters, as he soon scissored one more in—then another—and everything was a blur of motion and movement.

All of a sudden, you were up against the wall of the dressing room, a certain Alex Mason holding you up with mesmerizing ease, fingers all of a sudden slipping out of you as quick as they’d come.

A pathetic whining sound left you, something you’d surely be embarrassed about later, or not, at the sudden loss of sensation.

“Easy, hon,” Alex cooed to you, his gentle voice a direct opposite of the way he harshly tugged his cock out of his boxers, and glancing down through hazy vision, you swallowed thickly.

Thick, not bad length-wise either, the tip weeping with pre-cum that he swiped away with his thumb before shifting, lining it up with your entrance.

His eyes met yours, looking for confirmation, and approval from you, and the little nod you gave was enough for him as he began slowly pushing in, a groan slipping from between his lips.

“Christ,” Mason cursed, brows furrowing as he slipped a finger to rub quick circles on your clit, eager to bring you the same pleasure he was feeling.

The warm intrusion of his dick in your cunt had you squirming, breathing out shaky breaths as your legs shook, pleasure lighting your nerves up as you threw your head back.

He began shallow little thrusts, the way his thighs shook telling you he wouldn’t last long either. You could’ve sworn he was letting out the tiniest little whimpers, his eyes shutting tightly, finger rubbing harder, faster on your clit, not giving you any mercy.

“Too much, I can’t—“

Too much too fast, the floodwaters built until the levees broke, and your orgasm came all too rapidly for you, your cunt clamping down around Alex as he let out a sharp, “Fuck!”, and then both of you were shaking.

His mouth was on yours, whether out of desire or the simple need to keep the both of you quiet, you weren’t sure but didn’t find the energy to care anyway.

After a few minutes, finally, he separated from you, gently pulling out and setting you down on the floor. You had to lean against the wall, gathering your clothes off of the changing room’s floor, and slipping your shirt on.

Your pants, however, were a different ordeal. After struggling to move your nearly numb legs into the holes, Alex cleared his throat, already having gotten himself back in order, and helped you into them.

After you’d gotten dressed, both of you just looked at each other for a moment and must’ve had the same thought, because you simply readjusted your hair, and he motioned to the door.

The walk back home was silent. You didn’t ask about who would handle the body, didn’t want to know more than you had to, and he seemed to prefer it that way.

Once you both got home, you took a shower, savoring the way the hot water burned away the sweat of the day, and soothed your aching throat from being constricted. You couldn’t help but wonder if the thing with Mason, the quick fuck, if it had been a mistake or not.

However, as you slipped into bed that night, clothed in some warm pajamas Alex must’ve stolen from the shop when you hadn’t been looking, you felt someone slip into your bed, warm arms cradling you and the familiar scent of pine and snow, you knew that your question was answered.

[astarionmademewriteit]

Mission: Chaos

Astarion (Unascended) x (unnamed) f!reader/tav

Rating: Explicit

MDNI. 18+ ONLY. Blank bios will be blocked.

Wordcount: 5.6k

Tags: Smut; Sorta Act 3 spoilers but not really; Blood, gore and graphic violence; Oral sex (Male receiving); Tav is switch-coded; Mostly adventure; some cute lil fluff

Summary: Astarion and Tav are tasked with a mission only two rogues could accomplish. The looming danger sparks a heated moment. The pair continue to unleash chaos in their wake.

Part Two

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿

I exited my tent at nearly the same time as Astarion stepped out of his. We look each other over, admiring our matching black tactical outfits. Our hoods were drawn, shrouding most of our facial features. Astarion had his matching daggers fastened to his hips and bow fastened to his back, while I had my twin scimitars crossed against mine.

I take in the way his muscular frame is outlined by the fitted armor–the various golden buckles and straps only adding to his lithe elegance.

He flashes me a sharp toothy smile that nearly stops my heart, “Are you ready, my love?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I sigh. I turn to the rest of the camp, our companions watching us patiently.

“Hells, that’s adorable,” Karlach laughs, her eyes aflame with delight and perhaps a hint of jealousy, “We should all get matching gear.”

Astarion chuckles and flourishes his hand through the air waving off her comment, “Please,” he breathes, “Not everyone can look this good.”

I roll my eyes playfully and turn back to the group. Gale steps forward, “Okay, you two. Do you remember the plan?”

Astarion rolls his eyes, clearly tired of having to recite the plan for the umpteenth time just to soothe Gale’s obvious dissatisfaction at being left behind. “By the nine hells, yes Gale,” Astarions says his name with unfiltered disdain, “Remember, Tav and I are the most capable individuals for this mission. The last thing we need is a wizard lumbering about and slowing us down.” He crosses his arms over his chest and frowns, clearly irritated with Gale’s questioning.

Gale plays it off cooly, throwing his hands in the air and backing away, “Just be careful and stay imperceptible. Minimal casualties and all that.”

I nod my head before grabbing Astarion by the arm and pulling him after me, ready to be done with the tense conversation.

This mission was a departure from our usual. We were never really the group to plan things out in advance, and our best laid plans usually entailed stomping into the middle of enemy territory and taking them out by sheer force of will. No, this mission was entirely different. It was a reconnaissance. We sought information–information that would surely aid us in beating the Absolute.

There was an unsuspecting enemy fortress in the lower city, crawling with a faction of Absolutists. It was rumored that there was information related to the Grand Design inside the heavily guarded stronghold. Information regarding the crown of Karsus, blueprints and maps revealing the location of the brain, and relevant information related to the Illithids were also rumored to be residing somewhere behind those looming walls.

As the only two rogues in our merry band of misfits, Astarion and I were the best chance we had at infiltrating and obtaining that information and walking out completely unscathed.

We enter the lower city, our long strides and unbreakable determination keep us moving forward. While I am deep in thought, recounting each step of the plan over and over again until it is etched into my brain, Astarion slips his hand through mine and squeezes it softly.

I look up at him pleasantly surprised by the small affection. It warmed my heart to know that he was comfortable with me in such a manner. After everything we’ve been through, and after everything he has had to endure, small affections like this show me that I make him feel safe enough to express his true feelings.

“Nervous?” I ask, raising an eyebrow playfully. I squeeze his hand back as we round a corner. The streets of Baldur’s Gate are bustling, even at night. Street merchants shout at passersby hoping to entice a drunk patron with deep pockets. The taverns lining the street are practically bursting at the seams, loud music spilling from their thresholds and backdropped by the low murmur of drunk customers seeking temporary refuge from reality.

“Ha!” Astarion laughs exuberantly, “Darling, a magnificent and deadly creature such as myself doesn’t get nervous! However, you looked like you needed some comfort,” He pulls his hand from mine and drapes his arm over my shoulders, pulling me in close. I try to stifle the stupid grin on my face, but I’m unsuccessful in my pursuit to remain cool and collected.

I glance at him and, despite his words, he does look concerned. “As long as we watch each other’s back, we will be fine,” I murmur, wanting nothing more than to soothe his worries and smooth the creases in his forehead that appeared as his brows knit together with concern.

He peers down at me, his bright vermillion eyes searching mine, looking for some form of respite, “Just like old times,” he amends. I flash him a sly smile and lean my head into his shoulder as we continue walking towards our destination. His scent engulfs me completely and adds to the growing comfort.

The stronghold grows larger as we approach its imposing presence. We untangle from our embrace and fall to the shadows, walking the perimeter of the building, being careful to avoid the sentry’s posted at every entrance and window. We round the last corner to the back of the fortress and eye the cellar entrance–two swordsmen posted outside the door with bored expressions painted across their empty faces.

Astarion leans over to consult me on our plan but I’m already stumbling out of the shadows, tripping over my feet and slurring my words, waving in their direction, “S’cuse me sirs, where the bloody hells is Elfshong taverns?” My drunk performance eases the tension between the guards and I can hear Astarion hissing a string of expletives from the shadows. I try not to break character, but getting under his skin was entertaining.

“Ma’am, this area is off limits,” they say as they approach.

I trip over my own feet and fall to the ground, letting a drunk giggle escape my lips. The men rush to my side to lend a hand. I look up at the guard and reach for his hand. As soon as I make contact, I yank him down closer and the flash of my scimitar is the last thing the guard sees before the edge slices across the soft flesh of his throat. Blood sprays through the air and before it can settle Astarion is at my side, burying the dagger in the heart of the second guard.

“Bloody hells, darling,” he says exasperated, already pulling his attention away from the corpses, “warn me before you do something like that again.” He laughs breathily, obviously roused by my efficacy.

I smile up at him–blood spray painting my face, “Careful my love, you almost sound impressed,” I laugh playfully as I wipe the blood from my scimitar on the guard's attire before slipping it back into its harness.

“Oh but I am,” he murmurs, “You never look so beautiful than when you are luring others to their death.” He cocks an eyebrow and I pull my shoulder to my chin, preening at his compliment.

We focus our attention back to the cellar door and I let Astarion approach it to examine the lock mechanism. I lean up against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest and propping one foot against the wall, scanning the alleyway to ensure no one approaches us.

Astarion crouches down beside me and inserts a lockpick into the keyhole, making short work of the mechanism. His eyes rake up my body as he pulls himself back to his feet. His vermillion eyes finally meet mine and I cock an eyebrow, letting him know I caught him staring.

“What?” He whines, “I can’t help it,” he shrugs his shoulders before entering the cellar. I follow close behind him, pulling a small dagger out of a built-in holster that Astarion had sewn into the pant legs. He draws his own daggers, his knuckles seemingly paler than normal as he grips the handle. We slink into the dank, cool cellar scanning for any signs of life that might threaten ours. Stacks of wine barrels line the walls, and rows upon rows of bottled wine litter the cellar. Even the floor is covered in a pool of spilled wine. Once we are certain no one occupies the cellar, we relax slightly, looking for a doorway that will lead us into the belly of the beast.

