#it's the plague-ridden weirdo

[cloudbattrolls]

Shut Eye

Ginger Mycoba | Rural Western Alternia | Present Night

Ginger looked out on the absolute shitshow below them with a thoughtful hum.

The flood response team was doing their best, but while they had a hydrokinetic, the poor troll was at their limit and currently knocked out in a hastily erected hammock. The rest of the team were mostly flatscans; the few psiionics were mostly telekinetics who were almost as tired from shifting debris and freeing trapped trolls from their hives. 

The whole place was a muddy wreck, and they had a checkpoint up some ways away to warn anyone trying to come into town that that wasn’t going to happen.

They didn’t have a beastspeaker to help corral the disoriented, sometimes aggressive lusii either, and a couple trolls had already been mauled. 

Yeah, this was going to take a while to clean up.

They turned around and walked back down the hill they were atop of. At least the weather was decent; mild breeze, bit of a chill but nothing too bad.

Leshwi waited for them at the bottom, the tall woman (for an oliveblood) smiling as usual. Unlike them, neatly fully covered in armor, she wore sturdy work clothes with a sweater, her long straight hair tied back with an orange scrunchie.

The two began walking down toward the town itself.

“Done contemplating your grubscars, Ginger?” She said, low and teasing.

“Never.” The armored troll replied, perfectly placid. “You’re getting demoted for asking again.”

Their assistant laughed, her pointy ears flicking.

“What’s my new position this time?” She asked, playing along.

The muscular troll slowed their walk slightly, thinking.

“Uhh…official wriggler wrangler. For when they try to climb on me.”

“That’s your fault. You aren’t nearly firm with them, and I’m the wrong shade of green for that.” She said, amused.

The hemoanon shrugged.

“They’re just kids. I don’t want to be too rough.”

“You’ve killed enough children.” Her tone was still light, if now a bit dry.

“Eh. Still.”

It wasn’t that Ginger liked killing wrigglers, or anyone, really. Some trolls spoke of the thrill of murder, of the power it made them feel. Ginger had never experienced any of that. 

Possibly because they always had to deal with the aftermath.

“So, what’s the sitch.” They asked, their booted feet now squelching in the mud they’d seen from above. 

Leshwi pulled out a clipboard, lips pursed as she scanned it.

“As you suspected, there’s a lot in that water. The treatment plant was run by idiots…they’d been fudging their reports for sweeps. Filtration’s been messed up for at least five…” she said, muttering, olive eyes flicking up and down the sheet. “And their UV light treatments pretty much don’t exist.”

“Sounds about right.” The hemoanon said, unsurprised if faintly disappointed. The town was almost entirely lowbloods, a few scattered olivebloods, and the teal who ran the place. 

The pair of trolls smelled the town before they entered it properly. The tainted deluge had left most of the place with a distinct reek. Some carpenter droids had begun repairing hives, but any delicate work would need to be done by troll hands.

Ginger suspected the reason droid labor wasn’t more standardized for other tasks had more to do with lowbloods being made to do manual labor than with a supposed lack of resources for making them.

Still, they nodded appreciatively and saluted as they passed the creatures, shiny black carapaces gleaming as they scuttled about with materials, prying out rotted wood and sealing up leaks. They had no idea if they were noticed or even understood, but at least it had been done.

They were so busy walking around and looking over the damage that it took them a minute to realize Leshwi was laughing quietly.

“You’ve got some admirers.” She said, eyes gleaming.

Ginger dragged their focus back to the world around them and yup, there were the usual staring children. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to hostility, among the dozen or so flitting around like moths to a streetllight. They seemed to range from as young as three or four to about six or seven, all told. 

“I’m not gonna do a backflip, kids.” The hemoanon said, shaking their head slowly. 

Their voice was deep - a bit deeper than they’d like, if they were honest - and they were seven feet tall, clearly muscular, and looked ready for a battlefield. They were used to it. 

Still. They really weren’t worth gaping at.

Time for old reliable.

“If you keep staring I’ll have to charge you.” They said, shaking their head in mock chastisement. “Cough up.”

“No way.” Declared one kid, a maroon who seemed to be about six. “That’s dumb.”

“Hurting my feelings, kid.” Ginger retorted in a deadpan tone.

The boy scoffed.

“What’s a big damn anon doing here? We don’t need you. You keep staring at us.”

Leshwi put a hand to her mouth, undoubtedly trying to hide her snicker. Ginger spoke again, their own tone even.

“Great question. Got one for you in return; where’s the mayor?”

The kid scratched his neck. “Gonna pay me if I tell you?”

“Sure.” Said Ginger indifferently.

“Let’s see it, tallass.”

Ginger flipped a coin through the air and the maroon caught it expertly, prompting some remarks from the others that he was a show-off. One kicked mud at him and he gave them the finger in return. 

“Aren’t you just a lowblood?” The maroon piped up as he pocketed the coin. “Putting on gray so people might think you’re important?”

They pretended to think about it.

“If I wanted to pretend I was important, I’d have flashier armor.”

The children muttered and considered this, even the accusatory rust. They looked over Ginger’s dull gray protection, as unobtrusive as it could be on someone like them. 

“Okay.” Declared the boy. “I’ll get the mayor. What are you gonna do to them?”

“Depends on how they answer my questions.”

The boy scowled at that, but ran off anyway. 

“Will you fight them?” Piped up a brownblood girl.

Ginger noted the barely disguised enthusiasm in her tone, the way the other wrigglers eagerly awaited an answer, all leaning forward with wide gray eyes.

“Maybe.” They answered.

“Do it!” Yelled another boy, a yellowblood. “My moirail’s half drowned ‘cause of -“

The other kids shushed him, though one did pat him on the shoulder. Ginger followed their gazes, and saw the maroon coming back with a harried-looking, irate teal in tow. 

Tyrian tits. This kid was barely older than the rest. Eight sweeps, if that.

Ginger had hoped for someone they wouldn’t have to feel bad about, but of course fate wasn’t that kind.

Leshwi stepped over, offering to shake the teal’s hand, but they waved her off, eyes drilling directly into Ginger instead.

They met the attention with an ironic salute, unlike the one they’d given the droids.

Leshwi walked away, seeing there was nothing she could do here. She knew how this went; she’d do more good elsewhere, taking samples and offering aid. 

“So.” Said the teal, somehow weighing that one word into an anvil that crushed even the wrigglers’ shuffling and muttering into silence.

They were a lean, gangly sort, with short hair that clearly hadn’t seen a brush in a while and sharp, multi-pronged horns. 

“The empire’s own plague-ridden lapdog, come to visit. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Every word was bitter, a resigned sort of that carried resentment for a future they knew would come to pass.

“Plague-ridden vulture.” Ginger corrected absentmindedly. “I’m surprised you’ve heard of me.”

“I hadn’t, not until they let me know you were coming. I did my hivework.”

The hemoanon almost felt bad for them; this troll was no idiot.

They might’ve managed it if it weren’t for the wreckage surrounding them, the way more children had gathered as the mayor had come, silent, expressions intent and ears perked. They carried weariness and tension alike on their shoulders, a few with lusii trailing behind or perched on shoulders. 

The whole situation was unfair, really. A bit of a farce.

“Do you want to come clean, or drag this out?” Ginger offered bluntly. The teal had earned that much.

Their eyes, irises just starting to thread with their blood color, narrowed.

“You offer that so you can be done sooner, plaguehound.” They said coldly. “Not to make it more painless for me. Don’t bother pretending.”

Ginger rolled their eyes, though their odd pupils made it hard to tell.

“That’s not news to anyone.” They confirmed, deadpan. “You didn’t make it more painless for everyone here. Every troll under your watch,  they’re all stuck dealing with the treatment plant’s failure. It wouldn’t be as bad either, if its facilities had been up to date. Sweeps of disease brewing while you turned a blind eye. 

Do you know what it’ll cost to repair it? More than it would’ve taken to maintain it. This was completely preventable.”

The teal’s lips curled in disdain, their arms crossed. 

“Is that so? Have you seen the budget I work with? Abysmal. The empire does not care if this town suffers; they just want me made an example of.”

The hemoanon snorted.

“Why’s it all about you, then?”

The mayor hesitated.

The children drew closer.

“They were a rebel.” Whispered someone scornfully. 

Rebel…rebel…

The word passed among the crowd like a wind through a wood, the little voices akin to rustling leaves.

Huh. That hadn’t been what Ginger expected.

It didn’t change anything, strictly speaking. But it complicated things a little.

“I was re-educated.” Said the teal tightly. “My mind was cleansed. I was allowed to serve again.”

“Yeah.” Murmured Ginger. “Then you gave up.”

“Do not judge me!” Snapped the young troll. “You don’t know what it’s like! You will never know what it’s like!”

Their voice took on a hint of hysteria, and the lowbloods snickered.

“Maybe not.” Said the hemoanon with a shrug. “But no one made you give up on your town. No one made you and your staff lie to the inspectors. Re-education isn’t that kind of brainwashing.”

The teal stalked toward Ginger in a rage, sclera turning orange. They bared their teeth, fists clenched.

“You say that like it’s nothing?!” They cried. “As if I should be grateful?”

“Nah.”

Stated the hemoanon calmly.

“Then what are you saying?”

“That it’s your responsibility, kid. Maybe one you shouldn’t have been given. Maybe you weren’t ready, needed more help. Still on you to figure it out. Now it’s on you to clean it up.”

That stopped them short.

“You aren’t here to take away my position?”

Ginger shook their head.

The teal paused, and the crowd of lowbloods frowned, muttering.

“What would that do?” Asked the armored troll bluntly. “I don’t know if your replacement would be any better. They might be worse. I don’t control any of that, don’t want to.”

A pause filled the air. Ginger let the wind blow through the rank-smelling town, listening to the sounds of the distant flood team at work, the shuffling of the wrigglers.

“Then what are you going to do to me?” Demanded the mayor, breaking the silence.

Ginger chuckled, then looked around at the gathered lowbloods.

“I don’t know, kids. What do you think?”

“Kill them!”

“Chop their horns off!”

“Make their lusus sick, like ours will be!”

The tealblood tried to keep a disdainful expression, but Ginger saw the fear creeping in as more and more trolls joined in shouting, as the crowd pressed closer and closer, until the hemoanon drew their sword from their sylladex and stepped closer to the mayor. 

The lowbloods cheered.

Then they slowly pointed it at different faces of the crowd, who looked disappointed, betrayed even, as Ginger forced them back several feet with a slow, careful advance. 

“What would that do?” Ginger said once more.

“Make sure they won’t hurt us again!” Called the maroon from earlier. “Duh.”

“I think they’d want revenge.” Stated the hemoanon dryly.

“Then we’ll kill them!”

The angry shout pierced the air, but Ginger laughed. 

“What do you think happens if you kill a tealblood?”

The crowd went quiet.

The hemoanon nodded.

“Yeah, you all know. It’d get worse. The killer would get culled. You might all get re-educated.”

Anger and fear alike spread across the faces of the children.

“So, what do we do with them?” Ginger asked, even.

The lowbloods looked at each other, looked away, looked at their feet. 

“You said they’re gonna clean up, right?” Piped up the maroon. “Will they do that until it’s all done?” They said eagerly.

“Yeah.” Answered the armored troll with a nod.

Several lowbloods looked approving, while others scowled.

“What about the trolls dead because of them? Or hurt?” Shouted the yellow from before. “I don’t want them working with us! Like they know what to do anyway, useless half-noble.”

The mayor opened their mouth for an angry retort as other lowbloods called in support, but Ginger slammed their sword tip-down in the mud, one hand still on the hilt, and all the young trolls went quiet again.

“They’ll learn.” Said the armored troll, matter of fact. “I didn’t say they were getting off totally free, did I?”

Several of the lowbloods smirked.

The tealblood’s face paled. 

They knew Ginger’s reputation.

“Disease will linger here.” Stated the hemoanon, matter-of-fact. “No matter what we do, some of it will. You’ll get supplies, advice on how to cope, but you’ll have to get through it yourselves. However.”

They looked directly into the midblood’s eyes, and raised their dirtied blade to gently touch their throat. They felt the troll’s life, the pulse of their heart, the rhythm of their breath.

“You closed your eyes to the people in your care.” Said Ginger gently. “Too bad for you.”

White, creeping veins of energy spread from the mud smeared on the troll’s pale gray throat. They spread up their face to reach their eyes, which wept teal tears, becoming red and blurry, and the mayor whimpered as the energy faded.

“You’ll heal.” Murmured Ginger. “If you do your part. Help clean up every night until it’s done, and your sight’ll be good as new.”

“What is this?” Croaked the mayor, angry and afraid.

“Conjunctivitis. Pinkeye’s the common name. Sucks, but it won’t kill you. Normally it’s contagious, but you get it all to yourself.”

The children were whispering and debating now, unsure of what to make of this, and Ginger wiped their sword off on their armor, then put it away in their sylladex.

“They’ll kill me anyway, with this weakness.” Said the mayor, words a quietly fierce accusation.

The horseman of pestilence shrugged.

“Maybe. Maybe not, now that you’ve gotten your due. Might have to learn to rely on other people, work with them, so they help protect you.”

The teal made an anguished sound.

Ginger saluted again, more sincerely this time.

“Good luck, kid.”

They turned and walked away, given a wide berth as the crowd parted before them. 

They went to find Leshwi, who knelt down in the mud, collecting samples of sediment and other debris. 

“Anything interesting?” The hemoanon asked.

“How should I know? I don’t have your powers.” Said the olive, amused. “If I did, this would be a lot easier.”

“Aside from that.” They said with a shrug. 

