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xalygatorx · 10 months

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Unbound | Chapter 3, "Swan Songs"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: Áine, Astarion, and their companions leave the Grove’s center without a cure. Áine tries to heal the helplessness she feels at not being able to help herself and her friends by trying to help the tieflings, including a bard named Alfira and a child nearly lured into a harpy’s nest. Wyll joins the group. Tensions rise as our merry band of misfits take out their stress on each other. Áine agrees to send them off to sleep with a song to smooth out the creases of the day.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Graphic fantasy violence; suggestive dialogue; angst; grief; not proofread (I couldn't do it, just look at the word count, I'm bushed); this one's really long and I'm just sorry idk

Word Count: 9.9k

Listening to: Weeping Dawn and Harpy Song from the BG3 soundtrack, Sleepsong - Secret Garden

The flask of wyvern poison felt ten times its actual heft in her pocket as Áine left the inner sanctum of the Grove with more questions than answers gained, her band of companions following in her wake and varying from smug to downtrodden. She’d fully expected Lae’zel to be the first to pipe up and give her what for about wasting their time with the Grove when they could be making their way to a crèche instead. However, it was Astarion who spoke first.

“What are you thinking, just swearing your life away with a vial of poison from some amateur healer?” he demanded as soon as they’d exited through the stone slab gateway and maneuvered through the horde of druids outside.

The entire Grove was hard at work to prepare the ritual that would seal off the area for good as soon as the tiefling refugees were outside its borders. Something still felt entirely off about Kagha’s insistence to fully prohibit outsiders, but it was neither Áine’s expertise nor her place to accuse the woman of anything (except being a monster regarding her treatment of the little tiefling girl, Arabella). All she could realistically do was as she’d said she would, which was try to spring the Archdruid Halsin from the nearby goblin camp if he still drew breath and send him back here to fix things as soon as he fixed their tadpole problem.

When the pale elf didn’t let up, Áine groaned. “Astarion, please, I’m not going to toss it back right here in front of you now, it’s a last resort. Besides, you saw Nettie. She wasn’t going to let us leave alive if I didn’t swear I’d take it and it wouldn’t add anything to our credibility to leave the Grove’s healer dead in her room.”

Astarion was still disgruntled, but he did appreciate that there wasn’t a scenario Áine’s words presented in which they’d lose that particular fight. Even though it was a bit of an obvious win by numbers and odds, her confidence was appealing to him.

In the absence of Astarion’s griping, Lae’zel finally fulfilled Áine’s expectations by speaking up. “A draught of poison is indeed preferable to becoming ghaik,” she said, surprising Áine just by siding with her to any degree. “It will be a good option to have should the worst come to pass. Which it needn’t so long as we manage to get to a crèche before the transformation begins.”

There it is, Áine thought, although delivered with less vehemence than anticipated. Give her time, I suppose. We might get to the point of “I told you so” yet.

“Do you really believe that a crèche will be able to cure us, Lae’zel?” Gale asked from behind Áine, his brow knitted into a deep line.

“Of course,” Lae’zel said. “I intend to seek the aid of a ghustil—a healer—as soon as we have a location for the nearest crèche. And to do that, I must find this Zorru among the teethlings.”

“They’re tieflings,” Áine corrected her. There was no judgment or edge to her tone, but Shadowheart sneered as if there were. When Áine caught her eye, she gave their cleric a disparaging look. Whatever was going on between her and Lae’zel had to be put to rest one way or another. Áine was already tired of navigating it and, seeing as they would indeed all be traveling together for the foreseeable future, it needed to be settled.

Lae’zel rolled her eyes and what Áine at first thought was an expression of irritation turned out to just be the githyanki testing the world in her mind before trying it on her tongue. “Tieflings then,” she corrected herself with a firm nod.

“I’m not looking forward to informing Zevlor that Kagha wouldn’t budge on their departure date,” Gale interjected as they neared the stone stairway to head back toward where the refugees had set up what was by all intents and purposes a makeshift village in the caverns below.

“Well luckily for you, he’ll be asking me what happened, I’d wager,” Áine said, parting her lips to say more when she paused, stopping in her tracks. Someone bumped into her from behind, but she stayed rooted, listening. Someone was singing up on the hilltop overlooking the beach.

“Is everything—Áine, where are you going?” Gale asked, his hand rubbing over his jaw where it had connected with the back of her head when she stopped ahead of him. She was already halfway to the hillside though and the rest of them were left to either follow or wait for her down in the Grove. No one thought to go on ahead without her, which in truth spoke to how integral to the party she’d already become.

Áine walked the path up to a small encampment set apart from the others, a sweep of colorful fabric arranged over some posts. Beneath it, sitting on a rock with a lute cradled in her lap, was an equally colorful tiefling woman, and Áine needed no assistance in recognizing a kindred spirit. Something was the matter though—the woman’s brow was crumpled and she looked lost in thought, her curved claws drumming agitatedly against the hollow body of her instrument.

“Dance upon the stars tonight… Smile and pain will fade away. Words of mine will change…no. Become—ugh,” the bard sighed, bowing her head and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“That was lovely,” Áine said, hoping she didn’t startle the poor girl out of her train of thought. It seemed at the moment though perhaps she was more in need of a kind word than more silence in which to stew over her lyrics. In fact, she seemed close to tears of one kind or another and that was something that Áine could distinctly relate to.

The living rainbow of a tiefling looked up at her dismally and her eyes did indeed look a little glossy. “It sounded like a cat being strangled… Godsdammit.”

Áine frowned softly and tilted her head. “Are you alright?”

“No, I’m moments away from grisly death from this bloody song,” she gritted through a scowl. She collected herself and her features relaxed some before she looked back at Áine beseechingly. “I can’t… Nothing fits—you know?”

Behind her, Áine’s companions had caught up with her but she was too absorbed in the young tiefling bard’s troubles to notice right away. She knew grief when she saw it and suddenly it was more important than anything she did that day—save perhaps finding a way to help Zevlor get his people out of the Grove and safely back on the road before Kagha made good on her threats—that she help her sort out this song. “Would you like some help?” she asked.

The tiefling bard’s features became more drawn, but she said, “Hm. It can’t hurt. I have her… I have an extra lute if you want?”

The stumble in her words gave Áine an idea of what was eating at her and she settled onto the rocky hilltop near the other bard’s perch. “That lute seems like it may be special to you, so trust me when I say you don’t want my unpracticed hands on it,” Áine said with a self-deprecating smile. She produced her lyre from the securing belt on her bag. “But I will try to keep up. At worst, we sort out more possibilities that don’t fit, hm? Narrow it down some.”

“Oh… Right,” the other bard said. “That is another way of seeing it. Reminds me of her a little.”

Áine’s eyes gentled on the tiefling and she asked, “What’s your name?”

“Oh, how rude of me… I forget myself. I’m Alfira,” she said with an apologetic smile that didn’t quite touch her eyes.

“Well met, Alfira. I’m Áine,” Áine said with an inclination of her head. “Now, first thing’s first, what’s your song about?”

Behind her, out of earshot, Lae’zel was growing antsy. “Chk, we are wasting valuable time,” she growled under her breath.

“Well you are more than welcome to go on alone,” Shadowheart hissed back. “No one is forcing you to stay.”

“No one could if they tried, istik,” Lae’zel snapped back.

Gale gave the two a pleading glance. “Let’s not be hasty,” he said, his voice lowered to match theirs. “It’s been a trying day, we are all feeling it. No need to take it out on each other. Please.”

Shadowheart’s hackles slowly lowered, but the glare remained vibrant on her pale heart-shaped face. Likewise, the githyanki warrior’s scowl lingered, but she uttered no more than a singular, quieter chk beneath her breath.

Gale cautiously removed his gaze from them to look back at Áine and the tiefling bard she was sitting with just ahead of them, who looked to be in a sorry state. He glanced sideways at Astarion, who was uncharacteristically pensive—from what he’d seen so far anyway—as his scarlet eyes bore into Áine’s back. Gale was unsettled by the intensity of his stare.

Whether it was instinct or for personal reasons that bordered a realm of jealousy, he wasn’t yet sure. But something was a bit off about their ashen elvish friend and Gale wasn’t so sure his hunch came purely from a place of feeling territorial. Gale’s gaze slipped back to Áine, who had started to pluck at her lyre as she and the tiefling, he assumed, tested out a lyric.

“Thinking of it now,” Alfira was saying, recounting a fond memory of the source of inspiration for her song, her old teacher, and grinning ear to pointy ear, “my heart hurts and my words just seem to crumble…” The troubled look in her eyes returned, her smile fading by increments. “Like ash.” She let the statement sit on her tongue for a few seconds before her eyes widened and she whirled to look at Áine. “Wait…”

“Give it a try,” Áine encouraged her.

Alfira took up her lute again, her hands nearly jittering as she plucked the strings and sang, “Words of mine will turn to ash… That’s perfect!” Her grin returned, spread joyously across her pale blue face.

“Keep going,” Áine said. “What would you say to your teacher now, given the chance?”

Alfira’s brow creased. “That… That it’s okay. That I’ll be okay.” She sighed, her eyes becoming watery again. “And thank you…for everything.”

“There you go,” Áine said, playing Alfira into her next verse with a few more plucks of her lyre.

Nearby, Astarion couldn’t help but notice how deftly she seemed to be with it now, and in just a short time. A strange sense of pride stirred in his chest after seeing her just a day or so ago blush with the embarrassment of never having held one before. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Gale’s expression warm over, likely with a similar thought. Pride simmered into envy in his chest, one sin to another. By the gods, what was wrong with him?

“...all the love I can’t repay… Wait!” Alfira half-shouted with excitement. “That’s it! That’s really it!” She hopped up to her feet, enlivened with new energy through creative triumph and she hastened to try and include Áine. “Can you play a flute, my friend? I would adore having your help for just a bit longer.”

“That, I can do,” Áine said, setting her lyre fully down on her lap and accepting the flute Alfira brought her. Her companions’ attention drew in behind her—Áine’s flute had ended up lodged in that graverobber back in the crypt before they’d ever heard her play. Even Shadowheart and Lae’zel momentarily forgot their squabble-in-the-making as Alfira began to strum and Áine seamlessly wove in her accompaniment.

“Dance upon the stars tonight

Smile and pain will fade away

Words of mine will turn to ash

When you call the last light down”

The delight in Alfira’s playing, in her singing, was tangible in the salty sea air. Her serenade wrapped around them like a warm embrace, her eyes fastened on the blue sky spanning above them. Taken with the song and the two bards performing it, Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart all subconsciously had allowed soft smiles to find their lips. Even Lae’zel had softened as soon as she was sure no one was paying her any mind.

“Moon reminds me of your grace

All the love I can’t repay

Rest and know that I will pray

Farewell, my dear old friend…”

Alfira strummed her few final notes and just held her lute for a moment, her eyes closing and a single tear escaping from the fringe of her lashes. She sat back down as Áine lowered the flute from her lips and smiled to hear the light applause of her friends rise from behind her, silently thanking them for encouraging the other bard like she wanted to. “Sorry,” Alfira said, her voice breaking over the apology.

Áine just stayed where she was, smiling gently. “No need to be sorry. That was beautiful.”

Alfira smiled and sniffled. “Thanks,” she said. “That’s the first time I’ve played since my teacher, Lihala, died.” She cast a look toward the extra lute she’d mentioned, propped carefully against a wicker basket. “She was playing her lute. We… We didn’t hear the gnolls coming.” Her jaw worked. “There was so much blood… I can still smell it.”

Áine’s heart sank. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Your teacher would be proud of you. To see you now.”

Alfira laughed. “She’d yell at me for that clunky verse,” Alfira mused, finding comfort in whatever memories flooded her. “And make me play ‘til my fingers were raw.” She took a deep breath and nodded once, with feeling. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Finish ‘The Weeping Dawn.’ For her. I’ve a long way to go, but…thank you.” Her eyes found Áine’s again and they were reddened at the rims, but hopeful. “I… I needed this.”

Áine’s eyes softened as she said, “I think I did, too. So thank you, Alfira.”

Alfira smiled as she said, “Until we meet again, my friend. Take care, Áine.”

The half-drow bard inclined her head and set the flute down on Alfira’s woven blanket, strapping her lyre back onto her bag and slinging the straps back over her shoulders as she rose and moved to rejoin the others.

When she reached them, Gale clapped a light hand against her shoulder. “Better?” he asked.

Áine’s lips curled, first with a bit of sheepishness at her unexpected venture and then genuine emotion as she let her first kneejerk reaction fall away. “Much.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said you knew your way around a flute,” Shadowheart complimented her, her green eyes alight with admiration. “I had no idea we were being led by such a talented bard, versed in strings or no.”

“I would call her versed in strings after that,” Gale said. “That was some sort of record as far as I know in picking up the lyre!”

In step behind them, as the group made their way back down the hillside, Astarion bristled at Gale’s thieving of his own earlier thoughts. It wasn’t as if he’d voice them, but why did the wizard have to voice them and get all the credit as if he alone had formed the thought?

Áine ducked her head, embarrassed. “Hardly, but thank you,” she said. “Still have a long way to go with it, I was just happy to keep up.”

“Do you hear that?” Shadowheart suddenly asked and her voice was just off enough that Áine stopped to look at her. The cleric’s gaze was drawn toward a nearby pathway to the beach. “It’s…singing? It’s beautiful.”

Áine listened. She heard the singing too and it was beautiful. It also made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She watched as Shadowheart, first hesitantly and then eagerly, followed the song. Gale fell into step behind her, even Astarion did as well after a few seconds’ pause. It was just Áine and Lae’zel left in the group’s original position. “It would seem their craving for music is indiscriminate,” Lae’zel commented. “At this rate, we may only hope that they can be so easily led along by their noses to a zaith'isk for purification. Faerûn’s creatures’ fleshy noses are certainly fashioned for such things.”

Áine couldn’t even spare a second to laugh at Lae’zel’s unsubtle jabs as she started to follow in their companions’ wake. “No, something’s wrong.”

They hurried down to the shoreline and Áine paused, seeing a tiefling child standing knees deep in the seawater. The singing was much louder here and Áine turned to check on Lae’zel, but she remained unaffected by whatever was enchanting their companions and, apparently, this child as well. The little tiefling sighed dreamily, “Such a pretty song…”

“Hey,” Áine said, looking back to see Lae’zel experimentally snapping her fingers in front of their companions’ faces. Still, they ambled toward the shore as well, although it did seem like Shadowheart was at least fighting it a little now. She focused back on the child, who was in more immediate danger as he started to walk even further into the water. “That’s far enough, it’s not safe to be so far out in the ocean.”