“It’s a wonder the taverns haven’t run dry with the Absolutists hoarding so much wine down here,” I whisper, taken aback by just how large of a supply there was down here.

Astarion continues weaving through the rows of wine, searching for a way out, “Darling, one thing that is never in short supply in Baldur’s Gate, well, aside from tadpoled freaks, is booze. Here we are,” he alerts, finding a ladder leading up to a hatch in the ceiling.

I nod and follow Astarion as he climbs the ladder. He pauses at the hatch, reaching out with his senses to what lay beyond. After a minute or two he pops open the hatch and crawls out, offering me a hand. He pulls me up quickly before securing the hatch.

We are in a large storage area, boxes of food line the walls. We listen at the wooden door, noting the footsteps of a couple of guards as they patrol the corridor that lay beyond. We sit in silence, counting the minutes between each round until we have a good idea of how long we have to exit the storage and take in our surroundings. Once the guards have both made another pass, we exit quietly, scanning the area for places to hide or rooms to search.

A large corridor stretches out in front of us, several rooms line the walls and numerous hallways branch off the main path into unseen corners of the fortress. The corridor is dimly lit, the sconces overflowing with melted candle wax while newly lit ones cast a faint glow that barely illuminates the great hall.

Astarion already looks to be regretting this mission, clearly exasperated by the number of rooms lining these labyrinths. I surge forward, counting down the minutes before another sentry passes through. The information we are searching for would probably be in a room of some importance, and by the looks of it none of these rooms will contain what we are looking for.

We slink along the walls, stopping every so often to listen for approaching footsteps. Astarion is close at my heels, glancing behind every so often to make sure we aren’t taken by surprise. An adjacent hallway moves out of view and I start forward, hoping to find something–anything.

I peak around the corner and eye two cultists conspiring quietly while they stroll away from us. I signal to Astarion that two enemies are up ahead and he nods, readying himself. We crouch low and stalk slowly in their wake, our footsteps imperceptible even to the pests that scuttle about nearby. I tighten my grip on my dagger, nearing the cultists as they fuss with impatience over the agonizingly slow takeover of Baldur’s Gate.

Astarion and I react simultaneously, wrapping our arms around the unsuspecting thralls and cutting deeply into their throats, effectively cutting off any attempt to alert the others. My victim falls backwards into me and I quickly begin pulling their body into an adjoining room. I dispose of their body in an unsuspecting corner and watch as Astarion follows.

“I’ll never get tired of annihilating these tadpoled freaks,” I whisper, “The rush of adrenaline is exhilarating to say the least.” I admire our handiwork.

Astarion grins in my direction, “Yes… your adrenaline is exhilarating, my dear. It’s so palpable I can almost taste it,” he licks his lips playfully and flashes his fangs. I immediately blush, images of him drinking greedily from my throat flood my mind.

“You’re so distracting,” I say flirtatiously. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to go on a solo mission with Astarion. He makes it difficult to focus, especially when he looks at me the way he is–as if he is ready to devour me.

He simply laughs in response before returning to the mission at hand. We surveyed our surroundings one last time before following the winding hallways through the fortress looking for a room that looked of some importance. We passed by rows of rooms, some sporadically containing Absolutists, too engrossed in their conversations to realize danger lurked around the corner. Most we spared simply because we were trying to keep a low profile. Others wouldn't be so lucky.

We round another corner, eyeing a large set of oak doors emblazoned with the Absolute’s insignia. I turn to Astarion who looks relieved. We slowly make our way down the long corridor when the clanking of metal armor rings through the hallway, echoing loudly in our ears. In one brief moment, a steel watcher exits a room adjacent to the one we were headed towards, and Astarion snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me off the ground and into a room directly beside us. I gasp momentarily, not expecting to be so roughly handled.

He pushes me up against a wall out of the doorway and presses a hand to my mouth. My heart beats loudly in my chest, threatening to burst through my ribcage. Astarion huffs quietly, slightly annoyed that we were almost detected. We stay perfectly still, listening as the steel watcher clangs about slowly.

Astarions forearm is pressed against my shoulders and, even though our demise looms just down the hall, I can’t help the sinful thoughts that cross my mind–especially when his hand is clasped firmly over my mouth the way it is. I shift uncomfortably, pressing my thighs together subtly. I try to suppress the growing warmth that travels to my core, rather unsuccessfully.

Nothing gets past Astarion, however, who has come to recognize my body language better than I knew my own. He peers down at me and knits his eyebrows together, sending me a quiet look that just says… Really? Of all the times.

I look up at him with rounded eyes and shrug. It’s not like I could explain myself with his hand pressed against my mouth and a metal monstrosity lurking around the corner threatening to alert every Absolute in the building of our presence.

Astarion carefully reaches out with his foot and shuts the door quietly. We stand still for several more minutes, waiting for the steel watcher to stray from its post. It seems to be assigned to this hall specifically, and if we can’t find a way into that room, the whole mission will have been for naught.

He loosens his grip around my mouth and brings a finger to his mouth, gesturing for me to stay quiet. I roll my eyes. He glares at me, a look of lustful determination dances across his face. I know that devious look.

Astarion and I have found a kindred spirit in one another. Our blood always ran hot after battle, and our sexual tension was always palpable during moments of high danger. It was an odd little quirk–one that usually awarded us concerning looks among the other companions. They knew we would disappear for hours on end after a particularly difficult battle, choosing to get lost in one another. At least,that was before he truly opened up to me. He confessed his feelings regarding sex, assuring me that what we had was something more, but that it was just too much for him to process–too much to handle. I understood.

It had been weeks since we were last intimate, not that I particularly minded. I had fallen head over heels for this man and I only wanted him to have time to heal. I respected his space, because it wasn’t his body or his looks that took hold of my heart–it was all of him. His soul. It was his fierce protectiveness that he tried so hard to hide that captured my heart. His undying loyalty for his friends. His passion for something more than what the last two centuries had offered him.

He has slowly started exploring physical touch with me again. Placing small kisses along my shoulders. Running his fingers through my hair. Idly tracing shapes on my skin at night. If he allowed it, I would return the small affections, always making sure that he was happy and present.

Our currently shared predicament ignited something in me tonight. I don't know if it was the jarring realization that I loved Astarion more than words could ever properly describe, or the fact that this little mission of ours just reinforced how badly I could not lose him. Perhaps it was both, but a deep yearning for him settled in the pit of my stomach. But it wasn't just about what I wanted. If the way he was looking at me was any indicator, it seemed like he desperately needed me too. Of course, we'd have to be positively mad to indulge in that kind of behavior right now, but we never classified ourselves as sane, rational people to begin with. The heat of the moment was almost unbearable.

A look passes between us and I cock my head to the side, a silent question on my expression. He flashes me a devious smile, which is all the answer I need. He leans in slowly, his hands tracing the curves of my body as he makes his way to my face. His fingers tangle in my hair and he pulls me in roughly, crushing his lips to mine with such eager desperation that I all but go limp under his touch.

I return his kiss eagerly, allowing him to lead–to explore at his own comfort and pace. His tongue forces its way into my mouth, searching for my own. Our tongues mingle, indulging fervently in one another–searching for reprieve. Our lips move together in time, his taste completely engulfing me. His fangs drag against my lip and it takes all the strength in me not to moan. But that was part of the fun wasn't it?

Astarion presses his body harder into mine, pinning me to the wall with such unfiltered reverence. His arousal is evident as it digs into my stomach and my body screams for him in return. I'm fully aware that we cannot have sex here. I could not hope to stay silent during such a sordid affair, but I wanted so badly to bring him pleasure. I wanted him to feel untainted ecstasy, purely for his enjoyment (and let’s face it, for my own enjoyment as well. Nothing felt better than making him feel good). That's where I make up my mind.

With all the force I can muster I spin him around and press him against the wall, never breaking our sultry kiss. Astarion is momentarily stunned by my forwardness, but quickly relaxes and indulges me.

Our tongues continue their sensual dance, exploring one another's mouth as if it's our last night on Faerun. It very well could be. I move my hands to his trousers, playing with the ties that are keeping him restrained. I pull away from our kiss momentarily to peer up into those vermillion eyes, gauging whether he was okay with this. He pushes the hair out of my face, tucking a wisp of hair behind my pointed ears.

He gives me a look of approval which only spurs me to unlace his trousers. I crouch slowly, never taking my eyes off him. The look of pure adoration that graces his features let me know that he is okay and that he wants this. I drop completely to my knees in an act of pure worship–of reverence.

“Darling,” he whispers softly, “You're insatiable.” I give him a knowing look before springing his arousal free from the confines of his trousers. A look of triumph crosses my features, he was hard for me. I still evoked a sense of desire from him. I truly was lucky.

I peel his trousers away before looking up into his wanting face. He looks so earnestly turned on by our circumstances that it brings a devious smile to my lips. I take his cock in my hand, eliciting a quiet hiss to escape his perfect lips. I swipe my thumb across his swollen head, already leaking from the sheer excitement and looming danger. I look up at him, rounding my eyes and biting my lip–a look that drives him mad. He is delirious with desire.

I take his length between my lips, slowly taking him in until I can take no more. Astarion throws his head back, resting it on the wall behind him. His hands snake down into my hair, his fingers grasping for leverage. He moans quietly–the sound strained and full of need. He begins to guide my head gently, using my mouth to fuck himself slowly and deliberately.

My tongue drags down his length, savoring the way he tastes. I suck him hard and slow, letting him guide my movements. I stroke the base of his cock with my hand which only heightens his desire. I swirl my tongue around his head, teasing him endlessly until he all but forces his cock back down my throat.