“You were awfully light on them.” She said instead of answering, eyebrows raised.

Ginger shrugged, looking down to see some lusus tracks - canine, they thought, but they weren’t an expert - sunk deep into the mud. 

“I’d say I was moderate.” They replied absentmindedly, trying to figure out where -

A snarling creature leapt at them from the cover of a broken hive, then gurgled and twitched as it found itself impaled with a wet crunch on Ginger’s swiftly raised sword.

They shook their head as they lowered their blade and extracted it from the corpse with a grunt as they leaned it against the hive. That would need a proper cleaning. Figures.

Leshwi looked over. 

“Oh, Ginger.” She said, slightly chiding. “You killed someone’s lusus, by the look of it.”

The animal that now slumped on the ground- some sort of coyote, maybe - did have fur of a muddied white, between the red blood gushing out of its chest. Dried yellowish-white flecks spotted its muzzle. 

“Oops.” They said, slightly abashed. “Well. It wasn’t doing so hot anyway. See the foam on the mouth?”

The midblood nodded. “Now we’ll have to check every other lusus in the area.” 

“I can start.” They offered.

“Always taking all the glamorous jobs for yourself, hm?”

The hemoanon laughed. 

“Guilty.” They said, then put away their sword and picked up the corpse. 

They’d have to apologize to whoever it belonged to later, but for now it was best gotten rid of, though luckily the rabies virus wasn’t very transmissible outside a living host. The body would draw plenty of other carriers, though.

They’d bury it before that happened. They knew the rites; Kai had taught them long ago.

Carpenter droid eyes watched as they passed by this time, silent gazes following the tall troll. Stares from the townstrolls followed the horseman of pestilence as they walked out town a different way than they’d come.

They strode toward a patch of trees, where they knew the flood hadn’t reached and the soil would be easily moved.

They laid the dead lusus down gently, then took a shovel from their sylladex and dug its grave. Patient and methodical, Ginger scraped against rocks and chucked away dirt at a steady rate.

At last they put down their shovel and lowered the beast into the hole, covering it back over with soil, then stopped to take a few breaths.

Now they had to make sure there were no other mercy cullings to be done, or carry them out if there were. That would sure make them popular.

Didn’t matter, though. 

Shitshow or not, someone had to get it done.

[jadedbirch]

Mother has ABANDONED me with this Plague-Ridden WEIRDO who keeps trying to pet me and sounds like Mother but ISN'T 😡

[mezmer]

One change I would make to the Rose of Versailles story (ridiculous idea) would be

for Oscar to realize what womanhood CAN be after her life of struggling with gender. Here she is in some moments wishing to be a genuine man so she does not feel the pining of desire and perhaps lust (this is a comic for young japanese girls in the 70s but it is obviously implied) Although!!! Oscar never pines for dresses and despises them. So you see a bit of that strength, that confidence that a truly fully realized woman would know. Instead of wanting to engage in consumerist sexualized feminine games, she constantly hones in on how destitute her life is, with love constantly escaping her grasp. She notices she is being fawned after ... But also she is seen as cold by the same characters.. Even though her heart is filled with fire that she can't let out. Because she doesn't know how. This contradiction plagues her and steals her joy, but she relates that loss of open romance to the fact she isn't a fully realized woman per se. Her father raised her to be a man and she constantly steps back and forth between enjoying her enhanced position in a misogynistic society but also feeling miserably doomed to a life of loneliness. Why is it she can't throw herself in the arms of somebody she loves, man or woman? You have a bit of internalized virtue obsession that in some panels involved a bit of homophobia on Oscar's part. She is ridden with a dark purity that only steals from her.

So, the change: Come her ending involving Andre,(no blatant spoilers for those interested in this magnificent masterpiece) -- she has some sort of epiphany about womanhood, but it only involves the realization of what love can be: being somebody's wife. There isn't much of a perception, at least outwardly expressed by Oscar, in this story that she feels and knows the unique experience of womanhood as being that of ... Well maybe I shouldn't go into the inherent experience of womanhood on here lol. It's getting too controversial if I delve into that. I just wish her realization at least wasn't ALL about giving herself to a man after a life of fighting the desire to do so. Oh hey, I am truly a woman, so I can go out and make love finally?... I wish there was more and she'd have taken pride in it, in a different way. The author being a feminist kind of stinks when you read the story under that impression, but the story was indeed written when Riyoko was very young. That was a chance for Riyoko to set a precedent in a story that was massively popular in Japan by the time it was completed. Still all over the world it remains popular but not as much in the states. That being said, it was considered a romantic historical fiction. Oscar would have just been so much stronger of a character if she finished off by showing the readers what a woman really can be despite the ball and chain of 18th century France holding women down. . . Is anyone understanding? She was so close. She wasn't wearing dresses and makeup and she wasn't giving herself to BELONG to a man; the ingredients were all there to create an unprecedented feminist statement. I'm not gonna tag this as Rose of Versailles cuz all the little weirdo fans are gonna come after me for "misgendering" Oscar (a woman..)

Im just releasing my thoughts into the air as I often do here! My Safe Space

[lancelot-sharpkeen]

@mxlevolence

« what are you gonna do? hit me? »

...you know. Lance has done... a lot of stupid stuff, ever since he got taken away by the Entity. He got himself between the other survivors and the Oni, getting turned into a disgusting goo made of blood and broken bones in just a few seconds. He openly accepted a goddamn trap that split his face in half if it meant protecting someone. Sometimes he even attempts to break open the hatch before its time, getting sucked in and living horrors beyond human comprehension.

So. Honestly. It was a matter of time before he decided to grab one of the pallets lying around - one not big and heavy enough not to carry around, but not small enough to not recieve a few puzzled looks from the few people he met so far - and bring it around like a makeshift shield, not knowing with who he was going to deal with that round.

Finding Ghostface just a few minutes into his stupid plan. Not a cannibal with a chainsaw, not a plague-ridden witch, not some freak with a weird cube and a thing for pain. Just a weirdo with a knife. A dangerous. Weirdo with a knife, but it could've gone worse, right?

Lance... blinks. Looks down at the pallet in his hands as the other makes that sarcastic comment -- no, teases him, as if he couldn't actually do anything about his future new stab wound, then looks back at the other.

"Yeah", he answers calmly, very matter-of-fact-ly. "Yeah, I think I will."

---and then tightens his grip on the piece of wood, swinging it with as much strenght as he could. If he's lucky he's going to get himself some time, if he's luckier he'll knock that guy out, if he isn't he'll get at least a surprise attack before actually attempting to duke it out. It's just a weirdo with a knife, he thinks to himself, almost desperately trying to convince himself. It's just a weirdo with a knife. It's fine.

[gender-euphowrya]

the other day i mentioned to my therapist how i don’t eat vegetables At All and i expected the usual ‘‘whaaaaaa ??? what DO you eat then?????? :O” but he was just like “fantastic”

[sinfulcries]

Head empty, only male reader pounding into his Yandere Oikawa-senpai’s hole until he’s gone completely dumb 😳👉👈

exactly what you run from you end up chasing — oikawa x male reader

##AUTHORS%NOTES: I was gonna publish the other author x reader fic just so that i could get it over with but im too proud of this one shot so i just had to post this first aha. requests are always open so feel free to send in more :)

WORD COUNT: 1013

tw. heavy yandere themes, senpai/kouhai relationship, dry humping, slapping, dacryphilia, heavy cnc, top reader, heavy dumbification, weirdo oikawa

Exactly what you run from, you end up chasing. Oikawa Tooru despised you. You were more popular him, smarter than him, taller than him, and though he would never admit it in a thousand years, You were more attractive than him. It was infuriating having the spotlight taken away from him when you came into aoba johsai. And during the course of your stay, he always avoided you like the plague. Ignoring your presence and focusing on his own.

Oikawa however, soon came to his senses and realised that he was starting to like you.

He was confused— angry at himself for catching feelings for his "rival". But when he started to observe you from afar— learning about your schedules, who your friends were, all the people who had feelings for you, your cologne, hell, even your toothpaste! He was slowly becoming obsessed with you.

Although it seemed that Oikawa knew every detail about you— he had over looked your perceptiveness. The moment he had started watching you after months of ignoring you, was enough to tell you that the setter was interested in you. And your assumption proved to be correct once you saw him stalking you on your way home in the corner of your eye.

"Why are you being so fucking creepy, Senpai?" You hissed, glaring at the setter. Oikawa certainly did not expect you to approach him after school, asking him why he was being creepy. Did you know how much that broke his heart?! After months of keeping you safe— making sure that no one was touching you, you had the audacity to call him creepy?!

"Me? Creepy?!" Oikawa couldn't help but laugh manically at your words, a disgusted expression making its way onto your face. "After giving you all my love from afar, making sure you were safe, you think im creepy?!"

You were having none of Oikawa's words— and soon enough you were shoving your tongue in his mouth, his eyes blown wide as he felt your hands holding his hips firmly. "Shut the fuck up you weirdo. You're pissing me off." You muttered after pulling away from the kiss. Your orbs which were clouded with lust— peering at his flustered expression.

Effectively pinning him against the wall of the empty classroom, You pulled his slacks down, unbuttoning his and your dress shirt slowly afterwards. "You're hard? Just from me kissing you?" Oikawa only responded with a shy nod, nimble hands inching towards your boxers so that he could hold your cock.

"Fucking weirdo..." Laughing at how pathetic and how desperate your senpai was, you licked your lips— pressing your thumbs harder into the skin of his hips before kissing him again, a whimper leaving the smaller male's pretty lips.

The brunette started grinding his hips against yours, his mind clouded with so much want and desire. He's been wanting this for so long! To feel your body against his, to feel your thick cock rubbing against his small pathetic one, to feel your lips on his own— he's been fantasising about this! he didn't need to touch himself to the thought of you fucking him anymore!

Noticing the tips of Tooru's ears becoming darker, You grounded your clothed cock against him, dry humping your senpai as he was choking and begging for you to just fuck him already.

"Be patient, Senpai~ Let your kouhai take care of you hm?" Barely able to form any coherent words, Oikawa merely nodded before you turned him around the sound of your hand landing on his ass echoing across the empty room. A sharp cry left Oikawa's lips whilst you only grinned sadistically, slapping his ass once more.

Staring at the hand print that was forming on the setter's milky skin, you whistled before teasing "Fuck Tooru— You bruise so easily!"

Another embarrassed noise left Oikawa— and his shoulders were practically trembling at the intensity of your hits. You continued to slap the flesh of his ass whilst your fingers entered his tight hole without warning. "Y-Y/n~! NGH— P-PLEASE BE GENTLE!"

"Eh? Why should I listen to a worthless psycho like you, Oikawa-san?" You blinked at his shivering form, the innocent yet lustful look on his face only fuelling the fire in your stomach to ruin him even more.

You were clearly holding yourself back— Oikawa could tell by the way your free hand was clenched to the point that your knuckles were turning white, your other hand's fingers still buried inside of him.

He wanted you to use him to your pleasure! He was made to please you, made to become your cocksleeve! His purpose in life was to satisfy you, to be your slave, to make you feel so good that you would kill just to have your cock buried in his tight little ass!

A loud moan interrupted his thoughts once he felt you shoving your cock in his hole forcefully— the stretch so painful that Oikawa attempted to squirm away only to have your grip on his waist tighten. "Take it like a good boy, yeah?"

Snapping your hips— you barely gave him any time to adjust once you pushed every inch of your cock in— His brown eyes were filled with hot tears and his face was ridden with drool and snot. "Fucking dumb bitch. Shouldn't you be happy that i'm fucking you like the whore you always were?"

"P-Please stop— AHN! UGH FUCK!" Oikawa sobbed, as you used him to your pleasure— the knot in his stomach slowly building as you abused his prostate. "You want me to stop but your body's telling me otherwise, bitch."

"p-p-please!! i can't take it! s-stop please~!" As the brunette begged for you to stop or slow down, you only fucked him faster enjoying the sound of his moans mixed in with his pitiful sobs.

Oikawa Tooru shouldn't have ended up chasing what he was so desperately running away from, if he knew it would've ended up in him getting addicted to the feeling of being at your mercy.

[ohshit-itsyagorl]

Four Dipshits and a Michelle

Part 1 

Hey, Loves! This is a fanfiction I’ve been working on recently. Hope you like it!

Summary: Michelle never believed in soulmates. But what happens when she turns seventeen and gets her mark? What happens when she inevitably finds the person with the matching tattoo? And what is she supposed to do with Peter Parker. Her best friend in the whole world. Her crush. Someone she feels drawn to for some inexplicable reason.

Michelle Jones never understood the infatuation human society had with soulmates.

As a little girl full of hopes and dreams, she admits she was rather fond of the idea: someone out there who was perfect for her, someone who she could share her life with, her soul-bonded partner.

Until her mom got sick. And her dad started treating his wife like his own personal punching bag and then left them with barley enough money to get by. And that sucked, but Michelle could deal with it. She really could.

(But she was not okay.)

But after that initial honeymoon phase, after seeing a relationship that was supposedly written in the cosmos fall apart, she was wrenched back to a sad, logical reality.

After giving up on her soulmate, she found it grating how often it came up in seemingly normal discussion.

This, Michelle thought, was rather ridiculous, considering they were all freshman in high school, and wouldn’t be turning 17 for at least two years, three for most of them.

When she woke up on the morning of February 27th, she was not expecting the day to be anything special or different.

Trudging to the bathroom, half asleep with hair in her mouth, she thought she might pass out. Damn her for opting to take the PCB (physics, then chemistry, then biology) route instead of being normal like almost every other kid at Midtown Tech.

