#he's a bit terrified. he's a pit in awe

[mintmatcha]

you have made me have baby fever like never before. i cant afford this rn, pls stop this madness.

i haven't even talked about my faves yet either just you wait

[daisyblog]

Comfort Zone

My Drummer Masterlist Summary: YN opens Wembley Night 1.

Based on this request.

"Have fun out there, baby!". Harry smiles as he watches YN fiddle with her in ears.

Harry had given each member of the Love Band a chance to open one of his Wembley shows. YN was opening tonight's show, the first one at Wembley. They're both standing backstage, minutes before YN is due to walk out on stage.

Taking a deep breath, to calm her never ending nerves, YN shyly smiles up at Harry's taller frame. "Thank you, gorgeous! Are you going to be watching?".

"Of course I'm going to be watching my girl!". He leaves YN to go with a bunch of kisses and 'I love you's'. Harry makes his way through the hallways of the stadium to an area where he could watch YN perform. Jeff, Brad and other members of the band joining him.

Mitch and Sarah follow YN out to the large stage as YN's introduction video plays, Mitch heading towards his guitar and Sarah finding her new position in YN's regular place.

"Hello Wembley!". She greets the large crowd who roars with cheers, as YN stands at the front of the stage. "I'm YN and I'm so happy to be able to perform for you this evening.".

There's loud screams and fans jumping and running around in the pit area, and from her place on the stage she can see that Harry is stood behind one of the barriers.

"Before we start tonight, I'd like to explain something.". YN's grip on the microphone loosens slightly as she becomes less nervous. "I'm usually sat back there, behind the drums.". The crowd roared once again. "But Harry said I need to get out of my comfort zone...try something new.". YN let out a little giggle, when she heard a loud whistle that she knew came from her boyfriends lips. "So that mean't no drum playing.". A loud boo came from a few fans at the front barricade, making YN laugh. "But can we give a big cheer for Sarah who I've been teaching how to play just so she could play for me this evening!".

---

"Uh…the first song I’m gonna sing is called ‘Never Loved Anyone Before’” There was a mixture of awe’s and cheers from the fans. “It’s a bit raw…but it’s about loving someone special, who’s supported you through your hardest times.”.

Sometimes I think I was born on the day that I met you Spent all of my days, all my nights praying you never let me go I hate to admit that I still got some shit from my fucked up past But you've managed to break down my walls

You love me so much, it gave me enough Enough to finally have the guts to love myself Thought that I'd been deep, yeah, I could've sworn But everything you are to me is so much more You made me realise that I've never loved anyone before You made me realise that I've never loved anyone before

The only complaint that I got is that I'm fucking scared now The fact that with you, I have so much to lose, got me terrified And if the world ends, and it pulls us apart then you know I promise To find you wherever you are

Harry watched and listened at the words. It was the first time hearing YN sing the song she had secretly written. It caused a lump in his throat as the lyrics pulled on his heart strings. YN was known to hide behind her feelings but tonight she had allowed a whole stadium know how she felt. A smile appeared on Harry’s face, the proudness he felt shining through.

---

“Okay…Wembley! The next one I’m gonna sing is ‘This Is The Life’ by Amy Macdonald…I’ve seen a lot of you use this one on TikTok for some of the shows and I want you all to sing and dance!”.

Oh, the wind whistles down The cold dark street tonight And the people, they were dancing To the music vibe

And the boys chase the girls with curls in their hair While the shy tormented youth sit way over there And the songs get louder each one better than before

And you're singing the songs thinking this is the life And you wake up in the morning and your head feels twice the size Where you gonna go, where you gonna go, where you gonna sleep tonight? And you're singing the songs thinking this is the life And you wake up in the morning and your head feels twice the size Where you gonna go, where you gonna go, where you gonna sleep tonight? Where you gonna sleep tonight?

So you're heading down the road in your taxi for four And you're waiting outside Jimmy's front door But nobody's in and nobody's home 'til 4 So you're sitting there with nothing to do Talking about Robert Riger and his motley crew And where you gonna go, where you gonna sleep tonight?

Harry was in awe at how effortlessly his girl sang and how her confidence was growing each minute. He watched at how the fans were all in their own bubbles singing and dancing along. He was even more surprised to see YN take the mic and join the fans with some dance moves. He let out a big cheer and joined in, dancing along with Jeff and Brad.

---

“I want to thank you all for joining me tonight.”. YN began to speak into the mic. “I have enjoyed every moment and I’d like to sing one last song for you…this one’s a special song to me for so many different reasons…one being if I hadn’t have posted me singing this one…I’m not sure I would be standing right here now…please sing along, here’s The Chain!”.

Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies

And if you don't love me now  You will never love me again I can still hear you saying You would never break the chain

YN couldn’t help but smile to herself as she heard the crowd sing the famous Fleetwood Mac lyrics back to her.

And if you don't love me now You will never love me again I can still hear you saying You would never break the chain

“Thank you Wembley! See you later!”. YN thanked the crowd before running off the stage into Harry’s arms.

“I’m so proud of you!” Harry held her close to him, placing his lips on hers in a quick kiss.

“Thank you for believing in me!” YN gave him a big grin, still feeling the buzz from performing.

“Always!”. He promised.

[genderlessghoul]

A bit of Phantom headcanon with a side of Dew angst at the end.

Phantom was never meant to be Aether's replacement. He knew the rhythm guitar parts, yes, but that was required of him as a Quintessence ghoul living at the Ministry. He also knew drums, as expected of him for being part Earth ghoul.

He was originally only summoned to help around the Ministry when Copia first started touring in 2018. Quite a few new ghouls were summoned back then to make up for the 7 ghouls the Cardinal decided to take on the road with him. Such a large number made a big gap in the ghoul staff, not to mention all the ghouls who decided to go back to the Pit after the little... Accident... With the 3 previous Papas.

Ghouls are very loyal creatures after all and did not take kindly to the news of their favourite humans' departure from the mortal realm.

So Phantom learned his part, doing the tasks expected of him around the gardens and the infirmary, spending his free time with a guitar in his hand or sitting behind a drum kit. And he'd wait for the touring ghouls to come back. They'd be back with trinkets from various countries as gifts for their friends and lovers, and of course a thousand tales from the road.

Phantom could spend hours listening to Dewdrop talking about his and Aether's antics on stage, about the adrenaline rush, about the screams and adorations from the fans, the precious gift that were made for them. He'd watch the way all of them came back closer to each other than when they left. He loved them all but it's oh so hard to carve yourself a place when all the touring ghouls have been so tightly knit together by their adventures.

He longed for the stage, for the attention and adoration of the crowd, for the chance to see the world and serve his Lord in such a special way. But more than anything he longed for that bond shared between all of them.

It wasn't the same at the Ministry. Yes he had ghouls he cared for but they would barely speak in a day, all too busy with the chores appointed to them. And they would spend most of their free times alone in their room, trying to relax in whichever way they could.

His heartbreak only grew stronger when Sunshine, one of the ghoulettes who was summoned around the same time as him, got to join the band. Because they were able to make extra space for another hell creature but it wasn't him. He desperately craved to be a part of the band and he knew he could never share those feelings because that would be asking for Mountain or Aether to leave and he simply wouldn't do it. Could never do it.

Aether's always been very intuitive about other people's feelings. It's a blessing and sometimes curse that comes with his elemental affiliation. He sees the way the small ghoul looks up in awe at him and his pack. The way he's hung on their words when they tell him stories. He can almost hear the other ghoul's heart ripping when he watches his mates interacting in the closest ways.

Aether's the one who goes to Imperator and asks her to take him out of the Ghost project. Touring is fun and all but he's not getting any younger and those bus bunks, sleepless nights and rough mornings are really starting to take a toll on his old bones. Maybe she could find him a place in the infirmary? He's even willing to just sit around and do taxes all day. Surely they would have no hard time replacing him, they already have this Phantom guy who knows his part. Oh and if it could stay a secret between them, he doesn't want his mates to worry about him.

Phantom is both ecstatic and terrified at the news, what if he's not good enough? What if his bandmates hate him? What if the fans hate him? What if he disappoints Papa? All of his cares melt away the second he first step into the band practice room. Everyone there is so warm and welcoming, even Aether is there to show him a thing or two. He looks very happy for someone who's just been replaced and has to teach the guy taking his place.

Everyone welcomes him except Dewdrop. Dewdrop never liked change. He didn't like having to take on Ifrit's role, being the only ghoul part Fire still in the Ministry at the time. He didn't like his costume being changed two times. He didn't like when Sunshine first joined them. He doesn't like when new ghouls are summoned, they always want to be all up in his business. More than anything, Dewdrop doesn't like Phantom.

Aether, his Aether, has to leave the band and do taxes all day because Phantom somehow impressed Imperator enough. He's not even that good, he's heard him play before. Nothing that even comes close to Aether.

Dewdrop bottles those feelings and opts fot ignoring Phantom's existence for as long as he can, which happens to be a little after they were officially on the road again.

Dew's had a particularly long day and even longer evening. He's barely slept, he ran out of cigarettes, he misses Aeth and the food is terrible. He keeps missing his cues during the ritual and he knows everyone knows. So when Phantom makes the mistake of accidentally bumping into him in the hallway, every word comes flying out and he's screaming at the poor ghoul before he can even process it.

Why does he has to constantly ruin everything? He can't even keep his shoulders to himself, as to take up everyone else's space. Life would be so much easier if Phantom had just stayed at the Ministry instead of trying to play rockstar. He's clearly not cut out for the road or for Dew's pack so why does he even bother trying? He's supposed to be Aether's replacement but he'll never be him so what's the point?

By the time Dew's voice runs out, both small ghouls are crying. Phantom's shocked by Dew's words and is carried into his locker room by Swiss while the Fire ghoul locks himself in a bathroom.

Aether hears about the incident from Mountain. He gives Dewdrop a call the following day. He explains everything to him and begs him to stop hurting the new ghoul. He wanted Phantom to take his place.

Dewdrop leaves the call a complete mess. He's confused, doesn't know which emotion to feel first. All he knows is a truth he'd rather have never known. Aether wasn't kicked out of the band. Aether left him.

[partially-controlled-chaos]

Come Back to Me pt. 6 (End)

Pairing: Astarionxf!Tav

Rating: M

Warnings: Hurt/angst, comfort, trauma, fluff, trauma, soft jealous Astarion, tiniest little bit of smut towards the end? Microscopic but still there.

Summary: After an attack in the Shadow Cursed Lands, Tavriel is exposed to the toxins of fear inducing mushroom spores, causing her already weakened mind to relive the traumatic horrors of her past. Astarion and Halsin are forced to work quickly to cure her mind of the spores before the effects remain with her permanently.

Also read on AO3! Check there for more frequent updates because I sometimes forget to also post them here.

I also recommend reading my previous fic for some backstory on my Tav! Not totally necessary, but if you’d like some backstory you can find it here!

Masterlist

Come Back to Me: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Tavriel ran her fingers across her brow as she waited for Halsin, groaning softly as her aching muscles screamed for relief. Her head was still throbbing and the mental battle she was currently engaged in wasn’t helping anything. Now that she was of sound mind, her previous conversation with Halsin before she stumbled into the mushroom patch was swirling in her brain more than the tadpole. She was fond of Halsin and admittedly had engaged in a bit of flirty banter from time to time, but she didn’t want anything more than that. Not to mention she was already in a relationship with Astarion. Given the very brief nature of the conversation, having been cut short by a shadow creature, Tavriel wasn’t entirely sure if Halsin was suggesting a quick night together or something more long term, but either way she was trying to form the words to use to gently turn him away before he came to check on her.

Despite her lack of hesitation to dispatch enemies in conflict or start a fight with a would-be war lord, confrontation among friends was something that terrified Tavriel. She had spent her entire life without friends or family, so the idea of potentially losing both a close friend and a strong ally simply because she wanted to set a boundary made her uneasy. It was needed, though. Both from the perspective of personal growth and strength, but the last thing she wanted to do was to hurt Astarion by engaging with someone else romantically. His happiness mattered more to her than her own; after all, it had taken them a long time to get to the point where they could be so open and vulnerable with each other and she refused to crush that so quickly.

Tavriel’s concentration was broken as she heard a rather large set of footsteps approach the door. After a brief moment, there was a soft knock against the wood of the door before it clicked open. Halsin soon appeared in the threshold, ducking momentarily to avoid hitting his head on the top of the doorframe. In his hand, he carried a large cup of something warm and Tavriel could only assume it was more foul tasting medicine, but was hoping for a fragrant tea.

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t even care for mushrooms?” Tavriel said as her gaze met Halsin’s, a weak smile crossing her lips as Halsin gently closed the door behind him and stepped into the room.

“I can’t imagine you’re any more fond of them now. How are you faring? I have to admit you’re looking much better than you were,” Halsin asked as he placed the steaming cup he was carrying on the nightstand nearby, “before this incident, I mean. Nature made no mistake when it made you.”

“Well, I feel awful, but at least the visions have stopped, thankfully.” Tavriel chewed at her lower lip as the familiar feeling of dread slowly crept back into her chest, “Gods, they were real. They were so real.” With a soft touch, Halsin placed a large hand on Tavriel’s shoulder, pulling her thoughts from the pit they were spiraling into.

“Don’t dwell on the thoughts any longer. They’re over now, I promise. May I offer a spot of healing?” Halsin pulled his hand from her shoulder and stood in front of her, his large frame looming over Tavriel as she sat on the bed. Although Tavriel was reluctant to use magic to heal, she quickly agreed, desperate for relief from the agony that tore through her body with each movement.

Halsin closed his eyes and with a deep inhale, he placed his hands over Tavriel’s forehead and chest, hovering so he wouldn’t actually touch her. Seconds later, a warm, yellow beam of healing magic poured from his fingers and into her skin, making quick work of her wounds. Tavriel groaned softly as she felt the magic run through her. It was a soft, gentle caress that wove its way through her bones and muscles, repairing any torn skin and mending cracked bone. It was a stark and welcome contrast to the dark magic she had typically been healed with. Instead of pain and malice in the magic, there was only bliss and a hint of love. 

“That will never cease to amaze me.” Tavriel murmured, turning her hands to observe the now healed flesh after Halsin had finished. The wounds on her hands had healed and the pain was surprisingly gone. She flexed few fingers a few times, smiling at the distinct lack of pain and felt around her sides and shoulders to also check if those injuries were gone as well.

“I cannot heal all of the wounds,” Halsin said as he pulled his hands from her form, “but I hope it will be a welcome reprieve. Wounds caused by dark magic cannot be undone. They are marred in the flesh so I cannot do anything to help the discomfort caused by the scars on your back, but I can help the others. A warm bath and rest should be enough to ease your old injuries.”

“Don’t worry about those,” Tavriel said, “I’ve learned to live with them. But thank you, Halsin, for this. Admittedly I’m always hesitant to accept magical healing.” After years of being forced through dark magic healing from her master, Tavriel was always partial to more practical methods of healing. She much rather would stitch a wound closed than have a healer touch her, but she trusted Halsin and knew he would not do anything to intentionally harm her.

“Healing is the least I owe you,” he said sorrowfully, “I failed to protect you while we were in the shadows. It’s my fault and I want to make it up to you. Healing is a start, but I owe you so much more than that, my friend.”

“It’s not your fault, Halsin. I knew the risks of going into the shadows. You did protect me, ultimately. I’d still be stumbling in the dark or lost in my mind if you hadn’t made it a point to help. I’m grateful for you and all that you’ve done. I don’t blame you in the slightest so you shouldn’t either.”