I push his cock to the back of my throat as far as it will go, ignoring the way I gag around him. My throat tightens around his length, and his hand shoots to his mouth clearly enjoying it enough that he has to remind himself to stay as quiet as possible.

I continue to suck him slowly and deeply, bobbing my head in deliberate motions, enjoying the way I can pleasure him so intently. Tears begin to roll down my cheeks as I continue my pace. His hands drag down his body and he pulls his shirt up slightly, giving me a peak at his toned abdomen.

I lock eyes with him, never stopping my pursuit and I can tell that action alone is enough to push him over the edge. His grip in my hair tightens, pulling at my hair painfully in just the way I like which spurs me to continue.

I pick up the pace, his cock hitting the back of my throat repeatedly and causing me to gag more frequently. More tears escape from my lash line and the sight of me has Astarion panting heavily, his knees practically buckling from the intense pleasure.

I pull away for a moment and let my hand continue to service him, a string of saliva hangs between my lips and his throbbing head. I look up at him with rounded eyes, trying to convey a look of pure innocence. I can tell the sight drives him wild. I find him on the precipice, so close to falling over the edge.

He whimpers, a rare sound to escape his lips, but one that lets me know how he is feeling, “Please,” he begs. It is such a rare moment to find him begging for release, and it is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.

“Please, what?” I ask teasingly. It is not very often that I get to coax such desperate words from his lips and I plan to take advantage of our situation. I want him to tell me what he wants.

He huffs, clearly seeing through my ploy. He surrenders to it almost instantly, unable to hurl a quip in my direction with the way my hand falls down his slick length slowly.

He struggles to find the words while he is so completely at my mercy. I cock an eyebrow at him, waiting patiently as I continue to massage his cock languidly in my palm. I teasingly swipe my tongue up the length of his shaft, hoping that it will motivate him to tell me what he wants.

“Please,” he says breathlessly, “I want to come.” He peers down at me, his eyes a pool of desperation and mad with desire.

I nod my head and quickly take him fully in my mouth once more, letting my throat accommodate as much of him as I can possibly muster. He inhales sharply, enjoying the way my warm wet mouth fits so perfectly around him. He grips my hair even tighter and I stifle the moan that wants to escape my throat.

He sets the pace for me once again, my head bobbing fervently as I suck hard and quickly. His cock hitting the back of my throat at a punishing pace as he thrust himself into me. His breathing becomes ragged, his thrusts more erratic. I can tell he is chasing his own release.

“Gods,” he whispers, his voice gravelly and thick with lust, “Please don’t stop.”

I chance a small groan, despite our current situation, and the vibrations are surely what sends him over the edge. His pace slows as his seed spills into the back of my throat. I swallow it greedily, his taste giving me my own sort of pleasure.

I can tell Astarion wants nothing more than to moan out in pleasure, but he keeps quiet, throwing his head back against the wall as his orgasm rocks through his body. His release sends a wave of pleasure through his entire body.

I swallow every drop of his spent, savoring its unique flavor. Once he has stilled completely, I pull him from my mouth with a quiet pop. He looks down at me, trying desperately to bring his breathing under control. I can feel the slickness between my thighs and note the ways my body longs for him.

I swipe my thumb along the corner of my mouth and down my bottom lip before helping him fasten his trousers. I stand completely and meet his vermillion gaze.

“Gods below,” he finally whispers, his voice raspy, “You’re going to be the death of me, my dear.” He brings a hand to my face and swipes his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped earlier.

I drag my hands through his ivory curls and look at him with unfiltered adoration. His eyes flit to my lips once more and he pulls me in close, kissing me so deeply and with such devotion that my knees threaten to buckle underneath me.

After a moment he pulls away, “We better make it through the night, darling,” he purrs, “Because I’m taking you for myself when we get back to camp.” he drags a knuckle down my neck and gently traces my collarbone. He sighs with longing, before releasing me from his embrace. My body shivers at his promise, steeling my determination.

Back to the task at hand. There will be more time to indulge in one another later. Astarion chances a peek through the door. He eyes the steel watcher, blindly marching up and down the long corridor.

“One more rotation and we can make a break for the door while its back is turned. We’ll only have a few seconds to get inside, so we’ll have to be quick and deliberate,” he whispers. I nod in understanding and wait for his order.

The steel watcher clanks down the hall, passing by our door. As soon as we are out of eye sight, we quickly and silently head towards the oak doors. Astarion quickly begins lockpicking while I watch the steel watcher near the end of the hall.

“It’s about to come back,” I say urgently. I hear the lock give way under his deft fingers and we slink in and shut the door just when the watcher rounded on its heels. I rest against the oak doors, trying to calm my nerves and taking in the surrounding room.

The room had vaulted ceilings, only lit by the low burning candles on the wall. The opposite side of the room had floor to ceiling shelves filled with dusty tomes. A large ornate desk sat in the middle scattered with papers–none of which looked particularly important. Against a sidewall sat a large table with maps strewn about, battle plans inscribed across them.

Astarion studies the maps before stuffing them into his pocket. I eye a chest against an adjacent wall and make my way over, studying it for any signs of a trap. Satisfied that I detect none, I crouch down to begin picklocking.

Before I can, however, Astarion yanks me to my feet and I look up at his worried face. “Darling, do be careful. It is obviously a trap.” His face is concerned–scared even. The thought of me getting hurt because I failed to detect the trap creeps across his face. Usually, in these situations he would be more annoyed than anything. But all I see is real fear.

“Sorry,” I murmur, stepping aside to allow him to disarm the trap and unlock the chest. He makes quick work of both, his lithe hands working gracefully and efficiently. After a moment, the chest pops open.

We both look inside. It is filled with several folded letters containing useful information related to the Grand Design. Several tomes related to the Crown of Karsus and its Netherstones were also nestled inside. Lastly, a large map marking a location deep beneath the city looked particularly interesting. Perhaps that is where the elder brain was located. We stuff the contents of the chest in our pack and ready ourselves to leave.

“Let’s get the hells out of here,” Astarion says, relieved.

Before we can exit the room, the door swings open. We react instantly, melting into the wall just out of eyesight of the door. An armored woman walks through the door completely unaware of our presence as she is too engrossed in a letter she has in her hand. Before the door can fully shut, Astarion leaps forward from behind her and places a hand over her mouth. She looks up at me, terror and recognition fills her eyes. I’m the last thing she ever sees as he snaps her neck with powerful force.

Her limp body falls to the floor. I snatch the letter from her hand and read it quickly. There is some kind of charm or enchantment concealing the actual message. I stuff it into my pocket, hoping Gale can find some use in it.

We peek through the door, waiting for the watcher to turn its back. Once the coast is clear, we begin our complicated dance–maneuvering in and out of rooms as the watcher passes us by. Once we clear the corridor, we begin our long journey through the maze of corridors, eliminating stray cultists if we come across them and picking up any gold we find along the way.

By the time we make it back to the storage room, our pockets are heavy with gold and various loot. We descend down the hatch and back into the cellar, giggling quietly at our success. A mixture of relief and satisfaction washing over us as our tension melts away.

We burst through the cellar door and into the alleyway, the cool dark night welcoming us. I turn to find Astarion calculating, a diabolical grin graces his features. I cock my head to the side, wondering what he is planning.

“Stand back, darling,” he says, flashing his fangs. In one fluid motion he lights the end of an arrow and nocks it. He pulls the arrow back until the string is taut. His muscles strain against the force and he has never looked quite as beautiful than in this moment–right before causing unimaginable chaos. He aims squarely at the still open door of the cellar and releases the arrow. Before it lodges in the side of a barrel of wine he turns and bolts towards me. He leaps gracefully in my direction and we both topple to the ground. He shields my body with his, pinning me firmly to the cold hard ground.

As soon as we hit the ground a large explosion rings through the air as a chain reaction ignites the lowest level of the fortress. The heat from the explosion pricks my skin as a large orange glow rises into the dark night. The building gives way, its structural integrity buckling under the sheer force of the explosion.

I burst out laughing, tears coming to the surface as my laughter turns into uncontrollable guffawing. Astarion joins me in laughter, and the sound is beautiful. We allow ourselves to fall apart, finding entertainment in our own chaotic decisions. The glow from the explosion paints his features in a warm aura, and at this moment I have decided I cannot live without my vampire.

I run my fingers through his snowy curls, looking at him with pure devotion hanging heavy in my heart. “I love you, Astarion,” I whisper lovingly.

He stares at me and his features soften, “I-I love you too, Tav.” He leans down and kisses me in the alley way, all our fears melting away and forgotten as the building crashes down behind us. We are just two love-sick people who thrive on chaos. I cannot think of a place I would rather be. He continues to surprise me, and I surmise our future together is going to be beautifully chaotic.

“Let’s get you back to camp, darling,” He whispers as he pulls away from our kiss, “We have some unfinished business to attend to.”

[miraculous-multiverse]

I’m glad you asked @tumblingxelian!

The Akuma City AU comes from a prompt by @natedogx15 in which Nooroo, in a poorly thought attempt to escape from Gabriel, uses his powers without him and accidentally unleashes thousands of butterflies all over Paris, creating hundreds of Akumas who begin causing havoc all over the city. To make matters worse, Marinette, Adrien and Master Fu are amongst the victims of Akumatization.

Months later and the entire city has been quarantined by the army, which managed to (barely) contain the expansion of the butterflies, and is a battleground between them, the so called independent Akumas and the subjects of the Akuma Queen, Princess Justice (aka Marinette), who managed to rally together all the less destructive Akumas and proclaimed Paris as her kingdom.

Things look pretty dire, but there’s a glimmer of hope in all of this… sorta.