The only bonus to PCB was that she had the same kids in her science class every year. Betty and Cindy and Ned and Peter. The only downside was Flash, who was insufferable on the very best of days. He was also on the PCB track.

(Ugh.)

Point was, Michelle had stayed up super late the previous night studying for a massive test with Peter and Ned, and she was absolutely exhausted.

(Physics could be a bitch sometimes.)

“Hey, Sweetie, how did you sleep?” Her mom was laying on the couch, nose shoved into her book, right arm hooked up to an IV. When Michelle didn’t answer immediately, she looked up and let out a soft oh. “Rough night?” She asked.

Michelle sighed. “Yeah. Big test today. Studied with the losers last night.”

“Well, good luck, honey.” MJ started walking toward the door. “Oh, and, Michelle? Don’t call your friends losers.”

Michelle ran a hand through her hair, the chocolate curls a tangled mess perched atop her head.

————————————————————

“Hey, MJ.” Michelle looked up to see Peter waving at her, toothy grin and glasses and a dark blue sweater. She narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. Too early, Idiot.

Physics went as well as could be expected. Lunch was a different story.

“I can’t wait,” Betty said dreamily. “I wonder what they’ll look like.”

“I wonder what my soulmark will be,” Ned said, looking up from his English notes. “With my luck, it’ll be worse than that senior with a foot tattooed down the right side of his face.”

Michelle snorted. “Yeah, maybe it’ll be a giant dick or something.”

“Maybe yours’ll be a unicorn, MJ. You know, to match your personality,” Ned fired back.

She stiffened, looking around at the group. ‘‘I don’t want a soulmate,” she muttered.

“What? Why not?” Cindy exclaimed, her eyes almost comically wide.

Peter looked up at that. His glasses had fallen down his nose considerably, and he shoved them back up his face. Dork.

Michelle shrugged. “I just don’t. They’re pointless.”

“Well,” Peter started, “maybe one day you’ll change your mind.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not likely, Parker.”

“Tell that to your soul-bonded partner.”

A soft chorus of oohs echoed from the Table around her. She needed new friends.

“Whatever. Even if I find my soulmate, I’ll just avoid them like the plague. Shouldn’t be that hard with all my practice when it comes to you lot.”

Peter let out a small uh-huh, and went back to whatever the hell it was he was doing.

It wasn’t like she and Peter didn’t argue. As best friends, it was kind of part of the job description. But Peter and Ned already knew how she felt about soulmates and soulmarks. Michelle was surprised he had pushed her on that front. Weird.

She cleared her throat.

—————————————————————

Sophomore year rolled around, and with it came Academic Decathlon. Michelle befriended Liz almost immediately. She was so nice, and perfect, and smart.

About halfway through the year after a field trip for AcaDec, Peter missed school for over a week. Something about catching a bug on the trip. On day 10, Michelle went to his apartment.

May opened the door. “Oh, hey, MJ! Peter is in his room. He’ll be glad to see you,” she said, a smile gracing her face.

Michelle walked past May with a small nod of acknowledgement. When she entered Peter’s room, she was fairly surprised to see that he, in fact, did actually look very sick. He was on the floor covered in sweat and shaking.

“Ohmigod, Peter! Are you okay?”

“Oh, MJ. Didn’t know you cared. How sweet of you,” he managed through chattering teeth.

“I don’t, Loser. Here,” Michelle leaned down, “let me help you to your bed.”

“No!” Peter scrambled backward over a pile of schoolwork, the pages sticking to his hands. The sweat, probably, thought Michelle

She quirked an eyebrow.

“I, uh—I don’t want to get you sick, is all,” he explained.

“Whatever, Loser,” she said. “I brought you your schoolwork, so… here you go.” She dropped the stack onto his unoccupied bed, spared Peter one more glance, shrugged, and turned to walk out of the room.

“MJ, wait. Thank you, for, uh, for the schoolwork.”

She flipped him off on the way out the door. Weirdo.

Peter started changing after that. He started filling out his shirts more. She figured he had started working out or something.

Not that she was looking at him. Because she wasn’t.

He no longer wore glasses, and dropped out of marching band and robotics club. He disappeared at nationals, showing up only for the ride home after the fiasco at the Washington Monument (of all the times to gain a rebellious streak AcaDec nationals was not the time or the place). Michelle glared at him nonstop for a week after that.

People started avoiding the topic of soulmates and soulmarks around her, knowing it was a touchy subject.

Over the course of the year, Michelle grew closer to Peter and Ned than the other kids in Acadec.

—————————————————————

“MJ?” Peter looked back at her from where he was squatting down in front of the DVD player. He was wearing sweats and a math pun t-shirt that stretched tightly across his chest. His arms across his legs were lithe and muscled. How had she never noticed before…

And she was staring. Michelle blushed furiously. Peter smirked. She flipped him off. He chuckled.

“What do you want?” She asked. His hair was gelled back like every day, but it was a bit mussed, falling onto his forehead. Her blood heated. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, wondered how soft it would be.

Peter ran a hand through said hair, biting his lip. “Have you—uh—have you ever seen The Princess Bride?” He asked.

MJ rolled her eyes. This boy. “Bits and pieces. I was never really interested in that mushy, gushy, sappy shit. Besides, we are not watching that.”

“Uh, yeah, we are. It’s simply tragic how your previous social circle failed you,” he said, scrunching his nose up. It was cute annoying.

Michelle squinted at him, mouth becoming a thin line. He smiled back innocently. She flipped him off. Again.

She relented in the end.

Peter hopped up next to where she was sitting, stretching his arms up and over the back of the couch. Michelles’s eyes snagged on the bit of exposed skin where his shirt had ridden up. Were those… abs? She shook her head, looking back toward the now-glowing TV screen. Her nerdy best friend Peter Parker could not have abs. But.

Michelle had to admit that the movie wasn’t actually as bad as she had initially thought. The reason for that was mostly Peter. The absolute dweeb was acting out the fight scenes with himself. Watching Peter try and punch and defend himself at the same time was pretty funny.

MJ looked over at Peter during the end of the movie. He was looking at her.

“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” He blurted, then proceeded to clap a hand over his mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry. You really, uh, really don’t have to answer that.”

And maybe it was the laughter they had shared together. Maybe it was the way she felt safe around him, or how his hair curled behind his ears, but, “My parents were soulmates. It—it didn’t work out."

That was all she was willing to share.

Peter nodded, swallowing thickly and looking back to the movie. “I think Ned’s right,” he said. Michelle raised an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat, “Your soulmark is definitely going to be a unicorn. Or a pegasus. Or a rainb—”

“Shut up, Parker.”

Peter raised his hands defensively, grinning.

They talked for another hour, but Peter couldn’t seem to drop the conversation about soulmates.

“Hey, MJ?” He said, giving her a curious look.

Michelle hummed.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. With all the posing while acting out the movie, it looked like he had just gotten out of bed. Maybe even just had—

No. Best friend. Peter was her best friend. Nothing more.

“On your birthday,” he ventured, “when you get your mark, will you tell me about it? We could, like, make fun of each other’s or something. Once I get mine, that is.”

Michelle hesitated. Then: “Sure, okay. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Peter beamed at her and her heart did a backflip. It was worth talking about her soulmark to see that smile, different from his usually timid upturned lips. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Awesome! What are best friends for if not to make fun of shit,” he said.

Best friend. The words stung a bit, even if they were true.

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

Junior year came faster than any of them expected, and with it, standardized testing. Michelle was sad that Liz had moved away the year prior when her dad was caught selling alien technology illegally, but she was excited to be team captain this year. She, Peter, and Ned had all celebrated with aLord of the Rings movie marathon, but over the past few months, Peter and Ned had been sharing hushed conversations. MJ wasn’t sure what was going on, but it made her feel kind of shitty—like she was being pushed out of their friend group.

But then Peter would shoot her a shy smile, and she would feel a little better. There was definitely something going on, though.

Betty got her mark over the summer—a small cat’s eye in the palm of her left hand—but she had had no luck finding the person with the matching tattoo, much to her chagrin.

Michelle truly felt like she was rocketing toward her birthday. Somehow, she and Peter had found a way to turn her soulmate into a bit of a joke, which helped. A little.

That’s how Michelle found herself on the phone with Peter, wearing a tank top and shorts in the middle of winter, watching the seconds tick down to midnight.

“I’m so excited,” Peter said over the phone. “I can’t wait to see if it’s a unicorn or a pegasus.”

“Can it, Parker,” Michelle snapped. She was strangely terrified, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Okay, Magic Princess Unicorn—”

“I mean it, Pete.”

“Ten seconds, MJ.”

“Shit,” she whispered, hands shaking as she hastily put Peter on speaker, and set down the phone, turning to face the floor-length mirror.

“Do you see anything?” He asked. Did he sound… nervous?

Michelle scanned her arms and legs in the mirror, turned around and did the same on the back. “Fuck.”

“What?” Peter said, voice crackling over the phone. “What is it? Is it a Unicorn?”

“No,” Michelle gasped out. “I don’t see anything.”

It was true she didn’t want anything to do with her soulmate, but it did hurt that she didn’t even have one.

She let out a sob, then slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“MJ—MJ, calm down. It’s probably just somewhere else. Try taking your clothes off.” Michelle felt her toes curl into the carpet, her breath hitched. “Fuck,” Peter said. “I didn’t mean it like that—fuck, that came out wrong.”

You don’t need to apologize, Michelle thought. Instead, she nodded, then, realizing he couldn’t see her over the phone, she cleared her throat and said, “No, I get it—what you meant, I mean.” She cringed, Christ, she was absolutely horrible at this. “God, I hope it’s not on my ass.”

Peter let out a bark of laughter. Michelle smiled, then remembered her situation, frowned.

“Stop frowning, you’ll get premature wrinkles,” Peter said.

Michelle frowned deeper. “How do you know I’m frowning?”

“I know you, MJ. Now stop frowning. There’s only one way to know if you have a tattoo on your ass,” Peter said, choking on the last word. “Just check.”

Michelle loosed a breath. “Okay. I guess you’re right.”

She turned back toward the mirror, reaching for the waistband of her shorts and underwear, pulling them both down at the same time. Nothing on the front. She shimmied around a bit, before giving in and stepping out of her shorts. She glanced over her shoulder into the mirror. Nothing.

She took off her tank top next, checking her back first, since she was already facing in that direction. Still nothing. She turned around and ran her fingers over her stomach. Nothing there, either. Goddammit.

She slowly reached back to unclasp her bra and let it slide down her arms. “Mother fucker,” she said quietly.

She’s not sure how, but Peter heard her. “MJ? What’s the status? Did you find it?”

“Yeah, I did. And I fucking hate the universe.” She hissed.

Peter laughed nervously. “Well, what is it? Where is it?”

“Like hell I’m telling you!” MJ screeched.

“C’mon, Michelle, we had a deal!” Peter said. She could picture him laying down in bed, then sitting up abruptly, hair mussed like that night they had watched The Princess bride together. And that strip of skin she’d glimpsed and—fuck, she was thinking about him while she was naked.

“Peter, I literally had to take all my clothes off just to find it. I am not telling you about this ever. God, this is so humiliating.” Michelle looked in the mirror again and winced. Staring back a her was her naked body, dark skin gleaming in the moonlight, curls coming down over her breasts. She moved her hair out of the way to get a better look at her mark, and… there it was. A fist-size black spider sitting in the middle of her left breast, right over her nipple. She groaned, burying her face in the crook of her elbow.

“Oh, c’mon, M. It can’t be that bad,” Peter said.

“It’s bad, Pete,” Michelle sighed. “Well, at least this way my soulmate won’t be able to see my mark.”

Michelle stroked a finger over one of the spider’s legs and shivered. Peter swore over the phone.

“What?” Michelle asked.

“Nothing,” Peter said, though his voice was shaky. “Just got a shiver. That’s what I get for not wearing a shirt.

This boy.

And now she was picturing him shirtless. Fuck. With that mussed-up hair. Double-fuck. She looked down to find that the hand near her breast had grabbed on, kneading the soft flesh. Holy mother of god, an infinite amount of fucks. But it felt good. Really good. She let out a quiet moan.

“MJ? What’s going on, are you okay?” How the ever-living hell did Peter keep hearing her? She could barely hear herself.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she managed. Thankfully she sounded normal, if not a little breathy. “Just a little messed up after seeing the mark, you know? I wasn’t expecting to feel so… attached to it.” Because that’s what it was, she realized. She could already feel her connection to someone else, and she hated herself for loving it, for craving that sensation to be stronger.

“Okay. We should probably both go to sleep anyway,” Peter said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” He sounded worried, but he was willing to give her space. That was one of the things she valued most about their friendship.

“Yeah,” Michelle said. Then, when she heard him start to shift, presumably on his bed (God help her), she interrupted, “and, Peter?” He hummed in response. “Put a shirt on. It’s cold out.”

He grunted. “Yeah, will do, M.”

Somehow Michelle got the feeling he wasn’t going to put on a shirt. Idiot.

Part 2

[heechulhamster]

Speed Dial- Park Chanyeol

PARK CHANYEOL X READER

Angst, Fluff, College!AU

Trigger Warning: The character has anxiety and self harms. Do not read if you are triggered by any of those. Please. And if you experience such, remember that we are here for you. You matter, you’re important, you are loved. And don’t be afraid to seek professional help. Your feelings are valid, your thoughts matter, and you deserve to be heard.

It wasn’t something that’s easy to notice but Park Chanyeol had a very keen eye. Seeking something you made sure to be extremely obscure. If it wasn’t for the new rules of the laboratory you’ve been partners at, your secret would’ve been still safe. 

