#i love talking about the bullshit that happens in my personal life it's very fun to me

[aritany]

sorry to be nosy, but do u have any insights as someone who went through a divorce at a young age?

don't be sorry - what a fascinating question! it's STORYTIME. i don't know if this is so much my 'insights' as it is ruminations, but i digress.

i guess my number one tip would be: don't marry a bigot,,,

i'm kidding. mostly.

i'm very transparent about why i got divorced (if you know me in real life, you know how true this is), but that's what it boiled down to. i got married VERY young, 95% due to deeply religious family on both sides, 5% because i truly believed i had found the person i was going to be with forever. if you're going to be together forever, why not just bite the bullet and get married young, right?

i came out to my ex-husband as bisexual super early on in our relationship (i think 2 months into dating) because i obviously needed him to a) know i was queer and b) be cool about it, and he was. if i recall, he said, "oh. ok, good for you."

(later, he told me that that moment was almost a dealbreaker for him. i NEVER would have known, based on how he reacted in the moment.)

as a married couple, we were awesome roommates and very good friends and overall a wonderful team. then i started properly deconstructing christianity around the same time i started thinking about gender, and covid hit immediately after. i didn't come out to anyone as nonbinary until march 2021, and when i did, he was the first person i talked to. he was... significantly less cool about it than he was with bisexuality.

here's the thing. he LOVED having a wife. in hindsight, it's really easy to see that i could have been anyone, and he was really ready to settle down. i have to give myself some credit, because i think i'm excellent, but i do think that to some extent i was in the right place at the right time and checked off a lot of his boxes. if that sounds a little cold to you -- a SHOCKING amount of cishet men do this. it's weird.

anyway, i was His Wife™, and while i was by no means a traditional christian wife, i was still a very she/her slay queen girly.

then i started committing sins. (got some tattoos. started writing about The Gays. started speaking out against the church. Cut My Hair Short [cue gasps]. started dressing more androgynously.)

he couldn't get his head around using gender neutral language for me. to his students (he was in education at the time) i was His Wife. to his family, i was His Wife, even after i came out to them too. classic wifeguy stuff.

my current partner (who is SO wonderful) was in the process of becoming that best friend you have really confusing gay feelings about, and had to deal with me talking about this and how i was just going to have to settle for being with this guy who wouldn't respect my gender, even when that disrespect started actually making my skin crawl when he'd get close. because hey, marriage is for life. it didn't even occur to me that we might get divorced until about 4 days before The Conversation. i was genuinely ready to stick it out with this guy who refused to really See me, because i thought that was what i had to do.

then came The Conversation. i'd been invited to be a bridesmaid in his sister's wedding and had agreed to wear a dress, because hey, it's her wedding. if she wants bridesmaids in dresses, sure. (i was still very much reeling from my own wedding, but that's another story i'll tell if anyone's curious.)

anyway. dresses. i go to a fitting. i stand there numbly while wearing the most godawful dress i'd ever seen, feeling like Garbage. i go home. i step in the door, i burst into tears. sobbing, on the couch, i tell him that something's not right. i can't wear a dress to this wedding.

i think that was when he realized i wasn't going to grow out of being nonbinary. we had a really long, brutal conversation, mostly about how i was probably going to want top surgery one day, that ultimately resulted in him ending our marriage.

"i can't make you be somebody you're not," he told me. "but you can't make me attracted to you."

that's right, folks! the thing that ended my marriage was my tits.

we'd sat through and endured many conversations in which i shared my feelings about the church, about christianity, about the patriarchy, about gender as a whole, but in the end, the thing he could not get his head around was a version of me that didn't have a chest.

i won't lie, that shit stung. the constant rejection of my gender expression had sort of eroded any romantic love i felt for him at that point, but he'd been my closest confidant for so long by that point that i really had to work through some shit about worthiness in the weeks after. it was just surreal to me that me With tits was good and worth being married to, but a hypothetical version of me with a flat chest was so repulsive that he'd rather end a marriage than endure it.

and like, i get being a boob guy (trust me), but damn.

p.s. some really interesting notes: he waited to have this conversation with me until literally the week after i received the first 5-figure portion of my book deal advance, which meant when we were settling affairs, it counted as "marital income" and he got half, and then he hired lawyers behind my back after we said we wouldn't do that.

in hindsight? maybe it was never about the tits at all. ;)

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ginger Rogers (Swing Time, Top Hat)—Look I’ll level with you, I’ve never seen her in a musical and I know that she’s an amazing dancer and she’ll be even hotter when I finally watch Top Hat but I’m not submitting her as a dancer I’m submitting her as an ACTRESS. Her comic timing is impeccable!!!!! She’s full to bursting with life and in every role she seems to be having FUN, you can practically feel the twinkle in her eye. With her natural warmth it’s like she’s letting you in on the joke, y’all get to have this fun together! Making me laugh is hot!!! [If you'd like to see Ginger dance, videos below the cut]

Dorothy Lamour (The Jungle Princess, Road to… movies)—Ok, to be honest, I get if no one wants to vote for her--she's kind of like my ~problematic fave~ because she started in the Road (Singapore, Bali, Hong Kong, etc) movies with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, which are full of all sorts of exoticism tropes and usually have her playing very side-eye type roles..island princesses and things...yeah. also she banged J. Edgar Hoover. not very hot. but your honor i still think she's pretty despite all that she's pretty please look at her and tell me she's prettyyy

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Dorothy Lamour propaganda:

She started in jungle and South Seas movies and became famous in the Road series. She learned quickly to improvise when facing Bob and Bing. Road to Bali almost has her character marrying both of theirs, since she's island royalty and nobody had a problem with it - a nearly poly relationship, an epiphany for a viewer who didn't even know that that could happen! She was a popular pinup girl during World War 2, and was the first singer for the popular standard "It Could Happen to You". She sang often in her movies and has a lovely voice!

Ginger Rogers propaganda:

She needs no introduction! An undeniable powerhouse on the dancefloor, and no less talented an actress. I once watched a compilation of cinema's greatest dance scenes and one of her and Fred Astaire's dances was featured, and one of the talking heads said he pitied her for 'having to keep up with him' - or something to that effect. Bullshit, I cry. Ginger Rogers was his absolute equal, and underplaying her incredible skill is downright criminal. I want the 'Cheek to Cheek' sequence from Top Hat to be permanently burned into my memory.

"Backwards in high heels", as the saying goes (though the pedant in me must point out that she in fact spent her fair share of time leading or dancing side-by-side). One of the earliest twinkle-toed ladies of the silver screen, and in terms of acting/persona, her balance of wide-eyed cuteness and movie-star glamour has never quite been replicated.

we all know her beloved string of musicals with fred but ginger also has an extensive and varied non-fred filmography that she's great in! a few ginger moments that are important 2 me personally ginger singing “we’re in the money” in gold diggers of 1933, complete with a verse in pig latin bc this whole movie is kinda mocking the concept of anyone actually being in the money in 1933; ginger and una merkel singing a verse of “shuffle off to buffalo” in 42nd street, providing some statler & waldorf-esque commentary on newlyweds from the upper berth of a railway car (interesting that belly was apparently a risque word in 1933 - maybe its bc the lyric is innuendo-ing about out of wedlock pregnancies - and that panties was a term for men’s underthings!); a favorite fred & ginger number

Ginger Rogers could do everything! She could sing, dance and act. She was hilarious in comedies, moving in dramatic roles (she won an Oscar for Kitty Foyle in 1940) and absolutely gorgeous!

Listen, no shade to Fred Astaire at all, but she both kept up with him step for step and then later went on to WIN AN OSCAR FOR ACTING. (which he did not.) truly a double threat!!!

One of the best dancers in Hollywood! Her work with Fred Astaire is just incredible.

ONE LINE: "Everything Fred did, Ginger did backwards and in heels" AND THEYRE RIGHT! Rogers was a total dance badass, and a lot of movie buffs know the story, but the Never Gonna Dance number from Swing Time took almost 50 takes, and allegedly by the end of filming it her white shoes had been stained pink because her feet were bleeding. As a note, she looks crazy gorgeous in this number. Watching these two dance is insane. They match up to each other in a way my mom describes as "divine" and she's right. DANCE NUMBERS!

Let's Call The Whole Thing Off (Shall We Dance, 1937, dancing starts at 3:14, they're in ROLLERSKATES)

(Ginger Rogers is the hottest woman ever to live in this number. seeing this as a teenager altered my brain chemistry)

(also watch her feet and how she moves opposite Astaire in this one. We all know our boy Freddie had that precision demon but jesus christ Miss Rogers, let a girl live!)

Pick Yourself Up, Swing Time 1936 (Everyone's seen this one but by god you are going to see it AGAIN!)

Shall We Dance, 1937 (duet begins at 2:34)

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, Roberta 1935 (There's just something about Ginger Rogers in a slick black dress man)

The Continental, The Gay Divorcee 1934 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cjv6nmF7wdk God she's MAGIC in this one.

Gay Divorcee's Ending Montage 1934The infamous table and chairs spin happens at about 0:49. Pay CLOSE attention to her in this bc it looks like witchcraft and I feel lightheaded whenever I watch this movie bc shes THAT awesome.

She is a miracle to watch. Sorry for the sheer amount of clips. My entire family is like madly in love with Ginger Rogers.

[whenyouwishuponastar7]

Hi everyone!

I have to address something that has gone on and is currently occurring. This is the last thing I want to do because I have spent eight years in different fandoms and avoided as much drama as possible. I want no part in it. I want to enjoy my time here.

Unfortunately, this is no longer drama. This is about an individual harming people, their mental health, their safe spaces, their enjoyment of fandom, their favorite ship, and their writing. This is about an individual who chooses bigotry over friendship and will align themselves with bad people for popularity.

And they don’t care who they harm by doing it.

This person made my life a living hell for over five months. It started in August, but things took a turn in October. I was finally free of them in late February because that is when a fandom event ended that tied me to them.

During this event, this person stressed me out to the point of tears. They made passive-aggressive remarks about various things, which made me feel insecure about my fic and writing. They unexpectedly changed their medium and didn’t talk to me about it before they did; I admit I was taken aback, hurt, and short with them. I apologized and took accountability the following day.

From then on, I tried to be as supportive, kind and understanding as possible.

I was “pushy” in December and January because this person had not produced a single finished piece of their art, which would total ten pieces. I knew it was too late in January to get a pinch hitter, and I don’t care that I asked a few times how it was going when I had nothing. I handed them a completed fic on August 28th. They had nothing until mid-January (and almost didn’t make it to this deadline) but didn’t start the bulk of their work until late January 22nd and finished (except polishing and watermarking) on the 26th.

Final submissions were on January 31st.

It took them four days to do what they hadn’t done in five months. I asked if they needed an extension, and we got one because they were not done by the final submission day. I had watched another writer’s artist drop out at the last minute, and mods said they couldn’t find anyone to pinch-hit for them.

This experience was a bad one. I can’t express how shitty it felt. I didn’t write for three months during it, and the fics I’ve written since then aren’t very good. I also have watched my readership disappear—getting the hits and kudos I did before October stopped.

I had a feeling this individual might have been involved if they were talking about me, but I thought I was being paranoid. I still may be, but since this has all happened, I have started to regain readers. I find that interesting.

Anyway! This whole thing ended, and it was bitter for me. I don’t have any more enjoyment in this fandom. I love my ship, but I currently have no desire to write them. I’ve been depressed and I’m scarred from fandom events. This person took away my joy when I only wanted to participate in a fandom event with my friends and have fun.

Because fandom is supposed to be fun, it’s not supposed to do this to people. It’s insane that it does this to people, and I never wanted to be involved in this bullshit.

This person has gone on to enjoy other fandom events, write and produce art, and seems to be doing fine.

Through small but interesting events, I started to learn about this individual’s ‘perspective’ on the entire thing with me. And, hoo boy, it was a fucking ride.

I am still shocked, amazed, flabbergasted and kinda pissed off about how this person lied about me. Everything they said was a complete lie. They shared my DMs via screenshots out of context, warped what we were talking about to play the victim and get sympathy, and flat-out lied numerous times. I have been accused of forcing them to do things during the event when I have screenshot proof that never happened.

For everything this individual accused me of, I provided screenshots to tell the fucking truth.

Two people have told me the same phrasing: they made me out to be a monster.

A monster.

If anyone knows me, my character, they know I’m not a goddamn monster. I try to keep my head down, stay in my lane, play in my sandbox corner, enjoy my ships, and have fun with my friends.

To be called a monster or to have someone say, ‘you’re nothing like they made you out to be,’ is the most surreal moment of my adult life.

This is fiction, fandom; it’s not real, and not everyone makes a living off it. It’s a hobby, and it’s supposed to be enjoyable. Once we step away from our computers and phones, no one knows us as so and so, writer or artist of Ship. Meanwhile, this person is making me out to be the worst human being alive, and it is absolute insanity to learn how deep it goes.

The twists and turns, the lies, the complete lack of reality, the delusion. It’s creepy and disturbing. And, through finding all of this out, I pieced together a pattern of behavior that this individual has:

When you do something they don’t like, they distance themselves, become cold and passive-aggressive, and hold themselves above you. You are no longer of use to them. They dangle their friendship and attention on a lure, hoping you’ll bite, only to throw you back under.

Please understand that this is a dangerous thing—this is not fandom drama—this is a dangerous individual, and the person with whom they choose to spend their time speaks volumes.

I will not share names or screenshots. Screenshots have been shared with the right people, and I will not make it a public spectacle. I also choose to protect the privacy of my friends and others involved in this, of which there are many.

I have been accused of forcing this individual to do things, hating them and their work, being extremely pushy and stressing them out, and that my server was unwelcoming and the people in it were unkind, and various other things. Small things that didn’t mean anything to me were taken extremely personally and made into more lies to make this person a victim.

Such as my preferred formatting for posting my fic links on tumblr. They did not respect it, even though I attempted to respect their formatting for posting their art numerous times earlier, but I was told not to stress about it and, you guessed it—accused of forcing them to change things behind my back. Again, screenshots have been given to the right people.

This individual can delete everything, but we have our proof, as we have been gathering it. We will not publicly share anything, but if this individual decides to, we have the evidence to back it all up.

There were so many creepy and fucked up things that happened. I can’t list them without getting too personal, but please understand this person does not belong in our fandom.

They chase popular people, especially artists, to ‘collect’ them and lie to and manipulate their friends for sympathy. Their friends need to step away and see the light because they are being used—it’s not a real friendship. It is transactional.

And you should be offended. They will cast you aside when you’re useless to them, too.

If I seem mad, it’s because I am. I have been dealing with this since August, when I realized that many of their comments were strange. I didn’t know those were red flags at the time. This individual pretends to be friendly and claims to be ‘the nice one’ when things go wrong so they can keep their reputation. Interactions with them might seem harmless, but looking at them with a different scope makes them something far different.

Don’t ignore red flags or gut instincts.

This is my story, and it is not told exactly how I wish I could tell it. But I know this individual has hurt numerous other people. I was going to make this post without the ability to reblog, but I am leaving it open for now.

If you want to add your story, as I suspect many of you know who I am speaking of, please do. I ask that you avoid telling anyone else’s stories for them unless you have permission. Protect each other.

This stupid shit unites us. I’m not afraid anymore because I’m sick of watching my friends get hurt again and again.

This individual has befriended a known bully and transphobic person. I won’t speak any further on this because it is not my story, but please bear in mind that they chose a TERF over trans friends. And we know what they say about association.

Blindsided victims of this individual are not at fault for this person’s actions.

See something, say something. Terfs and bullies can GET FUCKED.

Share your story.

[maxiskindahere]

Hell is forever | Lute x F!Reader

i’ve become obsessed w Hazbin Hotel recently and well where’s better to write than Tumblr!

I also love x readers and Lute so this is a fun time xx

i also haven’t written in a WHILE so this is not my best work but i promise im better xx

————

CW: swearing, sexual comments

Lute was an interesting person, she wasn’t typically the type of person you’d get in with. But since meeting her & Adam, you are sure that your life has improved… to an extent.

——

“Hey, Y/N! Don’t you think Lute would so much better with less on?” Adam teases as you walk into his office “Adam, you are going to be the first man with no dick if you don’t shut up.” Y/N deadpans, plopping down beside Lute on the couch

“You’re no fun, Y/N” Adam complains, throwing his head back with a groan “I just know that if I agree with you, Lute is very much able to fuck me up.”

You know of the exterminations, and you know Lutes body count. Being on her bad side is not something you wanted.

“Please, Lute’s too busy st-“ Adam is cut off with a yelp as Lute throws something at him “Shut up, Adam.” She hisses, glaring daggers at him “Fine fine” He mutters, flipping her off as you look between them in confusion

“So what happened in Hell?” You decide to ask, knowing the extermination had happened just a week prior. “Well we had a talk with Lucifers bitch daughter today.” Adam begins in a rant about how “Charles” decided to talk about how she wants the exterminations gone and some bullshit hotel

“She seriously thinks sinners can be redeemed?” Y/N questions, leaning forward “What does Sera think about this?” Adam scoffs, rolling his eyes

“she doesn’t know, it’s not like it’s going to cause problems anyways.”

——

Adam was wrong. It was definitely going to cause problems, but that wasn’t her issue. So, she continued on with her day while waiting for the time to come when she’d meet Lute for lunch.

“Sorry!” A voice exclaims as Y/N feels someone crash into her “Fuck!” She yelps out, quickly spinning around to be met with two demons and Emily, the seraphim of joy.

The h/c girl quickly straightens up “Seraphim Emily! What… are you doing here?” She splutters out, glancing nervously at the demons “Oh hush, Y/N. You know you can call me Em when Sera isn’t around” Emily informs the girl with a happy smile.