See, when Master Fu was Akumatized he managed to resist long enough to tell the Kwami to run away and hide because he was afraid of what his akumatized self would do with them. Some of them eventually decided to come out of hiding in order to find wielders that could help them stop the Akumas and save Master Fu… but unfortunately they were forced to settle on whatever they could find: four teenagers with their own demons who, with the exception of one, wouldn’t have been considered good wielders of their powers in any other situation.

Now, these four teens, Crimson Bug (Luka Couffaine), Ashera (Chloe Bourgeois), Hamelin (Sabrina Raincomprix) and Volpina (Lila Rossi), will have to learn how to work together and face their own demons in order to save the city… if they don’t kill each other first.

I might post more about this AU in the future, but if you want to know more feel free to ask! My aksbox is always open!

EDIT: Now with a part 2!

[dreamy-guardian-angel]

:) oh buddy I'm about to be your new best friend. I am the Delta anon. I come from mainly @/howlsofbloodhounds inbox (also Howls if you're somehow seeing this. I'LL COME BACK SOON I PROMISE).

RANT IT IS!

I find that Delta usually has very complex relationships with a lot of people, especially based on his reputation around the Multiverse and Omega Timeline. Bad guys know him as a threat who will stop at nothing to kill, good guys know him as a bit unhinged but their heart is in the (mostly) right place (aside from the murder). Anyone who poses a threat will be treated as such by them with no hesitation.

However, that being said, if a stranger approaches with caution and strikes up a conversation (asks for directions, for him to translate something, etc.), they will actually he extremely polite and patient with them. He won't be aggressive if they approach nicely, which can often confuse the ones who view him as a threat waiting to be unleashed. They know if he's around, a fight will most likely soon follow.

Does Delta know this? Absolutely. I'd imagine that they actually kind of enjoy the fear that comes from others - if they're bad, then they have everything to lose. If they're good, they're safe. He will only attack bad people and it is very well known.

And like most of the talk about Delta and Color's relationship, the headcanon of Delta being Color's roommate and protector (and semi-caretaker while he's in recovery) is usually adopted.

For me personally, I like to imagine that Delta had to reteach Color everything from day one - not to say Color was helpless whatsoever during recovery, just needed a bit of help, love, and routine to get their life back in order. They are very close friends, even though they argue on occasion and blow up at each other due to their explosive natures.

With that being said, I also like to think that Color taught Delta a LOT about so many things, opened their eyes to a lot more possibilities than they realized before. Because before Color really came around, Delta kinda only had himself, Beta (the collective nickname that was chosen for the Bravery Soul), and whoever they encountered.

Some of these things could be about the patience and time recovery takes. Delta is usually a get-in-get-out sorta guy I think, so if he gets injured, he heals himself quickly and rushes to the next AU or fight. But Color practically forced him to realize that what he can survive with ease is not the case for everyone else - he may be able to heal himself without thinking about it, but others sometimes don't have that luxury.

Another thing I'd like to imagine Color taught them more about is patience (ironic, i know). Healing takes quite a bit of time, even if it's done instantly with magic. Color had to be rehabilitated, taught the things people would just know, and Delta was a big part of his learning process. But when things got hard, he practically forced Delta to learn that instead of fighting it (usually physically or verbally), they needed to be patient, take a breath to calm down, and keep trying while keeping their cool.

I also think that Color would help them to actually accept the things they need to do in regards to their neurodivergency (I hc that Delta/Beta have ADHD and probably a few other things, but right now ADHD is the main thing I'm talking about here). Color was taught by pretty much everyone around him that he was allowed to express themselves however they wanted, as long as it wasn't hurting anyone or themselves.

I feel like Delta would be the type of guy to refuse himself stims or breaks, not wanting to be seen as 'weak' or 'vulnerable' by their enemies. I'd imagine that they mask often, causing them only more frustration the longer they do it - hence why they get so excited when they can fight. They get to release all that pent-up stress and energy, and use it to protect people that they care about, including themselves. What better coping method could a neurodivergent with anger issues ask for?

But Color taught him that they don't have to resort to fighting to get out energy, and don't have to mask in order to feel safe - don't have to view themselves as weak for allowing themselves the comfort of stims and all that comes with it.

And that's not to say Delta didn't know about these things before - just that he didn't think of it. Color obviously taught him much more than just these things, but these are the first ones that come to mind. They undoubtedly have the closest bond that could be, no matter what happens.

And moving onto Epic now, I actually don't know how I imagine these two meeting. So I'm open to ideas on this one lmao.

But no matter how they met, they are also very very close - they enjoy spending time together, mostly because it's so different than what Delta's used to. He can feel a bit more relaxed around Epic. And, like Color, Epic encourages stimming to the highest extent (I imagine he has AuDHD). With the memes and overall chaos, though, Delta would probably need breaks of silence in their hangouts lmao.

I'm gonna be real with you, I don't have much of an opinion on him. But that isn't to say that he's not a massive part of Delta's life.

I'd imagine that he'd be the first person aside from Delta that Color was introduced to. Naturally Color wouldn't be as friendly, maybe even viewing him as a threat until he eventually came around. (You gotta introduce early post-VOID Color to people like a cat, from what I understand. It'll work, trust.)

Now, with Cross, it could be a bit more complicated. Even though it was claimed as non-canon by Jakei I believe(?), in Delta's story, he canonically fought Cross. Which obviously leaves a bad first impression for both of them.

Needless to say, when Delta finds out that Epic is friends with Cross, he is NOT happy. Things would probably be tense between the two for a very, very long time, probably involving multiple altercations and fights between the two. But I think they would eventually get on better, more neutral terms - maybe even respect each other eventually.

I do think that the longer Cross is around and the more he integrates into their group, Delta will accept him soon enough and not put up as much as a fight about it. They might even grow protective of Cross, instinctively wanting to protect him from danger, just how he does with everyone else.

And honestly, Cross would probably teach him to be more accepting of people who are trying to turn their lives around. Delta has most definetly fought this dude multiple times in the past, and will proudly admit to that. But he learned that even people who did a lot of bad shit can change, and should be allowed the time, resources, and space to do so. I think they'd be friends eventually.

Now, with Killer, it is going to take him MUCH longer. Cross is mostly acceptable because they showed genuine change and apologized for past actions - Killer, on the other hand, has not yet.

It's kinda known how Color actively saved Killer and helped him begin learning to change and recover. And he's seen firsthand how much Killer has hurt Color - they were on the front lines with them.

So naturally, once Killer tries to assimilate into their friend group, Delta fucking hates it. He is completely unwilling to accept Killer, an unapologetic sociopath with a body count higher than Delta and all his friend's combined, into their friend group. Hell no. They'd rather die (again).

It probably goes on like this for the entirety of Killer's reintegration-into-society process. No matter how hard Delta tries to bite his tongue, mask it, fake politeness and try to be patient, it is a never-ending battle between him and Killer - and in turn, with Color.

Killer being in their lives would definetly create a lot of conflict between them and Color. Delta doesn't want to let some murderer around them - especially one that worked with their literal enemies! But Color is determined to help, and not a single thing is going to stop him.

Eventually, of course, things would get better. Killer would stop being such a menace (though he'd still be chaotic) and Delta would slowly get over his pure hatred of the guy. I'm honestly not sure if they could ever be friends due to the unyielding grudges that Delta holds, but they can at least be on decent enough terms to not try to kill each other every time Color leaves them alone in a room for more than 10 seconds.

I think his relationship with Beta would be very different from all of these, though. They have quite literally known each other the longest, as they are fused together. I'd imagine that at the start of their relationship, it was pretty rocky.

Beta just got freed from his eternal chamber where he was forced to stay in the dark after being killed, and was immediately absorbed to fight and beat a demon before they left forever. That statement alone carries through some the trauma this kid endured - and now he was suddenly fused with one of the Monsters he had previously known. So of course their relationship would be very complicated at first. But with time, things would get less complicated - they would get more in sync, trust each other more.

I think that as the years go by, they'd eventually develop a brother-like relationship. They are definetly very close, always having each other's backs, ready for whatever comes next.

Now, onto headcanons about his other relationships outside of the Chromatic Crew.

For me personally, I think he'd actually get along very well with Lust! (I know a lot of people call him Plum or Sugar or whatever, but I honestly don't mind calling him Lust.) I'm not exactly sure how they would meet, though. Maybe Delta was saving him from someone? Or maybe they met in the Omega Timeline somewhere.

I think their first meeting would be a bit awkward. I don't know Lust very well so forgive me if I'm not doing him justice here, but I imagine he'd be the type to flirt slightly with people he just met (not inappropriately of course).

I personally hc that Delta is aroace, so obviously this would make a very awkward first introduction if Lust gets flirty. However, I think once they get past that (and once Delta sets firm boundaries), they would be good friends!

I also think that they would gossip together. With how involved Delta is and how strong his opinions are on about damn near anything, he definetly knows about a lot of drama happening in the Multiverse. And Lust being Lust, I imagine he'd be involved in drama, too. So I think they would definetly bond on that front.

And honestly, I think he'd be on decent terms with the Star Sanses as well. In truth though, I also don't know them very well aside from the things I see everyone else putting out here, so I may not do them justice in this topic lmao.

I think he'd be fine with Ink, honestly. He may disagree with the things Ink stands for and how he perceives the Multiverse and its inhabitants, but he can't deny that Ink has saved countless AU's - regardless of intention, morals or motive. As long as Ink doesn't try to interfere with their work, they have no issues with him.

Dream, on the other hand, I feel Delta might be a little more frustrated by. Of course Dream is a genuinely good person - that is simply who he is. But the almost foolish (in Delta's eyes, at least) belief that Nightmare can change and may come back around one day can annoy him very easily. It's obvious Nightmare isn't coming back, no matter how much Dream still loves and cares about his brother. It ain't happening. (He thinks Dream is a tiny bit delusional on that front. And also that the whole 'balance' thing is absolute bullshit. However, he thinks that pretty much everything else Dream stands for is good.)