Halsin had seated himself next to her on the bed as they spoke, relieved that she didn’t harbor anger towards him for something that he felt was very clearly his fault. Despite her reassurances, he would still blame himself. He felt as if he had distracted her with his own thoughts of lust and wanting and that he alone should be to blame for her injuries. Sensing his self doubt from the expression on his face and has lack of a response, Tavriel placed her hand on his forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze in the process. He smiled softly, placing his own hand over hers and allowed themselves to sit there for several moments. Halsin only stirred when the aroma of the nearby cup he brought with him filled his senses, reminding him of its presence.

“Before the thought leaves my mind, I also brought you something. Drink this,” Halsin said as he took the cup he brought with him from the nightstand, “it’ll help.”

“…What is it? I don’t fully remember everything, but I do distinctly remember the last thing you gave me to drink tasting like troll piss.” Tavriel took the cup his hands, giving it a hesitant sniff. Much to her surprise and delight, the liquid had a pleasant citrus aroma with a bit of sweetness.

“Just tea,” he said with a chuckle as he handed her the cup, “with a little honey. I thought you’d enjoy something sweet. You’ve certainly earned it.”

“Thank you.” Tavriel hummed as she took a sip of the tea, her eyes closing momentarily as the warmth of the tea settled in her chest and being eternally grateful it tasted nothing like the antidote she’d swallowed earlier. 

Both elves sat in silence once again as Tavriel drank her tea, both feeling a twinge of tension in the air, but neither wanting to be the first to break the surface of the conversation waiting to be had. 

“You should get some rest,” the druid said after a short while, “and get something to eat. It’ll help with the healing. And if I understood Astarion correctly, he should be drawing you a bath. Take him up on the offer; it should ease any lingering discomfort.”

“You should too,” Tavriel replied, “I can tell you’re exhausted, I’ve kept you up too long.” Despite his usual smile and gentle demeanor, Halsin was exhausted. His bones and muscles ached from the pressure he put on himself daily, but now even his eyes had become tired. Dark circles underneath his unusually dulled eyes were the first indication that the druid was fighting to even stay awake.

“My conscious would not allow me a moment of sleep while knowing you were fighting to return to us, but I will rest in due time. Once the curse if lifted I promise I’ll sleep for a ten-day.” Tavriel rolled her eyes with a smile, knowing good and well that Halsin wouldn’t allow himself to rest more than a few hours, but still hopeful he would listen to his body and actually indulge in a long rest. With a brief moment of hesitation, Halsin finally lifted himself from Tavriel’s side, ready to bid her goodnight before she returned her hand to his forearm and gently pushed him back down so he would sit beside her once again.

“Before you go, can we talk for a moment? About your offer from earlier; right before everything became so chaotic.” Tavriel nervously scratched at the lip of the now empty cup she was holding.

“Of course,” Halsin said with a raised eyebrow, “but are you certain this is something you wish to discuss now? We have all the time in the world to approach the subject.”

“I am,” Tavriel said softly and Halsin very quickly knew where the conversation was heading, “I just…I just want to clarify some things. I don’t want there to be any sort of misunderstanding or hurt feelings.”  

“Admittedly I wasn’t able to fully flesh out what I wanted to say in the heat of the moment,” Halsin said with a nervous chuckle. Thinking back, he realized that he never fully told her that he merely wanted to share in her relationship, not to take her away. He was able to get that point across to Astarion when they were looking for supplies, but the chance to tell Tavriel had been cut short by a quick swipe of a shadow creature.

“I know you are with Astarion,” he continued, “and I can see just how much you both care for one another. When I presented you with my offer, I wanted to let you know that I do not wish to come between the two of you and the bond you have formed. That is the last thing on my mind, honestly. Instead, I wanted to ask if you and Astarion were both open to broadening your horizons, so to speak. I do not wish to replace or break, merely share. But I know that my way of thinking does not suit everyone. Everyone is entitled to how they wish to view romance, so if your views do not match mine and you do not wish to progress this further, then please speak freely. There will be no anger from me. Although, I would like to carry on our friendship no matter your decision, if you so wish.”

Admittedly, a wave of relief rushed over Tavriel in that moment. She was so afraid that Halsin would be angry with her for even thinking of rejecting him. She couldn’t help but remember the numerous times she had been beaten and tortured for turning down her master. In the beginning, during the first few times her master had started taking her to bed, she had the courage to refuse him. She didn’t want to bed the dreadful drow and made it a point to tell him so. She quickly learned to hold her tongue, minus the screams that would erupt during the act herself, because of the punishment she’d ultimately receive for telling her master “no”. Floggings across her back, knives wedged painfully in her joints, dark magic spells that would squeeze her brain until it felt like it would burst, or whatever else her master deemed necessary for her bad behavior. And although Halsin didn’t remind Tavriel of Master Oaklarth in the slightest sense, the anxiety caused by having to say no filled her with terror, much like the mushrooms.

“I’m so sorry, Halsin,” she said finally, “I hold you close in my heart as a friend, but I cannot allow it to go further than that. What I have with Astarion is special to me. He can be tricky at times, but there’s something blooming between us, but it’s so delicate. I don’t want to snuff out that light and hurt him in any way. I’m sorry, I really am.” The cord of uncertainly had returned to Tavriel once again, wrapping its way around her heart as she tried her best to turn Halsin away without hurting him too deeply.

“I asked you knowing there was equal chance your answer could head in either direction. I’m not upset with your answer, Tavriel, honestly. I appreciate your delicate nature, however. Makes it all the more easy in the end, but I was prepared for either answer.” He nods in her direction and quickly adds, “And I’m glad you wanted to discuss this now. It’ll help ease both of our minds and help us continue forwards as nature wills.”

“I hope there’s no ill feelings, Halsin. I really am sorry and honestly so grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” Tavriel’s face had worry written all over. She also saw Halsin as her closest friend, aside from Astarion, and didn’t want that friendship to end simply because she turned him down.

“None at all,” Halsin said as he stood from the bed, “I just hope I didn’t spoil our friendship with such an offer. Feelings aside, you are still very special to me and I consider you to be my closest friend and ally. I don’t want that to change.”

“I promise nothing has changed,” she said with a genuine smile, “I admire your ability to have the courage to voice yourself for something you want; admittedly I struggle with that at times. But, back to business and if it’s still fine with you, I still want to help. With the curse I mean.” 

“I would be honored, especially after this incident, but please, rest first.” He said as he grabbed Tavriel’s forearm in their usual embrace, “You’ll need all the strength you can muster. And once we’ve finished our business here, I still promise to help you with your tadpole. And, if you’re so inclined, I would still be honored to help you reconnect with nature.”

“I would like that,” she said quietly as they gave each other one final shake of the arm before parting, “thank you, again.”

“Of course,” Halsin said with a gentle smile, “now get some rest, my friend. If you need anything from me, let me know and I’ll come to you.” With a final nod from Tavriel, the druid left the bedchambers and returned downstairs. A weight had been lifted from Tavriel. As much as she enjoyed Halsin’s company, she knew in her heart that she had made the right decision. Astarion deserved the whole of her heart and as far as she was concerned, it already belonged to him.

************************************************************************************

Tavriel quietly slipped behind the door leading to the baths, letting the door softly click behind her before turning her attention to the bathtub in the middle of the room. She stopped after taking a few steps into the room, a wide smile gracing her lips as she surveyed the room. The bath house was small and warmly lit with candles scattered across the room, resting on every surface imaginable. Steam from the water swirling up and into the room, mixing with the candlelight to cast soft glows all over. The tub itself was seated in the center of the room, the bottom and sides draped with white linen and filled to capacity with steaming, hot water. Tavriel caught a soft hint of lavender, no doubt an additive to the water to help soothe her mind and tired body. Although what really grabbed her attention was Astarion, seated in one end of the large tub, void of all clothing. His head was reclined on the lip of the washtub, eyes closed as his arms draped over each side. He held a goblet of blood from his reserve pile in his hand, carefully swirling the goblet from time to time as he inhaled the scents of the bath.

“I thought this was supposed to be my bath?” Tavriel asked as she approached the vampire, already loosening the ties to her trousers and stepping out of them as she walked.

“Quality control, darling.” Astarion said with his eyes still closed, “It seems I ran the water a bit too hot. I figured I could cool it down for you in the meantime. Now, of course, if you’d rather bathe alone I can always-” His sentence was cut short as Tavriel hoisted her shirt over her head and tossed in his direction, the clothing landing squarely across his face.

“Now that’s quite rude.” He said playfully as he pulled the shirt from his face and threw it across the other side of the room. His eyes had opened and his head was now sitting up as he spoke, watching as Tavriel cautiously made the final step towards the bath, dressed in nothing. 

Her eyes were fixated on the swirling vapors coming from the water, almost entranced as she watched them dance from the surface. Tavriel held out a hand, letting her fingers comb through the steam, threatening to touch the surface of the water as a slight smile once again crossed her lips. She stood there for a few moments as she took in the feeling of the steam mixing with the scents of the bath salts. Tavriel felt a warming shiver seep down her spine as she felt the heat radiating from the water, the feeling almost being to much for her tired mind and body.

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen a bath before.” Astarion said as he sat up more, moving his legs out of the way so she could step inside, and placing his goblet on a small table next to him.

“Never a hot one. The streams and lakes we’ve been using haven’t exactly been warm.” She said quietly, pulling her hand away from the surface of the water, almost afraid to touch it. Astarion held out a hand, offering it to her gently. 

“Then join me for your first, my love.” Astarion said as he tapped one of his fingers against hers to coax her into the water; the wood-elf still looking at bath in uncertainty. Tavriel lightly took his hand, surprised to feel his normally cool fingers to be warm after sitting in the water, and stepped over the lip of the tub. An uncharacteristically giddy giggle escaped Tavriel’s lips as her foot finally broke the surface of the water and landed on the bottom, her skin instantly prickling at the sensation of hot water. 

As she made her way into the bath, Astarion couldn’t help but glance over the scars that adorned her front side. He’d gotten familiar to the ones on her back, but the front ones were rarely seen. Two sets of scars similar to the ones on her shoulder blades were on her body; one set resting under her ribcage and the other set nestled on the plump part of her thighs, both having seemly been ripped from her flesh. Another scar, long and jagged, rested on her lower abdomen below her belly button but slightly higher than the apex of her sex, one he had admittedly never noticed before. He pulled her eyes from her scars as they became hidden the more she sank into the water, eventually hiding them completely as she settled. Astarion softly placed a single kiss to the tops of the fingers of the hand he was holding before releasing his grasp, Tavriel’s hand returning to her chest.

The two elves sat in silence after Tavriel had settled at the opposite end of the tub, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping an arm around them to keep them secure. It was a natural instinct for her to curl into herself when faced with something new and potentially over stimulating; a method of protection that had kept death at bay for years. For a while she just sat there, cupping a small handful of warm water at a time and letting it dribble down her arm, watching as it cascaded down and back into the bath before taking another handful and repeating the process. Astarion watched as a small smile formed around the corners of her mouth, feeling relieved that she wasn’t reacting poorly to his gesture for a bath. He couldn’t help but notice how innocent she seemed with something so simple. Gods, he loved how she could find beauty in the most mundane of tasks.

“I was never allowed a warm bath.” Tavriel said after a long period of silence, her eyes flicking up to meet Astarion’s, “It was something that was only allowed for those he deemed to be worthy. For those that were perfect. I never quite lived up to his expectations, of course. So, as an alternative, I was always bathed with cold water from a bucket, scrubbed down with aggression from whatever goblin he’d smacked around that day. They always made it hurt.” A twinge of sadness hit her voice as she remembered the feeling of a scrub brush being forcibly raked across her body while splashed with the coldest possible water the goblins could find.

“Well, lucky for you my love, you’ll never have to worry about that again. I promise. Now come here and let me work my magic.” Without another word, Tavriel turned in her spot, her back facing Astarion as she inched closer to him so he could work on her embarrassingly messy hair. She felt her skin tingle under his touch as he undid the remnants of the braid that had managed to stay in tact, guiding her hair to fall down her back as he pulled the sections apart with a gentle hand. 

“Lean back, love,” Astarion said as he gently nudged Tavriel forward so she would have more room, “let’s see what I can do for that hair of yours.” Tavriel did was she was told, leaning backwards towards Astarion, her hands gripping the sides of the bath to keep from falling back completely. Astarion placed a hand at the base of her neck and gently guided her down, her head almost in his lap. Tavriel continued to recline until her hair was fully submerged in the steaming water, sighing as the water enveloped her scalp with a tingling warmth.

The wood-elf closed her eyes as she felt Astarion’s fingers begin to work through her hair, scratching lightly at her scalp and using the warmth of the water to ease any knots or tangles from her messy hair. Her skin tingled as she felt his fingers and palm run from the base of her skull and along her head, gently pulling away any obstacles that would keep him from smoothly sliding through her hair. Astarion urged her to sit back up, but kept her close for a better reach. She was nestled comfortably between his legs with each one resting on her sides. Once she was sitting, Astarion grabbed a small bottle from the table beside them, being mindful not to knock over her goblet of blood reserves. He silently poured a small amount of soap from the bottle into his hand, lathering it in his hands before running his soap covered fingers through Tavriel’s wet hair.

She inhaled the scent of the soap as he worked, enjoying the fragrant warmth of vanilla that was beginning to emerge and mix with the lavender scents coming from the bath. Tavriel felt her body relax the more he worked, enjoying the way his fingers worked through her hair. Astarion worked quickly, but diligently. Making sure he covered every bit of her head and scalp with a thick lather before pulling it down into the hair cascading down her back. He raked his fingers through her hair multiple times to ensure it was coated and cleaned. Once he was satisfied with his work, he twisted her still soapy hair into one long piece and wrapped it on itself until a makeshift bun was sitting high on her head.

“Now lean forward,” he said while gently pushing her shoulder to the front of the bath, “let this sit a while. Given enough time it should soften that gods-awful texture you have.”

“Oh, you mean the burlap?” She teased as she followed Astarion’s gentle nudges.

“The finest burlap, darling.” He responded, the statement following their earlier joke about the state of her hair.

Tavriel rested her arms along the front end of the tub, leaning forward to expose the whole of her back to Astarion, before placing her head on her forearms, finding a comfortable position. Astarion poured a few handfuls of the warm bath water across her back, making it wet so the soap could lather properly. As with her hair, he worked diligently as he softly glided the soapy sponge down Tavriel’s back, making sure to avoid irritating her inflamed scars. He worked from the base of her neck and along her spine until he reached the dimples of her lower back before making his way back up to repeat the process. He smiled to himself as he felt his companion melt into his touch, her eyes closing once again with a long, blissful sigh as she leaned heavily onto her arms. 

“You’ll have me spoiled before long, you know.” She said after a moment of silence, her eyes still closed. The vampire said nothing as he continued to work, happily washing away any dirt or sweat that had accumulated across her body during her fits of delirium. He moved meticulously across her back and along her sides, even up to her neck and across her shoulders, making sure to get every exposed bit of skin he could find. After he was satisfied with the amount of actual washing being done, Astarion tossed the sponge back into the water and ran his hands along her back, slow and steady as he worked his way down. He could feel several knots in her muscles, no doubt a stress response from earlier. 

With a gentle pressure, he pressed his thumbs along her spine and started moving in slow, deliberate circles. Tavriel let out a soft moan as he massaged along her back, her body releasing tension she wasn’t aware she had been holding onto. She leaned more heavily onto her arms, her mind finally beginning to let go of any hesitations and slip into the realm of bliss. She had never been touched in such a way and, as surprising as it may have been initially, she was quickly learning to enjoy it. It wasn’t a sexual touch, but was still intimate in a way that was comfortable for them both. Her eyes opened partially as she looked over her shoulder, offering a relaxed smile to her lover. Astarion returned the smile as he began to trace patterns into her back, following the freckles that dotted her skin. There was a look in Tavriel’s eyes that stirred something deep within him and wrapped around his heart. So many times he had been looked at with an overwhelming degree of lust and desire, but this was different. There was no lust in her gaze, only pure, genuine love.