“Right well.. Em, what is.. going on?” She questions the seraphim, still glancing between the demons “Right! This is Charlie and Vaggie! They’re representatives from Hell!” The girl cheerfully explains

Y/N’s eyes widen “Holy crap! You’re the princess aren’t you?” She asks Charlie, whose face flushes “Yep, that’s me..!” She says awkwardly before taking Vaggies hand in hers “This is my girlfriend, Vaggie” She introduces with a soft smile

Y/N grins “I knew gay people went to he-“ She’s cut off by Emily wacking her lightly “I’m kidding! That’s sick, congrats” She says softly, fluttering her wings

“So, you here about this.. hotel thing?” Y/N questions, crossing her arms together “How do you know about that?” Emily quizzes the girl who pauses for a second “Uh, Lute told me!” She quickly states, rubbing her arm

Emily’s eyes widen “please tell me you two are-“ Before Emily can continue, Y/N spots Lute approaching the four “Respectfully, your majesty please stop” Y/N hisses out as Lute reaches them

“Y/N, where have you been?” Lute asks the girl, anger clear in her voice “Sorry, I ran into these lovely girls and you know how I feel about ditching people” Y/N states innocently, smirking at the anger in Lutes eyes “And you know how I feel about waiting, finish up here and meet me in my office.” Is all the taller girl says before departing

“She seems.. nice.” Charlie says after a few moments of silence “Oh she is, I just don’t think she likes demons” Y/N comments, she knew Emily was unaware of the exterminations and she was not about to admit that she knew to anyone.

“I’m not sure why, you two are lovely” Emily pouts, causing Charlie and Vaggie to give her light smiles “But uh, I better go.. Lute will be a pain if I keep her waiting much longer” She says, excusing herself as she bids farewell to the trio and makes her way to Lute’s office

“Hey..” Y/N says awkwardly, walking into the unlit office before being slammed against the now shut door “I can’t believe you!” Lute exclaims, glaring down at Y/N

“What did I do?” The girl yelps out, feeling the pain rush to her wings “You’re talking with Vaggie! Of all people!” Suddenly everything made sense.

Lute was always fighting for Adam’s favouritism with Vaggie. She was better than Vaggie in every way, but until Vaggies betrayal Adam couldn’t see it.

Since then, the girl had some serious issues with abandonment.

“Oh cmon Lute! You know I don’t care about that failure” Y/N tries to reassure as she feels Lutes heavy breathing hit her face “I only care about you, I promise” Y/N says softly as she notices Lutes eyes soften

“Sorry.” Lute mutters, still holding Y/N against the door “I know a way you can make it up to me” Y/N mumbles, looking down at Lutes lips before glancing back up at her eyes which were wide in surprise before slowly leaning down and capturing the angels lips.

Y/N quickly reciprocates the kiss, wrapping her arms around Lutes neck and pulling her closer, desperate to have the girl closer to her.

But before anymore could be done, Adam suddenly barges in knocking the two away from each other

“The trials starting, come on.”

—

[archangeldyke-all]

HIIII. I’m gonna like try one last time to make a request cause I understand you said there’s something up with your inbox and idk if like tumblr keeps eating mine but anyways—

How about sevika with a reader who’s fucking hilarious/super nice and makes her laugh but when it comes to actually being alone with sevika they are horrible at eye contact and are like supppperrr shy and embarrassed.

Especially like during their first time together (✂️✂️), THE GIRL CANT EVEN SPEAK.

I wonder if sevika would be patient- or if she would be the one to say she’s inlove first.

Idk but it’s up to you to answer this so ofc as alwayyyssss I hope you have annnn amazing day!

tumblr always manages to delete the cutest fucking suggestions thank u for sending this in again omg

men and minors dni

you're the life of the fucking party. no matter you go, you manage to make a friend. you've always got people laughing, you've always got a funny story to tell, and you can keep a conversation with a brink fucking wall. sevika thinks you're fucking amazing, the funniest person she's ever met.

she also thinks you hate her.

when you're alone with sevika, you're completely silent.

she thinks you've got something against her, and she's desperate to make it up to you somehow.

which leads to her being extraordinarily nice to you. which only leads to you being more awkward and standoffish around her.

you can't fucking help it. she's the most attractive woman you've ever met, you just can't help how tongue tied and shy you get around her.

it takes you guys a long fucking time to figure it out.

six months-- six months of sevika being incessantly nice to you, and you basically being silent to her-- and sevika finally gets fed up.

"look-- i don't know what i did to you-- but can you please just fucking tell me so i can figure out a way to make it up to you?" she asks one night at the bar. ran just left-- leaving you and sevika to sit in the typical awkward silence that follows the two of you around.

you blink at her. "what are you talking about?" you ask. she groans.

"oh for fuck's sake! you never fucking talk to me! i've seen you hold conversations with toddlers longer than you hold conversations with me! i don't get it! what did i do to you that makes you so fucking quiet around me?" she asks. you blink again, embarrassment creeping up your spine.

"y-you haven't done anything--"

"--oh bullshit--"

"--except be very attractive." you finish. sevika freezes, your sentence catching up to her. you bite your lip. "you're... incredibly hot. it... kinda makes my brain... mush." you finish.

sevika blinks at you in shock for about five seconds, before a cocky smirk ticks up at the corner of her mouth. "is that so?" she asks, sitting back in her seat and eyeing you in an entirely new light. you gulp.

"shut up." you mutter. sevika chuckles.

"oh... this is fucking amazing." she says, grinning at you.

the first time you guys fuck, you keep trying to hide your face behind your hands. sevika fucking loves it, laughing down at you and smacking your hands away as she grinds her cunt against yours.

"show me that pretty fuckin' face, baby." she says. you whimper.

"s-sev." you whisper. she chuckles.

"fuck happened to you, huh? where'd all those words go? y' were talking up a storm earlier to silco-- makin' fun of me all night long-- what happened?" she asks.

you just whine. she laughs evilly, then ducks down to press her lips against yours.

she never stops teasing you about your uncharacteristic shyness around her. ever.

even when you're trying to tell her you love her.

"w-would you stop looking at me like that?" you ask. sevika smirks. she's got you on her lap, her hands on your waist. you had told her you wanted to tell her something important, and she had sat the two of you on the couch like this, as if her thumbs drawing circles on your hips wouldn't distract you at all.

"keep going... 'we've been dating for a few months now'...?" she prompts, starting where you had left of before she started smirking at you like that.

"w-we've been dating for a while and i-i wanted to tell you that..." you trail off again, your eyes locked on where her tongue is licking across the top row of her teeth as she grins.

"that?" she asks. you sigh shakily, and sevika chuckles.

"you're a fucking asshole." you mumble. she bursts into laughter and darts forward to kiss your lips.

"ouch, babe." she says. you roll your eyes at her. "you shoulda told me that before we spent so much time together-- woulda saved you a whole lotta trouble."

"fuck off." you grunt. she pinches you hip and you huff.

"c'mon, tell me." she says. "i'll stop." she promises, miming zipping her lips shut. you roll your eyes at her and look away.

"i love you." you mumble.

sevika's quiet for a moment, and you gulp. then, her finger is under your chin, guiding you to look back at her.

she's grinning, and your anxiety melts away.

"i love you too." she says.

your stomach does a somersault, and you lean forward to bury your face against her shoulder. "oh fuck." you mumble. she chuckles, her hand coming up to rub your back.

"you're so fucking cute it kills me a bit." she says. you huff against her.

"i hate what you do to me." you groan.

"oh yeah? because last night you seemed to like it quite a--"

"shut up sevika!" you cry. she just laughs.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[thatharringrovehoe]

I'm thinking of an AU where Billy wasn't involved in the shenanigans/horrors of season three at all. He worked at the pool, picked up extra shifts ever since Heather stopped showing up, went to scoops every chance he got just to see Steve Harrington's fat ass in those tiny shorts. He has a night off for once and decides to go and see that new sci-fi movie playing at the mall. Near the end he swears he can hear Harrington laughing like a lunatic with some girl down in the front row, but when the movie ends Billy doesn't see him in the que to leave, just the girl he works with huddled around a bucket of popcorn and giggling to herself while she wanders towards the water fountain. He needs to piss, so Billy makes his way to the bathroom, stopping short outside the entrance when the sound of someone wretching up what must be all of their internal organs filters through the door. He debates just going home, but he actually *really* has to go. So.

Billy pushes open the door, ignoring the painful vomiting sounds three doors down and takes care of business. It's not until he saunters up to wash his hands that he notices a pair of very familiar Nike's sticking out across the floor. And there sits Harrington, hugging the toilet like a lifeline and panting into the crook of his elbow.

"Harrington? Shit, you alright?"

And normally he'd poke fun. Pretty boy is obviously on something, evident by his blown out pupils and glassy stare. But he's also sweating buckets and shaking, tears and snot running down his face. And Jesus ever loving *fuck*, whoever worked over pretty boy's face wasn't pulling any punches.

Steve squints, eyes traveling slowly from Billy's boots up to his face. He smiles, dopey and high and Billy winces at how it pulls the purple black swelling of his cheek.

"Yeah, I feel way better now."

Which. *Okaaaaay*.

"I'll bet. What the fuck happened to your face?"

"I was integrated-..inter...interror-...I was tortured by Russian spies"

Billy snorts, amused despite himself.

"Oh yeah? That why you weren't at the counter today, sailor?"

Steve scrunches up his nose, and damn, Billy's gunna have to ask Harrington what he took when he's a bit more sober. It's some potent stuff if he's not even flinching moving an obviously broken nose like that.

"You know my shift schedule?"

*Shit*. Billy feels the tips of his ears go hot. Clearing his throat awkwardly as he glances down at his boots.

Time to change the subject.

"Why were you being *interrogated* by Russian spies, pretty boy?"

Steve sucks his teeth.

"Cuz the monsters came back and Robin cracked Dustin's code and then we went under the mall in an elevator to a secret Russian Army base and got caught and then they beat me up and shot me and Robin up with truth syrup and-...umm....I think that's it."

Billy blinks.

Once.

Twice.

And. *Huh*.

"That right?"

Steve nods, swaying dangerously forward before catching himself on the stall doorway.

Whatever he's on, Steve obviously *believes* what he's saying. There might even be something to that 'truth serum' element considering how he's answered all of Billy's questions so easily. And Billy never once in his life claimed to be a good person.

"Why were you with my sister at the Byers' house last winter?"

Steve's head shoots up, eyes wide as saucers and for one horrifying moment Billy's sure the guy is going to start crying. Thankfully he doesn't, just slumps even heavier against the toilet with a sigh.

"Because there are monsters in the dark. And I was supposed to protect them. I *had* to protect them. Hopper said to *stay*. And then you showed up and Max said you were gonna kill her and I was supposed to keep them *safe*"

Billy tries to parse through whatever make believe bullshit Steve is spouting before getting caught on the whole *killing his sister* part.

"What, and you believed her?"

Steve gives him a considering look. Barring the rest of *whatever the fuck* Steve is talking about, Billy isn't sure he wants to hear the answer the guy is obviously mulling over.

Finally, he settles on "I don't anymore", and something sharp and hurt in Billy's chest settles.

"Hmm. Alright. If you've been *shot up with truth syrup*" Billy huffs a laugh "tell me a secret. Something you specifically don't want me to know."

Again, Billy's never claimed to be a good person.

Somewhere under all that blood and bruising, Billy thinks he sees a flush creep up Harrington's neck.

*Jackpot*

"I'm the one who keeps stealing your photo from the pool corkboard"

He-..

Wait

What?

"That's-. Uh. Not what I thought you were gonna say."

Steve shrugs, embarrassed and looking anywhere but Billy. And Billy *has to know*. Has to ask.

"Why?"

Harrington looks up at him, not a trace of a lie in his eyes.

"Cuz every time I go to the pool to ask you on a date I chicken out."

Billy can't feel his fucking *face*. He has no idea what to say.

It's at this exact moment one of Max's nerd friends kicks down the bathroom door, holding Scoops girl by the shirt while Sinclair's little sister levels Billy with a challenging glare that has shame curling hot and acrid in his gut.

"STEVE! We've been looking *everywhere* for you! C'mon buddy, we have to get outta here before the Russian guys find us."

These hicks are fucking insane.

After helping Steve up to rinse out his mouth in the sink, Billy walks out of the bathroom with Harrington hanging off his shoulder when a bullet whizzes past his nose to embed itself in the cement wall.

Henderson is screaming "Shit, they found us!" while two men in black combat gear come charging up the escalator, armed to the teeth. They bark orders out in what is obviously Russian before a show car *flies through the air* and crushes them against the wall.

After Billy is introduced to a little girl with God damn *superpowers*, he's given a bare bones explanation while Steve plays with one of Billy's stray curls like it's the most interesting thing in the world. And monsters are real and there's a spider made of people out to get them and apparently Heather is possessed and all Billy can hear is

***Cuz every time I go to the pool to ask you on a date I chicken out***

[ellebakers]

☆ Let me be your man (+18)

Chad meeks martin x reader

Summary : friends with benefits but with jealousy.

Warnings : language, mention of sex, mention of blood and death, angst but happy ending.

A year ago, your life was hell. Indeed, ghostface came back to terrorize the town, he assaulted your friend Tara, then he killed your boyfriend Wes, he stabbed you and watched you bleed to death on the cold garage floor of your best friend Amber. And in the end, the person who made you suffer was none other than your best friend.

After this traumatic events, everything happened very quickly. The hospital stay, the statement to the police. The journalists who were waiting for you in front of your house to speak to you, the funeral and finally the nightmares.

Every night you had the same nightmare. The garage, Ghostface, the knife, the pain, the blood, and it started all over again, like this guy was fucking Freddy Krueger.

The only thing that gave you any security was your friends, Sam, Tara, Mindy and Chad.

Especially Chad. One night while you were sleeping at his house, you told him about your nightmares and he told you about his. It felt good to talk to someone who understood you.

It was after this discussion that you found yourself riding him while he held your hips and whispered sweet promises to you.

After having sex three times that night, you fell asleep with each other, and for the first time in months, you had no nightmares. And you assumed that he hadn't had any either since the next evening he was texting you to reiterate your antics.

What was supposed to be a one-night stand turned into a ritual.

And this ritual continued even after moving to New York.

The only small problem was that you were starting to fall in love, but he didn't seem to want it.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

"Come on Y/n, please come with me, we're going to have a lot of fun." Tara begs you

You took one last look at your last conversation with Chad, and your anger was rising so you groaned and threw your phone on the bed.

"OK why not."

Tara was jumping with joy, then she went to your closet and pulled out a very short red dress with a slit on the thigh and a neckline

"Here, put this on. We're going to a fraternity, there will be lots of hot guys."

At first you weren't sure, but it was better to go out with your friend than to stay here waiting for an answer from chad who would never come and hear Quinn having sex with a complete stranger.

So you got up and took the dress then left to put it on.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

No sooner had you arrived at the party than you were already regretting it, the living room was full of drunk people jostling each other, and the music was breaking your ears. You hated that. In your defense, the last party you went to, you ended up on the floor bleeding to death.

"Y/n ? I didn't think you would come." You turn and see Mindy, beer in hand and looking a bit embarrassed, like she's afraid you'll see something.

You frowned and opened your mouth to answer but Tara cut you off. "I convinced her." She said, looking proud of herself, "well, excuse me, but I'll get myself a drink." Then she left.

There was a bit of an awkward silence between you and Mindy, your friend couldn't even look you in the eye. You took the bottle from her hands and drank a sip, once swallowed you said to her "go ahead and spit it out." She growled but obeyed "Well, Anika didn't want me to tell you about it, but you are one of my closest friends and I love you very much so I have to tell you." She paused and took a deep breath before continuing, "Chad is here with another girl."

That's it, you had just been stabbed again, but it hurt even more. You took a sip of the beer and shrugged. "We're just friends, he does what he wants."

Mindy rolled her eyes "Y/n please don't bullshit me. Maybe it works with others, but with me. I know there's something between you, not only do I I've already heard you fucking but in addition, the way you look at each other, it's eye-popping."

"Yeah well it looks like your brother doesn't see it that way."

She chuckled, "My brother is a jerk."

You smiled sadly at her "I'll get another beer."

She nodded and watched you go to the kitchen.

Like the living room, the kitchen was full of drunk people, some were throwing up, some were kissing and some were sleeping on the tables, you managed to sneak up to the fridge, that's when you heard it, a bitch voice, "Chad, you're so funny." You turned your gaze in the direction of the voice, and there he was, sitting with a blonde on his lap.

You wanted to go there and yell at him, but there's no point in making a scene. You had argued in the morning about what you were, because you were tired of getting the wrong ideas. He didn't want to admit you were a couple but he couldn't stand it when you talked to other guys. But seeing this blonde, her arms wrapped around his neck, it was very clear that he only saw you as a hookup.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and turned to get out of here as quickly as possible, but as you left you bumped into a boy who dropped his bottle of beer on the floor, the sound of the glass breaking caught everyone's attention, including Chad.

"Damn, I'm really sorry." You tell him as you bend down to pick up the pieces of glass.

The boy chuckled lightly, "Never mind, that beer wasn't good anyway."

His comment made you laugh slightly, you raised your head to look at him and you recognized your classmate in film history. Jack.

"Oh it's you! It reassures me, I know you won't sue me." He shook his head with a smile and leaned over to help you pick it up.

"Be careful, don't plant a glass in your hands. It would be a shame, you couldn't write the lessons afterwards."

You replied with a sarcastic laugh "Very funny."

Once the pieces were carefully picked up and the floor cleaned with a sponge, you leaned on the counter with Jack and you started talking.

"So," he began, "I heard that Mr. Cameron and Mrs. Winston were caught red-handed playing Fifty Shades in the bookstore."

You gasped "No fucking way, you’re kidding ?!"

He crossed his arms over his chest, laughing "Nah I promise you, it even seems that he had tied Mrs. Winston with the chains and everything."

You closed your eyes and wrinkled your nose "I have the image in my head." He laughed and walked over to pour himself a drink. As you continued to chat, you felt eyes burn the back of your head, you didn't have to turn around to know who it was. It was Chad.