I think he and Blue would be good friends, though! They have quite a lot in common in my eyes. I think they'd go sparring and patrol together on occasion, when they both have the time.

I also think that he and Ccino would get along very well despite how different they are. They balance each other out in a way - and plus, Delta always tips well. (He also tried to steal a cat for Color once. He felt bad and returned it the next day. Ccino has too many cats - his answer to the return was "I thought I just counted wrong. I should probably take a nap and fix that". And that was when Delta became concerned with this man's sleeping habits lmao.)

And finally, Ganz. I'm not sure if you know him or not (he's kinda unknown as well) but I imagine Delta's actually pretty close with him. Due to Ganz's depressive nature, Delta offers help at a moments notice, no matter what kind of help he needs.

All in all, they care very much about their friends.

Anyways, that's all I got! Thoughts?

(Context)

ANON I LOVE YOU, thank you so much for taking the time to answer me<33

Okay, first of all, while I was reading your answer I saw someone reblog my previous post, so @swelteringfire , sorry for the tag, but I thought you might want to read this as well

⤵️

SECOND, thanks again, it really helped and it was actually interesting!

I saw quite a few fanarts of Delta and Color and I was confused at first because I didn't understand their dynamic, but this clears up a lot of things. It actually sounds really sweet how they basically helped each other in so many different ways when they needed it. Same thing goes for Epic and Cross. I believe Cross is a really complex character, and I know he had his problems with a lot (or even the majority) of other monsters, so I'm not surprised they might've had a rough start as well seeing Delta's nature.

I'll be honest, I was particularly curious about his relationship with Killer (sorry, I love him more than anything</3), and yes, I can see how they might have their difficulties. I'm not sure if this is right, but Delta's behaviour and thoughts about Killer at first remind me a bit of what Dust or Horror might think of him too. Now, I love the found family trope for the MTT, but realistically speaking I know they both would view Killer as a sort of threat as well (which is...ironic, but understandable).

Also I didn't know about Beta but thanks, now I'm crying<33 The fandom usually tends to ignore the other souls' trauma, so it's nice to know that someone actually takes the time to focus on that sometimes. They were just kids too.

I also love how you mentioned Lust and Blue as well! Swap is basically everyone's bestie at this point, and I'm so happy about it (also he's probably the most stable out of everyone there). And Lust would absolutely love to stop and gossip after getting to know Delta!

I think he would be fine with Ink and Dream too, and at the same time it's so funny how the bad guys would be kind of scared of him

Overall he sounds like a really interesting character, I would like to see more of him!

(Sorry if it's short, but I have class now)

[sonic-4-episode-ii]

heres a quick sketch we did of 20-year-old amy rose, guardian of the master emerald :]

essentially, a little after either forces or frontiers (or maybe even as far back as unleashed we havent rlly figured it out yet), amy starts training w knuckles so she can help him guard the master emerald, since once hes gone therell be nobody left w the knowledge on how to take care of and communicate w/ it. plus amy just rlly likes hanging out w knux and wants to help him

initially i think knux is kinda hesitant to let Anyone in on the knowledge he's gained but like. it's amy. they already talk abt stuff close to this all the time and theyre rlly rlly good friends (in my au at least). also its abt as 'bad' as letting tails know everything abt ALL of echidna history th second knux figures it out lmao

w amy's sorta... empath-y(??!?) psychic-y powers she is able to communicate p well with the master emerald actually!! she ends up being able to guard & sense it rlly well and her physical prowess with hand-to-hand combat and, of course, her hammer (which absolutely rivals, if not at times exceeds, the echidna's) definitely doesnt hurt to have when she has to defend it

i think, although the specifics abt becoming a guardian have been lost to time, knux wouldve made his own traditions. making amy her new dress, forging new bracelets & her necklace, and styling her hair in a way that's close to his dreadlocks while still being her own. finally ending the ceremony with a small speech, just for the two of them, talking about how proud knuckles is of her, and even just to know her.

how she isnt a replacement of the family he lost, but instead the strongest bond to the family he's found.

after the ceremony amy has to hide in a bush and cry for like 20 minutes

[hozaloza]

I'm forcing everyone to look at my Cranes pet/animal hcs Jasmine has a dog, cat and snake.

Thomas has a cat

Jasmine forced Thomas to make their cats have a play date. it was a success in Jasmine's words.

Thomas's cat is an orange and white tabby named Daisy.

Jasmine's pet names are: Dog- Mushu Cat- Meowvrick (He's a black cat with long fur, she had to name him after her boss <:sobbingBoss:1183934764386898000> ) Snake- Mr. Snoodle (She let her friend Jenifer pick this name. She regrets it afterwards 💀)

Jasmine used to have a big fluffy dog when she was a little kid. She was old but still energetic. She absolutely loved her. Sadly one day while on a walk, an unleashed dog tried attacking little Jasmine. Luckily her dog was there and defended her. Unfortunately, while her dog won, she was left heavily injured. She carried her back home (with struggle) and tried to help her, but it was too late. It took a lot of years after to get a new dog since she was heart broken

Jasmine kept a lot of centipedes in a little bucket and gave them names. They would always die and she cried every time (she was like 9) ((also she held funerals for them and completely forgot about them afterwords))

In 7th grade she went over to Thomas's house and saw that he had a pet bird. She loved spending her time with Cracker (Thomas named him 💀)

Oh yeah, Thomas had a pet bird named Cracker. He named him when he was 10.

Thomas would always bring home the most scrungkliest feral cats, and his parents would force him to let them back outside (he always cried bc he loved them a lot, even if they scratched his face up)

Jasmine and Ryan would always help him capture these cats. Mainly Ryan bc he knew what he was doing.

Ryan had a pet horse who he still visits to this day (horse was a baby when he got him)

Ryan is scared of every dog except his tiny little dachshund who he named Snake (he grew out of this fear eventually)

Ryan loved turtles as a kid. He had a pet turtle named Hank (they were kids ok--)

Ryan didn't like Thomas's bird as a kid (he bit his finger) Every time Ryan went to his cousin's house, he would immediately hide from their heeler dog (they lived on a ranch) Once while on the trampoline, his cousin's dog got on and Ryan started freaking out, struggling to get away since he was laying down.

He hates the rooster on his cousin's family ranch

Ryan took horse riding lessons

Maverick has a black axolotl who he named Latte (haha reference)

When Maverick was little, he was constantly surrounded by birds and other rain forestly type animals. He took care of 2 Scarlet Macaws that frequently visited his childhood home, a pet Capybara named Stinkle, and an Iguana named Chico

Maverick loves animals, give him a cat to play with and he melts immediately "Awhhh, aren't you a stinky little thing?? Yeah you don't like me, but I don't care. No one likes me either way!!" "Boss, we have to give the cat back" "No, she's mine now." "Boss--" "Ryan, can't you see we're bonding??" He says as the furious little kitten is biting him

Maverick is scared of horses (a horse licked him when he was little)

He LOVES cranes. He absolutely loves them. It's been his dream to have one as a pet, but sadly the only cranes that lives in the states is the sandhill crane and whooping crane, and they're illegal to own as pets. (He'll get one eventually)

When he got to see a crane up close once, his fixiation started HARD. Bring up a crane in discussion and he'll list off all the facts about them from the top of his head.

The crane trio gave him the axolotl for his birthday. Maverick didn't like aquatic type animals, so he was sorta pissed at first. But when he saw the axolotl was black, he fell in love. "You got me a fish…?" "Well, not really, it's an axolotl!" "…Whatever it is, I don't want that disgusting--" Sees it's black "….You're my baby now. I'm naming you Latte. I'll build an entire ecosystem for you, and we'll talk about cranes together." "…Told you he'll love it."

Alex is scared of cats (he got chased by an orange kitten when he was little)

He really likes Cheetahs, their swiftness intrigue him

He really wants a pet dog, but never found the time to make room for one (his job 💔 )

When Ryan and Alex move in together after this hell, Ryan got him a Golden Shepard breed, and Alex loved her (he cried when he held her in his arms)

Alex and Ryan are dog parents

They got a Doberman after

Crows are fairly fond of Alex, they constantly bring him little shiny jewels since he feeds them

------------------------

That's all I have for now </3

[sweetvixen1996]

ok, i never read manga or watched anime, but i see arlong park being mentioned in context of nami, so i wanted to know what was it about? do you mind spoiling me? 😂

as a new live action zinami shipper i just hope for any possible zonami crumbs in the future 😂😂

Oh boy, that is a BIG QUESTION. But I'll do my best to answer

Arlong Park is both an arc, a place, and an important moment in the sorta Meta of One Piece.

As an arc, is serves as very much the climax of the East Blue Saga. It has the biggest fights, the most elaborate backstory (so far), and is an event that leads to Luffy getting his first bounty.

For Nami, in particular, it is Her Arc. It is the one where her backstory, motivations, dreams, fears, and psyche are most explored. The long and sort is that the villain, Arlong, killed Nami's mother and enslaved Nami to make him maps. With the promise that if she gathered enough money, Nami could buy her and her village's freedom. For course, he's a filthy liar, and Luffy and the others need to help step to unleash some well-deserved beatdowns.

As a location, Arlong Park is where Arlong and his crew of fishmen (and Nami) live. It is a repurposed marine base and, as we learn much later, redesigned and renamed to look like the theme park that Arlong and his friends were unable to go to as children due to prejudice against fishmen. This all factors into the much large story about cycles of hatred that exist within the large story of OP that I don't have time to get into here.

But the important thing is that it serves as a great location for the final fights of the arc, giving three different environments to use and different ways to play to the different fighters' strengths. And, considering it served as Nami's prison for so many years, seeing it get destroyed is immensely cathartic.