As Astarion rinsed the soap from Tavriel’s back, he couldn’t help but linger on some of her more subtle scars. The marks on her shoulder blades were quite obvious, but only up close could he really see some of the others. Aside from the very obvious implications of having the elven word for “pet” branded into the skin on the back of her neck, he often wondered how she obtained the rest of the scars. Long marks that crossed across her back, presumably from a whip, were woven between small puncture wounds and other small gashes. His slender fingers lightly traced over some of the scars, taking mental notes about where they were and how they looked. They were not similar in any way to his own, but seeing her back littered with scarring only reminded him of the infernal contract carved into his own flesh.

“You can ask about them, if you want. The scars I mean,” Tavriel’s voice cut through his thoughts, “I know all about yours so it’s only fitting you know about mine. If you want, of course.” Astarion paused briefly, unsure if he should take her up on her offer, but ultimately agreed. Admittedly, he was curious about the different marks that had been left on her body.

“Tell me about these, if you would.” He said softly, his fingers still grazing the raised surface of the longest scar that ran across the length of her back.

“You can thank the goblins of the manor for those. Before I was Oaklarth’s personal pet, I was one of his many experiments. He was more hands off with that line of work, so to speak, so I was mostly seen by goblins and the occasional troll. Any ounce of insubordination was handled with an whip. Didn’t want to return to the cage? One lash. Refused a potion? Two lashes. Fought back? Ten lashes.” Tavriel said with her eyes still closed.

“And these?” Astarion asked as his fingers traced several puncture wounds, being mindful not to be too rough with them.

“I forget the specifics, but most of them just came from years of being poked and prodded. Some in the laboratory, some in Oaklarth’s bed chambers, some from our little adventure. Knives, needles, fire pokers. That sort of thing. Although, the one you have your finger on now came from our pain loving friend from the goblin camp near Emerald Grove.” Astarion let out a chuckle, remembering the Loviatar worshiper that Tavriel had willingly let get in a few blows for a blessing.

“Who could forget that, my dear? Honestly, just remembering your delicious blood trickling down is enough to get me all riled up.” Tavriel chuckled as he continued to thumb across the particular scar, remembering just how excited the vampire seemed to get in that small chamber. Astarion continued to trace along the lines of her various scars, applying a gentle touch to each he could find.

“What about this one?” Astarion carefully slid his hand below the surface of the water and around Tavriel’s sides, making his way towards the scar on her lower abdomen. Tavriel’s eyes snapped open as she felt his fingers carefully glide along the surface of the mark, her muscles twitching as the memories behind the scar flooded her mind. She hesitated briefly. That particular scar having been the most painful to receive.

“It’s no secret that I was Oaklarth’s favorite. I was always the one he chose to bed each night and do what he wanted. But, given the course of nature, bedding me had the potential of…risks.” She paused momentarily, trying to decide the most delicate way to word things, “Oaklarth wanted a lot of things. Money, power, influence, control over others. However, what he never wanted was offspring. Why bother being a father when you could just be a master to a number of slaves. So, to prevent an accident on one of his many long nights, he took care of that problem. He stripped me of my ability to bear children before he ever touched me. He never wanted the slim chance of that happening. Master would always say that carrying a child would taint me for him. The idea of it absolutely repulsed him.”

“What did, or do, you want?” He asked as he pulled his hand from her scar and returned it to her back. Astarion began tracing patterns among her freckles with a soft touch, hoping to ease at least some of the discomfort Tavriel was battling with.

“Meaning do I ever want a child?” Astarion nodded at her response, “Well, truth be told…I’m not sure. I don’t give it much thought, honestly. There’s really no point in wanting what you can’t have, no? Although, I have to admit, seeing those displaced children at Emerald Grove made the idea flit back into my mind for a while.” There was almost a sadness to her voice as she spoke.

“However,” she continued after a brief moment of silence. “the idea of being responsible of bringing a child into that world, his world, was repulsive to me as well. His other little experiments and I were put through enough so I don’t want to image what the poor soul of a child would endure. What he did, as painful as it was, was for the best. One sacrifice from me to save another was well worth that nightmare of an operation.”

“You weren’t conscious for that, were you?” Astarion asked as the meaning behind her words finally clicked. Surely she was sedated for an operation such as that? 

“Of course I was.” She said as she looked back at him, “You don’t think he was generous enough to make me sleep for it, do you? Oh no, he made sure that was a second punishment all by itself. Admittedly, it was fast, but it was brutal. The more I squirmed, the more jagged the cut was. His surgeon wasn’t exactly using the best medical equipment, so whatever knife he could find lying around was good enough for the job. A few minutes on a table, a couple of strokes with a dull knife, and enough potions and dark magic spells to keep from dying and it was all over.” She turned her head back to its previous position. She stared at the wall across from her as she remembered, but was still thankful that it wasn’t the memory that the mushrooms had conjured up for her. 

“But Oaklarth watched every second. He couldn’t afford room for mistakes, so he stood and watched to make sure it was all done correctly, or so he said. I think he watched because it excited him. The screams, the begging, the pleading…all of it just set him off. Coupled with the fact that he couldn’t touch me for at least a day only made it worse. He wanted to test to see if it was a success the next day, of course. Gods, he was relentless. Brutal, even.” Tavriel’s nails dug into the wooden slats of the tub, tears threatening to well in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, my love. Truly. If I could make them better, I would.” Astarion said as he placed a gentle kiss between her shoulder blades, his hands resting on her hips as he thumbs drew small circles in her soft skin, “Just don’t tell the others though, I’m not quite as fond of them as I am of you.”

“Damn,” she said with a feigned hurt, “and here I was planning on telling Gale that you were offering bath assistance. He’ll be disappointed, you know.” 

Astarion squeezed along her sides at her remarks, his fingertips lightly digging into the ticklish parts of her skin. She squealed quietly at the sensation, lifting herself up briefly to escape the wonderfully prickly sensation it brought. Astarion used this new position to pull her close to him until her back was pressed securely to his chest and her lower body was now seated fully between his legs. Tavriel’s head rested on his shoulder, being careful to not to coat the side of his face with the soap still soaking in her hair. She brought a hand up to lightly stroke his cheek as she looked at him, a small smile on her lips.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “for everything. I truly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be stuck with Gale, I’m afraid.” He said with a smile as his lightly kissed her fingertips. She gave a small snort and rolled her eyes before nestling her head back against Astarion’s shoulder, her eyes closing as she allowed the water to soak her tired bones.  

“May I ask you something?” Astarion asked against her ear after a long period of silence and was answered with a nod before continuing, “Your master was obsessed with perfection, was he not?”

“It’s what he lives by. Making sure everything and everyone is perfect in every way.” Tavriel said with almost a mocking tone, her lip snarling slightly before regaining her composure.

“Then why would he mark you in such ways? Surely he of all people would know that scarring a body is a slap in the face to the idea of perfection.” Realizing that his statement may be taken the wrong way, he quickly amended it by adding, “Although I do want to be clear that I don’t think less of you because of them. Simply a thought experiment.”

“Ah, see, that’s the trick. His idea of perfection is based just on that. His idea and not what is traditionally considered perfect or even the opinions of those around him. He scarred me the way he did because he felt that he was doing me a great service. My body was perfect because of what he did to it. I was born horrendously flawed and imperfect, but thanks to his most noble efforts, he saved me from a life of imperfection and inferiority and pulled me to the light of perfection in his image. He was still making adjustments up until the mind flayers snatched me up.” Her voice was laced with venom and rage as she spoke, her shoulders once again tensing at the thought. Astarion quickly began massaging at her shoulders, trying to break the tension building in her muscles and once again bring her into a relaxed state.

“A true believer that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, hm?” Astarion asked as Tavriel’s shoulders dropped once again and loosened at his efforts.

“Indeed.” She said softly before pausing for a moment, “What do you see?” Tavriel’s question was similar to the one Astarion had asked her weeks prior when she caught him trying to steal a look at his own reflection in a hand mirror. Astarion’s vampirism kept him from physically seeing his own reflection, but in a way Tavriel was limited in what she could see of herself. Sure, she could take a look at herself in a mirror or reflected in a body of water. But she couldn’t see how others saw her or how she was reflected in Astarion’s eyes. Her master had seen her as an object to be used. Her camp companions saw her as a strong friend. Halsin had seen her as a potential lover. But what did Astarion see? Her voice had grown soft as she spoke, almost afraid of knowing the answer.

“A goddess.” Astarion said as his hands slowly traveled back down her back. He wasn’t lying, even though Tavriel found the answer to be a little far fetched. Tavriel was of course littered with scars and other seemingly traditional imperfections, but that didn’t matter to the vampire. To him, she was the perfect embodiment of a goddess that deserved praise and worship at all times. She was beautiful, yes, but she was so much more than that. Despite her years of torture and torment, she still had a large heart. She truly cared for others and would go out of her way to help those in need. In the beginning, this behavior would set Astarion’s teeth on edge, but as they continued to travel together, it was one of the things he loved most about her.

It would have been so easy for Tavriel to leave him among the wreckage of the Nautiloid the day they crashed, but instead she took her chances on a complete stranger that had a tadpole shoved behind his eye. She could have, and probably should have, rammed a stake through his heart the night he first tried to take a bite from her neck, but instead she recognized his hunger and willingly offered him her neck to sate his hunger and had continually done so ever since. He also reasoned that she should have banished him from camp when she knew he had originally tried to seduce her merely for protection even though she had done the same to him. But Tavriel wasn’t like other people. She was different and unique with a heart of gold and the lips of an angel. 

“Now,” he said before Tavriel could properly react or respond, “let me rinse this out of your hair before you try to convince me that you are anything other than a deity in a mortal body. Head back, my sweet.”

Tavriel leaned back once again, letting her head almost land in Astarion’s lap as he supported her neck and lowered her into the water. She looked up at him and watched as he meticulously washed the soap from her hair, being mindful not to get soap or water in her eyes. He was gentle with his movements, once again scratching at her scalp and her head as the soap left her soaking hair. She watched the softness in his face as he worked, a side not often seen by others or herself. When he was finished and all soap had been removed, Tavriel sat up and ran her fingers through her silky soft hair, squeezing excess water from her coppery locks and, in the process, exposing her neck to Astarion. With her hair fully out of the way, his eyes scanned along her soft neck, drinking in the sight of his favorite part of her. In doing so, he noticed two small pinpricks along the side of her neck.

“Oh,” Astarion said with a bit of added flare, “it seems I missed one, darling.” He lightly traced over the fading puncture wounds to Tavriel’s neck; the evidence of his regular nighttime feeds.

“That one is the most mysterious,” Tavriel said, matching his theatrics, “I suppose I must have a nighttime visitor coming to me in my sleep.” She twirled a lock of wet hair between her fingers, enjoying the playful banter after a long few days of terror.

“A nighttime visitor? Feeding from our leader while she tries to rest after such a tiring day? How scandalous. I do wonder who it could be.” Astarion pressed his fingers to his chest in feigned surprised, his mouth twisting into a devilishly handsome smile. 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Tavriel peered over her shoulder to meet Astarion’s gaze, a rare flicker of playfulness glinted in her eyes, “care to voice your thoughts and opinions?”

“Well, then let’s go through our ranks. Surely we could snuff them out,” Astarion leaned back, resting his shoulders on the lip of the tub behind him, “and quite quickly we can eliminate a few of our companions.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Tavriel said as she spun in place to mirror the vampire across from her. She stretched her legs along his as she rested her back along the edge of the tub, sinking slightly so the warm water lapped at her collarbones. She couldn’t help but take a moment to revel in the feeling of the warmth of the water seeping into her bones. Halsin’s magic had healed her of her wounds, but the luxuriously warm and silky feeling from the bath was almost healing her spirit. The water seemed to eat away at any lingering effects of the mushrooms and quickly replaced them with a delicious, if not unfamiliar, warmth throughout her body. 

“They simply lack the proper equipment! Honestly, love, how do you expect someone with teeth as dull as Gale’s to pierce that lovely neck of yours?” He questioned as he picked up his goblet of blood, taking a long drink before placing it back down, “And with that same line of thought you can quickly get rid of Wyll and Shadowheart.”

“Do continue. You seem to have already figured out our little culprit.” Tavriel picked up the discarded sponge from the water, using it to wash down her arms and chest as she listened to Astarion’s justifications.

“Oh I do have my guesses. You see, they only leaves two companions who could fit the profile. And judging by your lack of scorch marks, I think we can rule out Karlach. Which of course only leaves one viable option. I never would have pegged you for being the type of person that would willingly let a githyanki warrior clamp down on your neck, but here we are.” Astarion waved his hands dramatically, the smile on his lips never leaving as he spoke. Gods she was so easy to banter with. She never hesitated to indulge his little fantasies of thought experiments or quick quips, no matter how taboo they may seem.

“You do have some fine detective skills, but I do believe you are wrong. You see, Lae’zel might have pointed teeth, but these obviously have been done by someone with just two very sharp fangs. Otherwise, I’d have rip and tear marks all over, wouldn’t you agree? And I’m thankful, quite honestly. I’m very happy to say that I quite enjoy how this little nighttime visitor treats me.” Tavriel said almost proudly.

“Enjoy? Darling I do believe we’ve found a secret little kink of yours.” He said with a playful wink and a nudge to her hip with his foot, only to be answered with a smile and a quick splash of water to the face.

“Oh, do get your mind out of the sewers for a moment. I’m quite fond of this particular visitor because he’s always so gentle. I never find myself waking up when he comes to visit, but I do always have the sweetest of dreams afterwards. There’s just something so…comforting about it.” Tavriel had a genuine smile on her lips as she recalled the feelings she would have when she would wake up to a fresh puncture wound. 

The other members of the camp would call it predatory, but she called it caring. Astarion always made it a point to not wake her when he would feed from her, not wanting to disturb her with his own sanguine hunger pains. He would also make sure to clean her up if there was any mess. Licking away excess blood if it had managed to drip to other places and always covering her back up in her bedroll had become routine by now. And admittedly, she had begun to miss it. Since being in the shadows, Astarion hadn’t fed from Tavriel. She always offered him a drink from the neck or even the wrist, but seeing just how poorly she was resting in the evenings, Astarion didn’t want to add to the exhaustion by drinking her blood. He would be more than willing to drink from his reserves until the business with the shadows was done and he had promised more than once to absolutely devour Tavriel once they returned to the sun.

“He? How can you be so certain?” Astarion sat up with his question, a coy smile on his face as he leaned towards Tavriel.

“Call it a hunch, I suppose.” Tavriel said as she leaned forwards as well, stopping a short distance from Astarion. They sat there in silence for a few moments as Astarion’s gaze focused on the bite marks. He did feel a twinge of guilt, despite the playful nature of the conversation. He’d left a mark on Tavriel from his own selfish need to feed from her supple neck. Gods knew she had more than enough scars littered across her body from her former master, so leaving one himself did make him slightly ill.

“I do apologize, love,” he said after breaking the silence, “I didn’t mean to add to your scars.” Truthfully, the bites marks had become barely visible by now. Unlike the ones on his own neck, these were never permanent. Given there were a few days between feedings, the fang indentations were always gone by the next time Astarion would drink from Tavriel. 

“Don’t apologize, Astarion, please.” Tavriel reclined once again against the edge of the bath, “I’ll have you know I’m actually quite fond of this little mark.”

“Fond? Of me leaving a scar on your flesh? Come off it, Tav. How is that any different from what your master would do?” The vampire waved his hand in the air again, his lip curled into a grimace.