“No, no, it’s just a bit of water… Don’t you hear it?” he asked her, his voice leagues away. Something was awry with his eyes when he looked up at her. Magic swirled within them, but not his magic. Áine bent down and restrained him with a hand to his chest, looking back at her companions. The nearest to her and the water was Astarion and his usually bright red eyes were the same shade of swirling purple as the tiefling child’s. Something was indeed very wrong. “It’s so peaceful. I just want to listen… Perhaps a little closer.”

Something rustled nearby and Áine turned as much as she could while still holding onto the child to follow the new sound. Great feathery wings folded against a leathery, feminine body upon one of the craggy rockfaces that spiraled upward from the shallow waters nearby. Harpies. She’d never seen them in person, but they were easily recognizable the moment she slapped eyes on one. And it wasn’t alone.

“Yes…,” the child sighed again, working against her to step deeper into the lapping waves. “Everything’s gonna be fine…once I get there.”

“Lae’zel!” Áine gritted desperately as she shuffled the child with her two steps over so she could block Astarion with her body from advancing any further into the tides. She didn’t know what she was going to do when Gale made it this far or if Shadowheart began to give in to the harpy song’s lure again.

“Affirmative,” Lae’zel growled, unsheathing her longsword and hurtling toward the harpy nearest her to start picking her way through the beasts to the one at the center, the one who was singing. Áine wanted to rush in and help, but could do little more in her current position than buy her time.

Speaking of her current position, she barely snatched the back of the child’s shirt before he managed to get out of arm’s reach, her eyes rounding with panic as the harpy who was singing, the largest and most likely the matriarch of the group, bore down with hungry eyes focused on the little morsel Áine was barely keeping from the rocky outcrop. She had succeeded so far in holding off Astarion, too, but her anxiety spiked as he wrapped an arm around her waist to move her aside. She could hold off a child and perhaps a man Astarion’s size on a good day, but she certainly couldn’t do both. But she had to do both.

Midway through shifting her out of his way, Áine felt Astarion’s arm steel around her, his body becoming rigid. She looked up at him and his eyes were flickering between their normal red and the possessing violet hues of the harpy’s spell. “Get these infernal creatures out of my head,” he growled through clenched teeth.

Gale was calves-deep in the waves now and Shadowheart was losing her battle for control, taking staggering steps down the sandy slope of the shore. She had to do something and she had to find a way to do it now.

Áine planted her free hand on Astarion’s shoulder and shoved downward, planting him on his backside in the shallow water. It stopped him moving and the shock of the water splashing around him helped him hang on a little longer to his own mind. “Hold this,” she said, quickly pulling the tiefling kid backward and sending him into Astarion’s arms.

Hands freed, she ripped her bag off her back and her lyre with it and began strumming as loudly and aggressively as she could, drowning out the song for her nearby companions and the tiefling child. A round of bemused blinking encouraged her to keep going and she saw Lae’zel successfully dispatch the first of the harpies, immediately moving on to the next in quick succession. She just had to buy some time. And maybe end the bewitching song if she could.

“Hey!” she shouted at the lead harpy, who barely paid her mind apart from curling her lip in a half-snarl when Áine kept strumming her lyre as loudly as she could.

As she strummed, purple sparks began to fly from her fingertips, eventually collecting and engulfing the lyre in her hands, awaiting only whatever insults she was prepared to hurl at the birdlike creature ahead of her. And, boy, did she have some ready.

Áine went from just playing as loudly as she could to plucking an irreverent tune from the lyre, occasionally giving two quick, aggressive sweeps of the strings both to punctuate her playing and to interrupt the flow of the harpy’s enchantment. “An overgrown chicken, a bitch of a bird, and your cadence and rhythm are fucking absurd,” Áine snapped, the vicious mockery of her lyrics also ringing staccato in time with her strumming, a one-sided rap battle of a roast.

The harpy’s song continued, but Áine heard the tiniest waver in its tone, its eyes slowly detaching from the tiefling child it was practically salivating over to glare at her now. Perfect.

Áine hit the strings again. “No style, no edge, no flair, but what should I expect, you’ve got feathers for hair,” she added, sneering when she finally fully interrupted the harpy’s concentration and it turned its angry beetle-black eyes her way. Behind her, she heard the tiefling child’s stifled laughter. She needed nothing else to inspire her to keep going. One of her strings broke when she next scored them with her nails, but she didn’t miss a beat. “Nine feet tall, all ugly and shame, don’t be upset because you can’t play the game!”

Welp, that did it. With a screech, the harpy matriarch unfurled its wings and lunged off the rocks toward her and several things happened very quickly thereafter.

Áine barely had time to consider whether to drop her lyre or pull her weapon first before she saw Lae’zel leap off the rock after the last harpy standing. Her longsword swung up over her head and she stabbed it down cleanly through the harpy’s back, but Áine only saw the first few seconds of that firsthand before she was tackled out of the way.

She and whoever connected with her tumbled through wet sand and shallow waves, arcs of seawater flicking upward and glittering when they caught the sun. Áine landed hard on her lyre and felt it crack underneath her, but she supposed it was better than some part of her breaking either by impact or by harpy claws. Lae’zel and the harpy corpse slammed down into the surf, splashing everyone in the vicinity, Áine included, which was when she shifted from her side to her back to see who she had to thank for getting her out of the way.

Of course it was the elf. But where she first expected to see a smug or even flirtatious expression, maybe even accompanied by an off-the-cuff joke about having her pinned down, she saw he wasn’t even looking at her. She’d caught him mid-glance to where the harpy had landed and she got to see him for a few seconds unmasked. And he looked worried.

Astarion looked down at her and too soon his clever façade pulled back over his features, a rakish smirk finding his lips. “I could get used to this, you know,” he murmured, finding the innuendo just seconds after Áine already had on his behalf.

“I wouldn’t,” Áine posited, but she did so lightheartedly with a smile and an eye-roll.

He chuckled before becoming a little more serious. “Are you alright?”

“Sure,” Áine said, slowly realizing with some measure of concern that she didn’t mind his proximity so much as she thought she should. “Thanks. Are you?”

Astarion nodded and parted his lips to throw out what Áine expected to be an additional too-smooth line of flirtation of either the cheesy or deviant variety, but he thought better of saying whatever he was about to and met her eyes again instead. “I have to hand it to you,” he said, his sincerity startling her, “that was clever. And creative to boot. You’re quite funny.”

Áine smirked. “It’s my sincere honor to have earned your approval,” she said, the statement framed like a jest but ringing just as sincerely as his did.

“As I’ve told you before, dearest,” he said as he raised himself off her and got to his feet, reaching a hand down for her, “not many do.”

Áine smiled, taking the offered hand and standing up. She was covered head to toe in sand and damp with seawater, but then so were the others in varying capacities. The bard knelt and picked up her lyre. The instrument left an uninterrupted imprint in the sand, but the moment it was peeled off the shore, its wooden back separated into halves, the strings all that held it together now. “Oh, come on,” she grumbled, tossing the broken instrument overtop a nearby barrel.

“Was that my fault?” Astarion asked, not sounding particularly sorry if it were.

“No,” Áine said, absently taking the band out of her hair to work out a few tangles before she wound it back into its usual messy knot at her nape. The seawater would wreak havoc on her long white locks, which frankly was the least of their problems now. She’d simply have to take advantage of the next freshwater source they came across. “That would’ve been me if you hadn’t pushed me when you did.”

A lopsided smile found Astarion’s lips and the way the sweet expression brightened his face shot a bolt of heat from Áine’s heart down to…somewhere. By the gods, what is wrong with me today? “More than happy to take you under me any time, darling. Just say the word,” he purred near her ear. Suddenly she was fine again. At least that’s what she told herself as she leaned away from him and scowled.

Her gaze shifted as the little tiefling child stumbled up to them, their hands clutched against their chest. “Thank you for saving me,” they stammered. “I don’t remember what happened, but… Here! Thank you!”

They quickly tossed something sparkly toward Áine and dashed off back toward the Grove. She deftly caught whatever he’d tossed their way between her palms, opening them to reveal a gold amulet with a little emerald at its center. The pendant was rendered to look like the same symbol she’d seen all over the Grove, so she supposed it must’ve had something to do with the druids and maybe their god, Sylvanus.

“Hmph,” Áine uttered aloud, pocketing the amulet as the others joined her and Astarion. “Everyone okay? Lae’zel, that was the,” Áine paused to choose words that might translate better than her initial description, “most incredible finishing strike I’ve ever seen. Well done.”

That drew a proud smile from the githyanki, who inclined her head to acknowledge Áine’s praise.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache, but I’m otherwise surprisingly alright,” Gale said, rubbing the back of his head. “Thanks to you two exclusively, of course. One would think I would recognize a harpy song as much as I’ve studied Faerûn’s beasts and monsters and know better than to follow it straight to its nest.”

“Hardly a choice,” Shadowheart sighed, also seeming a little drained. “It’s magic like anything else, I’m afraid. Lucky us that our whole party didn’t fall subject to it or those creatures would’ve eaten particularly well tonight.” She smiled at Áine. “Thank you for saving us.”

It didn’t slip past Áine’s notice that Shadowheart actively avoided looking at Lae’zel. She had a feeling it hadn’t slipped past Lae’zel’s notice either. Áine sighed and smiled back, shelving that for later. If barely surviving a desperate encounter with those feathered monstrosities wouldn’t lessen her ire toward their gith companion, she wasn’t sure what would. Which meant that she’d have to talk to Shadowheart privately about this, herself, and soon. The Grove had been a dead end for their tadpole extractions, which meant they would all be sticking together a while longer. There was no room in their ranks, by Áine’s estimation, for unnecessary interpersonal conflicts.

Back on track upon their return from the beach, the group made a sweep through the tieflings’ encampments on their way to speak to Zevlor. They came across Zorru, who shakingly gave them coordinates to where he’d seen more githyanki warriors over to Lae’zel after the threats she directed at the traumatized tiefling were buffered forcefully by Áine. After Zorru had scurried off, Lae’zel had illustrated to Áine that the last time a subordinate had disobeyed her, she’d supped upon tongue stew that very night. Unmoved, Áine had expressed how nice it was then that she was not Lae’zel’s subordinate. Shadowheart had felt a thrill of victory at seeing that, wondering if perhaps finally Áine was coming to her senses about the gith.

In the face of the tension hanging over the group that could have been cut with one of his daggers, Astarion opted to drop back to the rear of their little gloom parade. Even without the excuse, he didn’t mind the bit of separation—he had a lot to sort through in his mind, not even including the literal worm nesting there. It had all worked in his favor in the end—chivalrous showmanship never truly hurt a performance, now did it?—but the truth was stranger to him than fiction.

He’d not planned to knock Áine out of the way. He’d just done it. There had been no time to plan, to choreograph, to weigh the options. There had only been time for instinct and reflex response. And, thinking back to the leagues of individuals he’d been made to seduce and lure back to Cazador, he would have never stuck his neck out like that just for the sole purpose of winning over a future victim unless he’d been commanded to. So what was this little plan of his turning into exactly? Was it because it was his scheme and not his old master’s? Did it just feel different because he’d decided of his own accord to manipulate someone this time?

Astarion’s brow creased, red eyes lifting to bore into Áine’s back as she led them through the dusty caverns, between the rows of refugee tents and shop stands. That had to be it, he decided as she was stopped by an old woman, who was trying to give her a healing potion and nattering on about everyone in the Grove being little whiners. Astarion watched Áine’s expressions and the way she held herself.

His analysis bordered closely on foolishness, he decided. He didn’t want her, he wanted her to want him so she would have a reason to help him, to help him stay alive until he could find a way to remain free of his chains. His tongue ran along the ridges of one of his fangs carefully hidden behind his pursed lips—and perhaps he was mistaking his thirst for lust. That had to be it. The combination of those two desperate drives, for security and sustenance, was making him delusional. They would go away as soon as he fed and as soon as he bedded her so he could feel safe. It wasn’t because he wanted her.

He firmly believed that he was far too broken to properly want anything. The least he could do in retaliation to what had been done to him was use that brokenness as an advantage.

Áine spent the entirety of their walk to the far side of the caverns where she was told she could find Zevlor trying to think of how to break the news to him. She’d let herself get invested in the thought that she might be able to change things or at least buy time to benefit the tieflings in preparing for their journey, but she’d come out with the same result Zevlor himself had been given to begin with. Her sitdown with Alfira and the fight with the harpies had just helped to stave off the inevitable conversation that would feel like her second major failure of the day.

The first had been just as indirect as the one aforementioned—that she’d opted for the Grove as their hope for a cure and had come out emptyhanded for it. She logically understood that it wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but she had made the call. At the time, it had felt like the right call. And, had they skipped over meeting with Nettie, she would have wondered if their journey could have ended there for as long as it progressed. Yet, there she was, feeling a bit sore about it all.

That feeling lasted through their conversation with Zevlor, in which she offered her protection much to certain companions’ distaste, but was politely refused. Instead, he suggested that if they could help them by eradicating the root of the problem—whoever was organizing the goblins back at their base in the old Selunite temple—then the refugees might just manage to make it through at least the first leg of their journey. It felt like a significant undertaking, but seeing as she was already intending to bail the Archdruid out of that temple as well, assuming he was still alive, she agreed to try. It did feel like she was racking up a to-do list though that could all turn out to be more loose ends.

It was a hole she was digging for herself, she figured, if that did come to pass. None of them need to stick with me and my harebrained ideas for any longer than they want to. Hells, they might be better off following Lae’zel to a crèche or doing anything differently from what I’m doing.

Lo and behold, as soon as they were outside Zevlor’s chamber and the stone door was sliding shut behind them, Astarion demanded, “So, what, we’re mercenaries now? Not even mercenaries, mercenaries at least get paid!”

“It does make me question the truth of your words when you last said we would seek out my kin, and a crèche beyond that,” Lae’zel said just as pointedly but with fewer theatrics than the pale elf walking alongside her.

“My opinion may not be worth much,” Gale said, “but I think helping them is the right thing to do and I applaud you for agreeing to do it.”

Even Shadowheart was proving skeptical. “So long as tentacles don’t burst from our faces halfway through our heroics, maybe this won’t all be for naught… Then again, maybe it will be.”

“For once, we are in agreement,” Lae’zel commented.

Áine almost groaned. Surely the world would upend on her if those two were finding common ground exclusively in her ineptitude.

As the rumbles of unrest continued to brew behind her, Áine finally stopped and turned around, her features so taut from exasperation that she almost looked in pain. “Then go ahead to the crèche or wherever you think is best to fix our, uh, brain issue. Not a single one of you owes me a damn thing,” she said, and both Astarion and Shadowheart experienced a pang of guilt to hear how exhausted she sounded. “I will be going to the goblin camp to see if Halsin is still alive, seek his help if so, and clear the place out in the process to give these people a chance. Why? I don’t know, because I can’t not. I have gray areas in my morality like everyone else, but this is not one of those areas.”