Now, for the meta angle... When fans of OP are trying to get others into the series, we often say, "If you get to the end of Arlong Park and still don't like it, One Piece is probably not the series for you."

This is because Arlong Park is when the series really BECOMES One Piece. It's where all the elements of the story that make it great -the characters, the fights, the backstories, the worldbuilding- really come together in full force. That's not to say the previous arcs are bad, but rather that each did a few things very well while Arlong Park did EVERYTHING well.

Specifically, the famous 'Luffy... Help me' scene has become an iconic moment in anime in general. Many OP fans (myself included) cite it as the scene that made them fall in love with the series. When watching reaction videos and people reach that moment, I can sometimes even see some 'click' in their eyes. It's the moment they GET IT!

All these years later, and this moment still makes me tear up.

As for Nami & Zoro... This is definitely an important arc to their relationship.

Zoro has spent the previous arc being rather wary of Nami (and not without cause) but when Luffy orders Zoro to bring her back, he is determined to do it -even if it gets him captured. A fan-favorite moment occurs when a captive Zoro is brought before Arlong and Nami. Despite Nami herself and Arlong swearing that this cold-hearted person is Nami's True Self, Zoro decides to go with his gut and test her.

He throws himself into the water, still tied up, and banks on Nami to save him. And she does, even though it makes Arlong suspicious. Especially after Nami frees Zoro and gives him his swords back so he can escape.

(I'm really sad we don't get this moment in the live-action series)

This has Zoro convinced she's a good person in a bad situation, yet later, when it appears Nami has killed Usopp, Zoro is once again confused about her character. It's only when Usopp turns back up and explains what happens that Zoro fully throws his swords in Nami's corner. He even sleeps through her backstory because, by this point, he knows she is good.

Hope this all helps but honestly you should just go experience it yourself because I can't do the arc justice.

[nomsfaultau]

SBI SCP AU character playlists

Tommy:

Rose by The Oh Hellos (I mean I'm doing an entire animatic wip, it fits and I have essays to prove it. Anyway violence, the power of names/narratives, truth, hypocrisy, how sacrifice and love tie together.)

Sunken City by David Wirsig (Tubbo associations, mostly symbolic/vibes past the prison break. The euphoria of escaping and how the world beyond is confusing and unrecognizable. The idea of journeying with a friend to the ruins of what was once your life. 6th verse as finding a new home in found family. 'God free me from the burden of my thoughts')

Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives (Tubbo, and how Tommy tries to distance himself to protect them/is the only reason Tubbo stays in a group with people they abhor. Touch starvation, hands as dangerous, seeing himself as a monster/burden. Again. Did an animatic for this one.)

Wilbur (yes they're all by Will Wood for the bit):

Misanthrapologist by Will Wood (Philza, for their light/dark dynamic and untangling of Wilbur's loathing of society and himself. WHiT Constellations interlude. I imagine 'can't keep a straight face while I'm praying' as Phil trying to get Wil to meditate but they end up laughing + 'don't you revolve around someone else' as a chide to Philza post Anderson's death)

Love Me, Normally (If he were honest with himself. Wilbur is wracked with jealousy for humanity that he disguises as hatred. Die young mentality, insomnia, bridge 2 addressed to the void, 'Is it courageous or escapist to leave the quarantine when you’re contagious?' as a comment on the danger of anomalies and if they should be contained)

BlackBoxWarrior (An entire life spent running from the Foundation and their experiments + trauma, repressing the past, general void madness, 'a map to every victim of his love' as the scars the void has left)

The Blade:

Red Water Dreams by Aviators (The sea motif of the voices, being a vessel for The Blood God, finding blame in those who unleashed his apocalyptic revenge. The entire chorus fits so well. 'Vicious thoughts are stirring/And I hunger for their power')

Paralyzed by Aviators (He's just an Aviators boy, what can I say, it's the violence and upbeat tempos man. Really this is The Blood God's song. His challengers as a duty to cull, as he's forced to hunt down every last foe that laid a hand upon his vessel. The thrill of battle, impending doom, 'I will give you one fair chance' because he really does seek a good fight. The Blade is the one paralyzed, unable to do anything but watch as his body is used for destruction)

Turn Out the Lights by The Crane Wives (Because The Blade does actually handle The Blood God/voices pretty well. I feel this song captures the way he just sorta rolls his eyes and shrugs off the intrusive thoughts most of the time)

Philza:

Rule #9 - Child of the Stars by Fish in a Birdcage (Wilbur as a wanderer, but works for any Collected for fostering their growth. Father vibes. Philza raising his children to be strong, independent people. A gentle expectation of greatness, because he picks out the exceptional among humanity)

Hot Tea by Half Alive (His sheer adoration of his Collected, also fun to swap the roles so that it is the god showing devotion. The pure warmth and sweetness matches Philza. In retrospect I need a song about protective violence but eh I set a 3 song limit.)

Time Machine by Miracle Musical (Amnestic arc. Particularly with loneliness and the vehemence in 'look at what you've done now to me', as well as 'I'm leaving today, today' with his confused insistence that he leaves at the end of the week. The way Philza is dragged in and out of grief at the whims of the Foundation, left free floating and disorientated)

Tubbo:

Soap by The Oh Hellos (Actual perfect Tubbo song. WHiT Croplands interlude. Themes of pacifism, how Tubbo is made of pieces, the separation between humans and anomalies and how the Hivemind can cross that barrier. Learning when to let go/hold on with the Tommy, Hive members, Willow. The 2nd chorus as Rhodes trying to convince Tubbo to leave Tommy in Jasper, with the response of 'I think that you’re worth (keeping around/holding onto)' to both Rhodes and Tommy's Never Love an Anchor. And imagining Tubbo saying the last stanza to Tommy makes me so soft)

Escapism by Rebecca Sugar (Dissociation. Grey chapter in general, specifically Pewter for being firm in convictions: 'shouldn't show a trace of doubt' and telling Rosalind the sacrifice won't hurt them, as well as trying to force a dissociative episode when their hand is sawed off)

Saint Bernard by Lincoln (ok this is a troll but also fits well for Cinnabar and Old Gauze. The guilt of failing one's morals. Technically Tubbo is in Indiana satanic and chained up, but I'll let it slide. The Saint Calvin verse is so good for the Rhodes-Tommy tension + Foundation destroying families. Also the way Tubbo blames their self-loathing on Rosalind, making the chorus apt for the Hivemind mess) (but also its funny to give Tubbo the classic edgy character song)

(Bonus) Dr. Blake:

Take Me to War by The Crane Wives (She sees herself as forced to be ruthless to survive against powerful anomalies. 'And I'll rankle the beasts with words' for her manipulation. Also epithets in the dehumanizing way the Foundation avoids names. Verse 3 is Tubbo 'corrupting' the guards when they saved humans from Philza)

Solaria, Kevin / End-World Normopathy by GHOST (Tommy, with religious themes and verse 5/Kevin understood as The Blood God. The cold cruelty of the Foundation, sentience as a failure/flaw in a tool (Tommy), Dr. Blake completely separating her personal and professional selves because to have humanity is only a weakness anomalies will exploit. 'Though you’ll never die, you’ve found that/All eyes are staring at your hands' is an absolutely perfect line for summoning sessions)

[falmerbrook]

Updating my ESO base game zone list (from roughly most to least favorite), adding the EP zones I'm done with (up through Deshaan), and elaborating on my thoughts for each zone and on the writing overall because I like yapping. Moving on to DLC now.

TLDR:

Grahtwood

Rivenspire

Coldharbor

Auridon

Glenumbra

Stros M'kai

Malabal Tor

Alik'r Desert

Betnik

Reaper's March

Greenshade

Stonefalls

Bangkorai

Bleakrock Isle and Bal Foyen

Khenarthi's Roost

Stormhaven

Deshaan

More detailed thoughts below (spoiler warning for these 10 year old quests):

1) Grahtwood - I would say Grahtwood and Rivenspire are tied for my favorites, with Grahtwood being all over strong while Rivenspire has a particularly strong environment and main quest. While for me most other zones maybe had a few standout quests if any, the side quests in Grahtwood were very consistently getting me invested and were fun/interesting (stand outs include: The Grip of Madness, Bosmer Insight, Keeper of Bones, The Wakening Dark, and The Unquiet Dead). The environment is just stunning too. It's one of the few base game zones where things truly feel grand and huge. I love the giant trees in this game and Grahtwood is full of them. The Bosmer towns are really cool too, and Gil-Var-Delle was very cool. I appreciate all the Bosmer lore and culture fleshed out by all the Valenwood zones, and it feels very unique compared to the other cultures fleshed out (in the base game at least).

2) Rivenspire - I love the main quest for this zone so much. The characters are more memorable, the story doesn't feel as forced (and the player's inclusion feels less forced) compared to the other zones, and the twists and emotional connection to the events are stronger. I love all the Ravenwatch characters. Verandis alone boosts my opinion of this zone. The scenery of this zone is probably one of the strongest in the base game too. Entering the zone to see the Doomcrag (A+ name btw) with the red lightning in the distance immediately got me excited for what the zone had in store (especially after the bore that was Stormhaven) and the way it sorta hangs over everything on that side of the map makes it such a strong set piece. Even beyond it, I love the gloomy and lightly gothic vibes of the zone and the Main Quest. The main reason I put it below Grahtwood is that I really didn't get invested in any of the side quests I did.