“It will heal with time, but to answer your question, yes. It’s special to me, if you must know. Every other scar on my body was placed there against my will purely to inflict pain; to remind me of my worst days and most awful memories. And unfortunately when I look at my scars I remember exactly how I got them. I remember what it felt like. I remember the agony they caused and the sadistic joy they brought my master. I hate them, but they are a part of me that won’t go away. I can’t ignore them, but I want to hide them when I can.” Tavriel studied Astarion’s face, searching for any indication that her words were easing his doubts, but was only answered with a look of self disgust. 

“This one, on the other hand, is completely different.” She continued softly, “They weren’t placed there to cause harm, but to serve a meaningful purpose. They were placed there because I allowed it. I consented to it. And when I look at the marks I’m not reminded of the horrible master I once had. I’m reminded of you. And, believe it or not, I rather enjoy thinking about you.”

“Why?” Astarion said, almost in disbelief, “Not that I’m not flattered, my sweet, but surely there are better people to think about.”

“I’m sorry?” Tavriel cocked her head and furred her brow, not understanding where the sudden change in mood was coming from. The light and joking banter they were just sharing had quickly cooled and turned more serious. Astarion’s demeanor seemed to change on a dime. 

“Halsin told me about his proposition to you,” Astarion said with a small sigh, “while we were out looking for supplies to heal you. He told me how he had asked if you would be willing to share yourself, so to speak. He also extended the offer to me, but I have to say I declined. I’m just…not ready for something like that. I don’t think I can be. Not after Cazador.” Astarion’s voice had gone soft, the horrid memories of being with so many people quickly ripping through his mind.

“And did he tell you that I had not given him an answer at the time? That, as far as I’m aware, I hadn’t given him any inclination that I wanted to indulge in that proposition?” Tavriel sat up, concern now forming across her brow.

“He did,” Astarion admitted as he rolled his shoulders to try and shake some of the tension that had started to settling, “but honestly, darling, if you wish to indulge in Halsin I won’t be here to stop you. Although it’s not my preference, I wouldn’t want to keep you from a glimmer of happiness in this dark-”

“I turned him down, Astarion.” Tavriel cut him off, not wanting him to start spiraling into a monologue that would only hurt both of their feelings, “Just now, I mean. I couldn’t before. I told him that I was flattered, but I was not looking for anything else. There’s no hard feelings from either side, but rest assured that I turned Halsin down.” She spoke clearly and sincerely, maintaining eye contact with the stunned vampire sitting across from her.

“Why would you?” Astarion asked with a chuckle, almost trying to justify to the both of them that Halsin was the better choice, “Darling, I’ve had more than my fair share of lovers and that’s certainly left its mark. Certain things have been spoiled and tainted for me to the point where I’m not sure they’ll ever be considered normal. You deserve someone who can suit all of your needs.”

“And who’s to say that you yourself aren’t meeting my needs?” She asked with another turn of her head, her brows knitting together more closely as he spoke. The way he carried on made a pit settle in her stomach. Was he just self doubting? Or was he actually trying to find a way out of their relationship before things got too carried away? Either way, it was unsettling. 

“I know it’s not on the forefront of your mind now, but given enough time you’ll want someone who can make you feel alive again. You certainly can’t do that with someone who lacks a function heart, let alone someone who brings as much baggage as I do. You deserve a strong, beating heart. One that doesn’t freeze when it feels a caress or sees lustful eyes from a stranger. You deserve someone that can show you everything the world had to offer without the limitations I’ll once again have after our little friends in the brain are dealt with. And, quite frankly, you deserve someone that can take you to bed and show you what genuine, untainted love should feel like. You should be able to experience pleasure and passion from someone who has a much deeper well to dwell from than I do, my dear. So, please, tell me why in gods name you would willingly turn down a person like Halsin.”

Tavriel almost lunged forward, water splashing over the side of the bath with her movements. Without hesitation, she seated herself in Astarion’s lap, each of her legs straddling his own as she took his face in her hands. She gripped closer to the side of his head, rather than his cheeks. Her thumbs rested by his ear, allowing her to stroke his ear lobes softly. Tavriel maintained eye contact as she spoke, displaying just how serious she was about to be.

“Because I don’t want that,” she said firmly, “I never have. Please believe me when I say that I don’t want Halsin as a lover. Don’t get me wrong, I greatly appreciate him as a friend and an ally. There are things I simply don’t understand as an elf. I want the connection that my people have been gifted for centuries, but has been stripped from me. Halsin just happens to be the best person out there that can help me reconnect, but I want nothing more than that. We can talk freely about things, but that doesn’t mean I want to bed him.” 

Despite the grip to Astarion’s upper cheeks being firm, she held no malice in her touch, hoping that a tight grip would be able to get through to him the sincerity in her words. Her eyes bore into his, her gaze never wavering as she spoke. There was still a twinge of uncertainty in Astarion’s eyes. He struggled to wrap his mind around the idea of someone like Tavriel not wanting a chance to jump at Halsin. They had a connection, no doubt, and too many similarities in ideals to make him feel comfortable with her statements. Not that he distrusted her, but more so distrusted himself. Two centuries under Cazador always made Astarion question his self worth. Tavriel picked up on this uncertainty almost instantly. 

With this, Tavriel adjusted her position. Instead of sitting in Astarion’s lap, she pulled her legs underneath her and rose to her knees, her legs still straddling his waist, until she was sitting higher than he was. Astarion’s gaze followed her as she rose slightly until he was looking up at her, his hands finding her waist to keep her stable in her new position. The soft glow from the candles illuminated her above him, gracing her head with a glowing halo of light and warmth. From this position, she truly did embody the vision of a goddess.

“Not only that, but I don’t want anyone else. And I certainly don’t wish to share. I want you. To be with you and only you. If you’ll have me, of course.” Her voice softened with her last words, now almost unsure of his feelings towards her as she finally tore down her own walls and let the vampire have a glimpse at the feelings she held close to her tender heart.

“When I’m with you I feel safe. I feel loved. Those are feelings I’ve wanted to experience my entire life and I’ve always had them ripped away. But you have gifted them to me over and over again and I never want to stop experiencing the sensation that brings me. Sometimes I don’t know how to express those feelings, but gods do I live them every day,” a small smile graced her lips as she spoke.

“I’ve never had a home, but with you I have one; a safe and loving home. I’ve spent so long in the darkness, alone and afraid, and you’ve managed to pull me out of that darkness. I’ve been lost for so long and yet you found me. You called to me. You have guided me to a life I’ve always dreamed of and I cannot express how much you’ve saved me. You are a beacon of light, Astarion.” As much as he loved the words he was hearing, Astarion couldn’t help but sigh. He knew Tavriel well enough to know she was telling the truth, but he also couldn’t accept that fact that she would actually be happy with him in the long term. If the shadows at present were any indication, she certainly wouldn’t he happy living by moonlight for the next few centuries.

“Darling, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you and I both know that my days in the sun are gone the moment we finally rid ourselves of these tadpoles. If you choose to spend your life with me then you’re dooming yourself to spend your newly found freedom in nothing but darkness. Living your days hiding from the sun and dwelling in any shadow you can find. Surely you know that. I don’t want to see you throwing your life away for someone who can’t even show you all the light our sun has to offer.” There was sorrow in his words. He had been hoping that Tavriel had felt this way towards him for a while now and he was basking in the glow of her praises as she spoke, but he also felt like he was about to throw all of it away with his response. But, he had to face the truth. He would never be able to provide her with a lifetime of warmth and light if he remained a spawn for eternity.

“I’m not talking about the sun, Astarion,” she said as she shook her head, softly tightening the grip on Astarion’s cheeks as she continued, “I’m talking about you. You are the light that broke through the shadows of my mind, not the sun. When I am with you, I am bathed in that beautiful, shining light and there is no darkness. I never want to leave that warmth for the rest of my life, however long that may be, sun be damned.”

Astarion had trouble believing that Tavriel would truly be okay with staying to the shadows. Hells, she could barely survive the Shadow Cursed Lands without turning into a fear filled mess. She needed the sun as much as she needed air in her lungs. Her own lifetime of being doomed to dark and gloomy confinement would only be continued if she stayed with him. She would never be caged, but eventually the shadows would cage her. He knew she would miss the sun as much as he would, but he couldn’t bring himself to maintain the selfish desire to keep her in the shadows. His inner monologue was convinced; She deserved warmth and safety and the sun and everything he couldn’t offer her. He, on the other hand, didn’t deserve her.

“Tavriel, you’re not listening. You need-” Astarion began to speak but was quickly cut off by Tavriel. She didn’t want to hear his justifications for why she needed Halsin. She just wanted him to listen and accept the truth in her words. 

“No, Astarion, you’re the one who isn’t listening. I don’t give a damn about what people think I need. This is about what I want. The only thing I need in life is food in my stomach and air in my lungs, but what I want is to surround myself in things and in people that make me happy. I’ve been denied that my entire life.” Her eyes were beginning to tear and her bottom lip quivered. Gods, why was he so stubborn? 

“For Every. Waking. Moment. Of my life I prayed for the gods to take me away,” her voice was almost a whine as she caught a sob in her throat, “to finally let me die and escape the hell I was living. But in all those years, they never answered me. They abandoned me and left me to rot in a cage. I know why now, though. I don’t have much faith in the gods, but I do feel so strongly that they brought us together at the right time. They finally listened, to both of us, if I’m being honest, even if it’s not the way I had expected.”

She paused for a moment as she tried to steady herself. This was too important of a conversation for her voice to start cracking and turn into a blubbering mess. She’d done enough sobbing in her life and it was time now for her to be assertive in what she spoke. Tavriel used one hand to gently brush a few stray locks of Astarion’s hair out of the way. Over the course of their conversation, they had fallen due the moisture in the air and had partially obscured his line of sight. She tucked them back into place, dipping her hand back into the water before running wet fingers through his hair, hoping the dampness of her fingers would be enough to secure them in place. She wanted him to see her clearly. 

“I’ve never been afraid of dying, in fact I’ve always welcomed it with open arms,” Tavriel said as she regained her composure “but I’m afraid now, terrified even. I’ve stopped begging for death. I haven’t muttered a single prayer since meeting you. For the first time in my life, I’m afraid to die because I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose us. I don’t want to lose you. You are many things to many different people, Astarion, but to me you are my hope and my happiness. You are my home. You are my sun. But more importantly, and above all else, you are my love.” Without another word, Tavriel leaned forward and captured his lips with hers, lingering for some time. 

Tavriel would typically only give a quick, single kiss before pulling away, sometimes unsure of how long she should stay. But with this, the uncertainty was nowhere to be seen and she had never been more sure of anything in her life. She held the kiss, savoring the feeling, before finally pulling away for a quick breath before kissing Astarion again. She repeated this as he felt her kiss her back, losing her willpower to the new feelings creeping into her heart. There was a hunger in her movements and it could only be satisfied by him.

Astarion could swear he could feel his cold, dead heart beat out of his chest with her words and the feeling of her lips on his. His grip on her hips tightened as he pulled her back down until she rested in his lap and he soaked in her praises and her confession. Gods how he had waited to hear those words come from her lips. They kept swirling in his head the more he kissed her and felt her hands in his hair. My love. 

“Gods above,” he whined, “call me that again.” Tavriel had never called him anything other than his name before. She was never too sentimental with pet names and even though he frequently called her the same, there was something much different and much more intimate when the words came from her lips. He ached to hear them again as the gentle warmth he had previously felt was turning into a much stronger burn. 

“Of course, my love,” she whispered against his lips, “whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want? If I remember correctly, darling, I believe you said I would be offered a reward for all my hard work,” he kissed down her neck until he reached the hollows of her clavicles, leaving wet marks along his path, “and I’ve come to collect.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Tavriel said with a smile as her fingers lightly raked down his neck and onto his chest as an unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, heat traveled to her core and coiled deliciously at his touch and words, “You are free to take whatever you want.”

“You,” he rasped against her, “I just want you.” Astarion’s breath tickled the most sensitive parts of Tavriel’s neck as he spoke. The very tips of her pointed ears had turned a wonderfully bright shade of pink and it was slowly spreading down the outer shell and creeping onto her cheeks. 

“Then I’m all yours, my love.” Without needing another invitation, Astarion held Tavriel close to his chest as he lunged them both forward until Tavriel’s back was pressed firmly, but comfortably, against the wall of the tub. A large amount of the cooling water splashed from the side of the bath, soaking the floor beneath them with a loud crash. Not that either of them cared, of course. They were too lost in each other to worry about mopping up spilled bath water. Once they finished exploring each others’ bodies through kissing or biting or even lightly scratching and after the sounds of their gasps and moans finally quieted down, the spilled water would be a problem for later.

“You don’t know just how perfect you truly are, my darling.” Astarion said as he kissed along her jaw and continued upwards until he reached her ear as his free hand traveled along the length of her spine and around to her front, dipping under the water as he went. The dulled edges of his front teeth nibbled at her earlobe in time with his nimble fingers gently slipping into her throbbing core, causing Tavriel to lean her head back with a soft moan.

************************************************************************************

Astarion sighed contently as he felt the gentle, slow caress of Tavriel’s finger run over his forehead and down the bridge of his nose over and over again, the sensation feeling soothing after a long night of indulgence in the bath. After they had finished in the washroom, both elves had slipped away into their shared room to spend the rest of the night simply enjoying the company of the other. Astarion’s arms were wrapped around Tavriel, her own cradled his head and ran gentle touches along his face neck, and arms. The vampire held his head to her chest, listening to the soothing rhythm of her heart beat in time with her breathing. It was a soothing sound and, after the exertion from earlier, Astarion found himself more than ready to slip off into a peaceful trance as his love held onto him dearly.

Tavriel also found herself being overcome with exhaustion. The two days she spent unconscious from the effect of the mushroom antidote didn’t really allow her to sleep. Instead, she spent two days in a trance like state until the sound of Astarion’s voice pulled her from her never ending nightmare. However, now that she was safe and being embraced by her darling vampire, sleep was coming quickly to the wood-elf. Her finger traces were becoming slower the longer she went, her eyes becoming heavy with each passing moment.

“Rest, love,” Astarion whispered to the crook of her neck, “we have plenty more nights like this ahead of us.” Tavriel simply hummed a response, not having enough energy to properly respond. Astarion settled against her, inhaling the scent of the lavender bath salts mixing with her own natural scent as he fully relaxed for the first time in ages.

He knew they would soon rise and face another day under the Shadow Curse, but for now, while the inn was silent and his companions slept in their beds, Astarion granted himself the luxury of dreaming. The previous thoughts of being unsure of how Tavriel wanted to proceed together were slowly being erased from memory and quickly replaced with new, more optimistic thoughts. Once this business with the tadpoles was finished, perhaps they could stay together and continue with their lives intertwined with the other. Slowly building trust and love between themselves and reach the absolute bliss and happiness that both had been denied for so, so many years.

Perhaps they could travel the world, Faerûn was large after all, and see everything they could ever hope to see, even in darkness. It would be delightful to see the grandest cities that offered wealth and opulence, indulging on the finest wines and cheeses and occasionally lightening the pockets of a mouthy noble that crossed their path. Or, in spells where the finer things were hard to come by, they could even take haven in small cozy towns tasting fresh fruits and pastries, maybe even help the weary on the streets. All to end their day by finding a room to rent for the night to rest their tired bodies. And once they’d had their fill of a city, they’d find themselves waltzing through the vast country side while roughing it on a bedroll and a camp fire, collecting and observing the natural world and everything it could offer. Tavriel would have the chance to reconnect with nature, learning everything she had been denied the entirety of her life, and he could be there to watch her discover new and exciting things he would typically find mundane all while free from the fear of his old master.