“Now that is a worldview I can endorse.”

Áine frowned, surprised by the new voice, and looked over her shoulder. The Blade of Frontiers, himself, stood in her wake and smiled at her when their eyes met. The renowned protector of the Sword Coast raised his arm and inclined his head in a respectful salute. “Well met, Goblinslayer,” he greeted her with a debonair smile. “Unless you prefer a different name?”

“Áine will do,” she introduced herself, glad for a distraction, but still tense from addressing the group. Or rather addressing everyone in the group but Gale, she supposed. “Wyll, was it?”

Wyll preened under her attention. It made Astarion want to rip his hair out. “It was and is, and he is at your service,” he said with a charming bow. “You were—ugh!”

The tadpoles took over and their minds were slotted together as Áine’s had been in small doses with each member of her group so far. She saw Avernus through Wyll’s eyes, not at first from the deck of the Nautiloid ship, but in pursuit of who he believed to be a devil. Tall and crimson, flames licking her skin, and with one broken horn as her signifier.

Their minds disconnected and a faint noise of discomfort slipped from Áine’s throat as she felt the parasite in her head settle back into its favorite spot. “So you’re infected too,” she observed, following up her statement with a question. “Who was that?”

Wyll rolled his head against his neck, physically shaking off his own discomfort. “You saw,” he gritted, shuddering as he explained, “Karlach. A devil I’ve been charged to hunt down and take back to Avernus before she commits any more atrocities against innocent people.” Wyll nodded toward Áine. “A spot of morality we seem to have in common.”

There was something in Wyll’s expression or his tone that made Áine’s belief in his words waver. A desperation that underlaid the duty. He wasn’t just doing this particular task out of the kindness of his heart. There was something else there, too. “So it seems,” she agreed, shelving her hunch for the time being.

“Listen,” Wyll began, his tone aiming to sound thoughtful. Astarion bristled, already knowing what was coming. Because of course it was. “I also need to get this infernal thing out of my skull. And I would be more than happy to assist in helping these poor refugees find safety in their course to Baldur’s Gate. Karlach remains my priority, but as for the rest… Well, if you’ll have me, I would be honored to join your cause.”

Áine smiled at Wyll. “You are more than welcome for as long as you’d like.”

“Excellent,” Wyll said, clearly quite pleased. “Lead on then, my lady.”

Áine heard a loud scoff from behind her that could’ve only come from Astarion. She sighed inwardly and continued to lead the way out of the Grove, only slowing momentarily when Wyll stepped off the path to grab a rucksack with his travel implements. She felt the pale elf in question behind her before she saw him in her periphery and took the opportunity to ask him in a lowered tone, “What’s the problem?”

“Problem?” he repeated and his tone was so steeped in sarcasm, it told Áine all she needed to know about the incoming conversation. “What problem would there be? The Blade of Frontiers is joining us on our way! We’re essentially saved.”

Áine’s mind traced back to the goblin fight earlier on, outside the gate. Back to the sour look that had crossed Astarion’s face when he’d thought no one was looking, when she’d been momentarily swept into Shadowheart’s enthusiasm at the swashbuckling swordsman arriving on the scene. “Are you jealous?” she asked, point-blank.

Astarion laughed once forcefully. “Of him?” he sneered. “Tell me, darling, whyever should I be?”

Her jaw clenched. “You tell me,” she shot back, keeping her voice lowered as the group began walking again. She checked to see that the others were keeping Wyll occupied before turning her attention back to Astarion. She didn’t want their newest recruit to feel uncomfortable at already being discussed.

When she met Astarion’s eyes again, they were crimson fire. She’d really gotten to him with her question apparently, but there was no turning back now. “Well?” she pressed.

“He has nothing for me to envy,” he said, his tone something caustic forced to sound smooth. The acid was still there, but it was beneath a carefully curated surface of false bravado. She could hear the two layers existing together and separately at once. They’d reached the front gate and stopped their walking to wait for it to be raised.

“It hasn’t just been Wyll though, has it?” Áine dug in and Astarion physically recoiled from her probing when she hit too close to home. “It’s been Gale, too. It’s even been Shadowheart and Lae’zel at times. Maybe me, too, and I just haven’t noticed. Maybe I can help put it to rest if something's bothering you.”

“You are in no position to help me with anything!” he snapped at her, his tone rising, and that finally snagged the others’ attention. “What could you possibly offer me?”

Áine’s hackles rose and she snapped back, “My friendship for one thing, but I don’t know if you’d even know what to do with it!”

She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips, but there wasn’t a thing she could do to take them back. Áine winced and let her head fall forward against her hand, her thumb and middle finger pressing into her temples. She inhaled deeply and then exhaled as she heard the gate begin to rumble and lift beside her.

“Feel better?” she heard him growl above her head.

“Of course not,” she murmured, removing her hand from her face and meeting his eyes again. “That was out of line. I’m sorry.”

Astarion seemed more taken aback by her apology than the words that had led to the apology in the first place. Expression guarded, he said, “And if you happened to be correct?”

“Then I’m even more out of line for saying it,” Áine replied. “And I apologize twice over.”

The pale elf measured her with a look, his jaw still clenched and his eyes still disproportionately wary in her estimation. They were just having a bit of a spat, but he’d tensed as if…

Oh.

Something began to slowly click into place in the back of her mind, something she recognized because she’d done it too. There was absolutely nothing to support the thought that had entered her mind, it was pure intuition at best. But it took the wind near-fully out of her sails.

“Well?” he asked her, seeming impatient for an answer to a question she’d been too far away to hear.

“Sorry?” she asked, blinking away her thoughts.

“I asked if I’m dismissed,” he repeated, his voice lowered again.

Áine stared at him dumbly for a few seconds before clarifying, “...From this conversation, or…?

“From the party,” he corrected her.

“Of course not,” Áine said, and it was her turn to be taken aback. “Not only would that be a huge overreaction on my part, but I’m in no position to even do that.”

“Of course you are,” Astarion said, his shoulders relaxing a little now that his newly conjured fears of being on his own in this again were put to rest. “Isn’t that well within a party leader’s rights?”

Áine smiled and shook her head. “I wouldn’t know,” she admitted as they stepped out into the forest again, the others trailing at a distance to give them their space but following them out into the open. “Maybe a good party leader. But, not only am I just trying to figure all this out as I go, we’re all in the same predicament too. We’re all infected. We’re all a bit lost. And far be it from me to say who should stay or go.”

Her earlier hunch bubbled back up and she leveled a serious look at him, waiting until he met her eyes. “Far be it from anyone to tell you what to do unless you give them your consent to do so.”

Astarion’s expression became a familiar kind of withdrawn for only seconds before he threw a flippant hand and scoffed, “I’d like to see anyone try. I suppose I could grace you scrappy bunch with my presence a little while longer, but only because you insisted, dearest.”

Áine rolled her eyes and dropped the conversation, letting him have his mask back. To the group as a whole, she raised her voice and said, “Same campsite as last night. Tomorrow anyone who wants to travel with me to the goblin camp may do so. No hard feelings regardless.”

“What about bard feelings?” Gale asked, earning a collective groan.

“Those are mine, you can’t have those,” Áine bantered back.

Astarion went through the external motions of interacting with the group as he kept in step at Áine’s side, but he was internally flummoxed. She saw more than he wanted her to, more than he’d given her credit for so far. It made him feel entirely too vulnerable and he hated it.

Yet, despite laying him more bare than even she could realize by telling him that he couldn’t be ordered about, she’d done exactly that—told him that she had no power over him. That no one did. And while she was technically wrong about that so long as Cazador lived, she was the first.

Not only that, he was still spinning over how swiftly she’d apologized to him for essentially stating a fact about him as a person. He didn’t know how to have friends—he’d had friends once, in his other life, he was sure, but he had next to no recollection of that past now. Hundreds of years of pain and revulsion and torture and manipulation and violation and rot had scorched that barely trodden earth long ago. But she’d said that she still had no right to say that to him, even if it were true.

It took all of his attention to keep the pearly sneer on his face from becoming a frown in tandem with his thoughts because that implied a sense of…respect. Respect for him?

They reached the campsite tucked back within the trees past the Grove and he skulked back to his tent, setting down a few trinkets he’d pilfered during their visit near his bedroll. He picked up the book he’d been parsing through these past few nights, skimming the contents at best when he wasn’t purely using it as a distraction or as a ploy to look like he wasn’t paying attention to camp conversations he was most definitely paying attention to. Truthfully though, he’d yet to hear anything of note—weirdos though they all may be, they were also quite agonizingly normal too.

How did she know?

Astarion shook off the thought with a vengeance. It didn’t matter how whatever inkling she’d had to say the things she’d said to him had slipped in. He simply had to be more careful. Before he’d fully let go of his wayward thoughts, however, he let her words wash over him one more time. “Far be it from anyone to tell you what to do unless you give them your consent to do so.”

He scoffed softly down at the pages his eyes devoured but didn’t read. Consent. Now that was a foreign concept.

And suddenly he was finding himself wishing she’d said every horrible thing she could have said to him instead of that singular necessary thing, proved herself revolting in every way she’d proven herself striking, and done just one thing he couldn’t forgive her for. All the easier it would’ve been to lie to her and break her heart, to tear out her throat as a snack in the midnight hours and go on as if nothing had happened.

Now though? Now he was feeling guilt begin to gnaw prematurely at his dead, black heart. No, now he’d feel at least a little sorry for whatever became of her after he got his fangs in her, proverbial or otherwise.

The rest of the group had set about their evening, too, while the pale elf’s swirling thoughts consumed him over his literature. Áine got to work getting Wyll set up with a tent and left him to his devices so she could assist with dinner prep, only to be shooed away by Gale, who had started insisting on having the run of the “kitchen” at all their mealtimes. It wasn’t long before the sun had set fully and the usual dinner attendees plus their newest member gathered around the fire and enjoyed the dinner of soup and bread that Gale had prepared.

The one significant upside of visiting the Grove aside from the obvious had been the rations they were able to procure, both freely and for meager sums of gold. The taste of fresh bread had never brought tears to Áine’s eyes, but she was no longer sure it wouldn’t. Pillowy and warm from the broth it was dipped in, it positively melted on her tongue and suddenly their situation didn’t feel so rotten for one shining moment.

Astarion maintained his distance during dinnertime, which was normal. Áine didn’t think he was upset with her, although he had every right to be with the way she’d handled herself, and she was grateful for the grace he was showing her. Where that grace came from though, she hadn’t a clue. Maybe he was just biding his time until he could bury his daggers in her stomach while the others slept. She smiled and shook her head at her fretting. Until she had something tangible to worry over, there was no point in adding another point of anxiety to her already full list of concerns. All that aside, she didn’t think he’d be the one to try to kill her in the dead of night out of everyone there. Shadowheart was a more likely suspect for something like that.

Case in point, their other companion often absent at meals had just sat down beside Áine and Shadowheart’s disgust showed plainly on her face. Lae’zel settled in by the fire, returning to her meal as soon as she’d wordlessly joined them and found a spot for herself. Wyll and Gale were too immersed in their conversation—or quite good at seeming so—to notice. Lae’zel met Áine’s eyes and shifted uncomfortably. “Am I unwelcome?”

“Not at all,” Áine said without hesitation. When Lae’zel gave her the faintest hint of a smile in return and bowed her head to continue eating, Áine’s gaze flickered up to meet Shadowheart’s over the top of Lae’zel’s hair. Shadowheart gave her a look of pure exasperation, which Áine met with just a shake of her head. “Talk later,” she mouthed to the cleric. “ ‘Til then, behave.”

Shadowheart’s jaw clenched, but she turned away from both of them and resumed her supper, finding a welcome distraction in joining Wyll’s animated conversation with Gale as the two then three reminisced about Baldur’s Gate. The night eventually wound down, particularly after the nightcap of a glass of ithbank had been suggested. Between the day they’d all had and the depressive effects of the wine, a rowdy dinner roundtable had quieted into something barely a chitchat that only carried on as long as it outweighed the call of a warm bedroll.

“So are there any nighttime ditties available on request from our resident bard?” Wyll asked as he finished his goblet of wine, smiling warmly toward Áine. Just Wyll, Gale, and Shadowheart remained fireside, Lae’zel having retreated to her tent again after she’d finished eating, and Astarion…

Áine thought she heard something like a scoff come from the direction of Astarion’s tent, but she tried not to think on it too much lest she’d start to laugh and then have to explain herself.

“I’m not particularly consistent at being an actual bard in a musical sense,” she admitted. “I, uh, lost my flute the first day we all banded together, and the lyre I had got broken today amidst fighting some harpies. And even before that I only contributed some light strumming anyway.”

“It was very nice strumming,” Shadowheart teasingly reaffirmed her. “And you got us out of a very tight spot with those harpies today, so I would say you’ve more than contributed in a bardic sense.”

“Only a shame the lyre fell in battle,” Gale mused. “Could do with a tune to send off the night.”

Amused they would even miss what little she’d provided thus far, Áine laughed out loud. “Right. If you’re somehow not too triggered by singing after today’s scrap with those feathered freaks, I will sing you all to sleep tonight,” she offered, holding up a finger when her present companions’ eyes lit up, “but only after you’re all tucked in.”

“All the things I’ve already seen you do and accomplish,” Wyll mused, “and the thing you’re shy about is singing in front of others? As a bard?”

From the bedroll inside his dark tent, Astarion’s gaze flickered toward his closed tent flaps, listening as the focus of an otherwise uninteresting conversation to eavesdrop on pulled back to their bard and became interesting again.

Áine rolled her eyes, playing into it. “Everyone has their things, I only ask you to respect mine,” she laughed. When no one moved, she waved them off. “I mean it. Shoo!”

“Will you also tuck us in?” Shadowheart asked cheekily before being ushered away from the fire by their other two present companions who were all too eager to follow directions. Especially when the reasoning and the person behind said reasoning was so endearing.

Astarion rolled his eyes to himself as he listened to them all, tittering on like schoolchildren over the shiny new toy. The only difference was that they were all grown adults and they wanted to fuck the shiny new toy more than play nicely with it. Admittedly, so did he, but at least he had ulterior motives. Their yearning was simply embarrassing.

Eventually, the camp sounds outside stilled completely, the crackling fire all that was exempt from the stretched silence. For a moment, Astarion wondered if she’d simply tricked them all into going to bed by throwing out the false promise of a performance, an idea that made his lips twitch with sly mirth.

He was wrong about her again, however, and only endured the silence for seconds longer before a quiet, ethereal voice rose from the direction of the fire, building with every lyric sung until he no longer strained to hear her words.