3) Coldharbor - I actually didn't realize this was going to be an entire zone, so when I first got to it I was a little put off, especially because my experience with planes of Oblivion in past games was mostly annoyance (the Deadlands and Aprocrypha), but I ended up really liking it! I liked how pretty much everything in it related to the main quest, so it made for a nice focused change of pace, and every quest relating to the same goal made me more invested in them. A lot of the quests felt more unique than the rest of the base games ones too. The scenery was really grand and cool and impressive, and the environment paired with the sound design really made the place feel uneasy and unsafe to explore (even if it wasn't really that much more dangerous than the other zones)! I also found a lot of the characters fun and likeable. Some stand out quests for me were Vanus Unleashed, The Endless War (and its follow-up quests), Special Blend, and The Soul-Meld Mage.

4) Auridon - I ended up spending a ton of time in this zone so I became pretty familiar and fond of it. The environment is so pretty and picturesque. I also liked how a lot of the side quests either related to/built on the main conflict with the Veiled Heritance or helped to elaborate on the current context of the Aldmeri Dominion. It helped the whole zone feel more cohesive. I certainly remember the quests of this zone better than most others. Razum-dar and Ayrenn are absolute treats as well!

5) Glenumbra - (bumping up) I might be a little biased in liking this zone more because it was one of my first, but I'm also pretty fond of Glenumbra. The biggest negative of it for me is that I barely followed the main quest storyline at all. It felt kinda all over the place and like different parts of it barely connected to others. However, the vibes and aesthetic are great. I love all the marshes and fog and general moodiness, which really fits a lot of the quests in ghost towns and cemeteries. I enjoy going back to Glenumbra for events and antiquities because I just like running around it (although it really suffers from having enemies on every square inch of the map, but that's an issue I've noticed to a lesser extent everywhere with the game so far). The environment is just very pretty, and a cool touch is the huge moving vines everywhere. Also, gotta say, I hate Daggerfall's layout. It's a really cool looking city and it feels more like a large city than most others in the base game, but it sucks for doing daily crafting. Overall I just had fun here.

6) Stros M'kai - So given this was the first zone I ever experienced, and I had just started Redguard right before earnestly starting ESO so it was fun going "like the one in Redguard!", I might have a bit of bias on how much I like this zone. But I am very fond of it! I found the characters of the main quest endearing and memorable (even if they and their story wasn't relevant almost at all to the rest of the DC) and the player's inclusion in the story didn't feel forced. I like the aesthetics of Port Hunding, and the desert around it just felt warm and big despite how small the map actually is.

7) Malabal Tor (after thinking about it more I'm bumping this one up a little) - I didn't really care for this one while doing it, but in hindsight, it's grown on me. I really like the lore and development of the Silvenar and Green Lady that they do in this zone, and I like how so many of the side quests help to flesh out those lore concepts and backstory beyond the main quest. It makes the storyline of the main quest for this zone feel more developed and worth getting invested in. However, I didn't really get invested in anything else very much. The scenery was pretty beautiful too.

8) Alik'r Desert - I was surprised how beautiful I found this zone given that it is a desert, but I really loved the scenery! I also liked the quests here fine enough. They weren't my favorite, but I didn't necessarily dislike them either. I liked the old Redguard temples you got to explore, and the way they implemented and introduced the Yokudan religion/gods. It was fun to engage with. This was a perfectly middle zone.

9) Betnik - I like the setting of Betnik. The rocky and foggy beaches are pretty. The history of the island is pretty interesting. in hindsight having done the first zones for the other alliances as well, I now appreciate that the characters from the Stros M'Kai main quest are here and the story is continuing with them, it feel more natural for why my character is invovled. However, I barely remember anything else from this zone, and in hindsight the environment isn't as pretty or as impressive as later zones, so I don't care too much more for it.

10) Reaper's March - This zone was very hit or miss for me. The scenery was nice, and the music stood out to me and I really liked it, but the quests and character writing was either something I really liked or something I really didn't. I loved Shazah and Khali, and while the whole concept of of the Moon Hallowed felt super contrived, I like that it gave us an opportunity to really get to know them and get invested in them. They were both charming and likeable, but it is for that reason that I was not a fan of how the main quest in this zone ended. I was looking forward to how they would handle which twin would be the Mane (or maybe push against tradition and make them both Mane or some other compromise...), but one ultimately dying felt like a stupid way to solve that issue. They could've been so much more creative with it. This feeling of enjoying parts of a questline and disliking others from some reason continued through the quests of this zone.

11) Greenshade - I wasn't a fan of the scenery in this one. Not only was it just not as cool to me, but I think I've developed a bit of a pet peeve over how everyone kept refers to it as a forest when it was clearly some kind of savanna woodland. Sorry Bosmer, that is not a forest to me. Anyway, the story and side quests for this zone didn't stick out to me at all with the exception of a few MVP characters. I liked the Wilderking quest, in part because the idea of the Wilderking is interesting (in theory, it's ok in execution) but mostly because I really liked Aranias and the story we see with her (I think it's kinda weird that the original Wilderking and her are Altmer, especially in the context of the politics around the formation of the Aldmeri Dominion, but besides that I enjoy the idea). I was got a little emotional over the very sweet short quest, The Flower of Youth, and it has really stuck out in my mind. And finally, I liked Indaenir. I found him very charming. To the extent that I was sad at his sacrifice at the end of the main quest and hyped for him when he becomes the Silvenar. Mid zone with some stand out moments.

12) Stonefalls - The story for this one baffled me a bit too much, in the sense that there were several moments where I feel like I didn't get enough explanations as to why what was happening was happening. I was truly just along for the ride. There weren't really any characters that stood out to me either. Like, I recognized them and remembered them as the kept popping up, but I wasn't invested enough in them, which is a shame, because I think the last few quests of the main zone quest would've been a lot stronger if I actually liked or felt endeared by Tanval, Garyn, and their relationship. The second half of the main quest felt drawn out and I think the writing was just kinda bad for this zone tbh (more than usual). Now, saying that, the scenery and environment for this zone was gorgeous, and the music stood out and really accentuated the mood! One of my favorites so far environment-wise. I think it felt very Morrowind-y, and I loved the mountains and the volcanoes and the land coral and the ash effects. I also love the look of the Dunmer architecture in this game, and I think it fits them well. I took so so many screenshots in this zone. I genuinely enjoyed just wandering through it.

13) Bangkorai - Nothing about this zone really caught my attention. I didn't care for the main quest, I didn't get invested in any side quests, and for me this zone feels more frustrating to navigate with how many areas as controlled entirely by enemies. It also does nothing new or interesting with the Reachmen, unfortunately. The scenery is pretty, but it is similar to everything else we've seen in the Daggerfall Covenant, so by the time I got to it it wasn't anything special. My opinion on this zone was also probably colored by the fact that at this point I just wanted to get further in the main quest. I also want to highlight this one quest, Freedom's Chains, which has a super interesting basic idea and hypothetical choice at the end, but is so horribly buggy and terribly written that it is one of 2 quests I've done so far in this game that made me angry.

14) Bleakrock Isle and Bal Foyen - I did the entirety of these in a little over an hour each, and really nothing stuck out to me. Not the characters, not the setting, not the quests, nothing. The only thing of note is that I was running around Bal Foyen at sunrise and it was very pretty, and there was a guar in Bal Foyen named Rollie.

15) Khenarthi's Roost* (I did it slowly over a few months while my hands were in pain and nothing about it stood out to me) - So there is an important context to this one, which is that I started this zone in January after the New Life Festival, but soon took a break from the game because my hand pain was really bad and I couldn't play. I attempted to play every few weeks (in this zone) and every time my hands hurt really bad, and I had forgotten what was going on. It took me months to finish this teeny zone, and I just don't have a great association with it. Outside of that bias, I just wasn't invested in the plot or characters (outside of Raz, of course), and I feel like the Maomer were uninteresting and a waste of potential. The aesthetics of the island were pretty nice, but I didn't find it as cool or pretty as most of the other zones.

16) Stormhaven My dislike of this zone was mostly circumstantial when I first played it, but in hindsight having gone back to it for other random things, I continue to dislike it. The wayshrine placement sucks. Somehow by the time I got to this zone I was already a little burnt out on all the Daedric prince involvement, and the involvement of Vaermina and her cult did nothing new or interesting. I could not bring myself to care about pretty much any quest in this zone, with the notable exception of the part at the end where you enter Emeric's dream and talk him off the ledge. I like Emeric, and I feel like this detail made it make more sense for why he can trust you so much. But other than that, it was a very mid zone. The scenery was Glenumbra but less cool in every way.

17) Deshaan - This is only below Stormhaven because of that one quest with Emeric (and maybe I'm a bit jaded right now). In a game where it feels like the Daedric Princes are invovled in every other quest, you're telling me that a questline focusing on an organization creating a plague had nothing to do with Peryite? Justice for Peryite! Speaking of, the main quest for this zone was so... what? The writing for this alliance so far has been really weak imo and this quest really exemplifies it. It's just antagonist doing miscellaneous antagonist things without a solid connection between their actions. Despite building up to the main antagonist's backstory throughout the zone, I still don't understand her motivation for just about anything she did until the last 3rd of the story, and the kinda interesting conflict of her backstory was written in the least interesting way it could be. None of the other quests stood out to me, and the environment, while fine, didn't catch my attention either. I did like that Mournhold felt larger than most of the cities in the game, and I loved how the temple looked and loomed over everything.