You’ve hidden your scars under the long sleeves of your jackets. The scars that have shown how you coped with the stress, the sudden flood of emotions, the pain that you thought you deserved. It was all a secret beneath a piece of cloth. But when your new Biology instructor changed the rules and regulations in the laboratory, that secret was at high risk to be revealed. 

Chanyeol always knew something was up with you. You’ve always been silent and reclusive, which most can mistake as you being aloof. But he was quick to sense that it wasn’t the case. Every Wednesday and Friday, he inched closer to your soul in little ways. He sparked short conversations prior to and after the said class. Random things from questions regarding your other classes or your upbringing, which you answered with a short and direct to the point reply. It was when he joked about the hair, or lack thereof, of your Biology instructor that he saw the first time you smiled. And it was the day he promised himself that he’d do anything to see it again. 

But after that day, the roller coaster ride that was your life had more downs than ups. The situation in your own family snowballed into problems that affected your daily life. You’ve been kept awake at night by the thoughts that flooded your mind. All the what could, what will, what ifs, and whys that rang like a morning bell never gave you rest. Reaching a point where you could only blame yourself, and you believe that you deserved the pain you inflicted yourself. 

You were able to conceal the truth under jackets for a good number of weeks. But when your professor said that you are only supposed to use the half sleeved white lab gowns during the hour, you knew that your partner was going to notice. 

It was the very same day that Chanyeol took notice of the pain you put yourself through. He was unsure if he should address the elephant in the room. It was surely a sore topic, so he tried to approach you as discreetly as he can. 

“What have you been up to lately?” Chanyeol blurted after the class was dismissed.

“Same old things, school, home, and re-runs of Gossip Girl.” You added a faint laugh. 

“Hmm, how about breaking the cycle? I’m gonna play on the nearby cafe tomorrow. I’d appreciate if you’d come!” He suggested, being his sunny, happy, self.

“I’ll try, Chanyeol. But I’ve been lagging behind schoolwork lately and I really need to catch up. Tell me the next time you’ll play okay?” You said with a small smile as you grabbed your bag and started walking. You felt a hand over your shoulder and looked back at your lab partner. 

“Don’t stress yourself too much, okay?” Chanyeol donned one of the sweetest smiles you’ve ever seen. And you knew what exactly he was talking about. Of course he’s seen your arm when you held the microscope, how careless could you just be?

You were nervous of showing up that Friday. Someone already knew your secret, and he could easily report you to the guidance counselors. Just thinking about the endless interrogation about your current state, the invasion of your hard kept secrets, telling out the stories you never even wanted to experienced stressed the shit out of you. 

You tried to cover the lines on your wrists as much as possible on that span of two hours. You don’t even know why you still bothered when he already seen it. It was a manifestation of how anxious you just were. And another is that you covered the lines by habit.

The moment your professor dismissed the class, a small paper was beside your elbow. 

“Happy Hotline ^_^” followed by a phone number was written messily on the paper. You looked at the face of the source, you’ve been faced by the innocent smile yet again. 

“What’s this for?” You chuckled a little on his adorable demeanor. 

“It’s the happy hotline for you. If you need a little dose of cheering up.” You appreciated the effort he showed, but felt a little uneasy of your unusual behavior being the obvious reason that this was happening. 

“Chanyeol can we keep this thing a little secret between us two? I just don’t want being counseled - just the thought stresses me out and I.. and I...” You started spiraling into the panic vortex. ‘

An all too familiar hand touched your arm, “Hey, hey. It’s okay. Just don’t do it again, promise? Call me when it hits. Call me in the middle of the night, I won’t mind. Seriously. Wait - ah. Give me your phone.” Your phone was already on your hand and unlocked so it was easy for him to snatch it away. 

You saw Chanyeol type into the phone and he returned it in your hands afterwards. 

“I’m on speed dial. Just please, promise me. You’ll call okay?” He said with pleading eyes. Concern ridden in his face. 

“I don’t want to bother you.” 

“You won’t. Seeing that bothers me even more. Knowing that I could do something. Please, call.” At this point, both of Chanyeol’s hands were now situated on your arms. And you nodded, somehow you gravitated towards his warmth. His smile, his eyes that never failed to show emotions, his humor, maybe you needed a little bit of it in your life. 

You found yourself using the speed dial later that night. The wave of school works and the lack of sleep messed up with your hormones and you needed to calm down. You needed another voice to hear except the noise in your mind. You needed to lean on something before you collapse on your own. You needed Chanyeol.

“Hey, who’s this?” His voice resonated sweetly in your ears. You blushed at the thought that he picked up in less than three rings. 

“I figured that I needed a little bit of happiness..” You said with a smile on your face.

“Oh it’s you! I’m glad you called. I thought you’d just delete my number and mark me off as your weird lab partner for the rest of the semester.” He joked. 

“I think I’m the weirdo between us two. But yeah, I called so your number is still residing on my phone.” You chuckled. For whatever reason, his vibe was contagious. Chanyeol really deserved to be called a happy hotline because his jolly attitude just transmitted through the phone. You needed this, you needed someone to divert you from your dark thoughts. You needed someone to shed you some light. 

“So, what’s up?” He asked. And when it took you a minute or more to respond, Chanyeol realized that he pulled on the wrong strings and spoke once more. “What about I share first? You okay with listening on my endless chatter?” You laughed at his self deprecation, nodding on the other end of the line as if he’d see. 

He started telling stories about his last gig. How he cracked his voice due to the cold environment but ended up singing more songs. One topic led to another and it went to his favorite cartoon in childhood. Chanyeol cannot be stopped once he started sharing, and he was a delight to talk to for you. It was like he opened a new dimension with light, an area that you were eager to explore. Somehow the more he told about himself, the more you wanted to know. 

You looked at the clock and realized you’ve been talking for two hours non stop. You glanced on the paperwork that sat atop your desk and realized that you’ve been really slacking off, and the criticism you’ll give yourself afterwards would be worse if you don’t start accomplishing things now. 

“Hey, Yeol.” You started with the nickname he asked you to use. “I realized that we’ve been talking on the phone for hours now and I still have paperwork to do.” 

“Oh yeah, I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for bothering.” He said with a concerned and guilty tone. 

“No, if anything it’s me that bothered you. I’m thankful for the good talk. Save your childhood stories for the next time okay, I want to hear more.” You could feel as if your wide smile, something that has been so rare on your face for the past few months, could rip your face in two. But again, Chanyeol had that effect. 

After a few goodbyes,you hung up the phone. And it was one of the nights that the noise in your mind has been silent, for all that rang in your head was Chanyeol’s laugh. How he giggled when he talked about his hobbies. His enthusiasm when he talked about the songs he’s written. 

It carried on for days, somehow calling Chanyeol has become part of your daily schedule. Sometime’s he’s the one who would initiate the call. You started opening up to him. There were nights where you were talking about trivial, yet happy things. But there was the inevitable moments where your thoughts got the best of you. You’d just cry on the phone as he listened, muttering a few assuring words and letting you speak. 

The Wednesdays and Fridays became the highlight of your dreadful week. The two hours of each day that you got to be together was like a safe time for you. Void of all the monsters in your head, as the hero who killed them for you was right by your side. And it gave birth to another monster, another voice that kept you awake. 

You knew that you were falling for your happy pill. It plagued your mind how his voice became your safety. How the late night calls became the reason you’re excited to wake up in the morning. And the way the dreadful Laboratory meetings became the best part of your week. 

The fear started building up, what if he was just doing this out of pity? Out of charity? That Chanyeol stuck with you because he saw the urgency in your eyes, in the lines that filled your wrists. But the moment you’re okay, he’ll realize that his act of kindness was over. You feared that moment. 

Yet you still found yourself on the University green house where he asked to meet you. He told you he was playing for a special audience and he wanted you to be there. But there was no audience there. The only sight to see was the lot of plants that blossomed in the glass covers, and the tall, handsome, sunshine of a man that sat on the bench with his guitar. 

You approached Chanyeol and laid your bag on the bench. 

“Where’s the audience? Don’t tell me they stood you up.” A hint of sadness in your voice. You know how passionate Chanyeol was about his music and the thought of him being stood up by an audience just made your mouth turn sour. 

“Nah, they’re here. They’re complete.” He said with a smile. 

You looked around, still no one there to accompany you two. 

“Uhm, Yeol there’s no one else here.”

“Exactly, you’re my special audience since you always concoct an excuse when I ask you to come to my shows.” You laughed with the guilt. 

He started playing a song, one that you knew because he put it in a playlist he sent you. It was Up&Up by Coldplay, one of his favorite bands. His voice wasn’t the best, but it was all you wanted to hear. You let yourself be lost in the sight and soud of Chanyeol, letting go of all worries that he might be aware of your feelings. This time you wanted to spoil yourself, indulge yourself in what makes you happy. And it was the man in front of you. 

“Thank you so much, Chanyeol.” You said the moment he finished his song. The smile after the bliss of performing still wandered in his face. 

“You don’t have to thank me for anything. It was just what I wanted to do.” Somehow, you understood that he wasn’t just talking about playing a song. 

“But why? Why do this? Why carry my burden? Why me?” The questions flew out your mouth in a great speed you weren’t even able to control. 

“Because I want to.” He said in a matter of fact tone. 

“I don’t understand why anyone would want to help me, Yeol. I’m a mess, I’m a sad piece of failure that is unworthy, unlovable.” Your voice shattered in front of him. His smile slowly faded as his hand slowly find its way to yours. 

“Unlovable? Then tell me what’s wrong with me.” Your forehead formed a knot on his choice of words.

“Unworthy? I wouldn’t waste all my nights for something I don’t see worth in, you know. And if you feel as if you’re unlovable, I might have been doing a bad job.” A frown marked a place on what used to be a smile. 

“Chanyeol?” You asked, signaling him to clear up his point. 

But instead of using words, his lips formed another explanation when it landed on yours. His hands cupped your cheeks as he planted a soft kiss on your lips, moving sweetly and slowly, as if letting the motion make up for the lack of words in his explanation. You felt all the blood rise up your cheeks, this moment was one of the things that kept you awake at night. You wondered so much how it would feel, but now it was happening. 

Breathless, Chanyeol parted his lips from yours. “If you’re unlovable, how come I’ve fallen so madly inlove with you?” He said as he held your face and rested his forehead on yours. 

He slowly grabbed your hand and flipped it over, revealing the lines that held the place of what used to be your wounds. He brought it closer to his lips and chastely planted kisses on it. 

“I wanted to make this fade away. To help you forget the pain. I want to be there because I want to be with you. And you hurting yourself hurts me too.” His hand went back to your cheeks. 

“And I can feel it, that you feel it too. So just let me love you. Let me show you the things, the beautiful things I see in you.” And this time, it was your time to initiate the kiss. And it was an answer good enough for him. Because you were in a dark place, but Chanyeol was the one who shined the light back in your life. Chanyeol was your sunshine. And with that light, you felt saved. You felt loved.

[politicalautist-blog]

hey yo it’s time for GENDER REFLECTIONS AND WHY I HATE WOMANHOOD by me, a fucking internalised-misogyny-ridden weirdo

So, background: this is not a new thing for me. I now identify as genderqueer and have done for years, and it’s helped me a whole bunch with getting over my internalised misogyny, but for several years I’ve been aware that there are two distinct threads to my genderqueerness:

1. wtf is a gender can i eat it (the side I am open about and constantly scream about)

2. being a woman terrifies me. I still think if I was born with a dick, I would just have been like “yeah whatever I’m a guy” regardless of point 1, because hey, it doesn’t matter. But being a girl sucks and is horrible and girl things terrify me and I don’t want to deal with them.

And it’s definitely point 2 I’m wanting to ramble about now, because it’s only in the last few years that I’ve let myself recognise that as a factor, and I’m still untangling it and trying to face up to why that’s the case and how it affects me.

Disclaimer: I don’t hate women, and I don’t hate feminine things. I used to, but actually, being able to separate myself from womanhood has let me not hate other people for being associated with it. At this point in my life, I love women, and as long as I don’t have to conform to them, I can recognise and appreciate the value of Woman Things (like makeup or pretty clothes or gentleness or emotions).

But they still kind of fill me with creeping dread, and I still can’t manage them as applied to me.

And it’s occurred to me today, while ranting about fanfic to @darael, part of why that is.

Like, I already knew that it was tied to fiction and narrative conditioning. I knew I grew up with books (and films, TV, etc., but this is me, so mostly books) from genres like sci-fi and fantasy and crime fiction which, especially in the older books I grew up on, are known for constantly devaluing femininity and feminine traits. I also know that’s a trend throughout society, that feminine things are lesser and weak and whatnot. I knew I bought into it wholeheartedly as a kid, because I desperately needed to be better than you and also to be validated in my tomboyishness. I sought out female characters as a kid, but I always sought out warrior women. I hated the end of Éowyn’s story because she got all soppy and hung up her sword. (fun fact: that is now the most powerful part of the story to me as an adult, because fuck, it’s not about gender, is it, it’s about the experience of war and trauma of violence... OFF TOPIC WE’RE NOT TALKING ABOUT PACIFIST THEMES IN TOLKIEN)

But just now I’ve been thinking that it goes deeper. I modelled myself specifically after those shieldmaiden and warrior-woman characters, because it was the way I most often saw “girl who doesn’t align with social gender norms” in fiction, certainly the most often way where that’s represented as a positive.

And, Jesus, so many of those characters hate women. “Not Like Other Girls” is a fucking plague in fiction. So, yeah, that’s a spinoff of the first thing, where womanhood and femininity is Bad and Weak and Poor, but...

...but that’s where I learnt to be a person. That, specifically.