“Lay down your head, and I’ll sing you a lullaby

Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay

And I’ll sing you to sleep, and I’ll sing you tomorrow

Bless you with love for the road that you go…”

There was magic woven into them—the words that left her lips. Actual magic or not, he wasn’t entirely sure, but her voice felt magical. How she was embarrassed by doing this in any context baffled him beyond compare. It was no wonder she’d suggested that after their encounter with the harpies earlier that day perhaps they may be lullaby-averse. She sounded just as enchanting as they had but without the deadly lure, without all the strings attached.

While he didn’t remember much about being under the harpy songstress’s spell, he did remember the pull. It was minuscule in comparison to what Cazador’s will, for example, had been able to do to him, but had been enough for him to have needed Áine’s intervention to clear his head. That had felt like a numbing agent on his mental clarity. Whatever this was… Well, his mind had never felt clearer.

“May you sail fair to the far fields of fortune

With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet

And may you need never to banish misfortune

May you find kindness in all that you meet

May there always be angels to watch over you,

To guide you each step of the way

To guard you and keep you safe from all harm…

Loo-li loo-li lai-lay…”

Magic or no, reverie felt much more achievable than it had in…well, ages. When he thought back to the last time he’d truly felt at rest, he was suddenly reaching back weeks, months, years into centuries until he didn’t have memories left to traverse. He was sure he’d slept peacefully in his youth, before Cazador, when he was just a high elf fresh out of his law schooling, his entire beautiful life ahead of him. He bet he’d slept as soundly as can be after he passed his last exams for the board, maybe felt accomplished, maybe just felt relieved, or maybe was too tired to feel any type of way. But the trouble was, he didn’t remember any of that. It was all gone. He’d taken it all.

Astarion drew in a deep breath and it shuddered in his chest. More had died than his soul that day in the streets, under the dirt, slumped at Cazador’s feet as he stood waiting for his new spawn to surface in the graveyard. He’d been dying every day since.

Except maybe tonight. Perhaps tonight he could secure for himself. Just for himself. So he shifted his body just slightly until his fingertips could brush the canvas of the tent flaps, caught the corner deftly between them, and pulled it back just enough to look at the half-elf still curled up by the fire, her back to his tent as she continued to croon her lullaby and swaying gently as she sang.

“May you bring love and may you bring happiness,

Be loved in return ‘til the end of your days

Now fall off to sleep, I’m not meaning to keep you,

I’ll just sit for a while and sing loo-li lai-lay…”

Astarion withdrew his hand and let the tent flap fall closed again, swallowed once more by the dark. The feelings that had stirred in him while he watched her, even for just those few seconds, were thrilling and frightening. He recoiled from them. They’d not help him at all to achieve what he needed to. If anything, even without fully knowing what they were, he knew they’d thwart him.

Instead of entertaining them further, he lay on his back and closed his eyes, his index fingers curled to meet his thumbs in a gesture of mindfulness that felt as natural as breathing. This, this reverie, was something he’d retained, something he’d been able to keep, despite everything. And the carrying lilt of the song outside wrapped him up like a warm embrace and eased him down, helping him return to it. Helping him return to himself.

Next chapter: Chapter 4, "Thirsty"

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twig-tea · 1 year

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The La Pluie finale had everything:

The Perfect Confession

Ok listen I am not one for nonconsensual public confession but know your audience, Tien is a perpetually invisible middle child who is not afraid of public attention and he is a film major, Lomfon making him a film to illustrate his feelings got me emotional, and him then also saying them out loud!! Because my boy learns from his own and others' mistakes, yesssss.

The Perfect Apology

I was so ready for Tai to suffer from the bed of his own making this episode, and I was not sure four days of searching was going to be enough. But that apology was PERFECT. He apologized first, he explained exactly what he did wrong, and he fixed it by saying his feelings aloud, finally! I was braced for the show to let him get away with not saying it, but he did. AND the show did us one better by giving us the explanation that he was parroting his parents' bullshit, which is such a real thing and it is difficult to catch yourself doing it, so the fact that he recognized it displayed his growth before the apology too. Just, all around this was so perfectly constructed and I was so pleased. Hell yes.

Surprise Sapphics

Listen, I am always here for more women loving women. Always. And LBR it's only a surprise that we actually got Dream and Nara confirmed because I know many of us were already shipping them.

Confirmation of Other Side Pairs

IDK if anyone else was rooting for the other vet techs than me, but they shared coffee so they're married in my head now I don't make the rules.

Best Brothers Being Best

Honestly Tien could have just said "unfuck it" to Tai again in that phone call and it would have rolled up to the same thing lol I really do love how their relationship was rock solid through this entire show, even when romance was potentially a threat. They have such a good sibling dynamic, one of the best I've seen in any show, and it makes me happy whenever Tien and Tai interact.

It also had a few things that I didn't love:

Awkward Logistics

This is maybe not a big deal because Tai is a writer but he works in a job that requires him to be in the office at least occasionally and Patts just started setting up a new vet clinic in Chiang Mai. Is Tai going to leave his friends and family to work remotely and live in Chiang Mai with Patts? Are they going to have to work out their relationship anew long distance? This is going to suck a little bit, and the adult in me could not help but notice and have it damper my joy. That being said, it was something Patts said he was thinking about for awhile so maybe it's something that would have come up anyway in future.

Patts Now Believes in Soulmates

Honestly, this was the biggest damper for me and I wish they hadn't included it (but maybe they had to for the sequel, IDK). Patts originally was willing to try with Nara because he didn't think the soulmate thing could dictate his emotions and he loved her, but she would not believe him. He also was willing to try with Tai before realizing that they were soulmates. And he told Tai that he would have wanted to try a relationship with him whether or not they were soulmates. So why now are we told that he suddenly thinks he can only love his soulmate for the rest of his life? This is not just anti-narrative, but anti-Patts' previous statements. I get that he was hurting and predisposed to be melodramatic in that moment, but it was a weird statement to include.

Bow's Throwaway Het Happy Ending

Not to be heterophobic but where is her cute Northern girlie who Tumblr convinced me she was dating? Bow deserves better imho

Tien's Turn for Drama

I KNEW this was going to happen! They spent too much time making it a big deal that Tai was the only sibling with hearing loss during rain. I just want my best boy to be happy for five minutes! Considering these characters, and what Tien's already said about what he would do if given this choice, I could see this plot being interesting. Especially because Tien had to suffer, now it's Lomfon's turn, maybe. But still, just let me have this cuteness for a little longer, show!

But all of that is relatively minor and honestly what we got was so good I can forgive and forget all of it.

TL; DR La Pluie stuck the landing and I could not be more pleased!

#la pluie #la pluie ep 12 #la pluie finale #the queers keep winning #i am pleased #la pluie spoilers #typed so i can stop thinking it

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haze-of-hyperfixations · 3 months

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Hi! 👋 Do you have any lgbt+ hcs for asoue or atwq? 🌈 :)

Hi! 👋

Thanks for the ask!! Here's some of my headcanons:

ASOUE:

Violet - bi. also i think it'd be funny if she had crushes on both Isadora and Quigley, and made some comment about "hey, maybe i have a type. or something." meanwhile her siblings are like. violet. they are identical.

Carmelita - aro. doesn't realize this until way after canon (assuming the entire unfortunate gen survives for the sake of both the post and my feelings) because she genuinely never considers that romantic attraction is like. a real thing. she thinks everyone's just being weird about dating because they're just weird like that. and she's totally better than them anyways, so she doesn't really give it any more thought for a while. she basically avoids the entire self-questioning stage like that, and it isn't until a while after canon, once she's kind of had a redemption arc and kind of formed some kind of connection with other characters, that she's just arguing with someone one day about something to do with romance, and the other character is like. uh. actually that's not universal and i think you might be aro. and she kind of has to process that for a few minutes. but she ends up basically going "oh, so it's not everyone? it's just me? that's awesome." also modern AU Carmelita would make those posts that are like, pink hearts and sparkly, elegant cursive saying stuff like "romance is dead and i killed it." (i just googled it, it's called aro lovecore.) anyways, post-canon aro Carmelita. :)

Isadora - trans girl. and she's unsure of her specific orientation, but knows she definitely likes girls.

Quigley - ace. questioning both gender and romantic orientation, but probably somewhere under the nonbinary umbrella. and possibly bi. listen just let the kid figure stuff out post-canon. where's that post that goes "i'm probably nonbinary but i have a job so idc about that right now". that's Quigley but the job is not dying and processing childhood trauma.

Sunny - post-canon, older Sunny also gets hit by the aro headcanon beam. i just think it'd be really neat.

not a lot of thoughts on the sugarbowl gen, except possibly pan Beatrice Baudelaire and aro Sally Sebald? idk, I think about the unfortunate gen a lot more, ha.

ATWQ:

Moxie - possibly arospec? okay, admittedly i just thought of this headcanon now. but arospec Moxie would add an interesting layer to her dynamic with Ellington and Lemony. especially if you interpret the Lemony/Ellington as onesided, with Lemony being the one with the romantic feelings. because like. platonic jealousy over your best friend's crush (who doesn't reciprocate, but maybe she does, but who even cares? not Moxie.) is an interesting dynamic. because Ellington Feint contrasts her in a thousand narrative, thematical ways that other people could write about better than me. but Lemony's also kind of infatuated with her, and she gets that slightly romanticized place in his narrative that Moxie doesn't. and of course that could lead to additional resentment. and some of it's jealousy, some of it's anxiety, some of it's frustration, but the whole thing could lead to really interesting internal conflict. especially after Lemony leaves, and the other kids have to figure out a new sense of normal after all that. idk. interesting thought.

Ellington - lesbian. also just thought of that one now, so idk. but i've been kind of on the fence for a while about the Lemony/Ellington thing and all it's ambiguity. my current headcanon is that it was onesided on Lemony's side, and that Ellington didn't have any romantic feelings for him. and i need to reread the books, i love them so much and it's been a little while, but yeah, Ellington being gay is a neat concept, i think.

in conclusion, i think basically all of these characters are Very Much Not Straight, but the ones listed were just the first ones i could think of!

thanks again for the ask!! have a great day, and happy pride month!! :)

#i have so many aro headcanons i didn't even realize i had. self-projection is a wonderful thing. :)#asoue #atwq #oh also i forgot to mention but lemony & moxie is an entirely platonic dynamic to me.#like maybe there was subtext there but i am looking away. i do not see it. i just like seeing it as platonic jealousy on moxie's part.#it just makes their dynamic more interesting and fun to me. they were best friends and they probably changed each other forever.#and they played dice games together. and maybe they never saw each other again. who knows. idk. they give me a lot of emotions. :(#i NEED to reread atwq though. it has been TOO LONG.

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pollyperks · 1 year

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honestly I wish huntlow got a kiss just to stick it to the antis. it feels like m/f ships are getting pushed to the side in the show and in the fandom to prioritise same sex ones and it's honestly weird. like they get one kiss and are on their high horse for the rest of it

yeah, i mean, long answer, sorry it took 3 days, but i know i'm personally totally squealing happy with what we got and i'm just ?????? confuzzled over people saying that it could be platonic? because they didn't kiss? does that mean raida is platonic too? no kiss on the lips???? lmao platonic lap sitting but seriously. i'm gay i want representation i'm super happy that lumity got kisses and that raida happened like i'm not bitter at all about those ships being canon i'm super super happy! and the huntlow content we got was freaking adorable. but if they got a kiss then antis would probably find some way to say it was one-sided or non consensual or whatever, WHATEVER ANTIS! anyway, luz is obviously the protag so her romance should take front and center but it does feel a little weird when peeps are like 'omg gus and mattholomule (sp? i don't care enough about him) and omg darius and alador' like that's another confuzzlement when 3 second interaction=canon when it platonic hand holding durrr. but tumblr has always loved its slash shipping so why am i even pretending to be surprised idk

also?????? why do these people not want willow to have things? like, i'm trying to think of another show where the side character who is plus sized (and wow is it ever more acceptable for men to be large!!!!) ends up with the 'bad but sad boy' (or a serious love interest at all ughhhhh don't@me with grenda from gf) like bad boys (i mean, calling hunter 'bad' sort of makes me crack up, but that's how he was introduced and he has the appearance down) usually either end up with the protag or in a love triangle with the protag, not with a character like willow. even if willow is buff as fuck in the timeskip, she's still muscular and of a larger build than the other girls, so i love love love love love that for her and why do people want to say huntlow is platonic when it's super great to have not only that body representation in an animated show but to punch the idea in the face that those characters shouldn't be able to experience love interests like everyone else?

(also hunter's relationship with willow and gus was part of what really pulled him into the group so it makes sense from a writing standpoint if they wanted either of them to have a love interest for it to be with each other)

so yeah idk i haven't seen anyone on their high horse exactly, mostly just people being happy about their ships! and their same sex ships! but the antis are driving me nuts they're not here to be happy about anything they just want to scream about how huntlow sucks and isn't real and i think half the time (and this might be what you were talking about anon) they just don't want it to be canon because it's m/f and that's...why don't they just take their hate and push it somewhere else?

unfortunately we just have to try not to listen and find the good content

#anyway huntlow is good come visit me we'll have tea and talk about how huntlow is good #//the owl house #ask box #sorry if this wasn't completely coherent

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kindaconfusingme · 2 years

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Since it's the end of november, I thought I'd give an update on my reading for the Autumn Reading Challenge 2.0 :)

I am working on a few other prompts atm so I think I will be through kind of soon. I have decided to pick books I already own for all of these so I can use this challenge as motivation to reduce my tbr. I fear this post will be kind of long so be prepared :D

Number in the title: Million Girl Vol.1-3 by Kotori Momoyuki

I read the 1rst and 2nd volume of this years ago when I was a teenager and bought vol 3 secondhand for this challenge bc I always wanted to finish it. It’s about a girl at a very elite high school who finds out that her family owes a lot of money to the yakuza. To repay them, she enters the Money Game that is established at her school, which consists of multiple rounds of competing against different opponents in different challenges, cheating is allowed. While I enjoyed the atmosphere and the reading experience, I’m not the biggest fan of anything beyond the first volume. It gets a little absurd and one does not get the chance to solve the mysteries of the rounds alongside the protagonist, which I would’ve liked to try.

Book with riddles: Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

I love the movie, so I hoped to like the book as well. Sadly, I was disappointed :(

I think one of the problems with it was the pacing, because a lot of the moments that are essential for the plot and should be interesting to read are just really hard to transfer to written text (while looking cool on screen). It’s not that interesting to hear Wade talk about how he has to beat a Pacman-high score. Moments like these were either boring to listen to (audiobook) or skipped over by the author, the latter option being weird as well because some of these moments were quite important. I also found Wade to be pretty annoying and full of himself. I think he compensated a lot of his low self esteem by feeling like the absolute best at knowing niche pop culture details. I kind of relate to that bc my self-esteem is held up by similar things, but I would like to think that I am not as insufferable. Or maybe I am but nobody notices bc nobody can read my thoughts. And I had to listen to Wade’s through the whole book, which made me want to scream sometimes. Artemis was pretty cool, but I felt like a lot of her character was the way it was to make sure she’s the ideal girl that lonely gamer guys wish to meet somewhen (spoken in cliches, I don’t want to shame lonely gamer guys in general here). I guess you can read this book either as a homage to 80s pop culture and be happy about a virtual reality adventure or it reads as a slightly problematic self-insert. … Idk, the book had its moments but ultimately it was a bit of a letdown. I will stick to the movie. And I still love the premise of this story a lot.