Jack had noticed it too, he leaned over and whispered in your ear "It seems your boyfriend is jealous."

You shook your head, "He's not my boyfriend."

He raised his eyebrows "You should tell him then."

You frowned slightly and whispered "The thing is that I love him, but obviously it's not reciprocal."

Jack faced you, he grabbed your face with his hands and said softly "I'll make him react if it's okay with you."

You nodded and Jack slowly brought his face to yours while looking Chad in the eye. Before his lips even touched your cheek, a chair noise was heard and someone stuck behind you.

Your classmate pushed over and winked at you, "Oh Y/n you saw, it's Chad."

You turned around and came face to face with a more than pissed off Chad, he was clenching his jaw while looking at Jack.

Then he turned his eyes to you "Can we talk?"

You frowned looking for the blonde "I don't know, I think your friend who was on your lap must be waiting for you and I wouldn't want her to wait for you then-"

Chad gave you a look that meant You're serious there..

He cleared his throat and took your hand. "It's important."

You looked annoyed and nodded, but before following him you turned to Jack and kissed him on the cheek "Thank you for everything." He smiled at you and nodded.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

The little kiss on Jack's cheek had Chad pissed off, you could tell by the way his face was closed, but if he was pissed off then so are you and ready to talk once and for all.

Chad didn't let go and he took you to the second floor to find a room to talk.

Once the room was found, he let you in first, then he followed you and locked the door, as soon as the lock had been closed he started "What the fuck was that?"

"What the fuck was what Chad ?"

He put his hands on his hips, clearly annoyed "You know very well what I'm talking about."

"Nah, I don't see what you want to talk about. Besides, I'm surprised you're talking since all the fucking day you haven't said a single word to me."

He groaned and ran his hands over his face. "That's another discussion. I want to talk about you and that guy."

You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest "I don't see why you want to talk about it. You and I are not a couple, we only fuck so I don't have to answer to you. And this guy has a first name, his name is Jack and you know it very well."

He wanted to say something but he couldn't.

You laughed "You see that's why I'm fed up. As soon as I talk about a couple, you shut up. You avoid talking about it and you ignore me all the fucking day, It makes me sick and when I find you you're sitting with a bitch on your knees, and you dare to give me a fit because I'm talking with a classmate."

He looked away and didn't answer.

"Do you have anything to answer?"

He remained silent.

You groaned and the tears welled up "I understood that I'm just a hookup. A girl that you fuck when you feel like it and when you're not better off. I understood very well that you don't care about me, fuck i'm not sure if i count for you as friends but the fucking problem is that i love you you see, you're the only person i feel with, well, since Wes." Chad finally looks at you at the mention of his friend "I trust very few people, you know that. And the more you and I saw each other, the more I fell in love, but I'm tired of being in pain, tired of inflicting this on myself, I deserve better then Listen to me carefully, from tonight, you and me, our arrangement is over. That way you can fuck whoever you want and I can finally move on."

He burst out and started yelling at you crying "You want me to tell you how I feel, you really fucking want to know. I've been in love with you since our first day of high school but Wes hooked up with you. so I gave up. Then I met Liv and I loved her, I suffered losing her. And you come on after all that, we sleep together and for me it was like my first time, I I wasn't just fucking with you because I was in love with you And I blame myself because I feel like I'm betraying Liv and Wes, but I also know that if I let you go or if he something happens I won't get over it You're not just a hookup for me, you're what I think about, morning, noon, evening, you drive me crazy Y/n, I'm coming not to detach myself from you. And when you talk about a couple I freak out every time and that's why I avoid you, because I'm a coward."

You started crying hearing it and Chad started crying even more. You approached him and took his face between your hands "You are a lot of things Chad, including a jerk, but you are not a coward." He laughed softly and rested his forehead against yours.

"I love you so much if you only knew." He tells you "But I'm so afraid of losing you."

"Chad it's not by loving me that you're going to lose me. It's by playing dumb like you do that you're going to lose me."

He hugged you and kissed you "No no, don't leave, please stay with me." He continued to kiss you while backing you up to the bed where he gently laid you down without detaching himself from your lips "I love you Y/n"

"I love you too, I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise me ?"

"I promis you."

He smiled against your lips and placed a last kiss before lying down next to you.

He hugged you tight and you stayed like that until the end of the night.

[chaotic-mystery]

Code Red Chapter Eight | I Could Fly Home, With My Eyes Closed

Pairing: No outbreak AU dbf!Joel Miller x f!OC (told in 2nd POV)

Summary: Everything's going good with Joel and your life, but is it almost too good? What happens when you put Joel on the spot about taking a vacation together?

Content Warnings: SMUT, 18+ only blog MDNI. Enemies to lovers, dads best friend Joel, age gap (readers in her twenties and Joel is in his forties), slow burn, strained father/daughter relationship, daddy issues, swearing, arguing, mentions of anxiety and how that feels, angst, showering with Joel, hand job, dirty talk, morning sex, penetration (p in v), pet names (Joel refers to himself as daddy and you call him that as well), worshipping, fantasizing about eating you out at work, power dynamic, reader smokes. (If I've missed anything please let me know!)

Authors Note: I'm back. After some long thinking I decided it would be best to change Code Red from a reader insert to a female OC told in 2nd POV. There's just too much in here that adds to the story and dynamics for it to continue to be a reader insert while also being a blank slate. I want to reiterate the reader IS NOT physically described in any way other than having hair long enough to push away from the face. There's an underlying personality that I want to add and explore more and I hope you guys love it just as much as I do. Thank you always @pedgito for beta-ing for me, I love you. I love you all and thank you for the constant support on this. || wc: 5.3k || notif blog || ao3 ||

Every night for the past few months you were staying late at work with Joel to help him sort through the blueprints Tommy left out all over the place during the day. Joel’s hands rest on your shoulders as you sit at your desk, typing up some paperwork so you don’t have to worry about it later.He leans down close to your ear and ever so softly glides his lips over the shell of your ear. 

“Can we go now, baby? S’getting late and I need to get some food in my belly.” A soft kiss to your cheek makes you smile, face growing warmer by the second. 

“Just one more and then I’ll be done, I swear it.” You chuckle and squirm away, trying to type as fast as you can. His lips motivate you to keep going and soon enough his hands follow, dragging up your sides and stopping right over your wrists. 

“No, no more. It’ll be here for tomorrow.” Your chair spins around and you become face to face with Joel. 

“Mmmm I’m not too sure if my boss will like that.” You joke.

A grin fights to spread on his lips. “Yeah, baby? Since when do you care about making me upset?”  

“Since always.” Bullshit. You make him upset for the fun of it. The way his brows knit together and he gets that frown, arms crossed over his chest. He looked so good when he was mad. 

He reaches out his hand and pushes back on your chair to make it recline the closer he gets to your face, a small hum coming from his mouth. Menthol and tobacco tickles your nose as Joel leans in as close as he can before touching his plush lips to yours. You can almost taste him. You need him so badly. 

“You’re not a very good liar, sweet girl.” 

He finally closes the gap between you two and his tongue immediately wants access to your mouth which you happily oblige. Pulling him closer as if he was going to disappear, you run your fingers through his dirty curls at the nape of his neck. He was your drug and by god did you need every single ounce of him. Soft grunts come from between his lips which causes you to smirk between kisses and makes you wonder how far he’d let this go right here at your desk. 

Just as you grab his shirt to pull it from where it was tucked in his jeans, Joel laughs and pulls away slightly, just enough to look at you. 

“Come on, let’s go home.” 

Home. 

What he means is your house, but home slipped out so effortlessly. Like clock work he’d drive you two back to your shared neighborhood and he’d grab clothes from his house and usually something to read, either the farmers almanac or a magazine from the gas station, and come over to eat dinner with you before you hole up for the night and relax. It was only on nights Sarah wasn’t home and with her mother, as she had no idea about her dad dating the cool neighbor to the left of them. You respected the idea of him not wanting to tell her yet. The feeling always came back to you late at night when Joel was asleep in your bed with soft snores coming from him, always reminding you how wonderful he really was. Joel would never put Sarah in the position to constantly have women coming and going in her life, confusing her every single time she’d come back to his house and learn her dad was no longer with his girlfriend. Alan on the other hand, was good at making your life feel like a revolving door, no stability, no good people around besides what little family of his he tolerated. Joel is the complete opposite of him and how they’re friends, you’ll never understand. 

✮

You toss your purse onto the counter as Joel locks the deadbolt on the front door before he kicks his boots off onto the mat and groans tiredly as his feet rest flat on the hardwood floor. You grab a glass from the cabinet above your head to pour yourself a glass of water to go with your fries from the diner you just left. Joel looks at you with a puzzled expression on his face as he walks over to you. 

“What are you doin’, I thought you were full?”

You put a fry in your mouth and look at him before answering.

“No, but I noticed how tired you were and I didn’t want you to wait on me to finish so that’s why I asked Pearl for a box. No big deal baby, it’s fine.” 

Joel's face drops as he starts to understand why you did what you did. 

“Baby…” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before continuing, “please don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” You question with a mouth full of french fries and look at him confused. You weren’t seeing an issue with what you did but it was clear Joel was feeling differently. 

“This. Don’t rush yourself and not finish eating because you think I’m annoyed you’re taking too long or whatever may be the case.” Joel checks his tone and makes sure he’s not coming across as mad, but concerned. 

He steps in front of you and grabs your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek slowly as he looks at your eyes. 

“As corny as this is gonna sound, I'm gonna say it anyway. I will always wait for you, doesn’t matter what Im waiting on you for. If you’re eating I want you to enjoy your food, not look at me and think you gotta finish the rest at home because you think I’m gonna get mad at ya. Take your time, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Promise.” His attempt at reassuring you ends with a kiss to your forehead and his arms wrapping around you tightly until you’re against him with not an inch between you two. 

Your throat tightens with the need to apologize for doing that, as if you’ve done something wrong. 

“Okay…I’m sorry…” You mutter against his chest. 

“It’s fine, honey. I’m not mad at ya. Tell you what, why don’t I go shower and then we can watch a movie. How’s that sound?” You kiss him in agreement and Joel gives you a tired smile before he walks towards the bathroom with his clean clothes in hand. Time ticks on and it feels like eternity before you hear the water start and the shower curtain close and you couldn’t help but want to sit in there with him and just be near him. He made you finally feel comfortable in every aspect of yourself to allow yourself the small things as such.

You walk over to the bathroom door and clutch the crystal door knob to give it a turn and open the door just enough for you to slip inside. Steam whooshes past your face and the smell of your cucumber melon body wash fills your nose and you can’t help but smile at him smelling like you, never gets old.

“What’re you doin’ in here?” Joel hollers in a playful tone as he lathers his body with soap. 

You rest against the sink with your arms folded over your chest and for a second you think about ripping your clothes off to join him. You must’ve been taking too long to respond, suddenly your face was sprinkled with water to snap you back to reality. 

“You just gonna stand there and be silent or are you gonna get your ass in here?” 

That was all you needed to hear. Your clothes were on the floor before he could finish rinsing the stress filled day off his body. Joel turns around to the back of the shower and looks at you kind of surprised, not thinking you’d really join him in the shower. He switches spots with you and your eyes flutter shut with the trail of warm water running down your body until you’re covered in it. 

“Do you want me to wash your back for you, honey?” 

You think for a moment and answer Joel truthfully.

“Not at the moment but um…I was wondering if you’d hold me? Just for a second and then I’ll wa-“ 

Joel stops you by wrapping his arms around your torso from behind and giving you a light squeeze to let you know it’s okay. 

Nothing mattered in that moment besides him in that ugly green bathroom you hated so much, with his arms wrapped around you as if he’s won the lottery or something. To him he did, he definitely won. 

Joel, trying to be as much of a gentleman as he could be, starts to inch his fingers down your hip little by little, tugging you closer against his groin. 

“You’re so beautiful. Fuck I’m so lucky to even be this close to you.” He kisses your shoulder and continues speaking.

“To touch you.” A kiss between your shoulder blades.

“To see your bratty ass sitting so pretty at that desk at work…bet you didn’t even know you make me so hard I have to distract myself with something else before I do something I’ll regret.” His teeth ever so slightly graze your earlobe before he spins you around to face him. 

You open your eyes slowly and decide to test him a little more. 

“Like what? What would you do that you’d regret?” Smoothing over his sides beneath the warm water, you kiss his chest and hear his breath shudder, distracted from giving you a polite version of his answer. 

“To take you to the bathroom stall and eat your pussy until you’re screaming against my hand on your mouth, begging me to stop.”

“What makes you think I’d let you get that far before I’d get my hands on you?” You retort. Joke was on him, you’d never let him get ahead of you like that before you got your way with him first.

Still, you wanted to play this game with him. Before he could respond, you lean up and kiss him roughly, your hand traveling down his stomach until you bump his cock, already half hard just thinking about having you in such a predicament. 

A moan chokes out from Joel as if he’s been holding that one back forever and you can’t help but get into how much power you have over him, regardless what he says. Each stroke to his cock from your wet hand earns you a louder moan than the previous one, his hand reaching down desperately to cup your ass, water splashing against your feet harshly.

“F-fuck baby, jus’ like that. My god-” 

You hook your arm on his shoulder to keep him still as you go faster and kiss his neck, more and more moans pouring from his soft lips like honey. Joel’s knees begin to buckle a little and you smirk in the crook of his neck before biting the skin just enough to make him wince. 

“You’re so fucking hard, Joel. Dirty old man, thinking about eating me out at work. Tsk tsk tsk.” Whatever he’s been doing to you over the past months was giving you this new found confidence to be a dirty talker and a little dominant even though you were the biggest brat he’s ever crossed. 

Joel’s eyes squeeze tight as he takes in your words mixed with your hand curling just right over the sensitive tip. 

“O-old man, huh? But you wanna suck this old man's dick, don’t you?” 

He got you there, you wanted to do more than that. 

“Maybe, maybe not.” 

“What did I say earlier, honey…you’re not a very good liar.” He moans out and you pump his cock faster, hoping it would keep him from talking. 

Just as his groans echoes off the tile of the shower walls, you hear tires on the gravel driveway outside. You both stop in your places and turn to look out the small window above your head and notice your dad’s truck in your driveway. 

Fuck. 

Immediately you shut the water off and throw Joel’s towel at him and tell him to stay in the tub before you close the curtain on him and wrap a new towel around you from the closet. Hastily you begin to run around your entire place trying to grab anything that remotely looked like someone else was here with you. Joel’s boots sitting by the front door catches your eye and you bend down to grab them, hearing your doorbell ring. A big clunk comes from the boots hitting the closet floor before you close the doors and you can see your father’s shadow in the frosted glass of your front door. 

Fuck.

Three loud knocks to the glass pane makes you jump and you holler loud enough for him to hear outside, “One second! Hold on!” You run to your room and throw on a robe quickly before making your way back to the door with the fabric tied tightly around your body. 

You open the door to face your dad’s back and he turns to face you. 

“Bad time?” He dryly asks. 

“N-no, I was just getting out of the shower. Not trying to be rude but what are you doing here? It’s so late and I didn’t know you knew where I lived…” You close the collar on your robe more as the wind breezes past, sending goosebumps down your already anxious body. 

“I uh, I didn’t. I came to see Joel but he’s probably asleep, didn’t answer…and I noticed your car over here, didn’t know yall were neighbors.” He breathes in sharply as if he’s offended you didn’t share that with him. 

“So do I get to see the place or not?” He half asks as he’s trying to step inside before you give your answer. Noticing how pushy he’s being, it’s clear something is bothering him but he won’t spit it out. 

“No it’s really messy in here, I’ll invite you back though, promise.” You hold the door against your side tightly, foot behind it to keep it still. The awkwardness lingers while he processes you telling him no, something he’s never been able to understand when it comes from you. 

Tongue in cheek, he nods a little disappointedly and steps backwards to the railing of the porch. 

“S’okay. Didn’t think you’d want your dad in your space anyway, I get it.” There it was. The same sad sob story he always gave, his favorite card to play the second you didn’t turn into his puppet like you used to as a little girl. 

“Dad-” you begin, “-it’s not like that, I swear.” Your head falls as you can feel yourself getting more and more upset by the second. Nothing good is going to come from this, from him knowing you live here. Next to Joel. 

“Did you find a new job yet? The girls down at the bar keep talkin’ about how everyone around here knows about the little fight you caused months ago and now no one wants to hire ya.” The nerve he had to come over here, thinking you’d be chit chatty at almost eleven o’clock at night, just to hear how those bitches down at the bar that don’t even know you, tell your dad about his own daughter. 

Speechless, you stand there with a growing lump in your throat that acted as a net and stole every single word that you attempted to choke out. 

“I’m just saying, it doesn’t look good on me.” 

Unbelievable.

Blood boiling like water on a stove, you sigh loudly and stand straight up, ready to tell him exactly what you were thinking.

“I have a job now, thanks. I’ve had one for a few months now, actually. Thank you for coming over here and insulting me and telling me what the girls at that grimey fucking bar think of me. I really appreciate it, dad. Goodnight.” You slam the door and lock it before he has the chance to open it and knowing him he would. Within seconds your heartbeat begins to race and your head gets dizzy, Joel takes notice and he’s clothed now as he comes from around the corner. There’s no room to care that he heard every word of what just happened, you can’t get air into your lungs fast enough and you look panicked at him. 

“J-Joel I-” You clutch your chest and glance around the room quickly.

He rushes over to you and cups your face, muttering something to soothe you but you can’t make out what he’s saying.

“I-I’m gonna go sh-shower.” 

“Baby, are you okay? Do you want me to come sit in there with you?” He asks but everything seems so muffled over the beat of your own heart that hasn’t slowed yet. You wander towards the bathroom and shut the door behind you, locking it without answering Joel. Warm tears glide down your cheeks as you start the water once more and step in, your cold body shivering under the now hot water that feels like it’s going to melt your skin off. 