-

Daggerfall Covenant Overall Thoughts:

These zones were my starting zones so I was learning how the game works and doing the big main quest while going through them. I straight up can't remember whatever the overarching plot of these zones was, but I remember each zone as its own individual thing better. At the time I felt sorta meh towards it, but having done the other alliances it has grown on me because of the characters and pacing. The way you get invovled with the leader in this faction feels more natural and less contrived than the other two (and the build up to getting to that point is longer and more developed) since you have to prove yourself and work your way up the High Rock leadership to finally impress Emeric and get him to entrust you with things. You don't just do him one favor and he goes "ok I trust you with alliance secrets now", but compared to the AD it felt like the over arching story of the alliance is much much weaker and less developed. it feels more like each zone has its own story only loosely tied together with "WAR IS HAPPENING" (EP is sorta the same). The antagonists weren't memorable, but the side characters like Emeric, Darien, Gabrielle, Skordo, the gang on Stros M'Kai, Lady Laurent and Stibbons, etc. were fun! I read on Reddit that the team that made the DC also made Coldharbor, which is why so many DC characters feature in it, which definitely helped me feel connected to them more. Overall, not the most striking alliance, but I liked the characters and am probably more fond of it because it was my first one

Aldmeri Dominion Overall Thoughts:

I appreciate that there are overarching storylines between the zones (beyond just "[other alliance] is attacking!") between the Veiled Heritance, the death of and new Silvenar and Green Lady, etc. The other two factions' zones can sometimes feel too disjointed from each other or the way they are connected feels contrived, so the reoccurring characters feel more random (like, why are you here too??) or there are way less of them, while in the AD you meet a lot of the reoccurring characters in the first two zones and then it makes sense why you keep running into them. It makes the relationships you build with them feel more genuine, and there were a number of stand out characters for me. I think for this reason, having one small starting zone as opposed to 2 might've helped with that feeling. On the other hand, I feel like the build up to how you get invovled with the alliance leadership was way more rushed (in a bad way) compared to the other two zones. Like, you happen to be picked out as competent and trustworthy by one of the right hand men of the queen (no offense to you, Raz, you are one of the highlights of this alliance) and then you save the queen from an assassination attempt in the first story point of the next zone and she just trusts you immediately (once again, no offense to you Ayrenn, you are also a highlight). But once we're into the main storyline, I enjoyed it and followed it a lot better than the other two zones. I also appreciated how the antagonists had motivations that felt like they actually informed their decisions and related to the political and interpersonal dramas going on. It made them more memorable. I felt in general that the side quests were a little stronger here as well.

Ebonheart Pack Overall Thoughts (so far)

I've only done Bleakrock Isle, Bal Foyen, Stonefalls, and Deshaan, and hopefully I'll come back to do the rest later, but I'm a little sick of the base game and would like to move on to DLCs. With that disclaimer out of the way, I've found it so far lack luster compared to the other two. So far the zone stories aren't that connected (although that may change), and there seems to be less reoccurring characters. The one that I do know for sure shows up repeatedly, Naryu, didn't actually make her first appearance until Deshaan (not a fan of her so far tbh... why does she neg me so much??). Altogether, none of the characters so far stood out to me, and they've been overall less endearing and less memorable (so far). None of the quests have either. Generally in this series, but particularly in this game, and even more so in this alliance for some reason, the player's involvement in a quest or situation feels really contrived. The one positive for this alliance for me is that I think the environments are consistently pretty strong (so far). Finally, the antagonists have been weak in the sense that they aren't memorable or interesting (similarly to the DC). These ones frustrate me a bit more because they feel much more like wasted opportunities. So far there's a theme of family or parent-child relationships going on, but it's really shallow and I'm not sure it's purposeful. Like I said, maybe I'm just jaded with the base game zones because they are pretty same-y (and it makes sense why tbh), but this alliance has been my least favorite so far and I don't feel bad about skipping the rest of it for now.

[nanathott]

Hi Nana!

Hope u're doing good! I wanted to ask your perspective/advice on something relating to posting Smaus if that's okay and you're not very swamped!

I really love the smau content on this app and had been contemplating whether I'd like to start making my own or not- and I kind of did about 10-12 days ago. VERY UNSERIOUS I MIGHT ADD, I made one because I wanted to try it out and posted it just because... And also I started doing this at a very VERY inconvenient time (for me)

But when people started liking, commenting and reblogging it made me really giddy n happy, especially when they started asking for part 2s and 3s

The problem here is, I'm kind of extremely shy and very sensitive to rejection, and I'm having a hard time interacting with everyone who's commenting or sending asks~

I don't know if I should respond to all of them, or pick one to answer for all the similar asks, and I feel sorta guilty when I leave a message hanging

I also have trouble with consistency and didn't expect to be posting anything more then the first smau I posted, but I ended up doing 3 more because the requests really gave me a rush of excitement -

But like I mentioned, I started doing this at a very inconvenient time for me and I'm going through some stuff, and I feel guilty about not being able to give the followers a schedule or timeline regarding when I'll post another part

Do you have any tips on how to maintain consistency? and how to get more comfortable with interactions with everyone? If not, that's completely understandable!

Have a great day!

you don’t owe anyone anything, if you wanna post once and never again that’s up to you! u can put a disclaimer in ur pinned post letting people know too if u wanna, that way ur asks or messages will be less overwhelming!

interactions with people will get more comfortable over time, but you don’t have to talk to people if u don’t wanna :,) talking is hard and we’re all strangers so it can be a little intimidating

as for consistency, i have ocd so its just apart of my schedule, i have to stay consistent or my brain will unleash wrath equal to the devil himself :p

buuuuut i know that overworking urself and forcing yourself to make smaus when you don’t want to is not a good idea at all and leads to quick burnout, so if you need a break absolutly take one!! u come first <3 have fun!!

[chronomaza]

heya! I’m new to your blog!

Tell me everything about your original characters or I will spontaneously combust like a spoon in a double microwave.

it's a LOT of worldbuilding since Kaivasita IS majorly a worldbuilding project, so it's a bit too much for me to fully summarize but basically:

Everything takes place in another multiverse in the very far future, and the main protagonists (Ryan, Ellie and Albin) are all members of a heavily convergently evolved human like species (minus Albin since he's a nephil, (human angel hybrid)) and everything's going swell until an angel breaks into their house late at night and threatens to kill Albin and takes their dad. This forces everyone to leave the house and unknowingly become tied into a massive cataclysmic event going on across the entire multiverse (even if you don't see much of it yet), and the rest of the narrative sorta focuses on the horrific consequences such a massive event has on individual people. Oh and when things couldn't get any worse, they end up accidentally unleashing a soul eating shapeshifter into their universe called Neowise- who is a personal favourite of mine. He's a little eldritch bastard who destroys universes and cheats at videogames. I love him :3

I'd ramble more but a lot of the stuff with my characters in particular is already written down in my book and I'd rather people read it and discover a lot of it themselves- or it's a spoiler for a future book in the series and I can't say anything about it yet. There's unfortunately not a ton I can talk about openly; Kaivasita is big project with a lot of incredibly complex plot twists set up :')

I WILL say though it's very heavy on the horror side of things, so be warned. It also has a lot of spec bio elements with it's world building since I'm an absolute nerd, if that's your thing anyways. If you have any specific things you'd like to ask about literally any of my characters I'd be happy to tell you more it's just that "tell me about your ocs!" doesn't narrow it down because I have literally over 200 of them, half of which I could write two pages of info dump about LMAO. Thank you for asking it means a lot!! ^^

[katyspersonal]

Headcanons on.... being justified? sorta

I threw a couple of headcanons in a salad so I could rate the Soulsborne men that messed with the things not meant for humans and got ridiculously big body count, from most justified to least

#5 Laurence - He genuinely cared for betterment of humankind, even if that meant great sacrifices and risks, although he took things to such a far point that these actions on themselves destroyed his humanity and defeated the purpose. He is a tragic villain! Good intentions road to hell all that.

(I will note though, I feel like BB was a bit TOO subtle on how things sucked so Laurence would have the need to change them - there are multiple evidences that are yet so scattered that on superficial level it can look as though everything was awesome and perfect and Laurence simply ruined everything! I really don't see it, especially considering how many things could've been wrong in Victorian era... Eileen, for one, arrives from plague-ridden place if her mask is of any indication.)

#4 Aldrich - He lives in the world that is rotting and doomed no matter what you do, he saw the only thing that offered at least some hope for escape and better era and seized it, no matter what it took. He is like.. in a position where moral principles are losing their effect, so everything goes. Similar insight to Rykard's, actually. (I can honestly give him a pass on enjoying his methods a bit too much like sadistic shit that he is, because how you he is feeling besides the point in this context)

#3 Micolash - His world likewise got fucked but what Micolash did was not simply going 'fuck this shit I'm out' and giving up on human values, but also provoking the process that accelerates the humanity's ruin and it can not even escape beasthood WHILE his ritual is ongoing, all so he (and anyone who """understands""") could evolve past human mind. Micolash has more choice and more hope than DS cast, he decided human values (and lives) were not really worth it!

#2 Allant - Not only he gave up on humanity and this world in his despair, but also ensured that everyone else feels this way too deep down and no one's lives matter, so he had to "open their eyes" lol. He is just willing to destroy everything through the same logic in which I used to agree with Frenzied Flame ending - that existence is fundamentally broken, as a concept.. And like, if other people still want to exist regardless of suffering, decay and existential loneliness? Well they're just "dumb" or something.... Very selfish stuff.

#1 Shabriri - The fucker thought the world had it too good and just could not live in peace knowing there was all-destroying power sealed, he saw "No tresspassing" sign and was not able to stop, so now even without Lord of Frenzy, the world still got inflicted with irreversible sickness that someone could get just by fucking being too sad or something. Basically I think he did not face crushing depression and dread that simply 'resonated' with the power of universal despair, but just, like they say, "did a little trolling". Partially I think that because of how his yearning for chaos sounds like manic wish to just see everything burn and not like despair. Partially because I feel like at least one time everything could be ruined by simple curiosity and not sympathetic motivation? But yes, Shabriri is THE worst.

_________________

Also there are complications of 'they unleashed it' vs 'the force beyond humanity called them and of course a human would not be able to resist' with some, which I tend to just write off with the "the call means nothing without the receiver" (so, even if you like saw a dream or found frenzied fingerprints, you could still just say no... so yeah, I did not use this factor in rating)