Nostalgic read: Sieben Pfoten für Penny – Freiheit für einen Delfin by Thomas Brezina

This book is part of a large series of books about a teenage girl named Penny who gets involved in different stories with animals that usually need saving. Like Flipper 2, the dolphin this book is about – or rather: Should be about. The story of saving this dolphin would be enough to tell a compelling story, if it was detailed enough. Instead, a lot of different side plots get introduced and solved within a few scenes and everything just felt rushed, mismatched and weird. I wondered whether that was because I am reading this as an adult now or if it was because of the way it was written and I landed on the latter since I read plenty of children’s books as an adult that I enjoyed a lot.

Nonfiction: Interest and Investment in fictional Romances (van Monsjou & Mar, 2019)

I stumbled upon this study while researching for my thesis and downloaded it bc boy oh boy am I myself invested in fictional romances – so why not find out what science says about it. I will not go into detail here bc there are too many tiny findings for that, but I was expecting what the authors were expecting as well: That high involvement in fictional romances compensates one’s one loneliness/dissatisfaction with love life and correlates with attachment anxiety. Interestingly enough, the attachment anxiety part was more or less there (they listed some statistically insignificant findings as well though and I don’t remember whether this was one of them and I also don’t remember whether it was found in all studies that included the attachment anxiety measurement). The loneliness/dissatisfaction thing was not found, instead people who were more interested in fictional romances seemed to use those as an exploration for their own romantic wishes – which makes sense, I guess. It is to be said though that the sample was taken from people who were not very involved in fandom over all, only a slight number of participants read or wrote fanfiction for example. As well as the authors, I do think that in a sample that consists of people who are actually involved in shipping and stuff, the results could be more consistent with the expectations, because I do think there is a big difference in the reasons for enjoying the chemistry of a fictional couple casually and being extremely invested in a fictional couple to the point of obsession. Therefore, I’d like to read follow-up studies that have these samples; so far, I have not seen these anywhere.

#i am working on it #have fun reading me thoughts on some books #studyblr w/knives reading challenge #autumn reading challenge 2.0 #bookblr

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rinadragomir · 2 years

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Okay Rina, here we go (because you’re amazing, you deserve a distraction, and I like to rant) 💖

- Charles x Alastair: I have, in fact, unfortunately seen people who ship them and I’m still sick. Genuinely wish for anyone (though Alastair is def more satisfying) to put him in his place.

- Thomas x Alastair: My everything. My OTP in the whole TSC fandom. I generally like reading fanon content, but sometimes it feels like Thomas isn’t understood by the fandom at all? Y’all forgive Alastair (and super rightly), but show absolutely no empathy towards Thomas. And honestly, I agree with the complaints about his behaviour in CoI, but I don’t get why people can’t read the context. Which doesn’t actually mean justifying, just understanding the situation.

- Eugenia x Ariadne/Kamala: Flawless. Too good to be canon. Doesn’t mean I’m not bitter about it, though.

- Anna x Ariadne/Kamala: Just don’t. Listen, I loved them in Every Exquisite Thing, and I was so happy about a wlw couple being “more central” to the story. BUT, let’s be honest, they were completely ruined after that. They were still okay in CoG, though I didn’t like how some things were handled, but lines were crossed in CoI. There was too much humiliation, too little understanding and too little sympathy towards Ariadne, her life and situation. On top of that, Anna showed that she doesn’t know her at all. I’m pretty sure they’re going to be endgame (if they’re fine by the end of CoT that is), but I don’t like it.

- Jesse x Lucie: Nice, but way too overrated by the fandom. Idk, I read TLH with great expectations for them (pun not intended lol), but I felt like most of their scenes were just okay. I’m not sure why, but they could never make me feel the pathos I was expecting because of their situation.

- James x Cordelia: Boring, but I do hope they’re okay in the end, because Cordelia deserves it. I’m gonna be honest (sorry in advance Rina because I know you love him), but I don’t like James. He deserves happiness after everything he went through, though, and I hope he gets it.

- James x Grace: Doesn’t deserve to actually be called a ship, and I despise it. However, it’s really worth a mention that I was very intrigued by the original idea of them (though I’ve always wanted Grace and Kit to be endgame), and I was really curious to see how that was going to go. For me, Grace wasn’t in love with him even then, but it’s evident James was, and honestly I was always curious to see how he ended up with Cordelia.

- Matthew x Cordelia: A big, gigantic no, but their friendship is great. Probably one, if not the, best developed, and I hate that Cassie’s gonna make it weird.

- Matthew x Kellington: They had so much potential, but I hate it because I’m pretty sure there’s a gross age gape. If their dynamic had been with someone who wasn’t toxic for Matthew and had the right age, I would’ve loved it.

- Grace x Christopher: Loved it since 2014, my TLH OTP then, and my second since Thomastair’s been revealed. I wish the timeline of the books would allow us to see more, but for how everything stands it wouldn’t be right for Cassie to give anything more than hints about them being together in the future. I don’t necessarily disagree with them being on the spectrum (though I also doesn’t see particular clues in that direction), but I don’t think they’d be at one end of it. I believe there have been clues showing they can be interested in romance at the very least, and that’s why I could potentially see them being demi or grayromantic. However, my knowledge about this topic isn’t as extensive as I’d like, so there could be better suggestions.

Couples aside, I also want to mention that Thomas and Christopher and Jesse and Grace are the best platonic relationships, and I wish there were more scenes about them. They deserved to be Parabatai. I’ll also take the opportunity to say that neither Matthew and James nor Lucie and Cordelia make good Parabatai pairings. The problem isn’t keeping secrets because that can make sense depending on the circumstances, but they almost never rely on each other or lean on the other when they need help. I also wouldn’t mind the Thieves going their own ways (except Kit and Tom). It’s just… if they make it work, then good for them and I’ll be happy, but atm they’re not really good for each other. Matthew and James have their own things going on, and beyond that there’s not really that strong of a bond (or desire to really get to know the others and what’s going on with them). It just feels like the four of them love each other, but the bonds that tie them have mostly grown out of their families’ closeness and very little else.

*afraid*

1) noooooooo you were hallucinating! No way it's a thing NO WAY!

2)Thomas is not understood even by his best friends like?... He's the most chaotic and emotional boy in their group. Like seriously, I usually don't read fanfiction (unfortunately) cause every time I start sth I'm always: "nO wAy tHeY wOuLd sAy/do tHat, literally no way". ANYWAY, Thomastair is a gem of our community 💅🏻✨

3)pfffff YesYES I remember the time people used to ship them REALLY HARD. I wonder who came up with this idea, it's so interesting 👀

4)JUST YES🥺listen🥺👉🏻👈🏻WHAT IF! IN! CHAIN OF THORNS! EVERYTHING! IS GONNA! BE! FIXED!🥺yes I absolutely have 99 reasons to hate Anna, cause she's 1) annoying 2) ignorant 3)thinks she's better than everyone BUT

as I said here she's just a fucking stupid teenager whose parents never said "you're cringe, never do this shit again". Like idk why all adults around her see her behavior as normal or "cool". Someone just has to let her understand that you can't be that "I don't listen to parents, I party all night, drink vodka with weird adults and break hearts for a dare like that boy from After" 16yo kid forever.

Like the life she lives doesn't make her happy just as it doesn't make people who she loves happy. She just needs to gain some braincells before CHOT🥺

5)...

POV: James and Lucie are you fav characters and you've just read this ask

7) It's not a ship at all but I've written something about them here (if I'm not mistaken👀)

8) right right 😊 chemistry - yes, healthy relationship - not yet. As I said before, they were healthy for each other before the chain of iron, they definitely have chemistry, but now they're a bad influence for each other.

Matthew definitely needs some time WITHOUT her, to get over his feelings. Cause it's not a love, it's an illusion of healing, of something good in his life. She doesn't even love him back, so it's only gonna make it worse for him

Every time Cordelia interacts with Matthew in COI she uses him for running away from her problems and to focusing on someone else's issues. She has to face her own battles and Matthew, trying to help, only leads her further away from the right path.

9)I have nothing to say here, cause we hardly saw any interactions. Gotta wait for chot 😌

10) I'm so torn rn. I agree with 70% of this and and strongly disagree with everything else. I'm not gonna say anything except I need to read chain of thorns to complete my opinion on this. Cause these are really complicated topics🤔

OH MY GOD I ANSWERED EVERYTHING I'M SO PROUD OF MYSELF LOOK AT ME BEING SO GOOD AT TEXTING IN ENGLISH FOR SO LONG ✨💘💓✨✨💘💓✨

#asks✨#the last hours #chain of thorns #chain of iron #cordelia carstairs #james herondale #matthew fairchild #lucie herondale #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs

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growup-thatbeautiful · 3 years

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I saw that you’re trying out new prompts based on songs, which is pretty dope! Idk if you’ve heard surrender by billy talent but if you could do that with Nat x reader and if possible a happy ending but that’s up to you :)

you’ve introduced me to a beautiful song, nonnie! thank you! i hope this is what you’re looking for :) i’m so glad you wanted a happy ending lol cause the last one i did was sad

also, i’m so so sorry that this one took so long to write. but i made it in time for scarlett’s birthday sooooo yay!!

send me a song and i’ll write a fic!

surrender

you knew going into it that dating natasha would be different. how could it not be? she has a lot of shit going on.

you had wrongly assumed that by different, your relationship with her would be filled with weeks away and last minute cancellations. and it is, but it’s also full of other things.

like how closed off she can be at times. usually when she comes home she’s relieved to see you at your house, smiling at you and staying close to you for the rest of the night. there are times, though, when she doesn’t say a word all night. she’ll eat, shower, kiss you goodnight without saying a word. you know it’s part of her trauma. she’s gone through a lot, most of which you can’t pretend to understand. you just do what you can. you make her tea the way she likes it, you get her favorite blankets out, turn on her favorite show.

you wouldn’t give it up for anything else. anything easier would seem like so much less after being with her.

you see her before she sees you, which is completely abnormal. she’s almost always the one who finds you first. it’s her profession. she’s sitting at an outside table, across the street from you. there’s a cup of coffee sitting on the table along with a journal. you can see airbuds in her ears, so she’s either on a job or just listening to music. you know she won’t mind if you go over no matter what. if she’s on a job it’ll make her blend in more, and if she’s not then she’s always happy to see you.

“hey.” you don’t say her name in case she’s not supposed to be seen here.

“hi angel. fury gave me the day off, i thought i would ask you to come meet me. looks like you found me anyway.”

“of course i did. what are you reading?”

“some trash romance book. i’m listening to that romeo and juliet song that you told me about. it’s sweet.” a smile breaks across your face. it’s the little things that she does for you that make you love her so much. she’ll ask your for songs you like so she can listen to them when she’s gone and text you her favorite parts. it’s adorable.

“i’m glad you like it,” you say as you sit down next to her, taking a sip of her coffee. “why did fury give you the day off?”

natasha sighs and takes a sip from her coffee, placing it in between the two of you because she knows you’ll steal more of it. “i have to go on a mission this week. i’ll be gone a few days. i know you wanted to spend some time together, so i’m sorry.”

“oh.” is your immediate reply. then, “that’s okay. i know you don’t control when you go. the world can’t wait for me.”

“mine can,” she says. and that’s the end of it.

the!next day, she’s getting ready. her bag is packed as scarcely as it can be, a few necessary clothes and weapons.

you can tell her mindset by the way she sets her shoulders. like she’s preparing to strut, to fight, to kill.

she walks over to where you’re pacing. logically, you know that you shouldn’t get so nervous. she’s so capable of handling herself, but you can’t help it.

“angel, look at me.” you do. “it’s going to be okay. i’ll come back home to you. i won’t leave you like that.”

“i know,” you say. “i know. you just…mean something much to me.”

“you mean the world to me too, love. that’s why i won’t let anyone take me away from you.” she kisses you, gives you a hug, and promises again to be back soon.

natasha gets back a week later, exhausted. her red hair falls lank and lifeless against her suit. you can see she’s hurt. luckily, you’re used to things like this. she falls into your arms and you help her to the bathroom. she pushes your hands away and warps her injuries up. trying not to show how it stings, you go into the kitchen and start making her some tea to help any pain she’s in.

“where did you go?” she asks, limping into the room.

“i was going to make you some tea.”

“i just fucking got here and you’re already walking away. i thought you would be happy to see me,” she says.

“of course i’m happy to see you,” you frown. “i thought you didn’t want my help. you pushed me away back there.”

“don’t turn that into something. i’ve had years of doing this by myself. no need to change it now,” she states simply.

“just because you can doesn’t mean you have to. i can learn.”

“do we have to do this now?” she asks.

“you fucking started this, tasha. don’t put this on me.”

“right, cause you don’t do anything wrong.”

“jesus,” you draw out. “i didn’t say that.”

“right. so why don’t you just say nice and clear what you mean by this little passive-aggression.”

there are times when you want her to surrender herself to you fully, the way she has for you. you want her to understand that you aren’t just here for her when she’s happy.

she’s leaning against the counter across from you, wearing a tank top and sweats. she’s got a bandage on one of her arms and she’s saying off of her right leg.

“sometimes it feels like you don’t even need me. i’m here for nothing at all. you get to pretend you’re in love,” you finally say.

“pretend like i’m in love? do you think i’ve been pretending the whole time? you think this isn’t real?”

“i think that you’re scared. scared to let me in, scared that i’ll leave when i see what you’re made of.”

“because i’m made of monsters and fragments of a person! i’m not okay, and i don’t want you to be the person to ruin love for you.”

“ruin love? no offense, but not even you could do that. and who fucking cares what you’re made of. it’s not like this is news to me. i knew that coming into this relationship, and even if i didn’t i still would stay. i’m not going to run away.”

“you can’t promise that.”

“sure i can. i promise that whatever darkness is lurking behind you, i won’t leave. i’ll stay as long as you’ll have me. you don’t have to make this a fight. you can be at ease. you can surrender.”

“i don’t surrender,” she says. you would be hurt if she didn’t sound so helpless. “i don’t know how to let go. i can forget things, i can forget places ans people and horrible deeds, but i can’t forget anything about you. i cant let go because if i do i’ll get lost in you.”

“is that so bad? it sounds like you’re holding back from getting something you welly deserve because you don’t think you should get it.”