Why would he say that? Surely he defended you to them, right? As a father, he could not have just sat there and let them talk about you like that, no way. Anyone in their right mind would never let someone talk about their daughter in such a manner but this was your dad, and he wasn’t a regular dad. 

Trails of water run down your back and you stand in silence with a hand over your mouth to muffle the sobs you started to let out. You couldn’t tell if it was tears or water from the shower coating your face anymore. 

✮

The sunlight slowly begins to pour into your bedroom, mourning doves singing faintly as they sit in the trees. As you lay there with Joel snoring on his back next to you, you couldn’t help but replay the night before. Your dad knowing where you live, especially next to Joel, wasn’t something you ever planned on sharing. Deep in thought, you didn’t even notice Joel stirring awake next to you until you’re engulfed by his arms wrapping around you and tugging you into him. 

“Good morning, baby.” He mumbles in your ear and nuzzles into your neck, eyes still shut. His favorite thing to do as soon as he’s awake is to pull you close and have a cuddle before you get up for the day, but today felt different. The house was silent but there was this unmentioned tenseness you didn’t talk about from last night and you weren’t even sure if he did hear everything your dad said to you. 

Failure. An embarrassment. How long before Joel soon started to see you that way?

“Hey…you’re doin’ too much thinkin’ before you’ve had coffee. What’s the matter?” Soft kisses to your cheek snaps you out of it and you try to shake it off. 

“Nothin, it’s nothing. Do you want pancakes or waffles for breakfast?” You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than you were Joel. 

“I want this. Just stay like this a little longer.” Joel presses more kisses to your shoulder and trails them over your chest until you’re on your back, tucked under him snugly. 

“You don't really want that.” 

Joel scoffs and dips his head under the covers to soon place his mouth on your stomach. “It’s exactly-“ he pecks your skin, “-what I want.” A low groan vibrates against your belly and you laugh slightly from the tickling sensation as your fingers manage their way into his soft bed head. 

Hooking his index and middle finger in the waistband of your panties, Joel starts to trail his mouth down your abdomen and bites at the blue cotton fabric covering your growing aching heat by the second. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Joel kisses your clothed pussy before dipping his fingers inside right to your clit. Slipping against his fingers makes you moan in his mouth and press your body against his enough to make your nipples brush against his arm. 

“J-fuck-Joel, please fuck me, god damn. Fuck me.” Your whiny pleads only make him finger you in more of a teasing manner, changing speeds and styles sporadically against your desperate attempts to fuck yourself against him. His mouth falls open to bite your earlobe while his fingers toy with your entrance. 

“You want daddy’s big dick inside you, hm? Use your manners.” His left hand comes up to rest on your windpipe as he kisses your lips. 

“Please, please please, daddy, please fill me up.” 

Everything was different this morning, even the sex. He felt more gentle with his actions, not wanting to throw you around like a ragdoll this time and it was a nice change for you. 

With a swift move Joel shucks off his basketball shorts and runs the tip of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your arousal as his lube. 

“That’s right, such a good girl for me.” His finger swirls slowly on your plush lips before going inside your mouth, pressing down on your tongue softly. Like muscle memory, you suck his finger and bite down firmly when he puts his cock inside you, the pressure subduing rather quickly when you adjust to him. 

Quivering warm breaths hit your neck as Joel buries his face into you. Moaning and groaning echo off your bedroom walls and you feel Joel nibble on your neck trying to get you to moan louder for him. 

“Yesss oh my god Joel, just like that please.” Your slurred words go quieter as his hips slam into you, but it wasn’t the normal rough sex. The passion was through the roof and he wanted to make you feel worshiped. 

“You’re so good to me baby doll, so damn good to me.” His husky voice is like liquid velvet in your ears and you can’t get enough. Joel’s name flys from your mouth with every other curse word you can rattle off as you start to feel that burning sensation in the pits of your belly. Arms wrapping around his neck and nails clawing at his back, your legs close around his waist subconsciously, trying to get him deep inside you as you could. It felt too good to let him sit up and pound into you, that’s not what you wanted. 

Chasing that orgasm, Joel starts to whimper in your ear everything you want to hear, squirming on top of you as he made it his mission to make you come before he did and he was putting in the work. Joel’s mouth around your nipples, biting and sucking for moments at a time before he goes back to your neck, then back to your nipples. 

“Cmon, jus’ like that. F-fuck, baby-ughhh-yes, I-I-” His words fall short on your lips as they connect, tongues dancing in the middle together. 

“I-I love y-you” was the last thing you heard before coming on his cock thrusting deeply inside of you and with a few more pumps, Joel was shooting warm ropes of cum inside you. 

Panting underneath him trying to catch your breath, you smooth the curls at the nape of his neck and whisper, “I love you too.”

I love you. 

Of course you wanted to say it months ago, hell, you’ve been waiting to say it since he defended you that night at White Pony. Being with him for the last eight months was nothing short of trying. You butt heads like no one’s business and throw little comments at each other under your breaths and he doesn’t take your shit, as do you his. 

I love you.

It sounded so good coming from him. 

I love you.

✮

Seeing Joel all fucked out and snoring softly in your room with pink sheets and pillowcases surrounding him makes you laugh quietly to yourself, the most southern man you’ve ever met who wasn’t afraid to sleep in a hyper pink room. He always tells you it’s the best sleep he can get but you’re convinced it’s just your mattress he loves. 

A knock on your front door makes you jump slightly. A Saturday morning and someone knocking on your door? Probably the neighborhood kids playing around. Pulling on your black sweatpants and a clean shirt from off the floor, you slink down the stairs and open the front door to a bouquet of roses sitting right at the edge of the stairs. 

What the fuck?

Small rainbows casted onto the wooden porch as the sun shined through it, roses dancing ever so gracefully in the breeze. A card poked through the bubblegum pink bulbs and you could feel your anxiety growing from something you were unsure about. Not many had your address but now that your dad knows where you live, who knows what shit he’d pull. 

“Miss you, baby girl! I’m so proud of you for doing what’s best for you. Hope these get to you when you need them the most. 

-mom” 

She always did have a good intuition of when you needed her the most. You dip inside without making too much noise  to grab your cigarettes and lighter from your purse sitting by the coat rack, closing the front door softly to assure Joel wouldn’t wake. 

Warm tobacco fills your lungs to take the edge off your anxiety and for some reason you couldn’t stop feeling like you needed to go see your mom. She had a cabin out in Michigan right in South Haven near the beach, private and secluded just how she always wanted, that you never grew tired of being in. It’s been years since you’ve got to go due to work and moving all over the place to get away from your mistakes that seemed to follow no matter where you went. Texas was safe, for now at least. 

The slowly burning cigarette was getting towards the end and you crushed the butt against the sidewalk before flicking it into the pebbles by your bushes and groaning at yourself mentally, knowing Joel will see it and give you an earful later about doing that. 

Why shouldn’t you go see your mom? You had the money saved up and it didn’t seem to be too hard to get your boss to agree to give you the time off. Your feet move as fast as they can back inside the house to the counter to set the flowers down and then upstairs to Joel in your bed, sound asleep on his stomach with his face barely visible behind his bicep of his arm tucked under the satin pink pillow. 

Climbing on top of him and basically straddling his ass, you pull the covers off him and rub his back slowly, dragging your nails up and down his skin softly. A couple of mumbles leave his lips as he stirs under you, his other arm reaching backwards and squeezing your leg just enough to realize it was you. 

“Mmmmbabyyyy whasthemaddur?” His cheeks squished together distort his words but by this point you were fluent in half asleep Joel language. 

“I need to ask my boss something but I don’t know what he’ll say.” You giggle and kiss the top of his back and lay your chest on him, your arms at his sides comfortably. His heart was beating faster with every rise and fall of breath he takes in. 

“I was um…I was thinking ya know…I want to go see my mom, in Michigan.” You looked in his direction before continuing. “And I was wondering if I could get maybe a week off? Pleaseeee.” You drag out the last word and start to kiss his back more in hopes he’d comply and give in faster. Was Joel really prepared to tell you no? 

He turns his head the opposite way and coughs as he wakes up more, chuckling at your attempts to butter him up. 

“You, my favorite worker, want a week off? To go on vacation? The nerve!” Joel’s dramatic tone takes you by surprise and you continue kissing his back trying to contain your laughter.

“She lives in Michigan? Must be pretty nice there on the lake- never been but I’ve been to Chicago a few times, real pretty out on the water.” The softness in his voice makes your heart swell a little and before you can stop yourself you ask flat out, “what if you came with me?” 

Joel turns to the side and dumps you onto the bed before sitting up to look at you.

“What?” The smile was long gone now from where it was mere seconds ago on his face.

You push the fluffy comforter out of your sight and meet his eyes.

“Come with me. Let me show you around Michigan and you can meet my mom, maybe.” Everything felt right, it felt like the right time for Joel to meet your mom, having been together for eight months now.

Joel fiddles with the loose thread coming from the cover and you start to get that anxious feeling again.

“I um…I can’t, darlin’...I’m sorry. I just-” He stops but he doesn’t know how to continue, so he doesn’t attempt to say more for what felt like eternity. “With Sarah and everything I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, I get it.” Your voice cracks and you sit up facing the wall to hastily wipe your face and pretend like that didn’t just break your heart a little. 

✮

A couple weeks pass and it’s been awkward between you and Joel since he shut down the idea of meeting your mother. It wasn’t like you’d be around her the entire trip but he didn’t give you a chance to explain either. Maybe that was too far for his boundaries. 

With your flight booked and your bags packed sitting by the front door, Joel had been distant at work and didn’t stay for long when he’d come over after work. Was this your punishment for trying to grow with him?

As you dragged your luggage to the driver you booked, you notice Joel’s truck gone from his driveway and your heart drops in your chest. Not even a goodbye, see you when you get back, nothing. 

You get in the back of the car and drive to the airport with tears stinging your eyes. You’ve officially scared him off and he wants nothing to do with you now. 

His phone rings four times before you get his voicemail, that voice is like music to your ears. 

“This is Joel, I uh- I can’t come to the phone right now but leave me a message I call ya back- bye.”

The recording beeps and suddenly you’re speaking exactly what you’re thinking.

 “Joel…it’s me. I um-“ your voice cracks, a tear rolling down your cheek, “-I’m on my way to the airport right now…I just wanted to say bye. I walked over but you weren’t home even though I told you when I was leaving. Why are you doing this to me? I don’t understand…” 

The tears were flowing down your warm face, the driver nervously looking in his rear view mirror to check on you. You hang up the phone angrily before tossing it in your purse. What once was a beautiful view and lovely drive became a cry fest and blurred by tears. 

Within an hour the driver pulls up to the airport and helps you with your stuff, telling you to have a safe trip before driving off. So many couples littered the building inside, scattered off to the side either reuniting or departing, some leaving together. That should’ve been you and Joel. Ugly airport outfits and coffee in hand, laughing at the delusion that riddled your tired brains. 

You plop down on the bench near your gate and pull out your book, the faeries and mortals making it seem so much better than here. 

“You gonna read the whole time we’re in Michigan or?” That fucking voice. 

Joel.

You practically break your neck to turn and look at him, a filthy smirk plastered on his face. 

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[scoobydoodean]

Something fun for you to ponder. When Sam was soulless, Bobby thought there was a chance that, "This is just Sam." I think it's because Sam tends to perform empathy somewhat selectively, at times more cognitively than emotionally. Do I personally think it's a neurodivergent trait? Yes, I do. BUT. It's hilarious to me that Bobby looked at soulless Sam and thought, "Hmm. There's a good chance that's just Sam." No?

Ho ho! Very interesting.

From 6.06 "You Can't Handle the Truth":

DEAN I don't know how much longer I can do this, Bobby. You got to figure out what the hell he is and fast. BOBBY I'm trying. But, Dean, there's a worst-case scenario. DEAN What, Satan's my co-pilot? Yeah, I know. BOBBY Well, that'd be the other worst case. DEAN Well, then what? BOBBY Maybe it's just Sam

Notably: This happens before anyone knows Sam is soulless and before Sam has admitted that he doesn't feel anything, but after Sam has let Dean get attacked and turned by a vampire.

I don't think that Bobby disagrees with Dean that Sam is acting different from before (I think that's why he calls it a worst case scenario). Sam has been putting everybody on edge, not just Dean (Samuel says that Sam scares him in 6.07). I think what Bobby is considering is that Sam simply isn't the same person after The Cage—that Sam compartmentalized his emotions to deal with the trauma—turned himself into a stone cold killing machine as a coping tool—and now Sam doesn't know how to warm back up to feeling anymore or caring about anyone or anything (or maybe can't because it's still too raw). Bobby's considering the idea that Sam may have simply cracked open and spilled his emotions out on the floor somewhere and left them behind... which ironically, is pretty much what happened?

Bobby is aware of similar (though less extreme) behavior from Sam in the past in coping with trauma. In fact, he arguably knows this side of Sam better than Dean does. Sam ghosted Bobby while Dean was in hell (and for months in 3.11 "Mystery Spot", though Bobby doesn't remember that). It wasn't that Sam stopped feeling (he was full of anguish and rage), but he did push Bobby away and focus obsessively on revenge, hunting like a machine. Sam pushed away the potential to talk through Dean's death with someone else who loved Dean and understood a lot of the grief Sam was feeling because it opened him up to a dangerous amount of vulnerability.

This is very John-coded behavior from Sam and it doesn't represent a lack of emotion as much as it represents "I feel so much that I cannot stand the idea of touching that emotion or I will break". It's a refusal to engage with and feel certain emotions, because if he did, he wouldn't be able to get up. Anger is fuel that burns hot and keeps you moving, but grief and fear can rip the life from you.

Consider even John's way of dealing with the worry he perpetually felt about Sam. Yelling and telling Sam never to come back when Sam wanted to go to school, making the fight all about betrayal and responsibility when deep down the entire time, John was just scared that Sam would get hurt (1.08, 1.20). Griping at Sam as a kid for wanting to play soccer (1.08), but without Sam's knowledge, quietly placing Sam's soccer trophy in a storage unit because John couldn't bear to throw it away even though there was no room for it on the road (3.03). John buried certain representations of affection and love because they were fraught with so much terror. Being open about how much he cared exposed him to feeling so much fear he couldn't cope with it, and John feels emotions incredibly deeply like Dean does. When the crying starts he cannot stop. It isn't macho bullshit—it isn't "I'm a man so this is unacceptable"—it's "If I feel this emotion right now at this exact moment then I will shatter into a million pieces".

Sam does the same thing when Dean is dead. Bobby represents vulnerability, family, and love—talking about how much Dean meant to both of them. The rage is easier. Being a hunting machine in 3.11 is easier. Focusing on murdering demon and training to kill Lilith is easier.

When the people Dean loves are in pain, Dean talks to them—he tells them how much he cares about them. He lets himself be vulnerable with it. Sam wants something to do and he needs to take charge. We see this is in 5.07 after Bobby reveals that he's having suicidal thoughts. Dean is distraught, and Sam is too (we see how much Bobby's opinion of him matters to Sam in 5.01)—but Sam just tells Bobby he isn't going to let him sacrifice himself, then jumps into action and focuses on the mission, while Dean lingers at Bobby's side. Then at the end of the episode, Dean sits down with Bobby alone and tells him how much he loves him and needs him. I don't think Sam could have that conversation at that point in his life. I genuinely don't think he could—and not because he doesn't love Bobby, but because he can't touch the distress that would surface from a discussion like that. One could argue Sam really does the same thing in 3.10, stepping outside of Bobby's house and seeking out Jeremy inside Bobby's dream while Dean goes up the stairs and finds Bobby and again—opens himself up to vulnerable emotions and expresses how much Bobby means to him—that he sees him as a father and he can't lose him. Sam focuses on finding the guy doing all of this and skirts the emotional vulnerability.

I think this is something Bobby, then, is very familiar with from Sam, so when he takes it to an extreme, where Sam is now dealing with a traumatic experience from being in The Cage, he can easily see how Sam would suppress his emotions and focus on hunting like a machine yet again, and how that could possibly reach such an extreme that Sam would stop feeling altogether and maybe not know how to or not be able to come back from that. And you know... I've never thought of this before in this exact way, but how did Sam's soul and body get separated in The Cage? Is there anything that disproves the idea that Sam himself ripped his soul from his body to cope with Lucifer's torture?

[tiddygame]

hello im sorry i wrote more for @myriadblvck ’s streamer au ghoap

I time travelled and around 4,000 words magically appeared in a document titled: "you didn't juju on the fucking beat soap" I think I was possessed by something. anyways here’s that:

tw: is it a panic attack? is it just typical ghost angst? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just be careful it's mostly fluffy (ghost is mean to himself cause he almost kissed soap on the forehead)

also i just realized after i wrote this whole thing, this is based on my general knowledge of dog tags… as an american. writing about the british military. so if you know your shit about the british military, uhh sorry in advance. my bad. from a very brief search i think a lot of it’s the same or at least same enough but this might hurt for people that know a thing or two. whoops!

fun fact: did you know for a brief stint (iirc, >40 years from around 1960s to 2010ish) the american military was printing soldiers’ ss numbers on their tags? yeah can’t imagine why they switched back to serial numbers.

Ghost had been pacing outside of his office for three minutes before he actually entered. When he did, he didn’t say a word. Just sat down in one of the chairs, fidgeting. It wasn't that uncommon of an occurrence, he was normally either gathering his thoughts before talking to Price about something more personal or hiding from what/whoever he didn't feel like dealing with.

When it came to mission debriefs, he was clear and concise. However, personal matters were a different story, and based on the way he anxiously opened and closed his hand, he'd guess this was a personal matter.

Price didn’t ask. He knew that whatever it was Simon needed to say would come out eventually. For now, he continued filling out paperwork and trying to figure out what it was that had Ghost so worked up.