No wonder I took the “feminine bad” message on board quite so strongly. It’s not just that femininity was a narrative I didn’t fit into, or even that I desperately wanted vindication that I was doing the right thing breaking out of that narrative (although in hindsight, I really did) - the narrative I took on board for myself to replace it is fundamentally built on rejection of the feminine in like... 90% of cases.

(it’s also fundamentally built on being sporty and physically violent, which also does not fit me, an actual couch potato, but again, that’s a digression)

I want to bring it back to Éowyn, aka “Jormy’s First Love And Also Role Model”, because one thing I’ve reflected on is that she doesn’t fit that pattern, at least not in the books. She cares about women, protects women, values women’s work, while also feeling that it isn’t her calling. She’s not perfect in that regard, but it’s very clear to me on an adult reading that Éowyn is not misogynistic in her rejection of traditional femininity.

And that was completely fucking stripped out in the films. Like, suddenly Éowyn can’t cook (at least in the extended editions), shows no signs of feminine manners or behaviour or political understanding, and never aligns herself with the women of Rohan the way she does in the books. They “Not Like Other Girls”-ed the original fantasy Not Like Other Girls. 

So I guess, insofar as there’s a point to this beyond rambling out my Gender Thoughts, the point of this post is: are we getting worse at this? Is it just a few shitty adaptational choices (I note that Game of Thrones did the same to the nth degree with both Arya and Brienne, quite aside from shitting all over Sansa and Cat, but GoT is just all-around misogynistic trash so maybe not a valid data point?), is it a reactionary response to the rise of more feminist fantasy/specfic, or do I just think it’s getting worse because I’m more conscious of it?

Also, how the fuck do I fix this? I don’t want to hate Woman Things. I want to be able to mess about with makeup or dresses or responding to things with emotional vulnerability once in a while, without on some level feeling like I’m betraying myself - the narrative of myself I’ve taken on. I really don’t want to hold onto any hatred of women and girls and their embracing of their gender - or to be uncomfortable with femininity from anyone, especially when so much of the feminine narrative in this context is stuff we need more of in our society.

I wonder if it’s possible, or ever will be possible, for me to be identified as a girl without feeling that misogyny crawling back in. It’s not even that I want to be a girl (again, what is a gender, can you eat it) - but is there a version of me that could be a girl without hating Girl Things? Is there any dominant narrative of gender-nonconforming womanhood that doesn’t require either misogyny or lesbianism? (no shade to lesbians, I just am very aware that I’m... not solely into women, and nor are a lot of gnc women, so being told your options are “hate women or have sex with only women” only exacerbates matters when you KNOW you’re equally or more attracted to dudes)

i want there to be a punchy point to this post but like

there isn’t one

gender’s weird and society’s a mess and the stories we tell each other shape the way we treat each other and also i’m fucked up in my relationships with womanhood the end

[axelsagewrites]

Aiden Steiner*The Bet

Masterlist HERE (UNDER CONSTRUCTION)

Wattpad HERE

Prompts:

- Is it weird that I actually had fun?

- Pull yourself together!

 A/N: this is for @tailsbeth-writes teen wolf writing challenge. Also this is probably one of the longer x Readers I’ve done.

 “Do I have to go?”

“Why’d you even sign up for track?” I ask Stiles with a sigh as I tie my hair up.

“Coach said all Lacrosse players had to. No exceptions.” Scott sent Stiles a pointed look.

Stiles sighed as we walked to where the rest of the runners waited. “Yeah well, it's not fair.” He crossed his arms. “You’ve got werewolf powers and you…” He turned to me. I waited with a raised eyebrow “You are a weirdo. Who likes running?” He threw his hands up.

“Can we run ahead and leave him?”

Scott sighed. “No fighting. I cant be bothered stitching Stiles up after the fight.”

“Who said I’d lose?!” Stiles complained. “Scott?!”

“Here comes dumb and dumber” I warn Scott.

Looking over his shoulder he see’s the twins walking near us. Ethan walks ahead while Aiden comes over. “Looking good (Y/N).”

“What?” I really don’t want to deal with him. Sure he’s hot but he’s the enemy. He’s also incredibly annoying.

“Cant I just pay a pretty girl a compliment.” I give him an ‘oh really’ look and cross my arms. “Fine. I've got a bet for you. If me and Ethan-“

“Ethan and I.” I correct him.

He smirks “Ethan and I, beat you and your pack across the finish line, you need to go on a date with me.”

“Hmm let me think…” I fake think, pursing my lips. “Bite me.” I give him the fakest smile possible.

“Can I?” He steps closer causing Scott to growl at him. “Cmon, why not? Scared your gonna lose?”

“Fine.” Stiles tries to interject but I cover his mouth. “But when we beat you, you need to do what I say for a week, plus leave me alone.”

“1 day,” he counters “And I won't bother you for a month”

“4 days and 3 months.”

“2 days and 2 months.”

“Deal,” I smirk. Scott better run fast. Something wet touches my hand. “EW! Stiles!” I yelp, moving my hand away as quick as possible. Stiles smirks as I wipe my hand on a tree.

Aiden chuckles and walks away. “Why?” Was all Scott said.

“Cmon, you’re a werewolf too. Plus we know all the shortcuts.” Scott nods. “I'm going to go tell Issac. And you better run. Fast.” I tell Scott as I walk away.

 When I see Isaac I notice the twins on either side of him as he ties his lace. “Move,” I tell the twins as I stand behind scarf boy. They share a look before complying. I bent down next to Issac and tell him “You better beat them. My bet depends on it.”

“What bet?”

“You don’t wanna find out.” The whistle blows and the twins sprint off. I yank Isaac up and begin dead sprinting. “Use your werewolf speed dumbass.”

  Isaac, Scott and the twins are soon so far ahead I cant see them. Seeing Stiles a little behind me I reduce my speed. “The bet?” He asks.

“I'm not dumb, how am I meant to beat an alpha?”

“True.”

We keep running but only for a minute before we see the body. “Oh my god,” I mutter, my hand going up to cover my mouth. “That was no wolf.”

Scott and Isaac soon joined us. I didn’t really pay attention to them, or anything until the sheriff showed up. “He was a senior,” Scott told the coach.

“He wasn’t on the team was he?”

“Are you being serious? Is that all you care about you-“ My anger is muffled by Stiles putting his hand over my mouth. I glare at him and he slowly removes his hand.

As we begin the walk back to school Isaac starts accusing the twins. “I hate to break it to you Isaac but what werewolf, alpha’s as well, use human tools? They have claws.” I jump to Stiles defence. He’s right, he normally is.

“Or maybe they don’t want to be caught.” He suggested, “Don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence that once they show up people start dying?”

“I cant deal with your bickering.” I wave them off and walk ahead. I know neither Isaac or Stiles will back down.

I hear someone running to catch up “Hey, you ok?” I don’t need to turn to know its Aiden.

“We just found a dead guy. What do you think?”

He looked down for a moment “It wasn’t us.”

“I know.”

Aiden seemed confused “You do?”

“Yup. Their human tools, you have claws. Theirs so many easier, cleaner ways for a werewolf to kill.”

We walk in silence apart from the sound of my phone buzzing as Stiles no doubt texts me non stop about why Aiden is with me. “So, about the bet?” Aiden starts “I think I won since we did get further.”

“But you didn’t win. No one wins, the bets null and void.”

He sighs “That’s not fair.”

“Lifes not fair.”

“How about a new bet?” I nod, motioning for him to continue. He stops and stands in front of me, making me stop too. “I take you on a date,” I cross my arms “And if you don’t like it then I’ll leave you alone forever.”

“And do what I say for a week?” he hums a yes. “Ok,” I say slowly “But what are you getting out of it?”

“If you do enjoy it, which you will, and I win you have to kiss me.” He grins while I frown. I've never actually had my first kiss. I don’t want it to be because of a bet. “So what do you say? Too scared you’re gonna like it?”

“You’re on.”

  “You agreed to what!?” Stiles yelled as I paced in his room. He and Scott sat on his bed while I burned holes in the carpet.

“Wait, its fine. You don’t like him so you won't enjoy it.” Scott pointed out.

I nodded along. “Yeah, plus I could lie.”

“He’d hear it. But you don’t like Aiden. Do you?” Stiles pressed.

“You’re right.” I flung myself onto his desk chair. “It’ll be fine.”

  I figured I wouldn’t enjoy it so there was no point in dressing up. I stood in front of my mirror wearing skinny jeans, top, and flannel. Just normal clothes. I did throw on a little extra makeup and jewellery but only because I want to, not for Aiden.

The doorbell rings “(Y/N)! Get the door!” my annoying brother/sister yells.

“Whatever!” I reply. I yank open the door to come face to face with Aiden.

“ready to go?” He smiles. Smiles, not grin or smirk. Weird.

“Sure” I step outside and take in his appearance. He’s wearing a leather jacket, jeans, and black button up. I keep it to myself but he actually looks good. Damn wolf.

“You look beautiful.” I snap my head to face him.

normally its hot or good looking or something like that. “I'm wearing jeans and a flannel?” I say confused.

“You still look great.” We get to the street and I see his bike. He hands me a helmet and starts to put his own on. “Have you ever ridden?” I shake my head and stare at the bike. It looks cool but its kinda scary. “Scared?” he teased.

“Never.” I place the helmet on and try to get the stupid strap.

“Let me.” He reaches up and clips it on, his hands staying there for a moment before dropping “There. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

We climb on the bike and I ask “Where do I put my hands?”

He looks over his shoulder and I see the grin on his face “On me.” I make an annoyed face. He sighs “Either hold onto my shoulders or out your arms around my waist.” I place my hands on his shoulders. “Ready?” I nod.

He starts the bike and I jerk forward at the start causing me to grab on tighter. As he gets a bit faster I move my hands to put my arms around his waist and hold onto him. “Faster!” I laugh as I get used to the feeling.

He goes faster and I grin as though I'm on a roller coaster. Eventually, though we stop and I climb off, fiddling with the helmet to get it off. As it comes off I only have to glance to realise “My hairs a mess.”

“It's …adorable.” He ruffles it and I swat his hand away.

I turn away and look to see where we are. “Bowling?”

“Yeah, Ethan suggested it. Its where he and Danny went so, figured I’d try.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ethan has taste. I love bowling.”

“Really?” His face lights up slightly and I just nod.

 The night was actually fun. Turns out Aiden had only played once before so I had to show him how to do it without the barriers up. After a couple goes he got the hang of it and got good. I still won though.

As finish the game and walk away it dawns on me that I'm having fun. I was so swept up in bowling I forgot about the bet. “Want to go get something to eat?” Aiden snaps me from my thoughts.

“Nah, I feel kinda sicky.” I make up an excuse.

His face falls but he nods. “You alright to go on the bike then?”

“Probably. I'm just gonna run to the restroom first.” I almost sprint away from him and into the restroom.

 I stand in front of the mirror and run my hands over my face. “Damn it” I mutter softly.  I look into the mirror and try to brace myself. Be calm, he can hear your heartbeat.

I splash a little water on my face and tell myself “Pull yourself together!” before walking out to meet Aiden.

“Ready?”

“Yup.”

  The bike pulls up to my house and I got off and took the helmet off. Aiden copied me and stood beside me and I hand him the helmet. “So…what’d you think? Who won?”

“I think-“ I started off slowly but was cut off by my brother/sister.

“Where have you been? I've had to lie to mum and dad all night.” They storm towards us. They look at Aiden “Oh you owe me.”

“I've got to go.”

He goes to say something but I'm already halfway to my house. He gets on his bike and I hear him drive away.

“Did you at least enjoy it?” My brother/sister asked.

“I wasn’t supposed to.”

  The next day at school I avoid him like the plague. I know if he asks it'll be game over. So far I've made it to lunch which I’m spending sitting with Stiles and Scott at a picnic table outside.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today.” Scott snaps me from my daze.

Stiles joined in “Yeah, normally you’ve insulted me at least twice by now.”  

“You’re hairs a mess, you’re jeeps a junker and Lydia is way out of your league. Better?”

“Ouch,” Stiles complained. “Too personal. Wait, is this about last night?”

“Uh!” I groan, laying my head on the table. “Can we not talk about it.”

“Um (Y/N)?” I lift my head up to face Scott “You might want to tell him that.” I look over my shoulder to see Aiden walking over.

“Damn it.” I sigh.

Aiden smirks as he approaches and takes a seat next to me. “Ladies, (Y/N). How are we?”

“Better before you were here.” Trust Stiles with the sass.

“(Y/N), can I talk to you? Alone?”

I inwardly sigh but know I cant avoid it. “Sure.” Aiden gets up and I follow him.

 He leads me to the side of the school where theirs no one but us. “So, who won?” Aiden asked

“Me.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Then why did your heart skip a beat?”

“Because I'm alone with a psychopathic alpha who has tried to kill my friends before.”

This seemed to make him angry “Would it be so bad for you to admit you had fun? I'm not asking you to like me. You were smiling last night. You only got weird at the end.”

I looked at the ground “Is it weird that I actually had fun?”

“No, that was the point.”

Sighing, I look up. “Fine, you win. I had fun. That doesn’t mean I like you though nor that I’ll go out with you.”

Turning to walk away my stomach falls when he says “So what about my prize?”

“Huh?”

“My prize.” He walked in front of me. “If you won I would have left you alone and you’d tell me what to do for a week. If I won, which I did, you had to…”

“Kiss you.” I breathed out. I bit my lip, looked down, and closed my eyes for a moment. “Fine.”

“I'm not going to make you do anything you don’t want to.”

I glare “Stop trying to be the better person and get it over with.”