Now, of course, they could also dabble in the occasional hero work. Flitting from city to city would of course open up every opportunity to stumble into their next great adventure. Surely there would be someone somewhere that could use their expertise in monster hunting or cult busting, they were experts by this point. There would always be people to save, children to rescue, villains to squash for good all while being praised for their hard work and courageous sacrifices. Tavriel could simply relish in the chance to help others in need, and Astarion too, as long as there was a solid pat on his back from those he had saved and a thankful smile from his lover.

However, over time they would of course tire. Hero work and debauchery would be exhausting and they would need time to simply rest and relax, especially after their work with The Absolute was finished, and spending all of their hard earned coin on tavern rooms simply wasn’t practical. He imagined they could find some old, run down and abandoned cottage in the middle of some plot of forest that they could take for themselves. Spend the first few months fixing it up by fixing floor boards, a fresh coat of paint, and new curtains and linens. Tavriel could perhaps spend the mornings making a garden, letting her develop a green thumb while Astarion stayed inside and decorated their little home so it would be warm and inviting. But of course spend the nights together, cuddled in a warm, shared bed doing whatever the hells they wanted ranging from late night feedings in the comfort of silk sheets to throwing those same sheets aside in a night of passionate love making. 

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, my love.” Tavriel hummed softly, sleep not far from taking her. Astarion had started peppering her neck with feather light kisses with each new thought, as if to cement his dreams with her into their future together. 

“I’m dreaming, darling.” He said softly into her neck, planting another soft, lingering kiss into the hollow of her collar bone. Tavriel smiled briefly, the curl of her lips fading ever so slightly as she finally slipped into a peaceful slumber while continuing to embrace the vampire. With a contented sigh into the crook of her neck, Astarion tightened his grip around Tavriel, before finally allowing his own eyes to close and slip into the veil of slumber. Whatever route they ended up choosing, Astarion would be over the moon with happiness. Anything that involved more tender, genuine moments between Tavriel and himself would be worth whatever they decided upon. As long as they were together, he didn’t care what they did. With her he was safe. He was loved. He was home. 

Tag List:

@meganwritesfanfics

[nicosraf]

Hey Rafa!!! Will God still be a character that we hear speak throughout a&m? Your depiction of Him is both terrifying and Almighty— and its so refreshing to see the way you approach His Omniscience. Especially because I often felt (growing up) both a fear and awe at the way God is written in The Scriptures. I really enjoy that you write him the way that you do.

I wonder how strained His relationship is to the angels in Heaven after Lucifer’s debacle. I’m particularly interested in how Michael handles his faith, and how this is reflected in his servitude towards God. Poor fellow </3.

Also— one more thing I wanted to add while I’m here. One of my favorite books is George Orwell’s 1984, because of the intense themes of personal identity, free will, and self expression in the face of totalitarianism. Reading your book was so cathartic in the way that it had a lot of overlap in these themes but on a religious level…. And as a queer narrative. Let me just tell you I was SHOOK. How you disguised a hauntingly bleak Orwellian plot with so much beautiful prose is honestly beyond me. I highly doubt I will ever write anything as incredible as what I’ve read from abm. I’m honestly so surprised you don’t have like. A million followers!!!

Hello! Of course! I love writing God, like genuinely I do. I feel really similarly that the God of the Bible really horrified me, but in some kind of awe-inspiring way – especially because, to me, a lot of the horror comes from God's omnipotent nature; he can do whatever he likes, and there is nothing you can do. I'm really glad some of that comes through in ABM itself!

There are less scenes with God being actively there in A&M given that most of the story takes place on Earth, but he's still very present. He's the one giving out orders, though Samyaza and Azazel might not understand what he's really up to. Coming up for a motivation for God for this book was incredibly fun.

I think one of the big "issues" with writing God is that since he knows everything, you have to give him a reason to allow for everything. (I do play around a little with the question of whether he really does know everything, whether he really is all-powerful, but I think regardless of the answer, he still knows much more than you/angels and has so much more power that he may as well be all-knowing and all-powerful). So, God is going to allow the Watcher thing to happen. But why? What is his end goal? Maybe, who is his end goal?

I love Michael in this book. His faith is strained but it's the only thing he has. It's like he's holding onto old ropes over a pit of fire. In simple words, the Michael of ABM is dead – the sweetheart, doting Michael. You might find him unrecognizable, at least initially. I don't want to say much, but he's gone through quite a bit — the immediate aftermath of ABM's ending and what God does with him afterward. He's changed really radically from who he was, but so has Lucifer, of course.

It's fun that you bring up 1984 and totalitarianism, since I get to touch on what becomes of angel society after the fall. This isn't a spoiler because it'll be on the back of A&M, but Heaven becomes oppressive and intolerant. In the aftermath of sin, the angels have to reckon with the now eternal threat of evil in society. How will they deal with this fear? Who will they blame?

I always think ABM Heaven is more of a Brave New World of dystopia fiction; they both even have an orgy at the end (both books involve sex/sexuality as a means of control for the authoritarian power, though so does 1984). The ABM angels love their servitude. When they revolt, it's not out of this feeling that they're all secretly being heavily oppressed. I mean, they have everything. They live in paradise. When Lucifer shouts about how they don't need God and how God is denying them certain love, they go ballistic. It's almost a spoiled rebellion – at least on the surface it is, but as the reader knows, there is something deeply sinister about God, his behavior, and what he's already done. And angels needed a release for grievances, their long, meaningless existence, etc

I think A&M gives me a little more room to work with a more 1984 type of angel society, but themes of hyper-centralized power and limits of self-expression are already there. I actually love to write about fascism sksksjd, nearly all of my WIPs talk about fascism. Even the final Angels book is (planned) to say a couple things about it pretty explicitly, if I can make it not sound silly. You know, one of my personal grievances with these famous utopia-dystopia books is that they're not gay! Not trans! Almost always white. Queers are policed because of their self-expression (limp wrists, deep or high-pitched voices, gender deviance) and sexual activity; you'd think queerness, at the very least, would be at the forefront of considering the policing of identity and self expression in totalitarianism. And yet !

(One final point on Brave New World and 1984 is that they both have their own takes on religion. BNW replaces Christianity with capitalism; 1984 basically replaces Christianity with the leader of the party. I think these are both good takes for their respective books, but Abrahamic religions (really, most monotheistic religions) are unique in that they introduce the idea of a single all-powerful ruler whose sin is, quite literally, "don't do what I tell you not to."

God can kill, after all, so killing is fine, but only when he does it. Only he is allowed to be violent, or when you have his blessing. I can go on another tangent here on how Max Weber defines a state as having the monopoly on violence, and God, explicitly, has the monopoly on violence. So there's a really parallel allusion between the Christian God and states. It's interesting, isn't it !)

ANYWAY, thank you very much for liking ABM! I would take it down, frankly, if I got that many followers. That would be way too many people looking at me. Also don't say that you'll never write anything incredible. I think that you will, but you won't with that attitude!!!!! Good luck writing !!! sending u love and all

[imliterallymoon]

Ok! Season 2 done! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. Like. I was expecting maybe some LIGHT lore with some more of the smaller connections being made but NOPE. And so, as per request, here is yet another summary (also be prepared for the theories I'm about to come up with. I'm THINKING)

-I want to live in pensiltucky

-okokokok TUNNELS

-oh Jon you IDIOT

-ok were getting a bit smarter

-Nevermind. We're stupid again

-other episodes: genuine, terrifying horror that have kept me up at night

Grifters bone: haha music so bad ears go BOOM!

-gonna be honest I don't understand ANY of this sectioned shit but like good for you man

-ooh tapes

-GERTRUDE

-Why mosquitos? Just why?

-ITS THE BOOK!

-lightning dudeee.

-ok this site some backrooms type shit

-LIGHTNING DUDE!

-bro lightning dude's my new favorite character

-ITS LIGHTNING DUDE!

-omfgomfgomfg THE DOOR. WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT DOOR.

-ok so MAYBE lightning dude isn't the best but he's still cool

-micheal IS a name, you are correct

-but is it YOUR name?

-and that's why we don't go to Italy, folks!

-what. the. fuck.

-It's JERED. AGAIN??

-why is there a pit?

-ooh, architecture:)

-oh God I hate the ocean

-WHAT IS IT WITH THiS SIMON GUY??

-'the hot one' I FUCKING CAN'T

-I still can't get over the fact that Tim thought they were together like DUDE they are both SO GAY

-let it be known that I saw 2 peices of cute jonmartin fanart and that combined with the beginning Rivalry dynamic has made them my otp

-and the heart to heart, that was ADORABLE

-Like listen, Jon is hot as fuck. But I'm no homewrecker

-also I saw someone say that there was LGBT romance so I am HOPEFUL

-ok so dude just CASUALLY FOUND THE LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRIA AND WAITED UNTIL HE WAS ABOUT TO DIE TO SAY SHIT????

-mood.

-god, more worms? Really?

-okok so there's astronauts now

-that's INTERESTING

-EVEN MORE CANNIBALISM

-don't we love sentient computers? Of course we do!

-oh this is some Coraline shit

-OH THIS IS SOME CORALINE SHIT

-JON THIS SOUNDS AN AWFUL LOT LIKE A SUICIDE NOTE

-JON???

-see this availability of axes is what caused that whole new ordeal

-okok at least Tim has some common sense here

- it's a first but we'll take it

-LIGHTNING GUY!

-oh lightning guy D:

-OKOKOKK

-WHATTHEFUCK

-JURGEN LIGHTNER?

-GODS???

-ELIAS????

-remember kids, smoking kills :,)

In conclusion:AAAAFJDJdajsrifsigcfskysUPFPUFDPYDPYFFFTGIG9YD85DT8T8SDT9D9TDYOYTFCYOYF

[monterraverde]

The entire trek through the Cave of origin has her thinking about that very concept- Her origin point.

It's not where she was born or the circumstances she found herself in. It started with Antonio, yes, It started with being the only one that stood between her family and further pain and suffering- But all Antonio did was create an angry and feral child with far too much knowledge on how to survive, one who became so in tune with the earth that she embraced its ferocity and turned it against any who got in her way.

He created a dragon, and It was Hassel who molded it into a trainer.

Where she is now is thanks to him, the man who managed to see past all the anger and reckless behavior and was able to penetrate the walls she threw up to stop him. He gave her a constructive outlet to work out all her issues by training her with his dragons- Pokemon more then capable of keeping up with her wild spirit and keep her out of danger to boot.

It was only a year out of graduation, but it was enough.

She could never thank him more, and yet to this day she still feels bad about the hell she put him through. One he smiled through, despite everything.

The thoughts shaken from her mind as the rumbling finally reached her ears, like something reaching through the veil and latching right onto her mind.

"Ⲩⲟⳙ ⲏⲁⳳⲉ ⲕⲉⳏⲧ ⲙⲉ ⲱⲁⳕⲧⳕⲛⳋ ⳑⲟⲛⳋ ⲉⲛⲟⳙⳋⲏ"

A voice, deep and titanic, speaking with an anger of someone who had been left waiting for many, many years.

"ƑιηαƖƖу. ƑιηαƖƖу уσυ αηѕωєя му cαƖƖ."

Red's hearing something too, and the both of them RUN ahead of the group... Into a gargantuan antechamber at the bottom of the Cave of Origin, where three colossal pokemon resided, sitting in their respective pools.

Kyogre, in a deep, crystal blue pool.

Groudon, in a bit of scorching sand.

and Rayquaza, sitting almost upon an altar at the head of the room.

Red immediately dives into the pool with the whale, and after paying proper respect to Rayquaza, Rika rushes over to the sand pit with Giovanni following in her step.

The great embodiment of the earths will slowly rose its head out of the sand, its face alone towering over them like a skyscraper. Despite being frozen with awe and reverence, she finally moves, finding herself drawn to it. She removes her shoes, and walks barefoot onto the sand- Sand that to anyone else radiated with the blistering heat of a desert, sand that would instantly burn a normal fool who dared to touch it, and yet she seemed to walk upon it just fine.

Her connection to the earth has never been stronger then it was in this moment...

"I came as soon as I heard it..." It's almost apologetic, but the god rumbles in response. He is not nearly as patient as his counterpart, and he regards her with purpose.

"ωє ωɪƖƖ ѕєᴛᴛƖє ᴛʜɪѕ. ʜєяє αηɗ ηᴏω. ᴛʜɪѕ ʙαᴛᴛƖє єηɗѕ ɪη яɪᴛᴜαƖ ᴄᴏຕʙαᴛ. ғɪɢʜᴛ, ຕу ᴄʜαຕᴘɪᴏη, αηɗ ɗᴏ ηᴏᴛ ʜᴏƖɗ ʙαᴄᴋ, ѕʜᴏω ᴛʜєຕ ᴛʜє ғєяᴏᴄɪᴛу ᴏғ ᴛʜє єαяᴛʜ."

There's a pulse that washes over her, and it seems like Giovanni and the older woman, Rune, heard a similar voice speaking to them. A feeling of an earthquake in her very soul followed, accompanied by an intense warmth, and the sound of a beasts heartbeat in her ears.

Red lines run up and around her body in geometric patterns, heading for her heart, and disappear just as quickly as the coalesce in her chest in a concentrated red orb, which vanishes from sight, but is still very much present.

And there's power, SO MUCH power... It thrums in her ears and makes her hands tremble, to the point she throws them down and widens her stance in the sand as she SCREAMS in something close to agony and frustration- but filled with acceptance.

It's terrifying.

[pinkseas]

wondering how c!karl would feel if he were to remember quackity. wondering about everything coming back in bits and pieces as he learns more and more about the inbetween and other side and how to split his time between them.

at first there’s unease and a vague sense of horror because why is he remembering such sweet, loving moments with his murderer? and then he’s angrier (more afraid) than ever before because things were good. he has such incredible memories with quackity and quackity still somehow turned around and killed him, what the fuck? but the more that come back the less certain he is of that. because all of them are good. there are so many, coming back piece by piece, and only the memory of his death stands out as something truly awful. he stops being mad that quackity would betray him like that and starts wondering why.

and then one day he remembers agreeing to it, remembers the plan. quackity murdering him slots seamlessly into place with the context behind it and it’s terrifying because it makes perfect sense. he can remember the terror associated with seeing quackity that day and his murder but he cant feel it anymore. of course quackity killed him. that was the plan. they all agreed on it. hell, quackity was the one who was most vocally against it happening.

it still doesnt add up. because if they were engaged and things were so good and quackity didnt betray him, why arent they together? why isnt quackity in kinoko? what drove them apart, what has he still forgotten? he remembers building kinoko. he remembers planning to invite sapnap and george and quackity. he remembers weeks and then months spent with only one half of his heart.

no matter how much time goes by, he does not remember inviting quackity to kinoko. the pit in his stomach grows, and grows, and grows.

[violet-lazer]

Terzo x angel GN reader?? You can do fluff or nsfw.. or angst 😊 soo basically its like where young terzo (mid 20s) is walking through the forest trying to relax but he is on guard bcuz he sensed that someone is following him, when the reader let their guards down expecting that he won’t notice them, Terzo suddenly turns around and catches the reader, he then asks them why they were following him then the reader explains smth like “i was sent to spy on you etc etc” because you know… terzo is trying to spread the word of satanism ☺️ tyy (also i am sorry if there is any spelling mistakes, English isn’t my first language 😅)

Well, you could mark today down as the day you stopped putting your name down for overtime. You suppose it was a little optimistic of you to think you might be handed a nice, easy guard shift at the Gates. Instead, you’ve been saddled with a recon job that sees you traipsing through an unidentified forest in Europe following some small-time Cardinal from the local branch of Satanic Church as he winds his way through the trees at a leisurely pace. You sigh. It’s been fifteen minutes and he hasn’t given the slightest indication that he suspects he’s being pursued. That’s poor situational awareness in action. 