Honestly, there wasn't much guesswork involved. Chances were, it was probably yet another leave request. He knew from Gaz (who was such an awful gossip he sometimes wondered how the man made it through interrogation training) that Simon had been visiting some social media person he had taken a liking to.

(Look, yes, Price knew about Twitch and live streaming and everything. He’s not actually that old. However, as long as he kept up the front of the old man who complained about the keyboard on his phone being too small, he didn’t have to deal with social media. Sure, it caused all of them to joke that he was geriatric and on his last legs, but he was able to convince Roach that he doesn’t know what TikTok is, meaning he wasn’t in charge of reviewing all the bullshit he and Gaz posted. A fair trade if you ask him.)

He also knew that Gaz was convinced the two were in love to the point that he and Roach had a bet going to see when they would get together. Price thought it was rather stupid, but he had to admire their ability to keep it under wraps; if the lieutenant found out they’d been placing monetary bets on his love life, he had a feeling he would need to find replacements for the 141.

Regardless, Price hoped that one day Simon would tell him about the friend but, until then, he was happy to fill out any paperwork that would get the poor man off base. God knows that idiot needs a vacation.

Simon was bouncing his leg, messing with his fingers, and staring off into space.

Three of his nervous habits at once? He must be even more worked up about this than Price thought. But, he was a patient man. It was about seven minutes of companionable silence before Simon spoke.

“I need replacement dog tags. I seem to have lost mine.”

Price looked up. He could see the chain around his neck and the outline of them still under his shirt.

"You do?" Price shuffled his documents around, eventually finding a blank piece of paper he could write on.

"Yes sir."

“And do you know what happened to them?”

“I believe they were knocked off during the fight from the last mission. I didn’t notice until later that night when we were back at base.”

Price paused and looked up from where he had been writing.

The last mission had been an odd one. Ghost normally stuck further away, their eagle-eyed lieutenant typically stayed at long to mid-range, watching for hostiles and making sure whoever else was in the field wouldn’t get caught off guard by someone they hadn’t seen.

During the last mission, he decided to engage at close range, a far cry from his usual approach of sniping hostiles from the shadows.

At one point, their lieutenant had been tackled and almost strangled. The fight had pretty much ended, his attacker was the only one left there. Ghost, being The Ghost, dispatched him with ease, but it stuck out to Price. Ghost may prefer to stay further back, but that didn’t mean that his hand-to-hand combat skills were lacking by any means.

He remembered thinking at the time that it was a clumsy mistake, that Ghost would have had to be intentionally trying to fuck up to get knocked down. He assumed the man had just been caught off guard, but he knew that theory wouldn’t hold up to any scrutiny. Ghost isn’t one to get caught off guard.

What was stranger yet still was Ghost specifically pointing it out in his mission report, calling even more attention to it.

Price set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“You planned this?”

“I plead the fifth,” said the British man.

Price just continued to stare, curious to see if this was actually going where he thought it was going.

“Is this off the record?” Simon eventually asked.

“Of course,” almost everything the 141 did was of dubious legality. Not reporting a conversation about possible wasted assets was far from the worst thing that had been swept under the rug.

“Then yes.”

“Why?”

Simon didn’t answer. Price waited, giving the man time to gather his thoughts, but based on the way his mouth opened and closed before he slumped in his chair, it seemed he didn’t know what to say at all.

Price had an inkling he might know what this was about.

“You know, Gaz likes to keep me informed,” Ghost looked up at him, somewhat panicked yet resigned, like he already knew what Price was going to say.

“He tells me you have a certain someone you’ve been visiting?”

“Yes.”

“Is this person a friend or…?” Ghost once again paused, calculating the potential consequences of his available responses.

He didn’t answer.

“Hmm,” Price paused, wondering how far to push before he continued, “You want to give this person your old dog tags?”

“Yes.”

Of course he would pre-plan “losing” his dog tags. Price mentally chuckled, leave it to Simon to be such a sap that he wanted to give someone his dog tags yet still make sure to follow protocol so he never actually risked going without them.

He had to hand it to him, it wasn’t a bad plan.

Price had a smile now, knowing his grumpy hard-ass lieutenant had a sweetheart he wanted to be sappy with.

“Romantic or platonic?” Price tried again.

“… I don’t know,” he’d never seen Simon look quite so… forlorn.

Hmm… That would explain his hesitancy.

He was pushing how much Simon was willing to divulge.

“And does this person know the significance of you giving them your dog tags?”

Well, curiosity killed the cat…

“No, they don’t.”

…But satisfaction brought it back. How interesting, the plot thickens.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

There was a long pause, after which it dawned on Price, “You want to give them your dog tags because they don’t know.”

It wasn’t a question, he already knew. Simon somehow slumped further, attempting to hide his face as if he weren’t wearing a balaclava.

His grumpy hard-ass lieutenant. Absolutely smitten with someone yet too shy to say anything, deciding on a quiet confession, one they likely wouldn’t pick up on.

Price chuckled, jotting down the necessary information he would need when he got his hands on the right paperwork, polishing up some of the details of Ghost’s story to make it more believable, before reading off what he had written to Ghost to make sure he got everything right. Ghost nodded once, and that was that.

“Replacement tags will probably be here in two to three weeks.”

“I would like to request leave for two to three weeks from now.”

Price handed him the form, having already grabbed it. He noticed how the man seemed to calm at just the thought of getting to visit his mystery person.

Oh, he thought to himself.

I am definitely joining Roach and Gaz’s bet.

<><><><>

They were lying on the daybed in his streaming room, or, well…

No, that’s not quite right.

Simon was lying on the daybed.

Johnny was lying on top of Simon.

His computer was still softly playing quiet (non-DMCA) music from where his stream had just ended. Instead of turning it off, he had decided to unplug his headset and leave it on, the music just loud enough to be heard.

Simon was sleepily scrolling through his phone, trying to pretend like he hadn’t almost dropped several times while dozing off, desperately trying to stay awake. Johnny had watched his struggle and decided to lay down right on top of Simon, not even trying to pretend like he was trying to fit on the remaining space on the daybed. Why would he when Simon was right there?

It was meant to be a joke, having thrown himself on top of him to annoy the man into sleeping on an actual bed (he claimed he wasn’t tired but the comically loose grip on his phone and the waking world said otherwise.) However, unfortunately for said sleepy man, Simon was very, very comfortable.

His head was resting on Simon’s chest, arms under his back like he actually was just a pillow, one hand reaching higher to feel where Simon’s hair had begun to grow out slightly.

I wonder if he would let me help him cut it…

Simon had said he was like a clingy cat, his free hand running through his hair in the same manner one would pet a cat to prove his point. The joke's on him though, he likes it.

Simon had tried to stop but Johnny didn’t let him, threatening to tickle him if he did.

(“I’m not ticklish, I just don’t want you throwing a tantrum.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say,” he was definitely ticklish, and one of these days he was going to prove it.)

At some point, Simon had given up on keeping a grip on his phone, letting it drop to the side. They would probably have to go digging through the cushions to get it out of whatever crevice it had fallen to. As of right now, the idea of ever leaving his spot was comical at best.

The sun had begun to set, orange and pink tinted light filtering through the sheer curtains, making everything look more like a dream. Or maybe it was just the proximity to the man below him that was making him feel so serene.

Johnny took a second to inhale and exhale slowly, appreciating the moment. He hoped that this memory, this beautiful tranquility with Simon, would be something he cherished for a long time to come.

He knew that they had things to do. Soon, Simon would be catching a flight at some ungodly hour, headed back to save the world yet again. But for now, he was happy to nap away in their own little bubble. He never was a religious man but here in the arms of Simon Riley, he was tempted to think heaven was real, and that it was right in front of him.

“I almost forgot,” Simon mumbled, not sounding any more awake than he looked, reaching up for the collar of his shirt. Thankfully, the hand that was running his hair remained. He didn’t like proving the cocky bastard right, but he probably would have thrown a tantrum had he tried to remove it.

“They had some fuck up along the line or something and accidentally printed me an extra set of dog tags. I was just gonna toss ‘em but thought you might want—”

Johnny was now wide awake, sitting up and yanking the chain out of his hands.

“Don’t you fucking dare throw them away, of course I want them!” Simon’s face reddened, a frequent treat for Johnny now that he had gotten more comfortable going without the mask. Simon might have been good at keeping a poker face, but without his mask, he was a blushing mess.

He wondered if the blush was from his obvious jubilation at the gift or if it was because he was now straddling the man. Such pesky details, however, (even ones that would keep future Johnny awake at night) were far less important than examining the necklace in his hands.

It was obvious this was the older set, the metal worn and dented in some spots though the writing was still clearly visible.

“Calm down, I’m not going to take it from you,” the gruff tone was severely undermined by the aforementioned blush. It was hard to sound tough while half asleep on a daybed and being used as another man’s pillow.

Johnny stared at them for a little bit longer, feeling every dent and wondering the story behind how they got there, before putting them on.

He smiled at the man under him, “How do I look?”

He was going to joke, asking if he looked like a rough and tough soldier ready for war, but something in Simon’s eyes made him stop short.

He was looking with… with… Reverence was far too intense of a word for the softness of the moment but it was the only word that came to mind.

Simon reached up with his hand, grabbing the tags, his knuckles grazing his chest.

Well, that’s just fucking unfair.

Simon was supposed to be the blushy one. Not him, goddammit!

Though, he thinks when they make eye contact, they end up tied for who is blushing the most. They stare for a while, maybe it should have felt awkward but it was too adoring for either to feel any form of uncomfortability.

Neither moved.

It was Johnny that broke first, smiling at him, yet again tracing all of the scars he could see. It was his new favorite hobby, especially when Simon would blush making the scars on his face all the more visible.

He took one more second to sleepily appreciate the man before him, then went back to using him as a pillow. His hands went back to where they were before, one under Simon’s back and one playing with his hair. His head, however, did not fall back to his chest, instead resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Simon’s hand returned to running through his hair, his other now coming up to rest on his back, rubbing up and down a few times before the sleepiness from earlier fully returned with his hand stopping somewhere around the small of his back.

Johnny leaned up slightly and gave a chaste kiss to the part of his neck that he could reach, then settled back to where he was. The hand in his hair paused.

“Thank you, Simon.”

A second of delay, and then the hand continued.

“You’re welcome, Johnny.”

Simon shuffled slightly, getting comfy before—

A kiss, on his forehead.

He couldn’t stop the blush and smile if he wanted to. He snuggled closer before drifting off to sleep.

When he woke, he was in his bed, practically tucked in. His window had been opened slightly, blackout curtains that had been drawn closed now swaying slightly with the breeze. When he focused, he realized he could smell petrichor and hear heavy rainfall outside with the occasional grumble of thunder.

There was a note on his nightstand. As he expected, it was Simon’s handwriting, apologizing for not waking him up before he left. It said that he had made breakfast for him (pancakes, with enough for when his sister would inevitably try to steal them), that he made sure to lock the front door, and left the window cracked.

He giggled sleepily at the last line. Regardless of the context, it always made Simon anxious to have the curtains open, much less to leave a window open. But, he also must've known how much Johnny loved the rain and set his worries aside, just this once, so he could wake up to the rain.

He set the note down and flopped back onto his pillows, his hand felt something cold and he remembered.

The dog tags.

John MacTavish is no stranger to crushes and heartbreaks.

He's had high school sweethearts, been in and out of love, he knows his way around the world of dating. Which is why he most certainly does not squeal and kick his legs while holding the tags like some kid with their first crush.

He did it like a grown man, thank you very much.

He grabbed his phone and sent Simon the worst pun he could think of; it was tradition at this point to send him some god-awful joke before his flight.

Simon has probably already forgotten about the whole exchange. He probably woke up and assumed he threw them away when he noticed he wasn't wearing them. It was probably stupid, an insignificant gesture with no meaning. But to Johnny, it felt like everything.

He sighed dreamily at the ceiling and felt the cool metal once more. Thunder roared outside. He thought about how he had felt in the man's arms. Thought about how much he wanted that again.

God.

His phone dinged and he immediately reached over to grab it.

I'm fucked, aren't I?

<><><><>

Elsewhere, Ghost was in an airport terminal, having far too much time to think.

Over the weekend, it was almost impressive how many times Ghost had talked himself into and back out of giving Soap his dog tags. He really hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

Simon felt the spot that Johnny had kissed and wondered if he remembered it. Wondered if he had meant it.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked cradled in his arms when he carried him to his room, the way he had reached out for him when he laid him in bed. The way he had grabbed his wrist and clung to it, grumbling when Simon tried to pull it back.

If asked, he'd say that he had woken up late and that's why he was so far behind schedule. He'd keep the part where he sat there, kneeled in front of Johnny's bed, waiting for him to fall back into a deep enough sleep to pull his arm away all to himself. After all, it would have been rude to wake him up, no?

He had made sure to plug up his phone and, upon seeing the forecasted weather, hesitated before opening the window. It was only barely cracked, just enough for the sounds of the outside world to shamble in, but not so wide as to worry about water damage. He stared at it, convincing himself not to worry and that Johnny would like waking up to the fresh air.

He turned back to make sure the man was still asleep, still comfy, but stopped for a moment. He approached the bed and hesitated before running his fingers through his stupid haircut, almost wishing the man would grab his arm and give him an excuse to stay.

He didn't. Simon did, however, lean in to give him one last kiss on the forehead as some stupidly sappy goodbye, before his brain turned back on and he ripped himself away.

What the fuck is wrong with you? What? He grabs your arm in your sleep so you feel entitled to be able to kiss him?

Simon backed away, staring at the hand that had just been in his hair. He felt dirty.

For fuck’s sake, relax. It's not that big of a deal, you did it earlier; the man fell asleep in your arms, a forehead kiss isn't too much of a stretch.

He went to the kitchen and scrubbed his hands for a while, only stopping when he thought about how much water he was wasting. He still felt dirty.

Not a stretch? You don't get to decide that. How would you feel if someone tried to kiss you while you were unconscious? If they said that they felt they should be allowed to do so because you fell asleep?

He had started making pancakes. Something quick, easy, and reheatable for when Soap woke up. Like making him breakfast would make up for trying to kiss him in his sleep.

Why can't you just be normal?

Eventually, and after a run-in with Soap’s hell-spawn of a twin, he had to leave. The time on his phone showed that he should probably already be halfway to the airport by now but he has always been a selfish man.

He had snagged some paper and left Soap a quick note, hoping the apology would make him feel better about worse sins than not waking him up. It didn't.

He stared at the man for a second, admiring him, before he reminded himself that he was a fucking creep and left.

The storm left the flight delayed by 1.5 hours. Ghost had sat waiting, wireless headphones on and connected, but not playing anything. He had far too much time to think.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked, his dog tags around his neck, silhouetted by the fading light, the sun behind his head as if even the stars knew they could never compare to him.

He stood and started pacing. Amongst the screaming children, feuding families, and people who think they're entitled to listen to their music without headphones, one middle-aged man having an existential crisis didn't stick out.

He thought about how he had never understood weighted blankets so well until Johnny had thrown himself on top of him. It should've hurt. He should've been annoyed. Instead, Simon selfishly hoped he would never get up.

It took him a while to put his finger on what he had been feeling exactly. Finally, he realized.

There, in that moment, he had never been so happy to be alive. It was a startling emotion to discern amongst the swath of negativity he normally felt. It startled him so much, he had snapped out of his reverie and stopped short in his pacing. When he checked the time, he saw he had one missed text from Johnny.

Soap (art streamer): i was trying to think of an airplane joke but none of them landed

Simon chuckled and sat down; he almost forgot about their dumb little tradition.

Ghost: Disliked.

Soap (art streamer): everyone is so mean 2 me 💔

Ghost: It is not my fault your pun was so Boeing.

Soap (art streamer): well i thought i could wing it

Ghost: Did you look up what giving do-

Ghost: About the tags, you

Ghost: I think you make me want to live

Ghost sighed and fell back further into his seat, coming to a conclusion that his subconscious had long ago discovered.

I'm in love, aren't I?

Soap (art streamer): speechless huh? finally, the Wright reaction to my comedic genius

Ghost: Absolutely awful, Mactavish.

Soap (art streamer): :D

Took you long enough, dumbass.

<><><><>

Soap’s twin spent a good bit of time staring at her brother's new accessory.

“Is something wrong?” he challenged, hoping she wasn't in a bothersome mood.

She failed miserably at hiding her shit-eating grin but didn't care.

“Nope!” she replied.

She had run into Ghost early that morning before he left.

"Detergent."

She was pretty sure he never even learned her name, just jumped straight into calling her detergent.

"Ghoul," she greeted, glaring at the man.

Being required by law to not trust him, she checked on her brother as he was still gathering his things and noticed the necklace.

“You gave him your dog tags,” she accused, like she was framing him for murder.

“Yes, I did,” he replied casually, as per usual robbing her of the fight she so desperately wanted to pick.

“Did you tell him what it means?”

“...What does it mean?”

Damn, he was good. If she wasn't convinced that he was the devil incarnate, she might have fallen for his feigned ignorance.

“100 bucks and you buy my silence.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“200 then.”

“It doesn't even mean anything.”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose you might be right… JOHN!” their neighbors were probably going to complain.

“What the fuck are you doing?” ooh he was getting panicked now.

“If it doesn't matter then you won't mind me telling him to look it up,” she started walking to his room, “JOHNSON!”

“Fucking Christ, woman! Just— Fucking— Here.”

He pulled out his wallet and started counting bills. Damn, that was easier than she thought.

“What did you say? 100?”

“Nope! That was before inflation. Now it’s 300.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You said 200!”

“So you admit you tried to scam me?”

“Just take the 100 and g-”

She didn't even get to yell, he reached for more before she could finish taking a deep breath in.

“Just shut the fuck up! Here! Three fucking hundred!”

She was tempted to raise her price further, but she was no gambler, she was a strategist. She knew a defeated man when she saw one. If she played this right, she could extort money out of him for a long time to come.

Something, something, vampires not fully killing their victims and all that.