“there’s a lot of complexity to being a widow. i didn’t get to choose love for most of my life, and when i did it was ripped away from me with vengeful force. i’m not used to a consistent lifestyle.”

“so we can work on that. together,” you plead. “come on, tasha. i want this. i want you. but it can’t work if i don’t know how you are or what you’re thinking. i don’t want our moments to pass without spending as much time knowing you as possible. you’re a flower in a field of weeds.”

“okay, angel. i’ll try to open up to you.”

#nat romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #mcu natasha #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romonova deserved better #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff and you #natalia romanoff #natalia romanova #black widow x you #black widow #black widow hc #black widow x y/n #black widow fic #writing #scarjo #scarlett johansson fic #scarlett johansson #my natasha

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rjalker · 2 years

Text

Aromisics are like "it's not canon that Murderbot's aromantic, there's no evidence for that!"

Meanwhile, Murderbot:

I hadn’t bothered to monitor them on ART’s cameras or try to slip a drone in; the chances that they were having sex and/or a relationship discussion (either of which I would prefer to stab myself in the face than see) were far higher than the chance that they were saying anything I needed to know about.

Murderbot: Yeah I'd rather stab myself in the face than listen to people talk about their romantic relationship.

Aromisics: IDK, I can't read suddenly, it's only asexual, it's totally fine for me to ship it with people, aroace people don't exist, they don't ever explicitly say the word "aromantic" so it's okay for me to erase this very blatant part of its personality for my shipping obsession :)

literally here's more examples since aromisics want to pretend they don't know how to read:

I’d seen it on the news feeds. And the entertainment feed, where the bots were all happy servants or were secretly in love with their guardians. If it showed the bots hanging out watching the entertainment feed all through the day cycle with no one trying to make them talk about their feelings, I would have been a lot more interested.

It also sounded vaguely like the break-up part of the romance scenes on the shows I watched, most of which I usually skimmed over.

I knew from threat assessments on Ratthi’s associates that he had a lot of relationships with all genders of humans and augmented humans and he and they all seemed very happy about it. Amena should ask him for advice. I didn’t think she wanted to hear that, either.

Then Amena said, “Do you love my second mother? Thiago thinks so.”

I should have known this was going to turn into an interrogation. I said, “Not the way he thinks.”

Ratthi sighed, leaned against the wall and said, “So, you have a relationship with this transport.”

I was horrified. Humans are disgusting. “No!”

It still sounded disgusting. “Do you have to call it a relationship?”

(sarcasm:) yes because allo-romantic people totally go around calling romantic relationships "disgusting" all right, that's totally normal for allo-romantic people to do (end sarcasm)

Like people I don't think I've read a single book by Martha Wells so far where the protagonist wasn't aromantic. I don't know if Martha Wells knows the word aromantic even exists. But literally all her protagonists in all her books I've read so far are aromantic, even if that word isn't ever explicitly used.

Literally just look at The Books of the Raksura.

Look at The Fall of Ile-Rien.

If you're a fucking shipping obsessed aromisic who only cares about media when there's romance in it, go find another fucking author, because you have come to the wrong fucking place.

Stop erasing Murderbot aromanticism just because you're fucking obsessed with shipping.

Murderbot does not need to have a romantic relationship to be happy. You're just an aromisic who is missing literally every single point in this series.

#Murderbot deserves a better fandom #discussion of aromisia #Murderbot #Rjalker reads The Murderbot Diaries #discussion of amisia #aroacemisia #aromisia #amisia #discussion of aroacemisia

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ahxiang · 3 years

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hi tea!! ive been 👀 at reset lately do u feel like telling me a bit about it? like i know it's about a time loop but it seems a bit long to be going over and over for 15 eps 😅

cata, beloved!! that is exactly what i thought when i first started it! i was like "how are they gonna stretch a time loop over an entire series??" and then a few eps in i 180'd and thought "how have ppl been able to fit time loops into only one ep/movie??" it seems like it'd be annoyingly repetitive, but surprisingly it isn’t! the individual loops tend to last a while and the plot is pretty different in each one. because of the decisions the main characters make and their goal of ending the loop by doing things differently, it doesn’t seem like watching the same thing over again, even when there are details or motions you know in advance. it keeps you on your toes each loop and helps with that redundancy.

the way it is edited also helps. for loops that are a lot shorter and can be redundant, the show presents them to us in intriguing manners that personally kept up my (generally very bad) attention. and this goes for more than just the repetition! i love the cinematography and editing of reset, it heightens the mystery elements and knows just how long to focus on one scene/storyline to keep the audience engaged but not bored. through a technical lens, i honestly think the series is a work of art and has been made by people who are v good at their jobs.

now, the shining factor of the drama is truly the stories it tells and the heart it has. the time loop plot is fun and exciting and mysterious and all that, but, like the lovely sofia @ahxu-laowen said, “apart from the very intriguing plot, this story is about kindness and empathy”. the language arts nerd in me is popping out here but every character is a round character and almost all of them are dynamic. we get to see so much more than just the protags and their adventures with the time loop. we get to peer into the lives of the people around them, those who generally would be tertiary characters instead become deuteragonists that the series makes us care about and empathize with. and the magic of this is especially present in the main character shi qing, who is kind to all of them and listens to (or investigates into) their stories. without giving anything away, even the antagonist is round and dynamic, and i think it serves to give us a fantastically fleshed out story. it's so much more than just a time loop.

and of course, while not the main focus and definitely more subtle, the romance is just *chef’s kiss*. i know you watched happiness, so i'd say its romance is very similar to that of reset. i've said this so many times to so many people, but i am just the biggest sucker for that whole "we've been through so much together/only trust each other" dynamic. i mean, (to paraphrase @bittergloss) the intimacy of being trapped somewhere that only they know the truth about even though they exist with everyone else?? having to fight and struggle to survive and get out while only having each other to lean on??? staying by each other's side bc goddamn it they've gotten this far together and going on any other way is just wrong???? that shit does things to me 😭😭😭 so yeah, if you liked that about happiness i think you'll enjoy it in reset as well.

and just some closing remarks on the comparison of reset to happiness bc they're very similar in my mind (though that may just be bc i hyperfixated on them back to back absdjsk). they've both got the same balance of plot/action to personal relationships and the plots are v similar from a danger/urgency standpoint. idk, i just think they have v similar vibes and i enjoyed both immensely!

aaaanywayyyyy, sorry for the essay, i love reset sm and i have a lot to say, lmao. i hope that was helpful and that you decide to watch!! if it helps, my mom doesn't really watch tv and drops things sooo fast, but she loves reset! like, she's obsessed now, absjdkfl. and you picked the perfect time to start it bc it's fully subbed as of literally right now! anyway, yeah, hope you enjoy and you are so welcome to come scream about it with me if you decide to watch!

#sorry it took me so long to answer i went to bed early and then had a lotttt to say #tea answers #cata #mutuals #reset

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rezzyromance · 3 years

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Oooo I had an idea- Moreau with a reader who is very cuddly n’ caring as well as very patient, but, once you make them mad, b o o m full angy creature mode. (Maybe someone makes fun of sal while testing the readers patience so they defend sal or something idk- (;^^)

This page is slowly turning into a Moreau fan page and I couldn't be anymore happier!!

You've been waiting patiently in the shack that you and Moreau stayed in together. He was called to another one of Mother Miranda's meetings along with the other Lords. As much as you'd like to join him for the meetings, him and the other Lords agreed that it would be safer for you if Miranda didn't know of your existence. Moreau understood the importance of keeping you a secret from his beloved "mother", but he failed to stay silent about you to the other Lords. He was just too proud and happy that he finally found someone who loved him like the people in the romance movies he watches love each other.

To try and make time pass by, you began to clean slightly. The shack was a bit messy when you first started living with him. Now, you like to help out and sweep from time to time. He also began to pick up after himself better, hoping to impress you. After sweeping for a while, you could hear movement in the distance. You look out the window to see Moreau returning from the meeting, his head hanging lower than usual.

"Hello love!", you call out to him from the window, waving to greet him. He glances at you and lifts his hand as a low effort way to respond. This wasn't usual for him. Usually he would greet you with open arms and a smiling face. Your heart began to sink slightly, worried about what may have caused him to seem so sad. Once he made it through the door of the shack, you walk over to him and place a hand on his cheek. "Is everything okay, Sal?", you ask him. You noticed how his cheeks were wet, streams of tears falling on each side. "Heeyyyy what's wrong?", you ask in a comforting voice, pulling him in for a hug. He doesn't hesitate to throw his arms around you and hugs you tightly. You could hear him sniffle as his crying continued. "Let's calm down for a sec and then you could tell me what happened, okay?", you ask him as you start to lead him to the couch. "..okay", he gives a quit answer as his sniffling continued.

Once you made it to the couch, you threw a large blanket over the both of you. You pulled him closer and wiped away his tears again. His breathing started to grow rapid as he tried to stifle his crying. You began to quietly comfort him, saying things like "I got you." and "You're okay.", as you held him close. His sniffling finally slowed to a stop and he seemed to be calm.

You pulled away from holding him and had your eyes meet with his. "Now.... what caused this?", you asked, wanting him to open up to you. He hesitated and looked away. "It's okay. It doesn't matter", he sighed. "C'mon Sal. It matters to me.", you say. "Well.... Angie called me ugly again..", he seemed embarrassed. "Ugh that piece of plastic? Can she even see with those marble eyes of hers? Obviously she doesn't see what I see.", Angie was a bit well known to be harsh with her words. It wasn't uncommon for her to say something rude about his appearance, but it also wasn't common for Moreau to be upset by her words. He was good at brushing off her harshness, so what else could be bother him. "..and.. Heisenberg laughed... and..", you could see the tears begin to pool in his eyes once more. You started rubbing his arm. "What else?", you push him to open up more. "He called me a moronic freak.... and said he doesn't understand how you.. love me and.. you use me to have a roof over your head..", he admitted.

You had stopped rubbing his arm. Your hand was now balled into a fist as rage began to boil inside of you like a volcano ready to explode. "Is that all?", you ask him, unaware of how aggressive your tone was. "Yes.. Mother split up the meeting after that and he laughed as he left..", he sulked. "You know that none of what he says is true right? You know damn well you deserve love more than his bastard ass. And you know I will not let him bully you like a child." he was caught off guard by your tone. Your jaw was clenched and your brow was furrowed. He was happy that Heisenberg's words weren't true, but he was worried about what his words may cost him.

"Where is he?", you ask as you stand up from the couch. "W-What?", Moreau stood up as well, unsure of what you were planning. "Where is Heisenberg? I need to...talk..to him.", you say. "He said he was going to visit the Duke and buy some stuff...", his hands anxiously began to fiddle with each other. "Take me to him. Lead me to where he is.", you demand. "I don't wanna make him mad!", he panicked. "Don't worry big guy. I'm just gonna talk to him a little bit.", you lie. You knew damn well you were going to do a little more than talk to him. "Okay..", he took a deep breath and began to walk and you followed.

There's never a good way to know exactly where the Duke is. He seems to pop up almost anywhere and always has exactly what you need. He did have a few specific spots that he would set up shop at though, and in one of those places is where you found him. You could see his carriage set up between a few trees on a trail. The Duke was discussing something with Heisenberg. "Ah (Y/N)! What can I offer you today?", the Duke asked once he saw you. Heisenberg looked over and smirked once he saw you with an anxious Moreau following.

"What's this? Did you snitch on me, Moreau?", he said with a cackle that followed. You never stopped walking, nearly marching, towards him. He was still laughing when you stood in front of him with little to no distance between the both of you. His laugh made you sick. So sick that you reeled your arm back and slapped the man across the face as hard as you could. His glasses flew off his face and landed in the snow and his laughing ceased. Moreau covered his mouth to muffle a gasp and the Duke did the same in hopes to muffle his chuckle. "Listen here you pretentious fuck.", you snap as your anger peaked. The man jerked his head to make eye contact with you. His gaze was sharp, but not sharp enough to cut away your rage. "How miserable do you have to be to get a kick out of acting like a bully on the school house playground? You have a lot of fucking guts for a man who dresses like he's living on the streets!" He leans in close to you to try and get you to react or budge. You don't move. "And you have a lot of fucking guts for someone who I can kill within seconds.", he threatens. You respond by slapping off his hat which had been poking your forehead. He grabbed you by the wrist and began to squeeze tightly. "Do you know who you're fucking with?", his breath hit your face. "Yeah, an ugly mother fucker.", you say as you kick him in the ankle. It didn't hurt, but he was shocked by your boldness and the way that you didn't even flinch. He knew you were aware of his powers, yet still you continued to taunt him and stand your ground all at once. You could tell he began to feel overwhelmed as his eyes looked around and his posture began to change. He knew he couldn't break you down. He took a deep breath and walked over to his glasses. When he bent down to pick them, you grabbed him by the back of his coat collar. You leaned in real close to his ear and whispered, "You better fucking believe me when I say I will fucking kill you if you ever make that man cry again. I don't give a damn if you're an oversized magnet. I'll rip you to fucking shreds if you even fucking look at him disrespectfully. Do you understand me?", you nearly spit in his ear. "Yes. I do.", he says as he rises up. You stand up straight as well, handing him his hat that you knocked off earlier. He takes it and looks over at Moreau and the Duke. Both of them had a smile on their faces, obviously enjoying the show they had witnessed. His whole body grew hot with embarrassment as he tried to act cool, putting on his hat and glasses. He gave a nod to the men and walked away.

"My, my, (Y/N). I've never seen anyone stand up to Lord Heisenberg like that. It was quite the sight.", he gave a guttural laugh. "What can I say? I won't stand for slander of any kind when it comes to him.", you motion over to Moreau who began to walk over. "Are you okay, (Y/N)?", he nervously placed his hand on your shoulder. "Absolutely. I made sure Heisenberg won't bother you ever again.", you say before placing a kiss on his forehead. This caused him to smile and wrap his arms around one of yours. "Well now that we're here, Duke do you happen to have any cheeses?", you ask. "I always come prepared for my loyal customers!", he says before handing over some type of exported cheese. You pull out the amount of Lie needed from your pockets and hand it over to the Duke.

The day ended with you both curled up on the couch in each others arms, watching a new romance movie neither one of you have seen, as Moreau enjoyed his new exported cheese. He couldn't stop smiling as he held you close. After today, he truly understood just how willing you were to fight for him.

#moreau x reader #re8 #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #salvator moreau headcanon #salvatore moreau

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ranhaitanisgf · 3 years

Text

;; 𝖆𝖑𝖇𝖊𝖉𝖔

otherwise read as: you’re a stressed out bitch and albedo is worried

❧ masterlist

Being an assistant to the Acting Grandmaster of Monstadt is no easy task. It was your job to make sure that Jean wouldn't get overworked again, and to keep her in tip-top shape.