Still, you suppose, casting your gaze to the treetops, it is quite nice to look upwards for a change. You’ve not had an Earth-side job for a while, and you did have a certain fondness for humans. Maybe not the one in front of you though. Where is he going? Hm. Probably looking for some poor defenceless animal to slaughter for some unholy sacrament. You suppose that’s a typical Satanist activity. Goat rituals and stuff. Seems messy.

Well, he should get a move on because you're starting to get bored. Management might be concerned about the rise in Satanic activity in this little corner of the globe but at present you can’t say you’re particularly overcome with demonic energy. You sigh a bit louder.

The Cardinal stops. You stop. He turns around.

“You are not very sneaky.”

Ah, shit. Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. In your mind you can see the mission briefing that clearly said “DO NOT ENGAGE” and you can also see your boss rubbing his brow in exasperation. Never mind.

“Excuse me?” you say.

The Cardinal takes a step towards you, regarding you with interest.

“I am saying, you are not very sneaky. Why are you following me?”

You meet his gaze and have a proper look at him. If you had to guess you’d place him as mid-twenties, with a handsome face and confident posture. The black robe suits him quite well, if you’re into that sort of thing. One of his black-rimmed eyes is white. Ah. The Mark. So he’s no mere pretender or half-committed preacher. Chosen by the Devil himself. 

He furrows his brow, craning his head to take you in. Those who have been truly touched by Lucifer can sense the presence of the celestial, just as from this distance you can feel the faint prickle of an unholy aura emanating from him. The edge of the pit. Black claws reaching for the back of your neck.

“Oh,” he breathes. “You are from upstairs.”

“Took you long enough,” you bristle. You’re sensing a great deal of interest but a distinct lack of awe. If you’re going to botch the job you may as well terrify a mortal, but things aren’t looking particularly good on that front either.

“I wasn’t sure, but-” he’s approaching you, pausing mere steps away, eyes wandering over you- “I can smell the self-righteousness on you.”

You fold your arms. This is not the way this encounter should be progressing.

“You could have the decency to sound a bit awed,” you say. “I want to make sure you know what’s happening here- you’re talking to an angel.”

It’s considered a bit of a faux pas to let on that you’re an otherworldly being in casual conversation with mortals, even those marked by the Devil, but this man’s absolute lack of intimidation is annoying the piss out of you.

“Mm,” he says, still looking you over. “Where are your wings?”

Lord above.

“Considering I’m supposed to be passing as a human, I would be a bit shit at my job if I had my wings out,” you say. Your patience is gone. Now, you could cast off your glamour, do the dramatic wing reveal that’s been frightening mortals the world over since the olden times, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting what he’s asked for.

The Cardinal tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Are you allowed to swear?”

You squint at him. “Yes. We’re allowed to swear.” “Fascinating. Well, it seems you are shit at your job regardless, as I have rumbled you. Why are you following me? Have I caught the attention of someone up on high?” “That’s none of your business.” He laughs. “Are you trying to recruit me?” 

It’s your turn to scoff. You shake your head. “No, I think you might be a bit too far gone. Sorry.”

“That is a shame. Well…”

Leaning towards you, he fixes you with an inquisitive gaze, white eye boring into yours. “Are you interested in being corrupted?”

The forest around you seems to still as you become increasingly aware of your own heartbeat, birdsong and the breeze dimming to unimportant background instruments. This definitely isn’t supposed to happen. But you feel no pressure from the man in front of you as he awaits your answer, only genuine curiosity. An honest offer. Quite the question to drop on someone, though. Lots to unpack. Yes, yes, being born into a life of celestial servitude to the holy higher-ups wasn’t all it was cracked up to be sometimes. True, it was a bit tiring dispensing righteous justice according to a notoriously inflexible set of parameters with little room for nuance. And yeah, some of the more senior angels were really up themselves. But still, forsaking the Holy Father and throwing your lot in with the Satanists might be a bridge too far. 

…To be fair, if you fuck the unholy priest you’re supposed to be watching from a safe distance they’d probably stop giving you recon jobs. Hmm.

You take a moment to gather yourself. “I’ll pass. Thanks for the offer though.”

The Cardinal leans back and shakes his head lightly. “Ah. Thought I had you there.”

“Almost,” you joke. You joke.

“Pity.” With one hand, he sweeps his hair out of his face. It’s an irritatingly confident motion. “Well,” he says, “I am content to let you follow me for a while longer. But don’t watch me from behind for too long, you’ll fall in love.”

He raises his eyebrows suggestively. You’re not going to dignify him with a response. This job was over. Go home and receive your evisceration from your boss. Don’t think about your own hammering heartbeat and the Cardinal’s blazing eyes on you. Are you interested in being corrupted? Are you interested in being corrupted?

At your lack of response, he hums and turns to leave with a wry smile. You watch him go; your arms folded, legs steady, mind racing. He looks back over his shoulder.

"My name is Terzo. If you change your mind, you know where I am, yes? I think a little sin would suit you."

[onlybonesleft]

The ocean was calm this morning. The ocean was calm and the air was crisp as it filled Leonard's lungs with the brine from the place he'd called home for the last ten years. It was a quaint little town along the coast that he had quite literally stumbled upon in his rush to leave the big city life behind him. This place had only meant to be a pit stop, but it has become his home.

It was nice to be a nobody and have no expectations looming save for the daily ones of helping the townsfolk with their usually minor medical disasters. It was nice to breathe. Breathe in a way he hasn't been able to in the city.

Maybe he was just getting crotchety in his older age- though a wry voice that sounded an awful like his best friend reminded him that late 30s and early 40s were hardly old, even if his joints had started to give him issues. Maybe it made the quiet life more enticing, more bearable in a way it hasn't been once upon a time. Maybe he was just a coward and too afraid to admit it.

He took another deep breath, even though it caused him to shiver a bit. The weather was turning a bit colder now that fall was in full swing. He'd have to stock up on supplies soon, but Leonard was more than content to just enjoy his morning walk along the coast. Angus was no doubt trotting along somewhere--perhaps finding a nice bit of driftwood to entice Leonard to play fetch.

It was a Saturday and technically a day off, so maybe the doctor would indulge the wolfhound.

His eyes drifted back to the ocean in all her terrifying beauty. It was just another ordinary day for one Leonard McCoy.

[ohraicodoll]

Figment | Chapter 3

Chapters:  3/7 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne Additional Tags: Mix of TV Dream and Comic Dream, Spice a little later, kinda enemies to lovers, Cause Dream likes when people backtalk to him, lots and lots of tension Summary: She had only been able to enter other’s dreams two years ago, but she knew the rules. Don’t interfere with the dream. Don’t create anything in another’s dream. Don’t destroy anything in another’s dream. But then she stupidly broke one of those rules and the Lord of Dreams does not take kindly to others messing with his domain. Chapter Summary:  At last, a confrontation, but not in the way anyone thinks. Read Here on AO3 Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

CHAPTER 3

I took the next day off of work. There was zero way I would be able to focus on work when all I could think about was the fact I had most certainly pissed off an otherworldly being. Could he kill me? Would he kill me?

What had I even been thinking?

That’s the thing. I wasn’t thinking. I was tired and frustrated because everything was spiraling out of control. I hadn’t been wrong. It’s not like I had asked for this, asked to be a Dream Walker or whatever. So this wasn’t my fault,  but yelling at the person in charge after being told specifically to avoid them wasn’t high on the self-preservation list.

If I couldn’t sleep before, I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to be able to.

For a few hours, I stress cleaned my entire house to get some energy out. Sitting on the couch, thinking constantly wasn’t going to get me anywhere except more stressed out so I might as well do something productive that didn’t require my brain. When I ran out of things to clean, I grabbed some clothes and went to take a shower.

I looked awful. My reflection stared back at me and I touched the purple circles underneath my eyes, my washed out skin making them sharper. My hair was limp and disheveled, dull in the fluorescent light. There was even a hollowness to my cheeks as if I’d lost weight. Had I? No wonder everyone had been avoiding me at work.

I let the hot water and steam roll over me for an excessive amount of time, mind replaying everything that had happened in the dream. Or nightmare, to be more accurate.

The first time I had a nightmare after I started dream walking, I had been lost in a maze of grocery store aisles. Each aisle was stretched absurdly long and there were no breaks, just turning and turning with no overhead lights. It was how I first learned to wake myself up, that if I commanded myself I could get out. I’d felt more in control after that, knowing that I had the ability to stop it all if I wanted.

But the monster last night had been fast and disturbing and I’d felt so utterly helpless. I hated it. Hated that Morpheus had to pull me out though now I was sure it was on purpose. He had probably used the creature to corral me to him. I groaned.

Dream.

The power that had come off him was terrifying and encompassing. I had felt those eyes on me the past few weeks but him standing in front of me, I felt like he was stripping me bare. I absentmindedly traced the skin under my eyes, remembering how the stars and night sky were reflected in those black pits and how they were solely focused all on me.

I groaned and shut off the water. If I thought I could skirt under the radar before, I certainly couldn’t now. I had severely pissed him off.

I was stir crazy, jittery, and my skin felt tight. If Dream could kill me, there was no avoiding it. Right? I couldn’t not sleep, couldn’t hide as he had very much pointed out to me.

Might as well accept fate.

Putting some concealer under my eyes and doing a little bit of my makeup for the first time in weeks, I picked out an outfit I felt nicest in and threw it on. The dark green satin dress fluttered around my knees, pretty and the color of the forest, and I threw some ankle boots on to go with it. My reflection stared back at me and was a vast improvement from before. I actually looked alive and put together despite being an emotional wreck on the inside.

I was going to go out into the world and enjoy what I could. If he did kill me, then at least I would have one nice last day. If he didn’t, then I could excuse it as a nice mental health day. Don’t get me wrong, I was scared and nervous and probably nearing a mental breakdown.

But everything was out of my control except for this and that was a little empowering in itself.

After spending some time in my favorite little quaint second-hand book store (and talking myself out of buying anything because if I died how was I going to read anything?) I walked through the botanical gardens and people watched alongside the lake.

I floated around aimlessly, enjoying the nice chill weather and the bustle of the morning crowd.

It was around early lunch time when I came to the small market district, the smells from the various restaurants and cafes drawing me in. I twirled a flower I had plucked between my fingers and let my stomach lead me, choosing to sit at an edge table at one of my favorite little cafes. They served a wonderful croissant sandwich and London Fog and the weather was nice enough to be outdoors.

I plopped down in my chair and smiled at the waiter before asking for my usual. My brain was blank for the most part but everything was colored in a tinge of bitter sweetness. The couples and families strolling past, facing down their own problems. Bills, money, relationships, mundane things. I doubted any of them were dealing with a potentially homicidal personified being.

The red poppy petals were velvet soft under my fingertips and a tinge of green from the stem colored my skin from twirling it over and over. This would probably be my last flower.

Not counting the ones that would most likely be at my funeral.

A sharp, loud caw came from behind me, startling me, and I looked over my shoulder to find a huge raven perched on the roof of the business next door. Not unlike the one that had startled me yesterday. It quirked its head at me, black eyes staring, and I furrowed my brow at it.

“That would be Matthew.”

The loud gasp that ripped from my lips drew a few looks as I whirled around, eyes wide at seeing Morpheus sitting across from me completely nonchalant. My heart was in my throat and I could feel the panic hitting me, my body trying to decide between freezing or taking off at a dead run. He seemed completely unaffected by the absolute mind-numbing terror that was probably all over my face.

No, no, no, no , I was awake. I was awake!

My fingers quickly pinched my skin and at the sharp pain, nothing changed. I was awake. But he was here, actually here, and sitting there as if this was a natural occurrence. He looked too real. No swirling cape or flames or black pits for eyes. Morpheus sat in a simple black jacket, gray shirt and black jeans, hair a mess and skin still pale but normal pale. Not ethereal being pale. His eyes were a normal, if startling, brilliant shade of blue. Normal.

And he was still staring at me silently.

“How-” I swallowed, my voice coming out in a hushed croak, “How are you here?”

He quirked a brow, “Did you think I was limited to the Dreaming alone? Or that when you awoke, everything would fade away and cease to exist? I can assure you, you are wrong.”

We both stared, him calm and made of stone while I knew my eyes were impossibly large. I gave a slight start when the waiter came by and dropped off my tea before turning to him and asking what he would like. There was the barest hint of a smirk on Dream’s lips before he requested a simple black coffee. Almost as a, “told ya so.”

“This isn’t real,” I whispered.

“I assure you it is, as am I. The Dreaming is as real as the Waking world,” his voice was dark and rich like molasses, slow with intention, “Mortals are allowed to access it in their sleep and when you awaken, it still remains there. That is the realm I control and preside over and the one whose rules you have broken.”

My breaths were coming out in shallow, panicked rasps, and I shakily wrapped my hands around the hot mug of tea to ground myself a bit. There was no escaping now. He had found me, “So what now? Are you going to kill me?”

The waiter dropped off his coffee in the hushed silence that followed and he gave them a small nod in thanks. Just two people, casually having a conversation about murder and otherworldly realms.

“Should I?” Morpheus asked, no implication or tone to the question. As if he was genuinely asking and wasn’t making a decision about my life. My brows furrowed and I broke eye contact to stare down at my drink, feeling the burning heat radiating through the cup and into my skin. I felt so cold, all my fear leaching any warmth out of my body even as the sun shone on both of us. I could feel the sting of tears but refused to cry, refused to give him that satisfaction. I was tired. I hadn’t meant for any of this.

“No,” I muttered, “But it’s not like I could stop you. Obviously, I have to sleep at some point and you can easily find me wherever I go.” I sucked in a shuddering breath and looked up, meeting his eyes again with the little bit of strength and courage I had, “What I said was true though. I didn’t intend to go into his dream and I didn’t intend to break anything, but the dream world has been the only place I’ve felt real and alive in two years. I couldn’t stand up to him in the real- waking world but I could there. So do what you will.”

Morpheus said nothing, still watching me silently with no indication of his feelings as I nervously sipped my tea and tried to act like my heart wasn’t hammering in my head.

Would he do it here, at the café? That would be awfully public. Maybe when I was walking home some poor hapless construction worker would fall asleep and drop a brick on my head or I’d pass out in the middle of the road or-

“What did he do?”

I swallowed wrong and tried not to choke as hot liquid went down the wrong pipe, “ Pardon?” “The mortal man. At our last encounter, you said he deserved it. What did he do?” Dream asked, unblinking and unemotional but entirely too casual.

My brain struggled to rewind to what I had angrily yelled at him the night before in my rage, which was difficult as I was also trying to shift gears away from imagining all the ways he could kill me, “Um, he cheated on me. Uh, cheating is where-”

“-I am aware of the concept,” Morpheus interrupted, adding onto the end almost unintentionally, “intimately.”

It was my turn to raise my brows, brain slogging slowly as my head went in every direction to process his question, the implication of that last word, and that I had tried to explain cheating to a being most likely millions of years old, “Sorry, uh, yeah, I caught him in my bed with the neighbor. Which was…shocking, to say the least. He didn’t have the decency to even go to his own house.”

He pursed his lips and blinked down at his coffee, a sound along the lines of acknowledgement in his throat. A small silence took over, the sounds of the streets and chattering of passersby filling it. It was all simultaneously awkward and tense but oddly not uncomfortable. I doubted he noticed but considering I still wasn’t sure if he was going to kill me, I was a bit hyper aware of everything.

“You,” his low voice finally broke the silence, warm and dark, “may have been correct in certain aspects.”

There was a pause, intentional, almost like he himself didn’t want to continue the train of conversation. And I was going to flip the goddamn table if he didn’t hurry on with it and continue, “Which aspects?”