Aiden reached his hand up to cup my jaw as his other went to my waist. I looked into his eyes before his head dipped down. His lips were softer than I thought and the kiss was bliss.

My arms snaked around his neck as he pulled me in closer. I had never done this before and it's actually kind of amazing. He pulled back and I almost followed.

I drop my arms and he steps back. “So, was it any good?” I had to ask. I’d never done it before and I guess next time I’ll be prepared.

“Of course it was. Guys must tell you that all the time.” I shook my head. Something dawned on him “Please don’t tell me that was your first kiss?” I hesitated but nodded. “Oh god.” He put his heads in his hands and leaned against the wall. I wasn’t that bad was I? “Did I seriously make you have your first kiss because of some stupid bet?”

“I mean, I kinda enjoyed it,” I mumbled.

“What?” Damn wolf hearing.

“I liked it. I wouldn’t be mad if it happened again some time.”

He grinned “Like a date?”

“Maybe,” I smirked, before walking away.

“Pick you up Saturday at 8?” he called after me.

 As I sat back at the table Aiden walked out from the side of the school. “What happened? Scott wouldn't tell me.”

“You were listening?” Scott nodded. “None of your business Stilinksi.”

As Aiden walked past he sent me a wink. “Oh God, no” Stiles muttered “Your dating an alpha.”

[sethnakht]

tagged by the lovely @azalea-scroggs (forgive me for this incredibly late response)

Rules: choose any three fandoms (in random order) and answer the questions, then tag 10 people you want to know better

Three fandoms:

Star Wars

Coco

Harry Potter, if only because it lends itself to this meme

The first character you loved:

Luke (in childhood) - mostly, I think, for his moments of Extra, such as: a) the choice to take death-by-abyss over Vader’s offer, b) his black outfit, with its aura of faux-mystery (the product of brooding over Vader, it seemed), c) the fact that he Force-chokes his way into Jabba’s palace d) and that his solution to killing the Rancor is to send a barbed gate into its windpipe, e) the showiness of his flying kick on Jabba’s barge, f) how he reaches for Vader’s hand not long after having chopped one of them off

Mamá Coco - the beauty and dignity of great age, all of the implied little acts of resistance she’s hinted at having taken throughout her lifetime, strewn throughout the house

Harry - I think what instantly endeared me to him is his resilience, what one might even call spite - the way his hair grows back after Petunia cuts it shorter than he wants, for instance, and then the sheer nerve, the cheekiness of some of his responses to adults - the constant presence of repressed or unacknowledged wells of emotion beneath the calm surface. I learned a lot about what I like in a narrator from him, because he’s highly observant but completely unreliable, often coming to realizations with great belatedness

The character you never expected to love so much:

Leia - I remember seeing ESB in theaters as a child and being inexplicably drawn to the shot of her watching the blast doors close, to her eyes - feeling a sense of such longing it almost hurt. But I didn’t like her romantic subplot and totally lost interest after her bikini scene. It took far sharper eyes than my own to realize just how complex she can be, and years to recognize in her grief, in her struggles, in her determination, in her resistance just what it was that had sparked that initial response

Imelda - she reminds me almost uncannily of my real Dominican grandmother, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to think about her too closely at the beginning. But she’s emerged to me as That Kind of Character I love to write about - headstrong, resentful, masked, walled on the outside; she’s open to many metaphorical readings as well. Cheech, Victoria, and Elena have also grown on me to a surprising degree

one of the great joys of Potter is that nearly every character has a remarkably skewed perspective. I kind of love the cast as a whole - from weirdos like Aberforth and Filch and the Lovegoods to the worst-ever purebloods to Lily and the Marauders - and over time have found the adults especially fun to think through, not least because of how settled-in-their-ways and batshit some of them have become

The character you relate to the most:

I’m going to rephrase this as “the character perspective you find most rewarding to write”, because that’s how I relate to characters --

Vader - because anger! and a journey! because he’s a sad but hilarious murderbot! have explained the fascination a bit here

Héctor - he’s a trickster, immensely changeable and fluid, and yet also caught in something of a traumatic loop, one both of his own making and not. He's in some way the character who can cross every boundary but the one he wants to cross, or rather who has to cross all kinds of boundaries, who keeps crossing boundaries despite being denied passage to the one place he wants to be by an apparatus that regards him as an outsider. There’s lots one can also do with him to think about class relations, about the history of the twentieth century, about time more generally (time in music, time in poetry), about language (he’s a poet). And on a psychological level, he’s got all the baggage I love: guilt, shame, persistence in desperation, a particular form of good-natured obliviousness that has a way of getting in the way of clear communication on his end and also of setting him up for betrayal

Snape - he’s a miserably depressed, endlessly spiteful, hopelessly guilt-ridden young teacher who can’t keep his anger or his tongue in check, is ridiculously partial to the sort of rich prat who helped ruin his life in the first place, is obsessed to the most obsessive degree with Harry and his parents, is probably on a whole bucketload of potions to get through the day, is physically a total mess, and gets to wield some of the most cutting sarcasm in the books - of course his perspective is a riot

The character you’d slap:

other than Anakin? or Padmé? probably Obi-Wan pre-ROTS. Which is not to say that I don’t love him (love his sass especially); more that there are things he does in TPM and AOTC that remind me too much of real people - of bad teachers I know. Much could have been avoided without his grudge in TPM, with a franker acknowledgement of the fact that his charge looked up to him as a father and not as a brother and was vulnerable to predation from those who could see the disconnect. The difference a sharper ear for tone ( “I do my best, Master”) might have made . . . not unlike Snape, he’s a poster-boy for bad teaching, and in a very different way from Snape, he’s arrogant and fairly privileged at the same time. That he’s never called out on his behavior until it’s far too late is harrowingly realistic

Ernesto - boy becomes a media star and yet has never heard of communication, apparently. if he’d simply asked Héctor to write him songs from home, the entire mess might have been avoided

Snape deserves to be in this category, but I think the character I’d want to actually slap is Draco Malfoy - just - i mean

Three favorite characters (in order of preference):

Vader, Leia, Ahsoka or Aphra

Héctor, Imelda, Coco

Snape, Harry, pretty much everyone but Voldemort and Draco

A character you liked at first but don’t anymore:

I still love Luke, so this isn’t quite the response being asked for, but I also don’t seek him out, don’t want to write about him. As a kid, I devoured pretty much every Luke-Vader story out there; now, when encountering Luke-Vader, I confess I struggle to muster interest if Leia (or Ahsoka, or some other female character) isn’t present

this movie hasn’t been out long enough for that, I think . . . 

Hermione is a character I adore still, but as with Luke, she’s no longer for me what she was as a child, when she was my role model - idk, I love a lot of the qualities in her that tend to be overlooked in fic, her brutality for instance, her more hidden impulses - how much she wants to belong, how much her marriage says about her structural needs and wants (love Ron, btw, another totally under-appreciated character). I think she’s super interesting, if not in her prescribed role as the know-it-all ex-machina. As the character used to always playing that role and under pressure to remain in that role, however, she’s fascinating

Three OTPs: 

Leia + Vader gen, of which there is not nearly enough in this world - Vader spends two films chasing / capturing her, Leia spends two films escaping / defying him, he doesn’t want her dead because she can lead him to things he wants, she absolutely wants him dead and is driven to lead by her hatred for him, they’re extreme versions of each other and understand each other extremely well as a result, possibly are even drawn to each other, if only to really hurt each other - you bet I want to see this dynamic further explored

Héctor/Imelda - guilt-fest, psychological drama ahoy, plus they’re musicians, connected through time and language

aside from the stuff I somehow avoid like the plague (H/G, Drarry, anything with Voldemort), I’d read pretty much anything with an interesting narrator. Rarepairs are where it’s at for me in Potter, tbh

I tag @glompcat, @marythegizka, @chancecraz, @songofthesstars, @force-scream, @cyberdyke-industries, @thewillowbends, @babycharmander, @lloronadeazulceleste, @pengychan

[moczothe1st]

Days of Our Dragon Age:  Episode 27: Elves Amongst the Autumn Leaves

[SCENE: The WILDERNESS, over the bodies of about eight DEAD ASSASSINS.]

BLAKE: So, about your murder issues.  

LELIANA: They aren’t my murder issues. Zey are my ex-girlfriend’s. She’s very passionate.  

BLAKE: How did you even date a spy? I thought you were a nun!  

LELIANA:  Well. I’m a nun now.  But as wiz all nuns, I was once a spy and assassin.

BLAKE: … … … All nuns?

LELIANA: A possible exaggeration, but, I like to zink so.  It would explain how they’re all so sexy.

BLAKE: Huh. Well, okay, I’ll allow it.  And now we can just go find your ex and kill her, and solve everyone’s problems all at once.

LELIANA: How does that solve everyone’s problems?  

BLAKE: It solves your problem of being stalked by a crazy woman, and my problem of being angry at the whole world. Besides, I suspect she’s not gonna just leave us alone, and the last thing we need is more assassins around.  

ZEVRAN: ‘Allo.  

BLAKE: … Someone is right behind me, huh.

LELIANA: Oui.  

BLAKE: Assassin?

ZEVRAN: Oh my, yes.  

BLAKE: [SIGHS]

[SCENE: STILL the WILDERNESS, over the bodies of about sixteen DEAD ASSASSINS and one LIVING ONE.]

ZEVRAN: Oh my.  You fight so beautifully, my dear, I find myself smitten. Also wounded about the head and shoulders.

BLAKE: Yeah, that was from me hitting you.  Now, you wanna tell me who you are and who hired you, or do I go back to doing that?

ZEVRAN: I am Zevran, of the Antivan Crrrrows.

[The way he says CROWS is just FUN to LISTEN TO.]

BLAKE: Oh my.

ZEVRAN: I was hired by a most dour man named Loghain, who hired the Crrrrows, to hunt the Warden who survived Ostagar.  [PAUSE.]  Antivan Crrrrows.    

[It’s the LITTLE ROLL to the R that DOES IT.]

BLAKE: Okay, we have to take him with us.  

LELIANA and ALISTAIR: What.

BLAKE: I’m sorry. He’s just too handsome not to.

ALISTAIR: He’s an assassin!

BLAKE: And very handsome.  Like, why did nobody warn me he would be so handsome?

LELIANA: I thought you were gay.  You always pick me over Alistair in things.

BLAKE: Oh, nah, all Bioware main characters are bisexual these days. I just don’t like Alistair, specifically.

ALISTAIR: I love you too.

BLAKE: Besides, I think Zevran would be attractive no matter what my sexual preference is. His hair is like a river of gold.  

[That’s actually pretty much TRUE.]

ALISTAIR: Well, I’m not attracted to him.  

ZEVRAN: [With a DEVIL MAY CARE SMIRK]  Yes you are.

ALISTAIR: What? No I’m-

ZEVRAN: Antivan Crrrrows.

ALISTAIR: … Dammit, he’s right.  

ZEVRAN: So, I am now on your team.  As well I should be. Tell me, what is our first mission together? To save the world? To fight the spawn of darkness?  

BLAKE: Actually, we’re on our way to kill Leliana’s ex-girlfriend.

ZEVRAN: … You are far less heroic than I initially assumed.  

BLAKE: You want me to leave you here?

ZEVRAN: Antivan Crrrrrrrrows.

BLAKE: Dammit.  

[SCENE: DENERIM, capital city of FERELDEN. Population: 25% BANDITS, 25% BLOOD MAGES, 25% CORRUPT NOBLES, 24% PEOPLE WHO ARE JUST JERKS, 1% OPPRESSED ELVES.  But it’s OKAY, because that awesome BLACKSMITH lives here and the DWARF MERCHANT is voiced by STEVE BLUM.]

[Int. the house of a HORRIBLE BITCH.]

THE ONLY ORLESIAN IN THIS GAME WORSE THAN ISOLDE: Ah, Leliana.  My lovely leetle girl, returned to me at long last.

LELIANA: Marjolaine! Ze dark secrets of my past have come to haunt me at long last!  

MARJOLAINE: No, zee, I said ‘at long last’ first, so you cannot end your sentence wiz ze same phrase. It is clunky.  Zat is why I was always ze leader, and you always ze puppet in my hands.  

LELIANA: You monster.

MARJOLAINE: But now, you ‘ave come to me. And I… will leave.

BLAKE: What.

MARJOLAINE: Well, I mean, I wanted to kill Leliana, sure, but it wasn’t personal.  Just that she survived that time I framed her for treason and left her to be tortured and killed, and ever since then I’ve watched her like a hawk for the moment she did anything which even remotely suggested she was out for vengeance.  But that shouldn’t suggest I don’t like her.  Just that by doing something which implied she remembers me—which I am choosing to define as ‘moving out of her old living quarters’—while in the middle of a giant war against hordes of plague-ridden hell orcs, I need to have her killed. Because I am ze center of ze universe, and she ‘as no reason to do anything that isn’t directly related to me.    

BLAKE: …………………….. [Very QUIETLY turns to LELIANA.]  You used to date her?

LELIANA: [COUGHS] She is… very pretty.  

BLAKE: Yes. You know what else is pretty?  Poisonous snakes. I wouldn’t wanna date one of them.  

LELIANA: I was young!

BLAKE: Were you five?  Because that’s the main reason I can think of to be taken in by this woman.  Being literally too young to understand the concept of death, which she will inevitably bring to anyone she associates with.    

LELIANA:  Look, you know how it is. You’re just out of spy school, you meet a sexy older woman, she talks you into bed and teaches you positions you didn’t know existed, and the next thing you know you’re in Tevinter, killing a man.  

BLAKE: I don’t know how that is at all.  That doesn’t sound remotely like any school experience I ever had.    