When the job was offered up to you, you immediately accepted; Jean was a close friend of yours, and it hurt you to see her so stressed out every day while still tending to the everyday tasks of helping the citizens of Monstadt. You were willing to take on her mountains of work to give her a break, because Barbatos knows she deserves it. [perhaps he does-]

"Are you sure about this (Y/N)? It's a lot to get through, surely I can at least help somewhat-" You rolled your eyes at her, shooting her a playful smile.

"Jean! It's finee, I got this! You just go take a break, maybe go out for lunch with Lisa? I'm sure she would be more than happy to oblige!" You winked at her, laughing at her slightly flushed face

"Well, if you're sure, then I will be taking my leave. But please let me know if you need me to come back at any moment, and I will be sure to come and help." You turned her around by her shoulders, marching her out of her office and leading her to the doorway of the library.

"Now! Go and take a break! Go on a date and romance that-"

"(Y/N)!!" You giggled at her reddening state.

"Alright, alright...LISA!! JEAN'S HERE AND SHE HAS SOMETHING TO ASK!!" You called. You saluted to Jean, who was looking at you with panicked eyes.

"(Y/N)!!"

You raced back to her office, quickly grabbing the piles of paperwork and list of commissions to do today and sprinting down the steps into the basement of the headquarters. [idk where the lab is so bear with me here]

"(Y/N)!! Get back here!!" You could hear Jean yell in the distance.

As your assistant, it is my duty to help you with your future, and that includes matchmaking. You'll forgive me when you have a girlfriend.

"Albedo!! Door!!" You yelled out into the hallway. Sure enough, just as you were about to run into the door, it opened, letting you inside before closing swiftly behind you.

Panting, you heaved the piles of paperwork onto a nearby cluttered table, accidentally knocking over a few oddities.

"I was about to visit you, but it seems you visited me first." He chuckled.

Ahhh, cute!!

"Do you mind if I do this work in here? I wouldn't want someone to walk in looking for Jean and just find me lurking about." Albedo nodded, and you sighed, sitting down in a nearby chair and rolling your neck in preparation for the time that would be needed for the mountain of paperwork in front of you.

"Did you give Jean another break today?" Albedo asked softly.

"Yup! As her trusty assistant, I gave her a date as well!" He chuckled at this, wrapping his arms loosely around you from behind and resting his chin on your head.

"And I presume that's why you ran in here full speed?" An amused tone filled his voice, and you could imagine the playful smirk on his lips.

"Yup! Now, to get this work done!" You thought that once you started, Albedo would go and work on his experiments and whatnot, but to your surprise, he stayed behind you, watching as you filled out forms and whatnot for Jean.

"Albedo?" It had been almost half an hour, and while you not were displeased that he had stayed, you were a bit confused as to why.

"Ah...nevermind." Yeah, you weren't about to risk him leaving.

After a while, he got off and moved to the chair beside you, reaching to the main table in the middle of the room and grabbing his sketchbook and a pencil. He started sketching something on the paper, and you tried to lean over to see, but he angled himself back. You frowned, pouting as you laid your head on the table, continuing to sign papers.

"(Y/N), are you almost finished?"

"Not nearly, why?" Albedo let out a long sigh, not responding to your question. You brushed it off, not thinking much of his response.

Several hours passed by, and you were almost done with the paperwork. Albedo had stayed in the lab the entire time, sketching for a majority of the time, using the time he wasn't sketching to briefly tidy up a bit.

"(Y/N), are you done yet?" He asked, shutting his sketchbook and placing it on the table.

"Almost done, I probably need like another hour. I have no idea how Jean did this all by herself before..." Your head rested in the palm of your hand, your eyebrows furrowed as you thought of how exhausted Jean must have been, especially with the Fatui in the city, as well as the Stormterror threat that had happened a few months back.

If only I had noticed sooner...

Your pen paused against the parchment as you thought of your actions in the past.

"How about you finish the rest tomorrow (Y/N), and we can maybe grab some dinner and go home?" Albedo's hand gently grabbed the pen out of yours, setting it down on the table.

"No no, I should finish it now. It has to get done at some point; besides, I'm doing this for Jean. I told her it would get done, so it's going to get done." You picked the pen back up and continued on with doing the work, rapidly scribbling across the parchment as your eyes scanned over the document.

A frown appeared on Albedo's face. You hadn't told him, but he knew you felt guilty for not noticing Jean's fatigued and stressed self before. You didn't really notice it, but you were always working just as hard as Jean, just in a different way. On top of being Jean's assistant and taking on her work, you were always helping people around Monstadt with little errands, doing extra commissions on top of the ones assigned, attending to emergencies in Monstadt, Dragonspine, and Liyue, and so on.

He was getting worried about you; he didn't want you to end up fatigued like Jean was before. The only problem was that you were quite stubborn and didn't like to listen to other people when it came to your well-being. you always said that you would take a break if you weren't feeling well, but Albedo saw right through that lie.

"(Y/N), please. I'm worried about you." You looked up at him for a moment, your eyebrows furrowed in a confused look.

"Why are you worried about me? I'm fine Albedo, really." He merely sighed in response, his gloved fingers reaching out to gently brush your darkening eyebags. You looked to the side, groaning

"You're reminding me of Jean when she kept overworking herself; she said the same thing to me. I don't want to see that happen to you (Y/N). It's not healthy to keep taking on all of the work, so please just come and rest. Do it for me?" You could see a glint of sadness and desperation in his eyes, and you nervously looked down at the documents before looking back to him.

There isn't too much, so I might be able to get the rest done tomorrow...

"Ahh, okay then, you've convinced me. Let's go." You stood up from the chair, stretching out before stacking up the papers before you left.

As you walked out of the lab with Albedo, he discarded his gloves and put them in his pocket, and laced your fingers together, enjoying the feeling of warmth from your hand. the two of you made your way to Good Hunter, quickly grabbing some food before heading home.

It was late at night, which meant that the stars were out and shining in their full glory. the moonlight poured out, spilling onto the streets with a milky glow.

"Albedo, thanks..." He looked towards you to find a most amazing sight indeed.

You shyly looked away, a red tint coloring your cheeks. As he looked at you, you slowly made eye contact with him, giving him a small smile.

His unoccupied hand shot up to cover to lower half of his face as he looked away; he could feel the intense flushing of his cheeks at the cute look you had sent him.

"Ah, it was my pleasure..."

Cute...

#albedo #albedo x reader #xreader #x reader #reader #readerinsert #oneshot #fanfic #albedo kreideprinz #albedo kreideprinz x reader #albedo kreideprinz x reader oneshot #;; hana writes genshin

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thelittleboyfromloveactually · 3 years

Text

Two Shorten the Road

part 1

joel dawson x reader

warnings: cussing? idk, bad writing.....fluff, cuteness, monsters(is this a warning), mentions of death, SPOILERS

word count: 2154

prompt: when your best friend decides to leave your colony to go find the love of his life, you decide to join him on his journey even if you aren’t so happy about where this journey is going

Welp I did it, I took it into my own hands. I am writing a joel dawson series. Because we👏need 👏more👏joel👏fics👏 it’s basically the movie, almost the same script but obviously slightly different…ENJOY! <3

No one in my generation or later had a typical upbringing, I mean some of us did but then the world ended. This type of thing sounds straight out of some apocalyptic movie, but we basically live in one now. Agatha 616, an asteroid heading straight for earth, I know, so original. So we all came together and did what we do best, blow things up. Yup, we blew up teh asteroid, and humanity was saved! We thought. But here’s the thing about rockets, they are made of a bunch of chemical compounds which eventually rained back down on earth. Suddenly there were these Aileen creatures that mutated and started eating us. Ants, lizards, roaches, crocodiles, you name it. Our president was even killed by a giant moth. Ya….not so original now huh? We suddenly need tanks to kill ants, oh man I remember the good old days when a shoe would do just fine. Sometimes even the tanks didn’t work. Eventually the really big ones and our military took each other out and we lost 95% of the human population in a year! Those of us who survived hid, bunkers, caves, panic rooms, all around the world. So for the last seven years I’ve been hiding in an underground bunker. It’s really not as bad as it sounds, and it’s better than getting eaten alive. It’s a great group of people and we all love each other.

“Are you sure they’re asleep?”

“Who?”

“Y/N and joel!”

“Oh ya I’m sure”

“Joel? Y/n?”

“He’s asleep”

Actually we are both awake. Me and my best friend joel have kinda mastered faking being asleep. Our beds are right across from each other so we normally just lie there and make stupid faces at each other. We are the only two single people in our bunker. Nice huh? Joel is my best friend. I met him when I joined the colony. He’s the sweetest. It’s funny cause everyone thinks we should just have sex already because that’s literally all everyone else does. But we are way above that. Anyway, joel is in love with his girlfriend from before the colony, her name is Aimee. With one “I” and two “e”s. He loves to talk about her, he writes her letters. So in reality, I am the only one who is not in love in this bunker. I’ve never had a boyfriend, ever, even before the world ended.

We don’t really get any sleep. The moaning kinda keeps us awake. I got up and out of my bed and headed for the kitchen. I heard Joel’s bed creak and then his footsteps as he followed behind me. Another annoying thing about being down here is that to get to the kitchen from my room, you have to walk though other people’s bedrooms. Oh shit, they are busy, why would they leave their door open. Me and Joel stopped.

“Oh” joel and I said in unison

“Hey Y/N! Hey Joel!” Ava said

“Oh hey Ava” Joel said, we didn’t dare look over to our left.

“Y/N how’s it going?” Tim asked

“T-totally good tim, h-how are you doing” I asked

“Yeah, good” he responded

“I uh we couldn’t sleep” said Joel looking at the ceiling

“Ya we know the feeling” Ava said with a laugh

“Yeah probably not for the…..same reasons” joel said looking straight ahead

“Your guyses door was open, did you…did you know that?” I asked

“Yeah we know” they said

I shook my head and knitted my eyebrows together

“Okay” joel trailed off

Ever since Tim’s parents were eaten by a swarm of termites he and Ava have gotten really close, in every way.

“Okay, goodnight” joel said as we walked

Basically everyone is coupled up down here, a baby was born last winter! Welcome to the apocalypse kid. Ok if we ever get out of this, that would be an awesome story to tell your kids. “Oh ya I was born in an underground bunker doing a monster apocalypse” “yes exactly like World War Z but with bugs bigger than a 5 story building”. I mean come on.

So your probably wonder how the hell we get food, we’ll we have a cow. Gurdy. Gurdy is great. We also have a hunting party that brings back whatever they can from the surface. It’s gotten harder and harder, cause we ran out of bullets. And facing one of those things with a handmade weapon is just as hard as it sounds. It’s very very difficult. I go with them….sometimes. I still get scared. But I’ve been out quite a lot, especially compared to my man joel over here. I’ve been out maybe 30 times, he’s been out…maybe once, or not even. He’s the chef of the bunker. He makes super good Minestrone.

Me and joel like to hang out with Mavis. A robot. Yup. Not much for conversation, her batter is shot. Just like every other mavis I would imagine. When I’m not hunting we hang out with her. But sometimes I just go read. Reading and joel keep me sane. I mean sometimes joel drives me insane but I still love him. I have quite the collection of books too! I’ve got Emma by Jane Austen, a couple random ones that we found, all the hunger games and Harry Potter books, some mysteries that stopped being mysteries after a while, and then of course some smutty romance books for personal entertainment.

Joel likes to say that his thing is target practice. He has never hit the target but ya know, gotta entertain yourself. I think his thing is drawing though, he has this book that he draws in from Aimee. It’s really cool actually. He’s really good.

I sat watching Joel as he tried to hit the target, laughing a little every time he missed. It was cute how hard he tried.

“Shut up” he said shaking his laugh away

I laughed again, but then suddenly the lights started flickering. You could hear screeches and creeks echoing through the bunker. Joel turned to look at me. Worry and determination in his eyes. We both scrambled out of the room and into the kitchen where everyone was preparing.

“Hustle, hustle people we’ve gotta move”

I turned to look at Joel but then realized that he wasn’t next to me. Where did he go? Worry flooded through me. Suddenly the clanking of our weapon started behind me.

“Hey guys!” Joel said as he rammed into the railing, I shook my head. “Guys! I’ve got the weapons” he smiled at me

A few people walked over to him taking them out of his hands

“Stay” said Tim

“W-what?” Joel asked looking around in confusion

Everyone was talking and barking orders “grab what you need and let’s go! Y/N you coming?”

My eyes shot open “yes! Yup!” I jumped up and grabbed the bow and arrow from Joel.

“W-what's happening?” He asked innocently “what’s going on?”

“There’s a breach” said Tim

“What do you mean? Like inside the bunker breach?!” He asked

“Yes joel! Now come on!” I told him, patting him on the pack as I followed the others

He followed me and watched the plan get arranged

“Anna, Y/N and I will engage. Anderson and Tom plank him”

“Plank him, ya ok where do you guys need me? You want me to uh come through the rear or..?” Joel asked eagerly

“I don’t think your going to pass this joel” I told him

“Pass what? You guys need help, let me help” said clutching his crossbow

“You gonna make me say it?” said Sam

“Say what?!” God he was so adorably clueless

“You can’t handle it joel, your shook” said Sam, we all began getting into positions

“Ya ok, yes so you guys don’t get scared..ever?” He asked still getting ready to fight

“We get scared, we all get scared joel, but you get really scared” said Sam

“They are trying to make you feel bad joel” I said sweetly, trying to calm him down

“We love you joel”

“But your a liability”

“Ok why did that speech feel so rehearsed? And what about Y/N? She’s like…ya know?” He said bobbing his head

“Joel-“ suddenly the bunker shook and the lights flicked again

“Ok 30 meters out! Let’s move!” And we were off

Leaving joel and some others behind. You could hear the growling of whatever we were up against

I followed the others and listened carefully. I was freaking shaking. Don’t ask how I got sucked into becoming one the the hunters. Kinda just happened and I was just-

“OH SHIT!” I heard someone yell, it was too dark to see. Someone was gone, that thing took them. I couldn’t even see it. Oh fuck my life. Everyone began scattering, running away from the monster. I stopped running to take a breath, when I realized I was alone. Nicely done Y/N. The lights kept flickering. I heard something blow up in the distance.

“Conned? Conner?” I heard a whisper, one I knew all too well. Shit, joel. I ran toward the sound, and had no idea I was also running toward certain death. I stopped running. There it was, that thing. I’d never seen this before. I didn’t recognize it. I stayed silent, not moving at all. It slowly crawled over a shower curtain. Oh fuck. He was going toward joel! I quickly grabbed my bow and arrow and shot it. Right though the face. Next to its….eye I guess you could call it. Joel stood there, frozen.