She took the money, counted it, and then held out her hand to shake.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wraith!”

He didn't shake her hand.

“Christ, both of you are awful.”

He packed his stuff and left, broke, broken, and defeated.

She ate as many pancakes as she could, rich and victorious.

She thought about how much power, how much blackmail she had in this moment.

“I’m fantastic actually,” she walked to her room.

I am going to be so fucking rich by the time they get their shit together.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM TASKMASTER SEASON 16 *  assorted dialogue from the tv show, adjust as necessary

you look so nice, but underneath it all, you're just a shit.

it's just exciting to know people are talking about me.

i don't want to be in there with some wet guy.

oh, i'm gonna push this bitch.

are you a child of divorce?

to this day, i don't know what vibe i give off.

i know it's annoying, but it's all i've got so... just let me have it.

i've never done that.

i'm actually quite good with a sword.

this is one of the most exhausting things i've ever done.

why didn't i just draw a cock and balls?

i don't know why i said that, 'cause i don't really regret it.

you're easy to look at than i am.

oh, you're here. what a thrill.

you absolute anus!

you've got a friend?

would it be mischievous to say things that i'm not supposed to say?

can i just say, i love weapons.

you made me say every country in europe.

do you have a license?

if i do nothing else in this life, that was worth it.

[name], the heat is on.

what sort of cool things do you want?

stick that in your pipe.

i knew what had happened, and even i was swept along by the narrative.

it was avant-garde. it was french cinema.

good luck with your career.

bit late for a banana.

it was very, very cold that day and i wanted to get it over with.

is that your starting position?

i knew it was something boring.

don't have to tell me twice.

it is the least sexy thing that anyone's ever said to anyone.

i don't like going upside down.

what have i done? oh dear. what have i done?

it's nice, it's harmless, it's warm.

this thing is disgusting.

that's useless. that's worse than useless.

i also agree with them. you are sick.

your pie technique was dreadful.

i really like it when you're disappointed in us.

oh, is there a fire? how awful.

nothing going through my head is family friendly. not one idea.

lovely legs, sir!

you got a problem?

that was heterosexual male banter.

are you a superstitious person?

it's too late for that.

do i just choose a name?

i can drive people crazy.

that is a true story, and i feel a bit sick.

i bought it to annoy my husband 'cause i thought he'd hate it.

i'm well-presented, very smart, and available for no-strings fun round the back of the barracks.

what room am i in?

what's your favorite number?

why is there smoke?

running a business is bullshit.

when i think exercise, i think exorcism.

we're not allowed to work with nature?

we were at a wedding together once, and i made you eat a whole pat of butter.

obviously you want to put it on a penis.

are you joking me?

is this something that would excite a heterosexual?

you're going to get a lot of letters.

i'm gonna go for plan b and just throw some things.

is this your stage persona, or is this what you're like?

i don't know what you mean.

you can hide in there waiting for your victims.

i'm sorry, i nearly killed you.

is it appropriate to call him "sir?"

i just really like the idea of stuffing a massive stick up a mannequin's arse and rotating it like a rotisserie chicken.

i was made for this.

i was told by an ex that i have the hands of a midwife.

is that a compulsive disorder of some kind?

what an absolute shower of shits you are.

[wifegideonnav]

should i read homestuck. like i feel it would be interesting so i could see what yall are talking about in regards to tlt but is homestuck actually good

"is homestuck good" - the greatest thread in the history of forums, locked by a moderator after 8129 pages of heated debate,

no but seriously, it highkey depends on 1. your definition of good and 2. your tolerance for stupid bullshit. as someone who read tlt and then hs, i'd say that being a fan of the chaotic aspect of tlt is a good predictor of being able to hang in with homestuck.

readmore because this. um. got long. the tl;dr is: i like homestuck a lot and i am glad i read it. i can't tell you if you should read it bc idk your tastes, but there is a lot to like and enjoy about it.

the official pitch for homestuck is something like "4 kids play a game and then a bunch of other shit happens." here's my pitch based on what the core of the story is to me:

several groups of characters across time, space, and reality are brought together in order to succeed at creating a new universe after their own are destroyed. this takes the form of a game, which is called sburb (by the humans) and sgrub (by the trolls). the characters must contend with an eternal battle against good and evil in which they are the deciding factor, and level up while following personalized quests. at its heart, homestuck is about relationships of every sort and how they shape us, growing up and the associated grief and loss, coming into ones identity and choosing who to be, predestination and fate, and stories themselves. it gets very meta at times, and the characters are semi to fully aware that they're characters, and attempt to subvert or escape that. it's got hordes of fleshed out, compelling characters, one of which will almost certainly glom onto you for the rest of your life, real emotion, extremely funny jokes, smart and exciting plotting, and some very cool moments. it more or less invented an entire new genre/medium, and plays with medium in a very cool way.

it is also clunky, hard to get into, and way too convoluted. you will never fully understand what's happening. there are tons of characters whose stories you will follow whom you simply do not care about. there are too many characters. it was written by an edgelord in 2009 so there's some unsavory humor and character writing. it's so fucking long. the ending kinda sucks because the fandom was so toxic that hussie simply wanted it over with. the fandom still kinda sucks tbh. so many people have wrong opinions about it. it requires a very specific lens to approach and understand it. i still dont understand what happened with that fucking puppet someone explain it to me.

overall, i'd say that if you think you want to read it, give it a shot. i have a complicated relationship with it but at the end of the day, i genuinely love the story and the characters and i know they will be with me forever. it certainly enhanced my understanding of tlt, and getting to read more of tamsyn's writing was such a bonus (even though her taste in pairings is. not the same as my own). and like honestly. it's just fun. even when you're going "wait what the fuck just happened" you're having fun. it's really goddamn funny too. it WILL change the way you speak and also think about romance forever.

the best way to read it is to have an experienced reader guide you, but if you or other people don't know anyone like that, here are my basic tips:

i think most people know this already, but download the unofficial homestuck collection. just do it. it's like 4 gigs and it's infinitely better than trying to read on the broken website, and it's even ad free. it can also be modded - for instance ik there's a slur replacer mod (lmao) if you don't want to read those

act 1 sucks to read. you're like what the fuck is this, THIS is homestuck?? the beginning is radically different from how it ends up, so just hang in there. for me, it really picked up somewhere in act 3. just focus on the silly fun the characters are having and you'll be good

things you should actually try to follow in the early acts: the concept of a sylladex existing (the various fetch modi are only there for jokes and eventually just kinda stop being a thing), where all the copies of the game are, what each kid's relationship with their guardian is like, the mechanics of the game and the lore behind it, including classpects and quests

things you do not have to waste brain space on: anything about how the totems work, what the various machines are, what the levels are, basically any of the jokes that would be funny to hussie's original intended audience of software engineers and rpg gamers. oh and the intermission with the midnight crew and the felt, just know that those are guys that exist and you'll be good.

and the biggest tip i have is just. go with it. suspend your disbelief. a lot of the worldbuilding doesn't really make sense, but it would be a worse story if it did. when the time shit and ectobiology come into play, literally just go ok got it and keep going, don't think too hard.

so yeah i don't even know if any of this is useful but i hope it helps you decide. and if you or anyone else have follow up questions send em!

[chaoticbardlady99]

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me (Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader) MDNI 18+

Chapter Six: Four Clerics and a Vampire Spawn Enter a Tomb

Synposis: Astarion is struggling to adjust to not having you around for a little bit, but he amends this quickly. Astarion takes a moment to explore his own wants and needs while you are asleep.

CW: Mentions of torture, gore, m! Masturbation, Astarion being a lovesick mess I just had this, “oh Astarion and Tav were never together so he has no baseline for sexual touch.” And my brain went, “HE DOESN’T HAVE A BASELINE FOR SEXUAL TOUCH” and well- here we are. I hope you enjoy! I have put markers for when smut starts and stops for anyone who isn’t into it :)

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. I did take the picture of ‘Birdie’ and Astarion on my PS5

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!

Chapter 5: Chapter 7 : AO3

Astarion sits and stares at your broken, crumpled form. He had closed your eyes already and he had dug a hole to bury the cat that so graciously let you inhabit it for so long. 

  He recognizes the country bumpkin arrow as one of Leon’s. How could this happen? Astarion had searched the area high and low for signs of the Bastard and didn’t find a thing- where the fuck did he come from!?

 Astarion lets himself cry as he buries the cat. 

  He can’t feel your presence around him and that terrifies Astarion to no end. He can’t lose you- you are both supposed to be ‘stuck’ with each other forever. 

  Astarion has hopes, dreams, and stupid fantasies about what kind of life you could live together once they were able to resolve your incorporeal person problems. He really just knows that, as long as he’s around you, life will be fun. Hard sometimes, but nothing that couldn’t be talked about or handled. 

 You have given him a rather large lesson in communication and the importance of it- after about six months, you had both celebrated Astarion directly telling you that something you said bothered him instead of lashing out. 

  It had been something stupid- he can’t even remember what it was. He was jealous of some man that you said was very attractive as the two of you peered over the railing of your inn in a small town around Amn. 

 That all feels so trivial now. You could be with anyone if it meant Astarion could have you back right now. He may kill the person and cry, but that’s beside the point. <

  The sun is suddenly embracing him and Astarion feels his body become reinvigorated. 

 You never gave up on him or finding a cure so that he could walk in the sun. You also expressed having hopes and dreams amongst other what-nots. You wouldn’t give up this easily on him and he sure as hell won’t give up on you. 

  You have to be out there somewhere. If you aren’t around him that you had to be teleported somewhere else and if that means storming the Heavens- so be it.

  Astarion immediately begins flipping through Volo’s book- rubbing the stupid pink tulle tutu material between his fingers. 

 It’s a stupid thing to keep- he admits it to himself all the time- but it was such a hilarious sight to see and you had said you hope one day he sees how much you mean to him. Astarion will mess with the crappy material whenever he needs the reminder that he has worth and you are busy doing something or sleeping. It’s helped him a significant amount during the night time- the happy memory soothing his soul. 

  And he desperately needs that reassurance and soothing right now.

 Thankfully, Volo’s book wasn’t totally filled with bullshit- the back detailing a City that is not that far from his current location.

  It’s about two and a half days away. That’s entirely doable and you are more than likely perfectly safe, exploring the city and, with any luck, you are hoping he’s trying to get back to you. 

   He can’t get himself to stop- not even for a moment. He finds himself absentmindedly humming various violin pieces you have played for him since you learned you could be an incorporeal person. 

  He feels border line delirious and he’s pretty fucking hungry if he’s being honest with himself- the creatures he’s finding as he goes aren’t filling enough, but he doesn’t have time to properly hunt. 

   You would be worried and upset with him for not taking care of himself, but he won’t feel okay again until you are back in his sight and within arms length again. 

  The trek is horribly boring- he has become so accustomed to even your little snores during travel that the silence is uncomfortable and wrong. Astarion can’t even begin to imagine how his heart would feel if he tried to fall asleep and stay asleep without you near. 

  The hour he tried to trance out of sheer exhaustion had been full of every nightmare imaginable, but it was a dream of Leon killing you- taking away the only person in the whole world that Astarion would gladly lay his life on the line for. 

  He should have killed Leon the moment he suggested you become a sacrifice for him to get Victoria back. Astarion would sooner go back in time sacrifice him and the other spawn than hand you over if that’s what it took to keep you safe.

 At least in that reality, you could both be together and he would never have to worry about losing you because he wouldn’t have to worry about fucking Leon. 

  He just knows Leon is involved- he can feel the irritation in his bones grow with each minute he walks. 

  Astarion races through the forest- being mindful enough to not go barreling through some poor soul just minding it’s own business. 

 For once, he isn’t looking for a fight. He just wants to get to you and leave- get far away from this Gods awful place and begin your lives together somewhere far, far away.

  The second day feels even worse than the first- twenty four hours was far too long and he was growing more worried by the second stint of his journey.

What if Leon finds you before Astarion does?

 Astarion is worried that Leon will convince you to sacrifice yourself for his daughter if he gets to you first- something he knows you would do without a second thought. 

  Astarion finds himself begging the universe that, for once, he is good enough for someone to stay for him- wait for him. 

 Worth someone being a little bit selfish for once.

 What if he isn’t? What kind of life could a transient vampire spawn offer you? Would you willingly remain a ghost if you had the choice or would you pass on?

 He attempts to trance again when his thoughts become overwhelming. He continues, however, to refuse sleeping for very long or take the time to properly hunt. 

 He knows what his needs are and he will take the time later. However, time isn’t a luxury he thinks he can afford right now.

 Astarion needs you- he’s doing this for himself more than anything.

 His second hour long trance is much better. He dreams of you in his arms, held tightly to his chest- your hair fanning out on a plush pillow while he leaves gentle kisses on your face and you giggle happily. You are here again and everything is okay. 

  Astarion wakes up crying when he realizes it’s only a trance- a trick of the mind. His lips yearn to know how your skin feels underneath them.

 Astarion needs you back by his side yesterday. One day was unacceptable as is, but two? His world feels tilted. 

   He feels like he can breathe again when he spies the massive Watch Tower in the distance- the black, oddly shaped tower looms over the other buildings and it’s presence demands to be seen. 

  His feet lead him through the gates of the City of Manifest and he makes a B-line to the Hall of Farewells. There are people everywhere enjoying their loved ones, but no sign of you yet. 

  Astarion goes to the front of the line- ready to knock whoever over so that he can talk to the teller. Your life very well could be in danger- Astarion hasn’t seen any signs of Leon in the Underdark, but you can never be too careful and that arrow was definitely one of his shitty homemade ones.

 “Hey! You can’t just cu-“

 Astarion gives the man a menacing, unblinking smile. The man gulps nervously.

 “You were saying?”

 “Ha, uh I was just saying, go right on ahead! You can cut me anywhere, anytime.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, my Boy,” Astarion says with a sneer, “otherwise you may not live to see the light of day.”

 A dawning realization of horror crosses the man’s face.

“That’s not what I-“

 “NEXT!”

  Astarion waves, “that’s my cue- I will find your delicious self later.” 

 He snickers to himself after he turns around- the man was positively green-, but when he goes to look down next to him to be chastised by you as you begrudgingly laugh- he’s reminded once again of his current twisted reality. 

  It’s only been 56 hours and he misses you so much- there is a massive hole in his chest with every step he takes and he is praying to every God that you are here. 

 “Hello! Welcome to the Hall of Farewells,” an elderly woman stands behind the counter, “who are you looking for today, young man?” 

  If you were here? You would have busted up laughing. 

“Young man, my ass!” 

  He can’t help, but smile slightly to himself as a tear begins to fall from his eye. 

“I’m looking for Althaeastra Rothwell? She goes by Birdie,” he gestures to show your height, “about this tall, beautiful, kind, hilarious, plays the violin really well.” 

 “Well- that is more than enough information for me to help you!” The elderly woman states while beaming, “she must be a very special woman and how lucky of her to have such a wonderful partner.”

 “I’m the lucky one, actually,” the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. 

  The woman smiles even brighter and Astarion has to try very hard to keep himself from blushing like a smitten school boy.

 Good Gods, he thinks, stop being a grieving, emotional mess and focus. You can be weird and dissect your feelings later once you find Birdie.

  The woman claps her hand and performs some kind of magic on a book that flips pages with the intensity of a storm. Names are jumping from the pages- sorting through nicknames, letters, dates of death, etc. until a bright DING alerts the elderly woman that the spell is complete.

 “Ah yes! Miss Rothwell! She hasn’t been here too long- only a couple days,” the woman muses, “hmm well, it looks like your brother already went off to find her. My guess is that you will find her with him.” 

 Astarion feels his entire body become significantly colder than it already is. 

 No- Leon couldn’t have bested him this time. How did Leon get here ahead of him? He did so many perimeter checks before entering the Catacombs and Leon was nowhere to be found. There should be absolutely no reason for him to be here- unless he had planned to kill you so you are a ghost again? That would make sense and it would force you two apart. 

 “Which brother?”

  The woman cocks her head at him and then a realization seems to be forming in her mind.

 You weren’t supposed to be going anywhere with Leon and it’s likely this woman just directed you to your actual death. 

 “His name is… Leon,” she reads the name uneasily, “she wrote only your name in the registry- specifically put ‘WAITING FOR ASTARION’. Brayden tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. Your brother came in shortly after and checked the registry.”

 Astarion damn near loses it- screaming profanities inside his head and desperately trying to keep from exploding all together. He can’t protect you from prison so he needs to play nice. 

 Afterwards? Well, let’s just say Astarion may be creating a list of people he wants to Falcon punch in the throat after you are safe and with him again. You most likely won’t approve, but he told you not to go wandering off with strangers! You do not have the combat experience or street smarts to be able to protect yourself. 

  Astarion goes to ask another question when a man comes racing in with a very mutilated, but living ghost. An insignia with a boot print and compass rose is on the front. The man’s black, curly locks are mangled and blue stained.

  The older man is hysterical- begging someone to save his son as pieces of him begin to fall away and disappear. Astarion feels a wave of panic go through his body. 

 “Brayden,” the elderly woman gasps, “Gods help us!” 

  A group of clerics descends on the men and tries to help the man who was evidently giving you a tour. Another group goes racing out the door in the direction the body was found. Astarion makes note of this “Tombyard District” and begins to leave. 

  His body, however, freezes as he approaches the young Ghost laying out on the floor- wheezing painfully and his eyes meet Astarion’s a look of recognition. You must have talked about Astarion a lot.

 Brayden’s eyes seem to scream back at Astarion, “she’s in danger! You need to save her!” 

 Astarion would know that magic and knife work anywhere- Leon got to you and this poor man probably tried to defend you. It disgusts Astarion that he is grateful for a perfect stranger, but anyone who has attempted to keep you safe is okay in his books. 

  He will not lose you to this place and he will make sure Brayden’s suffering was not in vain or yours for that matter. 