LELIANA: We clearly went to very different universities. It was all ze rage at Bard Tech.  

BLAKE: That isn’t a real school.  

LELIANA: Sure it is! Go Fighting Songbirds!  

MARJOLAINE: A-hem. Why are none of you noticing me? Ze important one?

BLAKE: You know, we’re here to kill you.  You probably shouldn’t be trying to grab our attention.  

MARJOLAINE: Bwahahahaha… you don’t even know, do you?  I am, like Leliana, trained as a great Orlesian bard!  I can sing deadly magical songs which empower me and ‘arm my foes.

BLAKE: … So? If Leliana’s bard singing was any good, I’d probably have mentioned it before now. Frankly, at this point I’m just glad you’re not claiming to be my evil twin Raoul.  

MARJOLAINE: How did you know about Raoul?!  I thought he was long dead!  Unless… gasp!  Do I have… amnesia?!  

BLAKE:  Why do I say things.  

MARJOLAINE: But it matters not!  For now, you’ll face the deadliest power of all, the elegant, mystical song of a bard, musical notes which can ensnare ze senses and bewitch ze soul!  [Takes a DEEP BREATH, preparing her PERFECTLY TUNED vocal chords to cast out a BEAUTIFUL SONG which would MYSTICALLY PARALYZE all who OPPOSE HER.] YAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHONK.

BLAKE: The Hell is that?!  

LELIANA: Gasp!  It is ze deadly Captivating Song, ze mightiest power of ze bard!  She will stun us all wiz each note she sings!

ALISTAIR: I actually don’t feel stunned.  

ZEVRAN: Is she doing it right? She kind of just threw back her head and screamed.  

MARJOLAINE: YAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHONK.

MORRIGAN: I didn’t realize there were people who could sing worse than Leliana.

LELIANA: I am a wonderful singer. And it isn’t a perfect song, you know!  It only has a chance to stun people who hear it. I guess she’s gotten pretty unlucky so far.

WYNNE: Oh!  Oh, I feel a bit stunned.  [SITS DOWN]

LELIANA: You see? Terrifying.  

MARJOLAINE: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHONK.

MORRIGAN: Are we certain it wasn’t just Wynne being a wizened crone? She is quite ancient.  

LELIANA: It was ze terrifying song, dammit.  Wynne was stunned, making her unable to face Marjolaine’s horrible assaults.

BLAKE: She isn’t making any assaults, Leliana. She’s just… ‘singing’.

LELIANA: [COUGH] Well. Yes. While using zis song, you cannot so much… move. Or attack. Or do anyzing at all but sing more.

MARJOLAINE: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHONK.  

BLAKE: Okay. Um.  So she has a random chance to temporarily stun us, but she can’t do anything about it.  I… am I the only one who sees the flaw in this tactic?  

DOG: Woof, woof.

STEN: I do not know what this dog said about this ‘strategy,’ but the very fact the dog is the one who said it is a deeper condemnation than anything I could possibly offer.

MARJOLAINE: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG-[STABBED]

[SCENE: CAMP.  It is roughly 1:30 in the AFTERNOON, which is NIGHT.]

LELIANA: So. Errrm.  

BLAKE: You wanna explain all of… that?

LELIANA: I wasn’t going to say anything, actually. I guess I was hoping you’d just forget about it.

BLAKE: It was pretty memorable.  

LELIANA: Well, you know how I’m a bard? And bards are spies in my home country of Fantasy France? And I was a spy, and Marjolaine was my spy master and we were also lovers, and then she betrayed me and left me to be tortured for her crimes?

BLAKE: Yes, thank you, I worked that much out.  

LELIANA: Well, I was thinking I kind of miss the spying, which is what I assume you were going to ask about.  

BLAKE: I… no, that’s… not really what I was going to ask about.  I was going to ask why anyone would possibly every sleep with that psychotic weirdo.  

LELIANA: Do you think I should be a spy again?  Or go back to being a nun?

[This is what is known as a MORAL CHOICE.  BLAKE will have to make SEVERAL of these on her JOURNEY, and they MAY or MAY NOT have LASTING EFFECTS.  It is HIGHLY IMPORTANT that such decisions be approached with TACT and DIGNITY, because by choosing to ENCOURAGE one’s party members to be LESS MORAL, or ‘HARDENING’ them, you GREATLY AFFECT their CHARACTER GROWTH. BLAKE considered ALL OF THIS.]

BLAKE: … …. … Well, which option will eventually lead to you, me, Zevran, and a beautiful pirate queen having a crazy four-way in a filthy brothel?

LELIANA: Guess.  

[And then, LELIANA was HARDENED.]  

BLAKE: All right, everyone. Life has finally improved for me, so I’m feeling industrious. Who wants to do a main quest?

ALISTAIR: I love you.

ZEVRAN: My mother died when I was a child and I was taken as a slave by assassins.  [DRAMATIC ORGAN PLAYS]

BLAKE: Not letting it get me down!

[SCENE: The BRAY… BREE… BRAEKIL… … … The ELF FOREST, DALISH CAMP, ext.  Overall Mood: LYCANTHROPIC.]

BLAKE: So, Alistair.

ALISTAIR: Yes, snuggle-buns?

BLAKE: Stop that. We have three Grey Warden treaties to use, right?  Mages, elves, and dwarves.

ALISTAIR: You deliver exposition so beautifully.

BLAKE: The thing is, we only saved like ten mages.

WYNNE: Nine, if you don’t count the one from the foyer who has decided she’s a sin against the Maker. And let’s be honest, you shouldn’t.

MORRIGAN: You shouldn’t count any of them.

WYNNE: Don’t make me come over there, young lady.  

MORRIGAN: [Muttered]  Don’t make… me come over there.  You… old person.  

BLAKE: My point.  Is that our first army wasn’t quite up to snuff.  And now I look at our second army…  

[There are about FORTY elves.  Maybe HALF of them can WALK.  The rest are on the GROUND, wrapped in BLOODY BANDAGES and WRITHING IN AGONY.]

BLAKE: … and I gotta say, I see a similar problem.  

ALISTAIR: We’ll always have Arl Eamon.

BLAKE: You swore you would stop talking about that if we went there first.

ALISTAIR: I may have been dishonest.  

ELF GUARD: Halt, humans! You intrude upon the lands of the Dalish Elves!  Our mighty armies shall cut you down should you take a step further toward our refuge!

BLAKE: … There are three of you.  And seven of us.  

DOG: Bark!

BLAKE: I know it’s actually eight.  Don’t worry, I was counting you as one of the seven.  Alistair is the one I was skipping.  

ALISTAIR: I love you too.

ELF GUARD: … Okay, actually, I think you aren’t a threat anyway.  Um, what’s up?

BLAKE: We’re technically Grey Wardens, and there’s a whole darkspawn situation. We were hoping to recruit your, um, ‘mighty army.’  

ELF GUARD: [GLANCES back at the COUNTLESS WOUNDED.]  It is mighty, you know.  

BLAKE: Uh-huh.  

ELF GUARD: Having a bit of an off-day, maybe, but really quite mighty when you get to know it.  

BLAKE: I’m sure.  

ELF GUARD: Technically it will be even mightier soon, though a bit less, you know, controllable.  And possibly furrier.  

BLAKE: … Explain?

ELF GUARD: I don’t know. You’d have to talk to Zethrian, and he doesn’t really like strangers. Or humans. Actually just humans.  Really not a human enthusiast.  

ZEVRAN: Ah-hem.  

ELF GUARD: …. … … … Oh my.

ZEVRAN: Do I even have to say it?

ELF GUARD: Well. Um. You don’t have to, but… could you?

ZEVRAN: Antivan Crrrrrows.

ELF GUARD: [SHUDDER] So, you can come.  [PAUSE] Come in.  You can come in.  To camp. I mean, you can… if you want to, I….

ZEVRAN: Everrrry time, baby.

TALL, BALD, AND ANGRY: Greetings, Grey Warden. I am Zathrian, the leader of this band of Dalish elves, the last free elves on this world. I welcome you, though you are an inferior human animal little better than a rabid possum dying alone on a rotting log, bloated with disease and maggots crawling through its putrid flesh.  

BLAKE: I sense some animosity.

ZATHRIAN: You probably imagined that.  Tell me, what can the Dalish do for you? We have little to give that your warlike monster-species has not already stolen from us, carving it from the blood of our helpless youths as you spread across this continent like a plague.  

BLAKE: I… had a, like… treaty, to ask for your army to help us.  You know, because Darkspawn.  I’m a Grey Warden, and all.

ALISTAIR: And she’s far more beautiful than any possum.

ZATHRIAN: Well, I would be pleased to offer my help to the Grey Wardens. I can offer you a mighty Dalish army of nearly fifty soldiers.  

BLAKE: … … … I feel like I didn’t advertise the threat properly. You see, there are quite a lot of Darkspawn.  I want to say a great horde in the tens of thousands.  And fifty elves is… well. Fifty.  I can count to fifty.  I won’t take me very long. Fifty seconds, in fact.  I don’t believe I can count to tens of thousands.  

MORRIGAN: Alistair can’t count to fifty.  

BLAKE: Thank you for your help, Morrigan.  You’re a good person.  

MORRIGAN: Still plotting against you.  

BLAKE: Hush.  Anyway, Zethrian, I’m hoping you see the, well, the issue here.  Tens of thousands.  Fifty. Numbers don’t add up.  

ZATHRIAN: Well. That’s good, because fifty soldiers was actually not the number I can provide at this time.

BLAKE: … You’re about to say you can’t give us any, huh.  

ZATHRIAN: It isn’t our fault.  

BLAKE: I’m still going to blame you.  

ZATHRIAN: Look, we were walking through this forest on our way to be elves, and we were suddenly attacked by werewolves.  They’ve killed many of our people and infected others with their filthy, human disease.

ALISTAIR: Why did you call it a ‘human’ disease if they’re wolves?

BLAKE: … Alistair, that was oddly insightful of you.

ALISTAIR: I love you too, schmoopy-schmoo.  

ZATHRIAN: Look, it’s just an assumption. Because humans are, much like dogs, filthy flea-bitten mongrels that should all be killed. [PAUSE.] It isn’t as though I have some sort of dark secret.  [DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYS.]

BLAKE: I’m going to stab you in the face, you motherf-

WYNNE: She means we’d be happy to help.

BLAKE: Do I, though?!  

WYNNE: [FIRMLY]  You do , young lady.

BLAKE: [MUTTERED]  … You do… old… person.  

ZATHRIAN: Very well. You must go into the woods filled with werewolves and kill the great white wolf Witherfang, the source of the lycanthropic curse. You will not ask how I know this.  

BLAKE: I feel we should ask.

ZATHRIAN: I feel you should shut up. My First, Lanaya, will tell you more and give you access to the amazing gear of the Dalish, which will most certainly not be outclassed before you even reach it.  Go forth, and if you must die to save my people, please feel free.  In fact, you could maybe try to die even if you don’t have to.

MORRIGAN: He seems nice.

[SCENE: The DALISH CAMP, slightly off to the LEFT.  This probably didn’t merit a SCENE CHANGE.]

LANAYA: So, I understand if you don’t feel super welcome.  But it’s okay. I’m here to tell you a story that will make you feel very bad, and then direct you at some sidequests.

BLAKE: … Yay?

LANAYA: I was kidnapped by bandits as a child. They killed my parents, turned me into the helpless slave and plaything of their vile lusts. I was trapped for years, tormented and degraded. It was only through the sheerest luck that I was eventually saved by these Dalish elves, who then looked down on me for years until I clawed my way up to this position of authority through sheer determination and raw competence.

[The SILENCE that follows this STORY could be CUT WITH A KNIFE.]

ZEVRAN: So are you going to be a party member? Because a backstory that awful actually makes me think ‘party member.’  

BLAKE: Zevran!

ZEVRAN: What?

BLAKE: Too soon!  

ZEVRAN: I was a slave too. There was some very inappropriate things going on.  Morrigan was kidnapped as a child…

MORRIGAN: I also have a dark secret.  [DRAMATIC ORGAN PLAYS]

ZEVRAN: Alistair has never been loved by one single person in his entire life…

ALISTAIR: Except my huggy-wuggy-snuggy-bunny.  

ZEVRAN: Leliana, well, we just covered the torture and rape and betrayal, and let’s be honest, she can’t sing either.  

LELIANA: I am ze great singer.  

ZEVRAN: And Wynne…

WYNNE: Is a normal woman with no personal issues and no dark secrets.  So stop asking questions.  

ZEVRAN: Yes, that.

BLAKE: You know, he actually has a point.  She kind of is party-member material.  Lanaya, want to join u-

[LANAYA, being far more SENSIBLE than most people, is LONG GONE.]

BLAKE: Oh, let’s just go save the stupid elves from the stupid werewolves.  

DOG: Bark bark!

BLAKE: Yeah, you say that now.  

[SCENE: BRAKA-LIECIAN FOREST, deep in the WOODS, ext.  Mood: WOODSLY.]

CRAZY WIZARD: Whee hee hee hee!  I live out in the woods and play riddle games with passerby!  The only hope you have to reach the temple at the center of this forest is to defeat me in a [STABBED]

LELIANA: … Wasn’t that a bit extreme?

BLAKE:  I’m sorry, but this is a forest full of werewolves and for some reason the trees come alive and attack too.  I’m in a hurry and I’m going to stab anyone who tries to slow me down.    

MORRIGAN: If you were a man, I would be all over you right now.  

STEN: Wait, Blake is female?

BLAKE: Are you slowing me down, friends?

ALISTAIR: I’m not.  I’m helping us progress by clearing out the magical wards upon these nearby graves so they don’t produce a problem.  