Those eyes of his were so vibrantly blue but I could see the swirling abyss behind them, the faint hint of stars and nebulas in the vastness of space the longer I stared. While not as oppressive, his power hummed tentatively along my skin.

“You did not ask for this ability, little dreamer. Under normal circumstances, when a Dream Walker first comes into their power it is barely a seed. I am able to tamp down on it to prevent harm to others and themselves before it ever has the chance to develop and when it becomes much harder to do so,” he broke eye contact then and frowned, lips pursed, “But these were not normal circumstances and I am finding that I cannot fault you for this lapse. It was not your doing.”

The words ping ponged through my head and I was taking shallow breaths, frozen but shaking slightly, “...what does that mean? What are you going to do instead?”

Morpheus leaned back a bit in his seat, almost seeming casual now and that slight smirk coming back to ghost along his lips, “Nothing. I am going to do nothing…as long as you do not give me reason to. You spoke true. You have only transgressed once in the two years past and I have a feeling you fully understand the… repercussions of that now.”

Nothing. He was going to do nothing.

His eyes didn’t leave mine as he took a drink of his coffee.

“But I yelled at you!” I blurted out loudly because I am, in fact, a dumbass.

A croaking, half-choked caw came from behind me and I could see Dream’s eyes flicker in annoyance at where I had seen the raven, “Apologies, do you wish for my answer to be different?”

“No! I just-” I was babbling, words spewing out as I tried to process that not only was I not going to die but the Lord of Dreams was letting me off the hook, “I’m very confused right now and you were really angry.”

“Yes, I was,” he spoke bluntly.

My hands were moving in the air as I talked and I could see him almost following them as if to make sure I didn’t knock my tea over onto him, “So I don’t know! Seeing you here, I definitely thought this was it because you were so mad and I was done for so I had today planned like a sort of last day before the gallows type thing but now you’re saying-” Elbows on the table, I put my face in my hands, “I’m very confused and tired and not sure how to feel.”

“I would expect you to feel some sort of gratitude.”

I sat back up quickly and his hand shot forward to steady his cup as the table shook, “Uh, thank you…for…not killing me?” This was a weird day.

“There are worse things than death, little dreamer,” those long black lashes fluttered as he looked down, so dark against the alabaster of his skin, “You suffered heartbreak, disrespect, and then tortured yourself in your attempt to avoid me for weeks. I would say those were punishment enough, in addition to the nightmare.”

Oh yeah, couldn’t forget that monstrosity.

For the first time in weeks, I could feel myself relax and breathe. I almost could cry with relief even if the anxiety wasn’t entirely gone. I was still very much sitting and having coffee with Dream of the Endless, the very being I had been running from for so long and had feared since I was a kid. But taking away that threat of death, I was able to finally take him in and see him not entirely as a foreboding malevolent force.

He seemed…well not normal, but not like an ancient creature. And slowly, the fear that had choked my every moment started to drain from me.

“And,” Dream continued, “I would not say you were wrong in punishing your mortal man, even if you are not to do so again.” He made sure to look straight at me at that part as if to drive it home.

My brain puzzled and rolled the words around. He had basically just agreed that Thomas was a dickbag but in far more elegant terms. Yet, there was an echo of something personal there. As if the satisfaction in the act, tearing Thomas’ dream apart after what he’d done, was not mine alone.

I am aware of the concept, intimately. “Someone did the same thing to you,” I whispered, not a question but more like an acknowledgement of the same shared pain, “I didn’t think your kind had relationships.”

Maybe fear was a good thing because it kept stupid things from coming out my mouth.

The waiter, of all times, decided to deliver my sandwich at that moment and refill Morpheus’ coffee. I didn’t touch it though, locked in eye contact with the dreamlord. I wasn’t particularly hungry anyways, not after everything that had just happened, even if my stomach growled slightly at me.

The ambient noise of the passersby and traffic filled the silence again for a few long seconds, but we didn’t move. I wasn’t sure if he was going to ignore what I had said, change his mind, or was deciding whether to answer. At last another raven’s caw and the flapping of wings could be heard behind me and going into the distance. His eyes danced away briefly then nodded at the food, “Eat. You’ve avoided enough things on my account.”

I blinked at him and looked down at my food. He waited until I picked at the bread and put a piece in my mouth before continuing, “Yes, my kind, or at least I, have had relationships. And someone did do the same to me, a long time ago. Not in as crude a fashion as yours, but I did bare witness.”

I paused, watching as those long fingers of his traced the porcelain of his cup thoughtfully. “Why did they do it?” I asked softly and looked up at him tentatively under my lashes, as if any moment the spell of the conversation might break.

Morpheus looked out into the street, avoiding eye contact, a far away look coming into those dark eyes. He didn’t look sad or angry and the longer I was around him I noticed how his emotions never played out on his face unless he wanted them to, “It was a complicated matter. I cannot fault her entirely for finding her soulmate and I had not yet learned that desire is always cruel. My family member seemed fit to remind me.”

Chewing on my lower lip, I frowned and watched him. His family member had been involved in it? I muttered, “That’s awful.”

He seemed to collect himself at that and turned back to me, stone faced but a distant look still in those eyes, “It was ages ago.”

I didn’t want to know how long ago he considered that and shrugged, “I don’t think  it matters how long ago. It’s never exactly a good feeling, either way. I wasn’t even in love with Thomas the slightest bit and it still hurt.”

Morpheus seemed to shake himself out of the memories and was back in the present, pointedly staring at my food until I put another piece in my mouth, “Then why did you stay with him?”

Was I really sitting here, eating a sandwich and talking about relationships with the King of Dreams? What was even happening anymore? But now that the fear had finished leaking out, it felt…comfortable. I’d gotten used to the slight vibration of power along my skin and those piercing eyes and his presence wasn’t so oppressive anymore. Under the small table, my legs had even stretched out a bit on either side of his to accommodate how long his own legs were.

I chewed on the piece of my sandwich, mulling over the situation and the question, “I guess I thought it would make me feel more alive. Ever since I started dream walking, the waking world has felt so mundane? Like the dreams were in vivid color and being awake, everything was in gray. I’ve been finding it harder and harder to find a point in it all, the day to day slog of going to work, paying bills, hanging around boring people you don’t even like-”

He narrowed his eyes slightly and commented admonishingly, “Which is precisely why dream walking can be dangerous.”

I frowned, “Yeah, but I’m not wrong. It does pale in comparison. And I don’t know, at first it was exciting. The world had colors again. He was nice and I felt excited and things were new, but then…it was routine. He didn’t care about stories or magic or anything like that. He was utterly a banker and so boring. But it kept me grounded, at least for a bit.”

There was a slight quirk of his lips, another one of his faint smiles that seemed to break out of his stoicism, as he commented, “My sister described someone the same way.  Though it was a character in a movie.”

“Well then she’d probably agree with me about Thomas,” I chewed on my last piece of sandwich thoughtfully and chuckled.

“She would,” he smiled and I almost paused to marvel at the way it seemed to light him up, “Matthew had less than choice words to describe him.”

I leaned forward sharply, remembering now that’s how he had decided to start our conversation, “So that is your bird?”

He leaned back in his chair with a quirked eyebrow, legs stretching out a bit more and slightly brushing mine, “Yes, Matthew is my raven. He is able to be my eyes and ears in the waking world if I have need of him.”

“Well, Matthew,” I emphasized his name, “kept me from getting hit by a car yesterday when I was half-delirious from sleep deprivation and almost walked into the street. Does that mean he’s been spying on me? Does that mean you’ve been spying on me?”

“Matthew watches over many things for me.”

“That’s not an answer,” I pointed a finger at him, lips unturned in an accusatory smile.

Dream smirked, “Would the truth make you feel better?”

Pausing, I huffed and sat back, “Maybe not, but I’m definitely closing all my blinds now.” I chewed on my lip, “So he watched Thomas too?”

“Yes, to keep an eye for any adverse effects from you intruding on his dream primarily,” he shrugged, “There were none, though Matthew did mention the mortal’s non-stop complaining about you not speaking to him.”

Even if I didn’t care about him, there was a small amount of satisfaction that he was thinking and complaining about me constantly for the past few weeks when I’d hardly thought about him. Ego, maybe. Then again,  “Well, I blocked him on everything the night you caught me and then I was a little too focused on running away from you to really deal with him.”

The waiter came by then with the check and as I handed them my card, I briefly marveled at the surreal nature of the fact that I’d essentially had lunch with the Lord of Dreams and we were….amicable now? Having an actual conversation?

“So what now?” I asked, ignoring the way his legs grazed against mine as I shifted in my seat.

“Now, I assume you will finally get a decent night’s sleep, little dreamer,” Morpheus replied, chin lifting, “As long as you follow the rules. It is in your nature to traverse through other’s dreams, that I cannot fault you for, but you are not to interfere or else I may not be so forgiving next time.”

He was back to being the dreamlord, eyes baring down to emphasize that I knew exactly how much he was letting me off the hook. But the fear didn’t come back this time, my skin tingling with the effect of having this powerful being’s full attention on me.

“I’ll be a good girl,” I commented, eyes staring unwavering, and almost paused at how flirty it sounded? It was a loaded comment for sure and I had no idea where the hell it came from.

Morpheus’ blue eyes flashed and my body felt suddenly tightly strung, “We shall see.”

The air was thick and I couldn’t remember if I blinked at all until the waiter finally returned my card and interrupted the moment. What even was that?

We both stood and I collected my things as I pushed my chair in, briefly avoiding eye contact to try and pull myself back together from whatever was happening. Dream gently put a hand at my lower back to guide me out of the patio area, electricity shooting through me at the barest hint of his touch. Intentional versus the slight brush of his legs under the table earlier.

When I began to walk down the sidewalk, he followed along at my side until we were a bit away from the cafe.

Now that he was next to me and the world wasn’t ending, I could admire the way he looked in my world. His coat was wool and fit his body well, the collar slightly up to shield from the occasional wind. While his hair was still a mess, it was more put together at least. He was a good foot taller than me, but made sure to slow down a bit to keep pace. When he wasn’t being a scary asshole, Dream was actually pretty attractive and that thought alone told me that I needed to finally get some rest.

We paused a little away from where the path would split to take me to my apartments and moved a bit out of the way from the rest of the walking traffic. He turned and looked at me and it was only then did I realize he’d had his hand still resting on the small of my back. With both of us standing, I had no choice but to look up to meet his gaze. He was standing close and I could feel his power a bit more, thrumming along my skin like a cool touch tracing up and down.

“Now that you know you are no longer headed to the gallows,” Morpheus slightly smirked at that, “I hope you get to enjoy the rest of your day, little dreamer. Just remember my words.”

I noted the amusement in his words and the lack of bite at the end of his comment and smiled, “I’ll do my best. Tell Matthew I said hello and that he can stop creeping on me.”

A genuine amused smile did finally grace his lips at that and I had to swallow the feeling that shot through me, “I shall.”

With a final nod, his hand finally fell and he stepped away and headed down the opposite path as I began to head back home. I chewed on my lip, feeling confused and relieved and exhausted. The day hadn’t gone where I had thought it would, I pondered before looking over my shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of Dream walking away.

But almost like he’d never been there, he was gone.

And I went home to relax for the first time in a while, enjoying the sun on my skin and the vibrant colors of the day around me.

[fictional-love-is-my-life]

Can I get Bumblebee react hc's to him overhearing a fight between a Decepticon and his s/o. The decepticon saying to them that no relationship with an autobot would ever last, because they put missions and duty above relationships and love. Even if it's with their s/o. When the s/o says they are wrong, the con reminds them that even Optimus Prime abandoned his own when a mission was on the line. ( in the first movie when Bee got captured) and sentinal prime even betrayed them. The con leaves, and the s/o just stands there unsure of what to think. They are a bit sad for the next couple of days and deep down is afraid that maybe someday Bee will tell them that a mission or the autobots are more important than they're relationship.

Bee sees his S/O standing in front of a con. He panics, terrified the con is going to hurt them. So he rushes over to them. Once he's closer he hears them talking, not fighting, just talking. He slows, a little interested in what a con could have to say. He stops behind a wall and listens, he knows eavesdropping is wrong but his curiosity gets the better of him.

He listens to the con. Listening to them spew nonsense about the bots and how an Autobots loyalty is skewed. Bumblebee couldn't disagree more. He's glad that his S/O speaks up, saying they disagree too. It makes Bee feel relieved.

But the con keeps talking. Bee is tempted to interrupt, just to make sure the con doesn't try anything, but he stays, still wanting to know what they will say. The con mentions how Optimus abandoned him. Bee had long forgiven Optimus, even though he didn't really need to be forgiven. Bee understood it was for the mission and he held no resentment.

Then the con mentioned Sentinel. Bee's spark ached as he thought of Ironhide. But Sentinel was different, he was not like most Autobots. Bee was hoping to hear his S/O speak out again, but they didn't. Bee peeked around the corner of the wall. He saw his S/O standing still, staring at the floor. Bee's spark dropped, he really hoped they were not listening to the cons nonsense.

The con smirked and walked away. Bee rushed over, taking his S/O in his arms. They hugged him back, but Bee could instantly tell something was wrong. The hug felt, different.

Over the next few days Bee tried to stay beside his S/O, he tried to show them love and affection, hoping they would see he loved them and that he would never abandon them or their relationship. His S/O would say they knew, they knew he loved them. Yet they fell silent often, and they would look at Bee differently. It hurt.

Bee hoped throughout their relationship that he had shown his S/O they were his priority. It hurt that a cons words could really make his S/O doubt him. Did they think that poorly of him?

Bee would think to himself, he would tell himself he would never leave his S/O or give up their relationship. Never, not for any mission. There would never be a mission or job that he would pick over his S/O. Or would there be? He felt a pit as he thought about his life. It had been drilled into him to do what was best for the mission. He promised to protect Earth and humans, even if that meant losing his own life. He would follow Prime to the ends of the Earth and do as he said, even when Prime left him all those years ago.

So does that mean Bee would do the same thing? He has not come across it yet, but could there be a job that Bee would choose over his S/O? Would he choose Earth over his love?

For a little while Bee was clouded with doubt in himself, he felt awful, he felt like a bad partner. Then he shook his helm, refusing the believe it.

No. He was not like that. He was a loyal bot yes, so far he had done all he could for the Autobot cause. Even offering his own life. But now? Now he was in a relationship? No. He would never, NEVER abandon his love or choose something over them.

He was loyal to Optimus, but now he was more loyal to his S/O. They were his life and his future. There would be no point choosing the war over them, because there would be no point in winning if he couldn't win with them by his side.

Bee found his S/O thinking alone. He sat beside them and took their servos in his. He admitted to overhearing what the con had to say. And he admitted he too felt a small bit of doubt. He continued on to explain that the doubt is gone. He loved them, and he would forever choose them over anything else. He would always choose them, and he was going to show them every day of their lives that they were his number one priority.

[cloudstarcats]

hi! ♡♡♡ this scenario is a bit complicated, so... sorry beforehand 😅 so, let's say fem!reader goes on a mission with the famous kamaboko trio, but they all get dangerously hurt, but the three boy's condition is nothing compared to reader due to her stepping in the way of a lethal attack. she's in absolute agony. cracked ribs, several stab wounds, severe poisoning, broken ankle, burst eardrums, internal bleeding, and she's also temporarily and partially blind. even so, shes SO worried. normally shes the calm one. the quiet one. but now, shes a yelling mess. yelling at the kakushi strapping her down on a bed in lady shinobu's estate. shes frantically asking if the three boys are okay, trying to hit the medics and lady shinobu herself. they try to sedate her so she'll calm down, and it's working, but not for long. she wakes up due to the unbearable pain, and shes sweating profusely. trying to get out of the restraints, shes panicking. so what I'm asking for is, how would the tree injured boys react to the ruckus in the room shes in? would they try to help? what would they think about the situation. once she's recovered enough to receive visitors, and eat on her own, what would the three boys tell her? would they tell her anything? would they leave her to be on her own?