  Astarion leaves the Hall of Farewells- realizing that the more he sits there and listens to that man wail for his adult son to stay with him, the more and more hopeless and scared Astarion becomes. 

  Leon was Cazador’s best hunter, but it was because he was an aggressive meathead about the whole thing. It irritated the piss out of everyone. He wasn’t subtle and was more than happy to swoop in and steal your mark if it meant he could get back to the Palace faster. 

  It doesn’t take very long for Astarion to track Leon, but he’s alarmed when the faint scent of his other siblings begins to tickle his nose. The guard at the entrance of the Tombyard warned him against going in this late, but Astarion has a feeling he doesn’t have much time. 

 He stole a Ring of Manifesting on the way there so that after he finds you, you can both run straight to Waterdeep. Astarion had used one of his sending spells detailing what is going on to Tav and Gale just in case you both go MIA, but they are expecting both of you to be there. Admittedly, Astarion is quite proud of himself- you are always on him for not having a plan and this time he actually has a plan!

  The smell of rotting flesh and the sound of people crying over their loved ones rings through his ears. There are multiple funerals occurring at once- mostly Drow and a few Humans. 

 The area is not cozy nor is it an aesthetically pleasing place to rest, the buildings look like warehouses for the bored and lonely and the statues along the streets are even graveyard-esque. It makes him uncomfortable- he doesn’t necessarily care for graveyards anymore. Not that he ever did, really.

 There are alleyways here and there, but only one has Leon’s scent and the other scent is Lavender and something else he can’t pick up on. It has to be you which makes Astarion feel even more sick.

 What did he tell you about following random strangers places!? One time you followed a man with white hair because you thought it was Astarion and you had been missing for an hour and a half. 

 Now you have been missing for probably two Gods damn days!

 The scent leads him to an alleyway and the stench of rot becomes worse- Astarion can practically feel the pull of the weave in the air and the dark art of Necromancy.

 Wonderful, just wonderful. 

  Astarion creeps along the wall- grateful that he listened to your suggestion about wearing solely black armor. It made sneaking around much easier and if he’s about to face a necromancer without a Cleric around then he’s going to need every advantage he can get. 

  A few new scents are in the air- much cleaner than the heavy must that threatens to suffocate him. 

Think before you act, Astarion reminds himself, being irrational is not going to bring Birdie back to you any faster. 

  As he comes around a corner as slowly as he possibly can, he pulls his daggers out with the pointed ends against someone’s throat- he is met with a set of piercing blue eyes and earthy brown eyes. Both individuals appear to be clerics and they both gesture for Astarion to be quiet- that they are not a threat. Two other people become more visible to him. 

 Astarion recognizes the individual symbols on their chest as Uhanam- a lawful neutral God that is about law and intelligence-, Durann- a Lawful Good God that is about healing and listening to laws, and Aluvan- protector of Ghosts. He doesn’t recognize the other God, but she has the same symbol as the poor Cleric who had been severely injured trying to protect you.  

  A door appears further down an alley and a man that smells of Undeath with a beating heart comes walking down the alley. Astarion recognizes him as a Shadar Kai almost instantly. 

  Much to his irritation, the individuals let him pass by them, but he watches one use sleight of hand to maneuver the keys off his belt. The Shadar Kai doesn’t even so much as flinch. It’s rather impressive and Astarion enjoys the shit eating grin the Wood Elf flashes at their fellow clerics. 

  You would really like these people. Astarion will like them as long as none of them attempt to take you away from him. 

 “Alright,” one of the clerics, a blonde halfling woman, releases a sigh of relief before continuing her whispering, “hello- are you friend or foe?”

  “Depends,” he whispers back, “are you going to kill everyone-including the people they have held captive- or are you on a rescue mission.”

 “Rescue and revenge mission- actually,” the half- elf woman with the same insignia as Brayden says, “they tried to kill my fellow Cleric, Brayden- my husband in fact, and they kidnapped the person he was showing around. We just hope she’s still alive- this Lich doesn’t hang onto people very long.”

  Of course it’s a fucking Lich. 

 “For all of your sake,” Astarion snarls, “you better hope she is alive.” 

“Your loved one, I take it?” the halfing says.

 Astarion nods- they need to know there is someone here for you and if they so much as look at you funny, he will kill them with absolutely no remorse to show for it. 

 “That settles it then,” the Wood Elf says, “let’s go save some folks and kick some ass!” 

 It was like being around Karlach- the cleric has a goofy grin and an even goofier vibe.

  Astarion follows them- trailing behind so that he can take more time to search and see you before it becomes a bloodbath. 

 You just have to find her and get out of here, Astarion repeats like a mantra in his head, she is alive, she is safe-ish, she is okay. Everything is going to be fine because it has to be fine.

  The place is filled to the brim with various undead creatures haunting it’s halls. Some creatures he has never even seen before and others look like they are stitched together with mismatched parts. 

  Astarion tries to swallow his panic- no sign of you yet so you may just be caged some-

 “NO PLEASE!” your voice screams through the air and the sound of you struggling against someone rings alongside your voice, “PLEASE! I- DON’T WANT TO BECOME THAT- PLEASE!!!!!!” 

   You cry out in pain and Astarion begins barrelling past the Clerics who are trying to stop him, but they can figure it out. He needs to get to you. 

 Astarion pushes past every individual who comes by him- some try to attack him and he is quick to rebuke them or kill them with one blow. Your screams are becoming more and more panicked- you sound like you are fighting for your life and Astarion wishes you were aware that he is right here- nothing will happen to you.

 He just needs to find you and then you never have to come to this horrible place ever again.

“ASTARION!” your cries are coming from down the hall, “ASTARION, HELP! PLEASE!” 

   Your voice has begun to sound gargled, but he knows he’s on the right floor- the scent of Lemongrass hanging in the air like a blessing. 

  When he finally finds the room you are in, he watches as some kind of magic tries to contort you into something else entirely. You are fighting to prevent it- tears streaming down either side of your face.

“Astarion- please hurry,” your anger and your voice being reduced to a tearful whisper, “I’m not ready to die.” 

  And he’s not ready for you to. In fact, Astarion feels positively homicidal. 

  Within a millisecond, Astarion is shoving his daggers between the Lich’s ribs and it cries out in surprise- Astarion uses an arrow of Thunder and sends the Lich crashing into the wall- one of it’s arms dislocating in the process. 

 The Shadar Kai descend on him and you struggle against your restraints- trying to get away from the ones that are trying to hold you back down and keep him from getting to you. They are unlatching your restraints and dragging you towards another hall. The Lich waiting like a coward behind it’s soldiers. 

 “ASTARION!” you scream, “BEHIND YOU!”

   He sends another Shadar Kai to the Shadowfell thanks to your warning, only to have one of the Shadar Kai holding you cut your throat, an angry growl leaving Astarion,and he cuts through every creature his blade can get it’s sharp edge on. 

   A crash from behind him and the horrific creature that comes racing into the room distracts Astarion and he’s grateful that the Clerics had caught up with him because he wouldn’t have been able to save himself from the oncoming Ghoul running towards him otherwise.

  He makes eye contact with Dalyria, but it’s not her eyes. The sight of his siblings and their fate makes Astarion feel ill- the Lich gestures and suddenly they are collapsing to the ground in a ball of red magic. The blood curdling scream of anger that leaves Astarion’s mouth scares him.

  The Lich looks like he’s about to shit himself.

 Not only had this horrible, unnatural creature taken you and harmed you significantly- it had destroyed his family. The only one he knows and remembers. The only people in the whole world who know what it means to suffer just as well as he does.

  The creature gets back up and the Lich doesn’t have time to dodge before one of it’s unnaturally strong hands grabs it’s face and sends it’s flying away from the hall- it’s skull begins to crack the moment he makes impact with the wall.

  The Lich uses shadow step to retreat down one of the hallways as his siblings run at him again- looking rather pleased that they chased it off.

  He feels angry- it won’t be safe for you or his siblings here or anywhere with that Lich fucking off. Astarion wants to go after it- desperately and end this once and for all, but he knows he can’t. 

  Instead, he returns his attention back to the battle and getting to you as you continue to struggle against your captors. He’s over there in seconds- uses Dimension Door to put you in a safe corner and then using Misty Step to get back into battle. The creature that is his siblings stand protectively in front of you- waiting to destroy anyone who dare harm you. Their eyes meet his and they nod- we’ve got her. 

  He tries not to cry from sentiment alone- they care about him enough to keep you safe so he can focus on killing the other enemies in the room and Astarion never thought he would see the day where that would ever happen. It’s a shame it’s probably too late now to try to start over with each other again. 

  The remainder of the creatures are destroyed and Astarion personally mutilates the individual who decided cutting your throat was a fantastic idea. 

  Once it all calms down and everyone is dead- the Clerics lock the hallway door where the Lich had run away and they gesture for the mix and match of his siblings to follow as they exit the building. 

  The Aluvan Priestess, the Halfing, is the one to assure them that they would reverse their condition, they’ve apparently done it before and he hears your choked sigh of relief. He’s surprised to see the monstrous versions of his siblings look at you with hopeful eyes and you back at them. 

 It must have been a horrible 56 hours. 

 Brayden’s cleric in arms and wife comes over and heals your throat, your wrists, and offers you a clean outfit. You are shaking as you take the clothes and you look at the woman with your lower lip trembling.

“Is Brayden okay? He was trying to keep me safe.”

 The woman nods and smiles, “he’s in rough shape, but nothing he won’t be able to come back from- thank Wyst.”

 That seems to make you cry harder and Astarion is quick to scoop you up into his arms now that the initial shock of everything he has just seen has worn off. You cling to his neck, your arms wrapped around him tightly, and he just rubs soft circles into your back.

 “It’s safe now, Birdie,” he whispers, “I will never ever let anyone harm you again.” 

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

   It’s later in the evening when you seem to finally be more yourself again, but Astarion can tell that something horrible happened to you at the hand of the Lich. He is refraining from asking- not wanting to upset you or push you too hard. 

  You are drinking the honey mead in your hand heavily- eating bread and cheese along side it. Ghosts can’t get hung over so you took it as an opportunity to try to drown out the events of the last couple days. 

  It’s when you look at him with tearful eyes that he knows you are truly, honest to Gods suffering. 

“Darling?” He gently takes your hand in his, “what is it?” 

 You look up at the ceiling with a trembling lip before looking him in the eyes again.

 “He cut me open,” you choke, “he- he took out my organs and put them in other bodies before putting them back in mine.

“Then he was going t- to,” you shake as you try to get through your next sentence, “he was going to turn me into a Necroplasm. A horrible creature only made of bone and ectoplasm. Lifeless; thoughtless.”

  Your face is back in your hands and Astarion is feeling an incredibly confusing amount of emotions right now.

 He wants to hunt down that lich and destroy the bastard limb by limb, over and over again until he finally shows the last bit of mercy he could- breaking the phylactery. 

 But he also wants to get out of the City of Manifest entirely. His siblings are all separated again- temporarily Ghosts, but incredibly happy to not be melded together while the Clerics search for the remainder of their bodies to reconstruct. He has no idea how it works, but apparently the Gods over manifest are much kinder than the ones who dominate the rest of Faerun.

  Leon is the only one who hasn’t come back, but he’s dead to Astarion either way. He was quite impressed with the amount of damage you had been able to inflict. Once he teaches you how to use a dagger, you could truly be unstoppable.

 However, that’s for a later date when you become settled.

 Gale sent him two tickets to teleport to Waterdeep and you seemed to be relieved that you wouldn’t be staying here- you want to come back, but after you feel more confident in your ability to protect yourself.

  Tav and Gale are getting married in a few weeks- Waterdeep will be good for both of you. It will be familiar and comfortable.

 You can stay together in the room you usually occupy, he will keep watch if that’s what you need to sleep for a while. 

 Anything to make you feel safe again. 

 “I feel so violated,” you sniff and laugh sadly to yourself, “I have the worst luck. The first touch I receive in three and a half centuries and it’s while I’m being cut open and fit to others like a puzzle piece- like a thing.

“I could feel it,” you wipe your eyes, “every horrible thing those people felt before they died. I felt their love and misery for the people they were never going to see again-“ 

  This was not how Astarion wanted this reunion to go- Leon is dead, but it would never feel like enough. 

 Leon took honest, innocent moments you deserved to have and tainted them- all for something that was never going to happen anyway.

 A Lich is a Lich and he’s going to hunt the bastard down- you were just a victim of opportunity in his eyes. 

 “I wish I had gotten there faster,” Astarion whispers, “this isn’t how I imagined this going.” 

 “What do you mean?” You ask, wiping your eyes.

 Does he tell you that he envisioned at least kissing you? If you wanted? Now it feels like it would be pressuring you.

“It’s not imp-“

“No- enough about me,” you say, “I want to know what you’ve been doing and how life in the sun has been!” 

 Astarion smiles softly, “there hasn’t been a life in the sun without you. I barely noticed- I was focused on getting here to you.” 

  “Wait, really?” he nods in affirmation, you smile widely at that, “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who missed hanging around.” 

  You look so happy looking at him- you are wearing his shirt since your own clothes had been practically destroyed and the clothing that was lended to you was uncomfortable. 

 “I’m going to wash my face and all the ick from these last couple days off real quick- I’ll be back.”

  He couldn’t help but miss you- even a room away when you go to wash off.  Astarion had braided your hair back afterwards. 

  Every part of you is beautiful and lovely- he was so scared he lost you without ever getting to see what would happen between the two of you. He hates how gushy and mushy he’s become over the last two days- at this rate, he’s just going to embarrass himself when you ultimately don’t return his feelings.

“Be my date for Tav and Gale’s wedding,” he blurts out of nowhere.

  Nice going panty dropper- you call that romantic?

 “What?”

  You literally said one sentence and blew up the whole thing, Astarion scolds himself.

  Astarion clears his throat, “I couldn’t think of a better plus one nor anyone I would want to suffer through the cheesy affair with.” 

 “Yes!” You exclaim, jumping up, “one hundred thousand times yes! Oh my gosh!!!!!! We will need to go shopping or thieving- who cares- I GET TO GO TO A WEDDING WITH MY FAVORITE PERSON!!!!!” 

 Oh thank Gods.

  Your once melancholy mood has shifted and Astarion feels a warm glow in his chest. He can already think of what cut would fit you best, what colors, how your hair should look, etc. 

  You ask him so many questions- what color does he think would be best? Will you match with him? What color would be best for both of them? And “GODS ABOVE HOW WILL I DO MY HAIR AND MAKE UP!? I’m out of practice!”

 Oh and you made it very clear- absolutely no tulle or crowns. 

 You both somehow decide on lavender and silver. Astarion figures he’ll wear silver with lavender designs and you will do the opposite. 

“What if I don’t remember how to dance!?” You say, mortified, “I’ll embarrass us both!!!”

 “Oh the horror- to be forced to save my darling damsel in distress from tripping over her own heels,” he teases, pushing a stray hair out of your face, “I’m sure I have more than enough dancing experience for both of us.”

 You look at him and bite your lip- a little bit of worry in your eyes.

“What is it, my Sweet?”

  He struggles to stop his smile at the nice blush that courses under your skin at the term of endearment.

“I- I know you hate parties,” you start cautiously, “are you sure you want to dance and everything? We don’t have to if it would make you unhappy. Just being there with you would be more than enough. Unfortunately I can’t offer not going, I think Tara would murder me.”

  Well that is… unexpected. Astarion’s body feels like it’s radiating with happiness and affection- you are quite literally perfect.

 Pull yourself together.

 “I’ll be fine, my Dear,” he says with a slight dismissive wave of his hand, “besides, this is my first party as a free man- who knows? Maybe I’ll become a party fiend.”

 “Ha! I don’t think you like people enough to do that.”

 “But I like you enough to,” he states, “so if you would like to go to them from time to time- I have no qualms.” 

  Gods when did he become such a romantic? 

  You, on the other hand, look like you might explode and he can’t tell why, but he hopes he hasn’t pushed it too far. Astarion is quickly reassured when a coy, mischievous smile passes over your face. 

“I promise I won’t make you go to too many parties,” you tease, “one too many and one might end up being a funeral.”

“Ah see, that’s my kind of party!”

“Oh my Gods,” you shake your head, giggling, and put it in both of your hands, “you don’t even like cemeteries.”

“You don’t need a cemetery for a funeral if you are creative enough, Darling,” he smiles cheekily, “I do put the fun in funeral after all.”

  You roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile at his Gods awful pun- he learned it from Shadowheart on their adventures and he loves to sprinkle it into conversations. 

“Fair.” 

   Somehow, you eventually end up asleep in his arms in the plush Inn bed like he had dreamed about the other night. You snore softly as Astarion holds you closely to him- making a point of looking at the door and windows frequently enough so there aren’t any surprise visitors. 

  Astarion has never actually cuddled with anyone (willingly, at least). Anyone who’s ever been in a bed with him has been condemned to becoming Vampire spawn (he almost wishes they had all just been dead). It was just sex, nothing more or less. Sure people offered, but it never felt right. 

  This? This feels right and like you were made for him. It’s a miracle truly- Intimacy without any sexual touch and he has the choice to be there, curled up around you. 

  It feels heavenly- better than his trances could have ever imagined. 

  You are both the same temperature so you almost feel warm to the touch. Your eyes are moving back and forth as you dream, he is relieved to see a content smile on your face. 

 Astarion is prepared to be there for you if you have nightmares. You have taught him that just having someone to comfort you is enough. He just wishes you didn’t experience any of it in the first place, but he won’t be keeping you too far out of reach or unguarded so hopefully it will never happen again.

  Eventually sleep takes Astarion too and he’s grateful for the somewhat peaceful rest- until it turns into a full blown fucking sex dream. 

  Astarion tries not to jolt you awake- somehow aware enough of his surroundings to know you are still there. You are still fast asleep- dawn is coming and Astarion is not, which could very well be a problem if you wake up while he’s hard.

   He sneaks away to the washroom- making sure to lock the door. 