BLAKE: … … … Please let them be nice, normal graves with nothing inside but a dead person?

REVENANT, TERRIBLE UNDEAD SLAUGHTERER OF ARMIES: Hiiiiiiiiiii.  

[SCENE: Back in the same FOREST, after gluing everyone’s LIMBS back on.]

BLAKE: Okay. Okay. Sweet Maker, nobody touch anything. Everything will be fine.  We are just going to skip that sidequest, all right? I’m not a completionist.  I will learn to live without whatever rewards we might have gotten. Leave the graves alone.

ALISTAIR: You mean the grave I already desecrated to get us our rematch? Because I didn’t leave that one alone.

REVENANT, DEMONIC KNIGHT CLOAKED IN THE FLESH OF AN ANCIENT WARRIOR:  Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.  

[SCENE: Back in the same FOREST, after pulling all the SHARDS of BLAKE’s armor out of her SPINE.]

BLAKE: You guys. You guys. You guys.  I don’t want… I don’t. You guys. Don’t.  Hahahahaha…

MORRIGAN: I think you broke her.

ALISTAIR: Love makes people say strange things.  

BLAKE: No touch graves!

LELIANA: Shhhhhh. There, there, honey. Everything will be okay.  I won’t let them hurt you again. You can trust me.  

BLAKE: Oh yeah, because you did such a great job the first two times. You sure did show that guy, hitting him in the sword with your face.  

LELIANA: … You’re going to need to get me flowers to make me happy after that.  

BLAKE: I could bring your international espionage documents! That’s what your ex-girlfriend finds romantic, right?!

LELIANA: Okay, you know what? We’re on a break.

BLAKE: My legs are on a break, in case you haven’t noticed! And we weren’t a couple yet anyway!

LELIANA: What are you talking about? Of course we were. I told you I like your hair, the universal declaration of love, and you didn’t stab me in return. We’re a couple.  

ALISTAIR: That sounds right to me.

ZEVRAN: Ah, young love.

BLAKE: Yaaaaaaaaarghbble!

[This ADVENTURE has not been BLAKE’s best EXPERIENCE.]

[SCENE: The heart of the WOODS, a RUINED ELVEN TEMPLE, ext.]

BLAKE: All right. All right. Against all odds, we have managed to, as a team, survive a twenty-minute walk through the woods.  

STEN: I would be proud of us, if I was not absolutely certain the next twenty minutes were going to lead to at least one of us suffering severe bodily harm.

MORRIGAN: Probably Alistair.

STEN: Yes, that is where I was leading.    

MORRIGAN: I like you.

BLAKE: Look, we all want Alistair to suffer bodily harm.  But-

ALISTAIR: I don’t want that!

BLAKE: This discussion doesn’t involve you.

ALISTAIR: I feel pretty involved!  

WYNNE: Don’t worry, dear. I won’t let you die horribly.  After all, you don’t have a spirit to reanimate your corpse.  [PAUSE] Not that this is a thing that happens.  

BLAKE: Subtle, Granny Foreshadow.  But if it helps, I’m actually on Alistair’s side this time.  See, the thing is, I got some signs that Zathrian isn’t exactly acting in our best interests.  

LELIANA: Whatever do you mean?

[SCENE: The DALISH CAMP, at that VERY MOMENT.]

ZATHRIAN: Lanaya, my First. Have you sent a team of hunters to kill the humans who defile our sacred forests?

LANAYA: … … … Why would I have? You hired them to go in there and solve a problem for us.

ZATHRIAN: That doesn’t mean it isn’t blasphemy, Lanaya. Werewolves hunting our clan is certainly awful.  But humans walking through the forest? Equally as awful. You see the problem?  

LANAYA: … Sir, I was actually trying to coordinate with the quartermaster, to find a new supply of cloth for the medics to use as bandages.  This seems more important than this whole… line of questioning. So would it be all right if we just pretend it never came up?    

ZATHRIAN: I just feel like we could be killing more humans than we are.  

LANAYA: Now see, this isn’t you pretending, sir.  And I’m going to have to put my foot right down on the concept of you killing the humans who are trying to save us before they’ve even finished saving us.

ZATHRIAN: I’m gonna go out into the forest. To… check on them.  

LANAYA: Sir, are you going to kill them?

ZATHRIAN: Y…….no.

LANAYA: [SIGHS DEEPLY]  

[SCENE: The ANCIENT ELVEN TEMPLE, int.  All the eye can SEE is littered with the BONES of those who have FAILED to plumb this TERRIBLE LABYRINTH.  The stench of BLOOD and BEASTS fills the air, and the HOWLING of the WEREWOLVES is interrupted only by the CHITTERING of SPIDERS, the MOANS of the UNDEAD, and the ROARS of some TERRIBLE PREDATOR.  MOOD: MUCH more OMINOUS than your typical CHURCH.]

ALISTAIR: This place seems nice.  

BLAKE: [SIGHS DEEPLY]

LELIANA: Vot is wrong, my darlink?

MORRIGAN: Did your accent get German for a second there?

LELIANA: Le shut up, it eez, how you say, difficult to maintain a reedeculous accent in text form. Vich is unfair anyway, because my voice actress actually is French.    

MORRIGAN: What?

LELIANA: Nuzzink, moi friend.  

STEN: [IGNORING the TEAM, which is the only way he GETS THROUGH THE DAY]  Commander. You seem worried. Is it because you have no skill as a commander? Or because we are not remotely equipped to deal with real danger?

ALISTAIR: Don’t be mean to my snuggle-bunny! She is a great leader, and we are super equipped.

STEN: I know a half of Redcliffe that would disagree.

WYNNE: Ah, Redcliffe. A beautiful community, you know. I have always loved to travel there, when I could find time away from the tower.  How are they doing?

STEN: Half of them are doing very well.

BLAKE: Shut up.   I’m worried because I’m planning this out, and it’s going to be ugly, okay?  Look around. Those skeletons over there are going to get up when we walk past them.  There’s a bunch of panels that are the wrong height in the floor. Can you say ‘trap’? And that roar was just like when a young dragon flew over the battlements back at the Castle last season.  

ALISTAIR: Oh, it won’t be that bad.  Traps are pretty easy to avoid if you’re very careful and cautious like we always are, we have a lot of experience fighting the undead at this point…

STEN: Not as much as half of Redcliffe.

ALISTAIR: … And let’s be honest, there’s practically no dragons in the world, and we’re underground! It probably wasn’t a dragon at all.

[SCENE: ONE FLOOR DOWN, which looks mostly the SAME.  The major difference would be that MOST of the party is now SOAKED IN BLOOD, on FIRE, or BOTH.]

ALISTAIR: All right. It wasn’t a full-grown dragon.  

BLAKE: You shut your Makerdamn face.  

ALISTAIR: Awwww, honey, don’t be like that. I mean, we made it through and nobody was seriously wounded.

LELIANA: I zink my brain is leaking out my ears…

ZEVRAN: Where is my hand? Where is my hand?!

MORRIGAN: Mrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrg…

STEN: I experience pain.

ALISTAIR: Nobody at all.

WYNNE: Don’t worry, as the only healer, I can heal you all.  Aren’t you glad you didn’t say something to upset me?  Antagonizing me would doom you all.  And there will be other moments.  You should live in constant fear of the moment you do something slightly too evil and I abandon you forever.  

BLAKE: … You know, for someone who is the distilled essence of grandma, you have a bit of a dark side.

WYNNE: I look at it as helping you grow.  

[WYNNE re-attaches everyone’s LIMBS, and because she’s SO NICE she even makes sure to ATTACH them to the RIGHT PEOPLE.  The team opens ONE DOOR.]

HORDE OF WEREWOLVES: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.  

BLAKE: … Okay. We got this. At this point, I think we’re all armored by our scar tissue, right?  And Alistair smells vaguely of cheese, so they’ll probably want to eat him first. Everyone, get them while they chew on Alistair.  

ALISTAIR: I have issues with this plARRRRRGHLBLBE

BLAKE: Go team!

[SCENE: The HEART of the TEMPLE.  There is a LARGE TREE, some WEREWOLVES, and a HOT GREEN NAKED FOREST NYMPH. MOOD: Awwwwwwwwwwwww YEAH.]

LADY OF THE FOREST: Greetings, travelers.

BLAKE: [Makes a kind of a SQUEAKING NOISE, but produces no WORDS.]

LADY: I rule these woods, and seek to comfort and calm the wolves within.  They have been cursed, you see, tormented with this animalistic spirit by a mage you yourselves know.

BLAKE: [DROOLS]

LADY: Centuries ago, the humans of these woods murdered Zathrian’s children in an act of base cruelty, and in his rage and grief he bound a spirit to a great wolf, cursing them to… I’m sorry, are you listening?  You seem a bit zoned out.

BLAKE: Oh. Um. [PAUSE, to consider a CHARMING RESPONSE.]  … How you doin’?

LADY: … Right. Look. I get the sense you guys aren’t great at this, so I’ll give you the cliffnotes version.  Zathrian cursed the werewolves for something their ancestors did hundreds of years ago, and that’s really unfair.  I’m a pretty dryad, but I’m also the wolf who caused the curse, and he sent you to kill me so he could cure just his people. But if you get him and bring him here, we work together to cure everyone.  That will be the good ending to this quest.  

BLAKE: Sure. And like, if you wanted to grab coffee or…

LELIANA: A-HEM.  

BLAKE: You can come too! You’re hardened, right?

LELIANA: Oh, le shut up. [Drags BLAKE out of the ROOM by her EAR.  On the way out of the TEMPLE, they encounter ZATHRIAN, in a rare case of the game being CONVENIENT and not making you WALK the whole way BACK.]

ZATHRIAN: I knew you would betray me!

BLAKE: What?

ZATHRIAN:  Oh, I’m sorry. Were you about to tell me you killed all the werewolves and brought me the heart of the head wolf to undo the curse upon my people?

BLAKE: No, we-

ZATHRIAN: I knew you would betray me!  

ALISTAIR: Psssssssssssssssssssst.  I think this one might be the villain.  

DOG: [JUDGMENTALLY] Woof.

BLAKE: Man, you can say that again.  

DOG: [CONSPIRATORIALLY]  Woof.

BLAKE: Ha!  Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.  He wouldn’t listen even if I did.  

DOG: [MOCKINGLY] ‘Woof woof, woof!  Wooooof.’

BLAKE: HAHAHAHA! Oh Maker, he sounds exactly like that! You are the best at this.  Do Sten next!

DOG: [STOICALLY] ‘Woof.’

BLAKE: He does like swords!

ZATHRIAN: [COUGHS POLITELY]

BLAKE: … Right, you were here. Um, come with us. We need to take you downstairs. The sexy naked forest nymph asked, and I make it a point to always do as asked by anyone who looks like a beautiful statue came to life.  We’re gonna cure everyone of your curse.  

ZATHRIAN: We absolutely are not.  I made it very clear when I cast that curse it was to be forever, i.e. for all of time.  If I lower it, I don’t my money’s worth.  Because that will be less than forever.  

WYNNE: Excuse me, young man? Did you sass me?

ZATHRIAN: What did you just say to me, human? I should…

WYNNE: Did you.  Just. Sass me?  

ZATHRIAN: [QUIETLY]  … No ‘m.

WYNNE: And are you going to come downstairs with us?

ZATHRIAN: [QUIETLY]  … Don’t wanna…

WYNNE: But you’re going to, or I shall be very disappointed in you.  

ZATHRIAN: [QUIETLY]   … Yes ‘m.  

WYNNE: And you’re going to talk to your wolf-spirit in the form of an unclad young lady?

ZATHRIAN: [QUIETLY]   … Yes ‘m.  

[SCENE: Back DOWNSTAIRS.  Yes, we have used TWO SCENE CHANGES to leave and re-enter the SAME ROOM.]

LADY: Zathrian, my creator. I beg you, please save both your people and my own.  Only you can, father, and together

LELIANA: I’m really glad we went for the good ending here.

ALISTAIR: Yeah. It makes me feel good that we saved everyone without a giant pointless fight.

WYNNE: It truly was a wonderful day.  

LADY: Will you join me, and save everyone that together we might finally end our centuries of pain and let our peoples find peace?

ZATHRIAN: BITCH DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO.  

[ZATHRIAN waves his hands, instantly PARALYZING every werewolf in the room and the LADY OF THE FOREST while SIMULTANEOUSLY making a bunch of TREES come alive to KILL EVERYONE.  Thank the LADY OF THE FOREST for living in the only UNDERGROUND CAVE full of TREES.]

[BLAKE casts a meaningful glare at her own MAGES because none of them can do ANYTHING remotely that COOL.]

MORRIGAN: … Stop judging me.

[SCENE: The same ROOM, only there are a bunch of BURNING TREE MEN and ZATHRIAN has LOOKED BETTER.]

BLAKE: You gonna lower the curse now?!  

ZATHRIAN: You seem mad.

BLAKE: One of your tree monsters tore all the hair off the right side of my head.

ALISTAIR: I still love you.

LELIANA: Oui, it is a bold fashion statement!

BLAKE: Hsssssssssssssssssssss.

ZATHRIAN: Um. All right, lowering the curse will actually kill me, but I think at this point that’s the gentle option for me.  So. Um, when you wanna…

BLAKE: NOW.  

ZATHRIAN: You know, when you get to the Deep Roads section, you’re going to look back on this quest fondly, so…

BLAKE: HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

ZATHRIAN: Fine, fine! Lowering the curse, jeez.  

ZEVRAN: On the plus side, my hair is still amazing.  

[Thank the MAKER for SMALL FAVORS.]