Oooo this is an interesting idea. lets see...

Zenitsu

Honestly, he's panicking too. You're a strong fighter, but that attack was awful and the demon that landed it was terrifying. He only just woke up after passing out, and you're bleeding everywhere! He doesn't know what to do, you won't stop screaming and the entire situation makes him start to panic because seeing you hurt makes him upset he couldn't do more to protect you.

When you all get back to the estate, he can't stand the sound of your cries. He curls up in his bed, trying to block the sound out. It's not because he's angry with you, rather hearing you cry and scream fills his chest up with worry and fear. He does try to get up and help you, but he hesitates because he knows he isn't useful. A part of him feels so useless for not being able to protect you, instead he passed out and you got hurt. (he doesn't know what while out he did quite the damage himself, and maybe if he did, he wouldn't feel so much like he had failed you.)

When you're finally well enough to see people, he's nervous to be there at first, after all, you were bleeding so much, what if he hurts you again- but when he learns he can help you out by running around and grabbing stuff you need, helping you eat, entertaining you, he's more then happy to. He's still a little guilty about it, and silently promises to grow stronger so nothing like this happens again. He's seen a lot of blood and death, but seeing it happen to you? While he was right there? It hits a little differently. The staff see him as a bit of a nuisance with how much he's fluttering around you, but he doesn't care as long as he can help out.

Tanjiro

Out of all of the squad, he's the one who manages to stay the calmest when you first get hurt. He's seen a lot of bad stuff, and while he's horribly upset that you were right there and he couldn't do anything, the fact that you're alive settles the growing pit in his stomach. He does his best to keep an eye on you and calm the other two down, but even he feels affected by the cries you make.

When you're well enough to have some visitors, he's the first on the scene. His big brother energy is so high that he's almost equally as annoying as Zenitsu is, but his tendency to accept that he isn't a medical expert, and get out of the way when asked, while being exceptionally polite endears him to the staff at the estate and they let him stick around a little more. He's big on assisting you while eating, he's had to help his siblings out before so being a caretaker is a role he welcomes with open arms. He talks too, mostly about how glad he is you're okay, and many gentle reminders to not over do it while you recover.

He doesn't really leave you be on your own, he usually leaves Nezuko's box in the room with you so you have some company (and protection), and when he is there, he is super careful to not let you get hurt. It's almost annoying, but you can see where he comes from and that he just wants you protected.

Inosuke

Being the most active, and violent, of the group, he is a nightmare for the kakushi and the girls at the butterfly estate. He's sneaky enough to climb on the ceiling and spy on you getting treated, he keeps butting in loudly, and Tanjiro is tasked on attempting to distract him and keep him out of your room while you recover.

Despite how loud he is, there are quiet moments however. Truthfully, he's a little ashamed. He's supposed to be the strongest one, the leader, but he wasn't able to do anything when you got hurt. He knows, logically, that he's useless with this stuff, he isn't Tanjiro or Zenitsu, he isn't an expert in medicine, he's a fighter and currently he can't just fight your injuries to make you better. It's pretty clear that his actions of butting in and being a pest in others sides is due to how worried and unsettled he is. It's much clearer when you do wake up and can start accepting visitors, because he refuses to step foot in the room while you're awake, confusing the heck out of literally everyone. He was all over you before, but now even the mention that you're up and eating makes him angry and stomp off? It's strange.

It takes a while for him to come see you, because he's been spending the time away training (despite his own injuries). He needs a little pep talk from Tanjiro about how sometimes, people get hurt. And the best thing he can do for you isn't to ignore you and further hurt himself by training, it's to be with you and help you get better, so you can both heal and grow. He takes it in his own way of course, now that you're up he is big on pushing you during your recovery training, and is massively clingy, and keeps trying to show off how much stronger he is, but his heart is in the right place. He also gruffly tells you that you'll be fine, you're his subordinate and that means you're too tough to actually die. It's odd, but sweet. ~~~

And that's what I got! Basically, the boys want the best for you. Zenitsu is nervous as always but incredibly glad he can be useful, Inosuke sulks, but eventually accepts that ignoring his feelings about the whole event isn't really a good idea, and Tanjiro does his best to make sure you're okay and assure you (and the other two-) that even if you get hurt, you can always heal, and get stronger then before.

I hope this is to your liking, I've never actually written in the perspective as the reader, so content like this is rather new for me lol. If you have any other requests, feel free to let me know! :)

[theindescribable1]

Saw that one anon about a creepy dream a little while ago, and wanted to pitch in with a little retelling of my own, prologued by how the morning afterward went. Sorry if any of it sounds a little off—I’m not exactly an author, but I’ll do my best.

3:19 AM I woke up, slick with sweat. And I’m not talking about wet in the pits or wet in the brow. I’m talking scalp wet, sheet wet, and at that hour, an hour already lost in a new year—shivering wet. I’m so cold my temples hurt but before I can really focus on the question of temperature I realize I’ve remembered my first dream.

Only later after I find some candles, stomp around my room, splash water on the old face, micturate, light a sterno can and put the kettle on, only then can I respond to my cold head and my general physical misery, which I do, relishing every bit of it in fact. Anything is better than that unexpected and awful dream, made all the more unsettling because now for some reason I can recall it. Nor do I have an inkling why. I cannot imagine what has changed in my life to bring this thing to the surface.

My guns sure as hell were useless, instantly confiscated at sleep’s border, even if I did manage to pick up the Weatherby before my credit ran out.

An hour passes. I’m blinking in the light, boiling more water for more coffee, ramming my head into another wool hat, sneezing again though all I can see is the fucking dream, torn straight out of the old raphé nuclei care of the very brainstem I thought had been soundly severed.

This is how it starts:

I’m deep in the hull of some enormous vessel, wandering its narrow passages of black steel and rust. Something tells me I’ve been here a long time, endlessly descending into dead ends, turning around to find other ways which in the end lead only to still more ends. This, however, does not bother me. Memories seem to suggest I’ve at one point lingered in the engine room, the container holds, scrambled up a ladder to find myself alone in a deserted kitchen, the only place still shimmering in the mirror magic of stainless steel. But those visits took place many years ago, and even though I could go back there at any time, I choose instead to wander these cramped routes which in spite of their ability to lose me still retain in every turn an almost indiscreet sense of familiarity. It’s as if I know the way perfectly but I walk them to forget.

And then something changes. Suddenly I sense for the first time ever, the presence of another. I quicken my pace, npt quite running but close. I am either glad, startled or terrified, but before I can figure out which I complete two quick turns and there he is, this drunken frat boy wearing a plum-colored Topha Beta sweatshirt, carrying the lid of a garbage can in his right hand and a large fireman’s ax in his left. I’m scared alright but I’m also confused. “Excuse me, mind explaining why you’re coming after me?” which I actually try to say except the words don’t come out right. More like grunts and clouds, big clouds of steam.

That’s when I notice my hands. They look melted, as if they were made of plastic and had been dipped in boiling oil, only they’re not plastic, they’re the thin effects of skin which have in fact been dipped in boiling oil. I know this and I even know tje story. I’m just unable to resurrect it there in my dream. Stiff hair sprouts up all over the fingers and around the long, yellow fingernails. Even worse, this awful scarring doesn’t end at my wrists, but continues down my arms, making the scars I know I have when I’m not dreaming seem childish in comparison. These ones reach over my shoulders, down my back, extend even across my chest, where I know ribs still protrude like violet bows.

When I touch my face, I can instantly tell there’s something wrong there too. I feel plenty of hair covering strange lumps of flesh on m chin, my nose and along the ridge of my cheeks. On my forehead there’s an enormous bulge harder than stone. And even though I have no idea how I got to be so deformed, I do know. And this knowledge comes suddenly. I’m here because I am deformed, because when I speak my words come out in cracks and groans, and what’s more Ive been put here by an old man, a dead man, by one who called me son even though he was not my father.

Which is when this frat boy, swaying back and forth before me like an idiot, raises his ax even higher above his head. His plan I see is not too complicated: he intends to drive that heavy blade into my skull, across the bridge of my nose, cleave the roof of my mouth, thr core of my brain, split apart the very vertebrae in my neck, and he won’t stop there either. He’ll hack my hands from my wrists, my thighs from my knees, pry out my sternum into tiny fragments. He’ll do the same to my toes and my fingers and he’ll even pop my eyes with the butt of the handle and then with the heal of the blade attempt to crush my teeth, despite the fact that they’re long, serrated and unusually strong. At least in this effort, he will fail; give up finally; collect a few. Where my internal organs are concerned, these too he’ll treat with the same respect, hewing, smashing adn slicing until he’s too tired and covered with blood to finish, even though of course he really finished awhile ago, and then he’ll slouch exhausted, panting like some stupid dog, drunk on his beer, this killing, this victory, while I lie strewn about that bleak place, der absolute Zerrissenheit. I’m awful at German, I don’t know why I bother even putting it here. Anyway back to the dream, me chopped up into tiny pieces, spread and splattered in the bowels of that ship, and all at the hands of a drunken frat boy who upon beholding his heroic deed pukes all over what’s left of me. Except before he achieves any of this, I realize that now, for some reason, for the first time, I have a choice: I don’t have to die, I can kill him instead. Not only are my teeth and nails long, sharp and stromg, I too am strong, remarkably strong and remarkably fast. I can rip that fucking ax out of his hands before he even swings it once, shatter it with one jerk of my wrist, and then I can watch the terror deep into his eyes as I grab him by the throat, carve out his insides and tear him to pieces.

But as I take a step forward, everything changes. The frat boy I realize is not the frat boy anymore but someone else. At first I think it’s my first crush Kyrie, until I realize it’s not Kyrie but Ashley, which is when I realize it’s neither Kyrie or Ashley but Simone, though something tells me that even that’s not exactly right. Either way, her face glows with adoration and warmth and her eyes communicate in a blink an understanding of all the gestures I’ve ever made, all the thoughts I’ve ever had. So extroardinary is this gaze, in fact, that I suddenly realize I’m unable to move. I just stand there, every sinew and nerve easing me into a world of relief, my breath slowing, arms dangling at my sides, my jaw slack, legs melting me into ancient waters, until suddenly my eyes on their own accord, commanded by instincts darker and older than empathy or anything resembling emotional need, dart from her beautiful and strangely familiar face to the ax she still holds, the ax she is now lifting, the smile she is still making even as she starts to shake, suddenly swinging the axe down on me, at my head, though she will miss my head, barely, the ax floating down instead toward my sholder, finally cutting into the bone and lodging there, producing shrieks of blood, so much blood, and pain, so much pain, and instantly I understand Im dying, though I’m not dead yet, even if I am beyond repair, and she has started to cry, even as she dislodges the ax and raises it again, to swing again, again at my head, though she is crying hardwr and she is much weaker than I thought, and she needs more time than I thought, to get ready, to swing again, while I’m bleeding and dying, which now doesn’t compare to the feeling inside, also so familiar, as the atriums of my heart on their own accord suddenly rupture, like my father’s ruptured. So this, I suddenly muse in a peculiarly detatched way, was this how he felt?

I’ve made a terrible mistake, but it’s too late and I’m now full of fury & hate to do anything but look up as the blade slices down with appalling force, this time the right arc, not too far left, not too far right, but right center, descending forever it seems, though it’s not forever, not even close, and I realize with a shade of citric joy, that at least, at last, it will put an end to the far more terrible ache inside me, born decades ago, long before I finally beheld a dream the face and meaning of my horror.

And then, well, I woke up. 3:19 AM, sweaty and cold, yadda yadda yadda. I still think about that night sometimes, housing one of the few dreams I can actually recall with any sense of clarity, though I wish it had been something more pleasant. Though I guess we all wish for that kind of thing, eh?

Ok I'm just gonna say this took so long to read..

I won't spoil this post, its lkke a whole horror movie. No spoilers or a summary, read it yourself guys! HAHA! Pure evil.

[heretherebedork]

Nozue trying to stand up for Togawa against the boss setting him up with a lady and the jealousy that consumes him that he can't even name yet, the jealousy that he doesn't even know what to do with, the jealousy that has no label, no words, nothing but an objection and a deep-seated wish in the pit of his stomach and a churning that won't go away... he's in love but he can't let himself be in love yet. He's taken so many steps on this journey of self-acceptance but he's still sidestepping the last bit of acceptance, the last piece of his heart, the last block that keeps him trapped the life he's been living for so long.

Acceptance of your own desires is the hardest step because that's when you have to accept that the life you thought you'd lead, the life you'd planned, the life everyone planned, is no longer in your grasp. That you're going to have to take the chance on a different kind of ending, a different kind of life.

Togawa isn't afraid of that, Togawa knows that what he wants isn't what the world wants him to want.

But Nozue?

Nozue is still crawling towards that finish line, taking each tiny realization and slowly, slowly, accepting it into his heart, slowly accepting that there is a risk and there is a truth and that what he desires is different.

He looks at Togawa with so much love and so much joy and so much awe but he's still scared of what that means, he's scared of what that means for both of them. He's terrified.

[ariadynamics]

😂😂😂 my plan to get you into f1 to write sewis fic has backfired. also I thought you were working on something!

but you've piqued my curiosity with the esteban/lance thirst follow au so I'll take a snippet of that

(love you!)

I was! But it just wasn't clicking. I'm very much in my head about writing Sewis, and I'm terrified I'm going to get their characterization wrong!

For now, here's my Esteban/Lance WIP! It's hockey player Lance, and still with RP/AM Esteban. I hope you like it 🙈.

--

Lance doesn't know what makes him do it. Maybe it's the third shot of awful tequila Nico had cajoled him into downing before they left the club. Maybe it's the string of losses, one after another, that kept coming their way. Maybe he's just so fucking lonely that he almost asked if he could crash on Nico and Siegs' couch.

It’s pretty depressing that this guy’s smile is the best thing he’s seen all week. His smile is warm and sunny, and for a second, Lance almost forgets it's March in New Jersey. He keeps scrolling through his photos, and for once, he doesn’t feel the same kind of rolling nausea in the pit of his stomach that he usually gets when faced with racing content.

They’d met before, at some gala, and Lance had known then he was boned as soon as he saw his chipmunk-like toothy grin.

Seeing the photos of this guy with a small sliver of his tummy peeking through? Lance hadn't stood a chance.

Fuck it. Lance hits follow. Whatever, Siegs follows Lewis Hamilton on Instagram. This is more or less the same if the team’s PR ever asks. 

Two minutes after Lance follows him, a DM notification pops up.

estebanocon: I'm pretty sure my employer's son following me on Instagram counts as workplace harassment.

Lance is still drunk enough to respond.

lance_stroll: how would that work I’m not even on the payroll

estebanocon: That sounds like something an HR Manager digging for dirt would say.

It’s a little bit of a surprise when he gets another notification.

estebanocon started following you.

He isn't sure what he expected after following Ocon, but Ocon following back? Sliding into his DMs? That hadn't been part of the equation. He types another message, anyway. He already lost 6-2 tonight; he can't embarrass himself any more than that.

lance_stroll: buddy I lost count of how many times I got rammed against the boards tonight my brain is incapable of thinking nevermind sleuthing

esteban_ocon: Kinky 👀, tell me more.

It startles a laugh out of Lance, and for the first time in a long time, the smile on his face isn’t something he’s had to affect. 

lance_stroll: I’m pretty sure that counts as workplace harassment bud

estebanocon: Well, good thing you’re not on the payroll then.