 He will just take a bath, cool himself off, and then go back to bed for a cuddle. It’ll be like this never happened. 

(Smut begins)

 He’s never actually masturbated and there is a significant amount of weariness when he thinks about the idea. Sure he’s done it for show, but never in a private, alone moment.

  Astarion has basically been celibate for the last nine months and of course, now that you are a ghost person again, his libido decides to rear it’s ugly head.

 He doesn’t even know if you actually want him that way!

  The water is lukewarm and Astarion leans back against the tub- willing his hard on to go away already. It feels almost impossible to forget his trance- the way your pretty mouth looked around his cock, the way you keened when he filled you for the first time, the dance that takes the act from slow and romantic to something else entirely. 

  Wild, passionate- unrehearsed. 

  Astarion wraps his hands around his cock- desperate for any release he can get at this point. He isn’t going to be able to will this trance or these desires away and he is entirely in control of the act- if he becomes uncomfortable or begins to dissociate, he can stop. 

 “You don’t have to sleep with these people,” you reminded him softly, “Hells- you don’t have to do any of it at all if you don’t want to! Even if you are both naked and you’re already inside the person- you can stop. A good person, a person worthy of you, will respect your needs and be understanding.”

  Astarion can stop. You helped him with this realization nine or ten odd months ago. 

   He strokes himself slowly at first, trying to mimic the movements of the trance- starting with your mouth. You are inexperienced and Astarion imagines teaching you how to suck him off- your wide, beautiful eyes looking up at him eagerly as he praises you for being such a good girl for him.  

  His breath hitches when he runs his thumb over the head and applying a bit of pressure over his slit, his hips bucking upward and his brain paints the beautiful picture of him thrusting into your mouth- guiding your movements by grasping your hair as gently as he possibly can as he gets closer and closer to his peak. 

  In this fantasy- you moan around his mouth and you are touching yourself while taking his whole length until he hits the back of your throat. You wear his shirt like you are now- nipples pert, your breasts swaying as he thrusts into you. Your eyes are lustful, hazy, and wanting.

  Astarion’s head goes back by instinct- a breathy moan escaping his mouth and he’s thinking about what it might be like to be inside you. What it would be like to finally connect with someone he adores intimately. 

  He imagines exploring every single inch of you- finding what makes you wet and wanting for him. Astarion will ruin you for any other lover- his tongue teasing your clit and lapping up your juices like a man dying of thirst. 

 Astarion wants- no, needs- you to be crying out his name and telling him how you will only ever be his like he will only ever be yours. 

(Smut ends)

  He reaches his peak much faster than he anticipated- the release feeling like heaven. Astarion pants as he stares up at the ceiling, entirely blissed out. 

 Now that was incredible. He can understand why people enjoy it from time to time.

 His mind continues to think of you and it gets caught on the words the elderly woman had said earlier today- about how you were lucky to have him and vice versa. Astarion let’s his brain indulge for a millisecond before locking the thought back into the “we aren’t going to talk about this right now, self!” box.

 Althaeastra “Birdie” Ancunín. She would want a nice, but simple ring- nothing gaudy, he pauses his thoughts, or maybe she needs one simple ring and one gaudy one. Especially with her ability to pick up music again. What if she has to dress especially nice for an occasion? The ring should at least be able to tell people all the way out in the courtyard that she is spoken for. 

  He pushes his guilty pleasure thoughts aside. You are his dearest and closest companion- he will not screw that up by making you feel like you have to be in a relationship with him or like you have to jump into something right away. You just started your life and why would Astarion be your top pick? He’s a disaster- with or without you. 

  Well, the bliss was wonderful while it lasted. Now he’s just sad.

  After cleaning up- Astarion finds himself leaning against the door frame, jealous of the warm rays of sun that get to kiss your face first thing this morning. You are still asleep and don’t stir when Astarion climbs back into bed behind you. 

  One day, he will tell you his feelings, but for now? Astarion is going to try to go back to sleep.

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

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lavvyan @beepersteeper

[phdmama]

For the trope mash-up post, may I request Fake Dating and Soulmate AU for Drarry please, if it sparks any fun inspiration?

(P.S. you're wonderful and I will love literally anything you come up with, even if it's not for these prompts, I just got super excited when you posted this 💜)

No, YOU'RE wonderful!!

So this is what came to me - and I can actually see the rest of the story but I have to go adult for a bit, but I am going to come back later and write some more of this! (As per usual, this is pretty much SOOC and unbeta'd, etc etc.)

Draco’s known since the Final Battle. 

He’s pretty sure Potter has no idea, whether it’s that no one’s remembered to tell him about soulmates, or that his mark hasn’t activated yet, but he treats Draco exactly the way he’s treated him since they'd all arrived at University. He’s unfailingly polite, cool and distanced, and deeply disinterested in one Draco Malfoy.

Which isn’t, you know, how you’re supposed to treat your soulmate.

The thumbprint on Draco’s wrist had flared to life when Potter had grabbed his arm to haul him onto the back of the battered broom that carried them both out of the fire. He’d almost fallen off at the way Potter’s magic had rushed over him, through him. Draco had always heard the stories that connecting with your soulmate could be disorienting, but since it happened to him in the midst of mortal terror, Draco’s not sure his experience was typical.

It’s also very rare that one person connects and the other doesn’t, although it does happen. It takes time for the bond to solidify, to grow into a true soulmate connection, and obviously, that’s not happened here. Basically, Potter is a faint echo in Draco’s mind, enough to distract and ache a little, nothing more than that.

All this to say, it’s weird when Potter comes dashing into their suite common room one Saturday afternoon, looking wild-eyed and somewhat disheveled. It’s a rainy day, raw and windy, the kind of day where Draco does not plan to leave the building if he can help it. Potter is damp and windblown, so he clearly had other ideas. Fucking weirdo.

Potter looks around wildly, and lights up when he spots Draco curled up on the couch under his favorite striped blanket.

“Malfoy,” he says eagerly, and Draco blinks up at him in surprise.

Potter’s never sounded happy to see Draco before.

“Yes?” Draco says cautiously. “Can I help you?”

Potter nods vigorously. “You can, yes, absolutely. I need you to pretend to be my soulmate and go to the gala with me tonight.”

“I beg your pardon?” Draco asks, trying to make sense of the words he’s just heard. “You need me to what?”

Potter hangs his coat on the rack by the door, kicks off his grubby trainers and makes his way around the couch to plop down next to Draco.

“I need you to pretend to be my soulmate and go to the gala with me tonight.”

“That’s what I thought you said,” Draco says. “But also, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Potter sighs, lets his head rest on the back of the couch and runs a hand through his unruly hair.

“You know how the press…” his voice trails off and he flushes.

“Follows you around incessantly and makes your life a living hell?” Draco says dryly. “Yes, Potter, I’m aware.”

“Well, someone thought it was a good idea to advertise that I haven’t found my soulmate, and to suggest that anyone who’s unbonded should come to the gala tonight and you know. Shoot their shot or whatever.”

Draco sits bolt upright, outraged. “What the hell? That’s bullshit. That’s not even how it works!”

Potter just sighs again and slumps down even further, eyes closed. “Yeah, I know that, but it’s turned into this whole thing, and every girl in the greater Oxford area, apparently, is now coming to the gala.”

“Can’t you just… not go?” 

Potter shakes his head, looking miserable. “No. The Fund is really important to me. I promised to speak.”

“So your solution is to fake a soulmate bond with a man?” Draco asks and Potter snorts.

“Okay, well, when you put it like that, it does sound stupid. I just thought if I could get them all off my back for a bit… No, you’re right. I’ll just have to get a bodyguard again, I guess.”  

He sounds so utterly miserable that Draco can’t help but feel sorry for him, which is why he finds himself saying, “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

Potter opens his eyes to stare at Draco. “What?”

Draco shrugs. “I’m not doing anything tonight, there’ll be wine at the gala, yeah?”

Potter looks excited but then his face falls. “But what about your soulmate? What if they’re out there looking for you?”

Draco looks away and swallows. “That won’t be a problem.”

Potter’s eyes narrow. “Why not?” He sucks in a breath and whispers, “Malfoy, do you know who your soulmate is?”

Draco just nods and there’s a long silence while Potter clearly puts some picture together in his head. He’s never been stupid, Draco concedes. Since for all intents and purposes, Draco is unbonded, Potter must know there’s something wrong with all of it.

Finally Potter says, “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Draco says and finally turns to look at Potter. “It’ll be fun,” he says carelessly. “What should I wear?”

[tortured-demigods-department]

an unhinged (and unofficial) dissertation on the pjo fandom

so i don't usually post anything that isn't my-works-related, but i had a...mildly heated discussion with a fellow film student tonight about the pjo show and it's got me thinking. bear with me, we'll be here awhile.

as we all know, the first season of pjo has ended. i've stayed relatively OFF tumblr and other social media during this time, but i know there are a lot of OG fans who are (in their words) "massively disappointed" in the show. most of the complaints i've heard have been during in person conversations though, so this post is mostly going to be referencing real complaints i've heard.

i've been a part of this fandom since i was thirteen. that's nearly eight fucking years of my life that i've devoted to the pjo universe. i have written and consumed YEARS' worth of fanfiction, i have read and reread every book so many times i can quote them forwards and backwards, and i went to the bookstore every single year on the new books' release dates to pick up my copies in-person. this fandom, these characters and this world have brought so much joy to my life, and i don't think i could ever fully articulate that in words. when i think of this series, i genuinely feel nothing but happiness.

but a few years ago—around the time i started college—i started distancing myself from the fandom for one glaring reason. this fandom can be such an...angry place? like, genuinely, i don't know how far it goes back—maybe all the way to the release of HoA, honestly—but i wasn't here pre-HoA, so all i know is that i very much remember how much people hated ToA when it came out.

here i was, having the TIME of my life with apollo and his silly little haikus, and people are going to war over how the series' writing quality has gone to shit and how everything was better before, blah, blah, blah. IN SPITE of everything that series gave us—discussion of the repercussions of child abuse and ptsd, representation of lgbtqa+ characters, and deep psychological messages that really teach young readers, i think, how to better understand themselves and their emotions and deal with them in healthy ways. and it just wasn't fun to be in a fandom where, as soon as you go "hey, did you read the new book?" they scoff and roll their eyes and only want to talk about how terrible it is. (i also missed all the discourse on the sun and the star when it came out—PHENOMENAL read, btw—but i've read some things that lead me to believe that it wasn't well received either, in spite of how lovely it was.)

so...it's dramatic to say i "left" the fandom, but i certainly withdrew from it. deleted my pjo ao3 and tumblr, started over with a different fandom. but the love has always been there, and the show starting really helped spark it fully back to life.

but now, the same thing is happening again, i'm noticing. remember back in the day, when we only had the shitty fucking movies, and we were like "man, ANYTHING would be better than this garbage. literally just give us actors who are the right age and we'll be happy." well, now we have PHENOMENAL kid actors who genuinely are having a good time playing our beloved characters, and instead of supporting them, we're STILL complaining about them not being "portrayed correctly"?

i've talked to so many people who complain that percy is "too smart," which is kind of a bullshit insult to percy's canon character. in the books (at least the first five) we're seeing things ONLY from percy's pov. he's a kid who's struggled with learning disabilities and been told he's an idiot all his life by everyone except his mom—but as others have pointed out way more eloquently than i could, percy is a very intelligent and powerful individual while maintaining his goofy fun personality, which is WHY so many people love him so much. he's complex, and i think they managed to capture that really well in the show even amidst all the changes.

don't get me started on the fucking racism towards leah sava jeffries—i'm honest to gods ashamed that there are racists who call themselves pjo fans. she is so talented, and everything we ever could have hoped for in an on-screen annabeth. ALL of the kids are—there's literally no argument to be had there.

and then, if people aren't complaining about the casting, it's the series' writing. or there's too much exposition. rick is changing too many things. the directors don't know what they're doing. it's not a TRUE book adaptation. (someone said that to me, and i genuinely laughed because i thought they were joking. when the MOVIES exist, they wanted to make that comment about the show.)

are there some things i would change about the show, given the opportunity? god, yes. the set design for the underworld was horrendous. (in my opinion, of course.) but here's the thing. i have spent eight years of my life waiting for this show to happen, and in that time, i've learned a lot about how much goes into successfully producing such a complex series. how much money and time is spent, and how many people have to be on board to make it happen. it's genuinely kind of miraculous that we're even getting this show at all, considering all the ways it could have failed before it even made it out of pre-production.

and i think we, as fans, sometimes forget that we aren't owed this. we don't own the percy jackson franchise. it makes me so sick and tired when authors or artists in any capacity feel like they have to cater their works to the masses, because they know they'll get thrown into the fucking fire if they don't. rick and becky riordan didn't have to got to the trouble of producing this show for us. they chose to—everyone involved chose to—because they wanted to make something fun and enjoyable not only for the fans, but everyone who chose to be a part of it.

do you know how insane it is that, when you read pretty much any interview of pjo bts, everyone talks about how fun the production was? i've been on film sets. they can be ABSOLUTELY miserable when they're not done right. but eight months into production, the kids were still laughing and having a good time, everyone's still giving 100%, they're excited, it's fun. walker was willing to go into a diving tank for a full fucking day in order to get one scene—i know i would never have that kind of dedication, and i bet 99% of you wouldn't either.

i know this has gotten really long-winded, but i've said all of that to say that...i'm kind of tired of fans trying to bring down the show, and more than that, trying to bring down each other for having a good time. as i've said before (many times, i'm sure), i waited eight years for this, and i have had SUCH a fun time watching it. assuming we get a season 2 renewal, there are going to be even more new fans coming in than we've already gotten from season 1, and i want this fandom to be a fun and positive place for them. for all of us. we don't have to miserable and angry all time. we can critique the show, sure—it's not perfect, and it was never going to be—but we have to remember that television is an art form, and that art is subjective even when it involves our favorite characters. and we can accept that and still have a good time, because it's just more fun to have fun, you know?

this fandom has always had so much potential to be the BIGGEST, most supportive and kind and loving fandom. with how much representation this series has, with how much content we've been given, with the SHEER massive number of us...i've always thought we could be a really, really great community. maybe it's impossible to hope that we could be the best fandom on earth, but if nothing else...could we all try to just be a little bit kinder? genuinely, as cheesy as it may sound...it's just nicer when we're nice to each other. and when there's so many real things in the world to be mad about...i would much rather this be a place where we can come to at the end of a long day and just...feel at home. personally, i just think that would be really, really nice.

[qcomicsy]

My hcs about Diana, Bruce, Clark qpr.

Clark used to go to Diana to take advice on his relationship with Lois, and Diana found it adorable because she used to had a crush on both of them and the logical conclusion was "They will be great for each other".

Bruce tried once get advice once with any one of his failed relationships and she wholeheartedly recommended him therapy.

Catwoman and Talia are by far Diana's favorite Batman's girlfriends. Catwoman because shes fun and witty and she has the hability of take him out of his shell easier than anyone. And Talia because she's a warrior with a soft spot for Bruce and if that's isn't relatable.

Clark doesn't trust any of them. But, he respects Bruce's judgment.

Both Bruce and Diana used to have a crush on Lois Lane can you blame them? and while Bruce did acted upon on because he and Clark weren't as much friends as they are today at the time and he's a bitch, Diana had a bit more of respect.

Wonder woman always opens the dor for Superman and pushes chairs for him to sit, Superman does the same for Batman and Batman does it for Wonder Woman, it's just a matter of who's close to the door/chair.

Every single person of the JLA finds it odd, but it's been so long with this bullshit that they don't even bat an eye anymore.

Before Clark was married, his co-workers would see him get pulled up by fancy cars and limosine, get off clock early because "Oh it's Diana's birthday" or "we're making a surprise for Bruce" or "I promised Bruce to watch his son for him" and imediately get "everybody knows... everybody knows."

He was the talk of the office for years. The only person who defended him was Lois and Jimmy (while Jimmy also would get 🤨🏳️‍🌈 around them)

Clark 🤝 Bruce reacted to their sons coming out with 'Well, it's pretty common to be attracted to your best friends, no?"

Wonder Woman is very amused by that.

Clark has clear a beef with Harley for the spot of "Bruce's first best friend"™.

None of them noticed yet that this spot has been occupied by Harvey Dent for 40 years and counting.

The first time Clark entered Diana's house at the embassy of Themyscira (as Clark Kent) , he got absolutely flabbergasted. The little journalist nerd inside him made them spend the entire day discussing the origin of every artefact and history behind it. He doesn't know but that was the exatcly moment Diana decided she wanted him in every aspect of her life (not as just coworker or battle ally) as long as possible.

Diana is also fascinated by modern technology made by mortals and occasionally asks a couple of questions about Bruce's inventions for battle. She's genuinely impressed by his ability in making non-letal tools and always gives him her inputs and compliments when she feels like it.

Clark has and habit of lean on them or hold their hands when he's concentrating on a mission (specially if it is one more focused in diplomacy rather than physical battles). If it's in front of the league he's more discreet about it (Holding hands behind the table, quick pats on shoulders, etc).

Now, if it's just the three of them he go as long as mindlessly play with their hands as he go over plans, and paperwork's. None of them feels the need to acknowledge or know when this turned into an habit.

Clark always greet them with a hug no exceptions. Funny enough if it is in a serious situation WW and Batman resort to a firm handshake or a nod.

If they're feeling flirting they go

"Batman."

"Wonder Woman."

Out of the trio Diana and Bruce are the one's who flirts more with each other

Clark love language it's words of affirmation so he's the one who demonstrates more affection towards them, Diana is a close second (regarding platonic touch)

They do not talk about the JLA confraternization from 2007

Not talking about the confraternization from 2007 does not mean they don't repeated what happened in the contraternization of 2007.

Bruce offered himself to help Clark and Diana moving tractors and it took them lifting two tractor with their bare hands to him to rethinking every decision he ever had on his life.