I slowly walked over to him “Joel, hey are you ok?” I asked as I slipped my hand into his. He was trembling. Tears ran down his cheeks. He has a bad freezing problem, so I've been helping him work on it.

About an hour later I sat with Joel, still holding his hand as he stared out into space. We could hear everyone talking. How could this have happened?

“It ripped through steal”

“Anderson and I resealed the Breach point, nothings getting in that way again”

“But why did it happen?”

I tried to toon it out, and I hoped Joel did too.

“Joel, do you wanna talk about it?” I asked squeezing his hand, he looked so sad, which just crushed me

He shook his head

“Ok….” I nodded, I leaned into hug him but was interrupted by his voice

“How far away is Aimee's colony?” He asked

I pulled back, looking at him confused. The talking stopped and everyone look at him

“What?” Tim asked

“Aimee’s colony, how far away is it?” He repeated

“About 85 miles” he said as he furrowed his brows

“How long will it take to get there?”

“What do you mean joel?” I asked leaning closer to him

“Just humor me, how long?” He insisted

“7 days” said Tim

“Someone who’s armed and trained would hardly last 50miles, but you…joel” Ava said, I felt bad for him, he really didn’t deserve any of this

“Alright” Tim continued “now I need volunteers”

“I’m gonna go” joel said

No one said anything, they just stared

“It’s an impossible journey joel” said Tim, crossing his arms

Joel stood up, moving around my chair. “No im serious…I love you guys but there’s only one person in this world who ever truly made me happy and she’s only 85 miles away” he said strongly “I’m gonna go see her” I could see his mind was made up

God he was such a romantic, how could you not love this guy? Sure it hurts when your best friend tells you that you didn’t make him truly happy. Especially when you maybe sorta kinda have a crush on him.

He let out a breath “woah, that felt awesome” he said as he walked off to start packing

I stood there for a second processing and thinking, but then suddenly my mouth took over and well….

“I’m coming with you!” I said, he froze “I mean you can’t leave me here with these middle aged people, and your my best friend so” I shrugged

“I’ll come back for you I promise” he walked over to me “I can’t let you put yourself in even more danger” he said grabbing my arms

“I can’t let you put yourself in danger knowing that I could have helped protect you” I said, he stared blankly at me

I smiled “o-ohK…then I guess…” he trailed off

“Cool I’ll go pack” I skipped past him. Was I scared? Hell yes. But like I said, I needed to help joel and protect him in every way I can. And sure I wasn’t so happy that he was returning to his long lost love but if it made him happy then I would live. And anyway, two do shorten the road.

#love and monsters #joel dawson series #joel dawson fics #joel dawson #joel dawson x reader

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“you get me” (famous!y/n x harry)

Famous!y/n x Harry Styles

First Harry fic so please be kind, but feedback is SUPER appreciated

Initially inspired by the picture of Harry leaving the Gucci store with 15 bags but barely has anything to do with that lol

Definitely thought of Ellen for the interview idk why tho - also I struggle with writing Harry’s dialogue because I really want to get it right, but hopefully the more practice I get, the better/more natural it will sound. ALSO i have like no music or music industry background lol. Somewhat proofread, but its 2:30 am so it could be shit

Fluff!

Warnings: maybe some angst over being famous per say, past loneliness

Word Count: 3.7k literally howwww, i’m going to do a pt. 2 though because it was kind of a long set up and feelingsssss

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Interviewer: Please, welcome our next guest, a woman who’s sure to have her name written up beside the music greats someday, Ms. Y/N L/N!

You can’t contain the grin that spreads to your face as you carry yourself out onto the stage and see the audience cheering for you. It was your third big interview since your first album had been released and you’d seen your fame skyrocket over night. This being the third one this week meant you’d gotten comfortable getting asked questions, but you also weren’t bored of it yet. It was exhilarating being the center of attention, especially for something that had been your life’s work up until this point. You always had to fight for whatever you got and the recognition you were starting to have was reassurance that you hadn’t been a fool to risk a safe and certain life for your dreams.

The interview begins as the rest had, a few pleasantries, how you were feeling, and then the introduction of the album. The host asked you what your inspiration was for some of the songs and the album name and cover. You loved to talk about the music, it was the whole reason you were there. The meaning, the sound, the name, it all meant so much to you and you talked about how music can be interpreted differently by everyone and even the shifts in someone’s mood can change a song’s meaning, but what it meant to you at the time of writing was always something specific. You practiced those answers in the mirror before the interviews because they were important to you and you didn’t want your words on your art to ever be misconstrued. The host then complimented your style and you were at the point where you thought your interview should be wrapping up when they asked you one more question, and it threw you for a loop.

Interviewer: So Y/N, we’ve been hearing some rumblings around, about you and another famous musician, Mr. Harry Styles. Anything going on there?

Your face heated up, you hadn’t been expecting a personal question about possible relationships. Nothing like this had been asked of you at your previous interviews. It’s about the music, the art, and who you were, it’s always about that and nothing more. To be honest, you were a bit annoyed the host had chosen to stray from those topics. You didn’t care for the celebrity side of being a famous musician, the lack of privacy, the prying eyes of media and the general public. They saw enough of you through your art, you bore your soul through music why did they want to peak into your heart as well?

Y/N: I don’t know if I’d rather be with Harry Styles or actually be Harry Styles. Like, he’s literally such an icon, I want to be able to walk out of a Gucci store after spending hours there with 15 bags full of my purchases and helpers to carry it all out c’mon… He’s also an amazing songwriter, musician, and performer, of course. Didn’t mean to sound superficial, but I’d also love to own even half of his closet.

You hadn’t really answered the question, but the audience laughed and the host obviously got the hint that you weren’t interested in fanning any flames of romance with Harry Styles or anyone else. For one, you didn’t even know the man, but you had always been a loving fan of his. You cited him as one of your role models when you were first starting to try and break into the music world. Second, if you did know him, that wouldn’t be an appropriate topic for your album press junket going on, even if it meant more publicity because of Harry’s big celebrity status. The host decided to qualify their original question with a final sentiment.

Interviewer: I totally feel the same way! I only ask because the outpouring of support you’ve received seems to be from similar groups who also follow Harry. Many have been comparing your sound to his solo career work.

Y/N: Ah...well that’s very kind of people to say. He’s definitely a big inspiration, his creativity and drive is incredible. I’d love to be as successful as him someday.

The interview ended. You and the host shook hands and you waved and sent kisses to the crowd before retreating backstage. You were exhausted, but happy. You hoped to avoid anymore stressful interview questions that didn’t truly revolve around music. Of course, life is never that simple.

One month later

You had done countless more interviews and talk shows as promo for your album and the buzz around it had continued to grow. Your fame continued to rise as well and that one question you had dodged at your third interview had come back around to bite you, naturally. Daily Mail’s dumb headline read: “Y/N can’t decide! Date Harry Styles or Steal His Closet?” The Sun was also running with your response and miscontruing it completely, something about how you were madly in love with Harry but jealous of his designer partnerships, you couldn’t even stomach reading the garbage. This was your worst nightmare. Not only was it taking away the focus from your album, but you were also sure this dumb gossip had reached the very set of ears that the gossip was allegedly also about.

You had signed with Columbia Records for your first album, the same record label as Harry Styles, so managers had been in contact with one another about the whole fiasco trying to get the actual truth - which was that the two of you didn’t even know each other and there were no problems whatsoever. Your manager also brought along the good news that Harry had actually listened to your album and loved it, “He said ‘Congratulations’ by the way, loved the sound. Said he’d heard you were very music focused and be open to do some mentoring on songwriting and vocal specifics, if you wanted. It’d have to be in private though, obviously.” She had added the last bit, but you understood why. To have the opportunity to discuss your music with one of your longtime role models, heroes even, was beyond anything you could have imagined coming from your album’s success. And it made the drama all the more palatable because now you at least got to talk to Harry like the media was so adamantly saying you were doing already.

You nodded quickly and agreed, while trying to keep your teenage fangirl excitement hidden below your mature now-famous musician facade. Like you said, Harry was your hero, he’d been your hero since you were in middle school and had Up All Night downloaded on your iPod touch, blasting it as loud as possible, sound hitting your poster-filled walls. You weren’t the same girl as you were then, obviously, you had grown up to be a strong, independent, and confident woman. But, you still smiled at the thought of your younger self with your baby face squealing in the nosebleeds at the Take Me Home Tour (where you swore Harry had looked straight at you) and her seeing you now, dressed in a sleek outfit setting up an appointment to meet with Harry to discuss your first album, a success.

The next Thursday evening

You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your pursed lips. You were anxious and excited at the exact same time. Your meeting with Harry was tonight, right now actually, and you hadn’t been able to think about much else since your manager had confirmed the meeting last week. She got you the details a couple of days ago, the location: his house in Malibu, the time: 5:45 P.M. You had brought along a copy of your album on vinyl because you thought it sounded best this way, second only to performing it live.

Choosing your outfit for tonight was probably the toughest decision you’d ever made, harder than choosing between an education and following your dreams, harder than choosing your favorite Beatles song. You didn’t want to worry so much, this wasn’t a date you kept reminding yourself, but everything you tried on earlier kept having something wrong with it, too dressy, too boring, too ‘not yourself’. You had settled for these blue high-waisted pants that you’d worn to your first ever podcast interview, a thin black long sleeve, and a brown leather coat that fell below your hips with vans sneakers, casual, simple, yet still true to you and your vibe.

You raised your free arm and formed a fist, hesitant to knock, as if you’d damage Harry’s seemingly perfect Malibu beachfront home by knocking too hard on the wooden front door. You waited a few moments and could here some shuffling behind the door, some incoherent words were seemingly said, but the walls muffled them before they could reach for ears. Soon enough, Harry Styles in the flesh was before you. He beamed down at you, huffing, slightly out of breath as if he had been clear across the house when you knocked. His strong figure towered above your far smaller stature. He was hanging onto the door since he had opened it only slightly. “Hello, Y/N?” he greeted and questioned simultaneously. “Hi,” you responded and extended the same hand that had just rapped against his now open door. He gripped it, ushering you into his home, “Come in, come in, it’s nice to meet you, don’t want you to catch a cold now do we?” He took note of your strong handshake and ring clad fingers.

He walked you into an area between the kitchen and a sitting area. The kitchen was open aside from a bar high top between the two rooms. You sat down at his prompting and made yourself comfortable. “I brought my record on vinyl, sounds best in my opinion, otherwise I’d recommend seeing it live,” you laughed as you handed the vinyl to him and took off your coat. “Technically, y’know, I could hear it live right now, if you were willin’ f’course,” Harry had responded over his shoulder as he placed the vinyl by his idle record player, “Anything to drink?” “Just water for me, please.” His accent was even stronger in person, especially since he had moved back to London and seldomly stayed in California, except for business and quick trips. As far as you knew, he had already been here on business for the week and was able to pencil you in.

You two settled in, with your waters, seated at the bar top beside each other, but swivelling the chairs to face one another more. Again, you were overwhelmed with the reality of the situation, sitting beside Harry Styles as professionals, peers even. He had heard your work and liked it enough to want to discuss it with you. It was a day you never thought would come to pass. He started off not by asking about the music right away, but about how you were doing with the whirlwind that stardom is. “How are you, Y/N? It’s been somewhat of a out of the frying pan into the fire kind of moment for you?” He stared at you intently, caring to hear your answer.

You couldn’t help but chuckle again and contain your smile, “Thank you for asking, Harry. Yeah, its been definitely stressful, but it’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more so the good is still outweighing any bad. Definitely, fucking exhausted though, dunno how many more interviews I can do before my jaw goes completely rigid from talking so much.” It’s Harry’s turn to laugh, his eyes shone with intrigue at what you said and how you said it. You were gorgeous, but it was how your hands helped you through what you were trying to say and the small laughs you tried to keep in while you amused yourself with your words that really made him want to hear you talk all night long.

He agreed about how the promo junket for an album can get tedious and tiresome, but also the absolute fulfillment you get from people loving the music you’ve made. The two of you chatted about surface level personal matters for a little more, but quickly moved to the music. “I took a listen a couple weeks after the album was released. I especially loved the last track. It reminded me so much of a song I never released, actually…” he trailed off.

Your final track had been a ballad, an homage to George Harrison with your use of guitar and sitar, but the lyrics were a story based off of a poem you had written one night in high school. It surrounded a girl never feeling quite good enough for the person she wanted to be with and how it happened everytime, everytime she was ready to giver herself to someone, they were always closed off. Of course it held some truth to your own life and feelings, but you wrote this girl as someone with a seemingly perfect life - when yours was obviously far from any semblance of perfection.

You wondered what Harry’s song would have sounded like, had it been about a seemingly perfect girl or a guy with a seemingly perfect life, always giving himself to the wrong person and getting destroyed by that very fact because he was impatient as the girl in your song had been. “Can I ask, how so? How’d it remind you of your own song, the words or the music?” “Oh, the story, I felt like that for a time in my life and I like to be vulnerable in my songs because it helps me process, but listening to it back has always been too painful. Could never release that or perform it, it’d wreck me.” You nodded, you completely got where he was coming from. You noticed his downcast eyes and his somber tone, you knew not to push it any further.

It was quiet and you decided it’d be okay to take his hand resting between the two of you. “Harry, I understand,” your sincerity spilled into the words, filling the quiet house, “It’s not easy. Feeling that way. Thinking you’re the only goddamn one and why the fuck does it always happen to you? I used to ask my ceiling ‘why me?’ every night of high school” you smiled then. “But you know how it is,” you rubbed your thumb over his large warm hand and he lifted his head, “it gets so much better - c’mon look at us now! It can get hard, too, all this, I’m sure. But our lives? They’re amazing!” He beamed as he had when he had first seen you at his door and when you’d first really spoke. He moved his hand from under your palm to weave your fingers with his, both of your hands with covered in rings and they clinked to fit together, finally resting perfectly fitted. He shook your two hands up and down, “God, you’re so right! That damn song, m’sorry always puts me in a mood,” he shakes his head, “not yours though, f’course, s’lovely, better than my sodding song” he finishes quickly.

After that, the mood lightened right back up. It filled you with such appreciation for Harry that he would trust you so much with such a personal detail since you two had just met. But maybe, he had trusted you because he had felt that same spark between you. It wasn’t necessarily a romantic spark, but it was obvious the two of you were kindred spirits. Besides your album, the two of you talked about everything. You loved the same bands, movies and books, you both loved to cook and had similar fashion taste, you even had the same person type - something you found out late into the night.

At the end of the Side B of your album, Harry switched to a Bill Evans record that had ‘Peace Piece’ on it. You loved that song. So did he. “So...planning to raid my closet?” Harry raised his brows from the record player and walked back to you. You almost sputtered the water in your mouth. Luckily, you got it down. “Pardon?” “All that bad press the two of us have been getting...I watched the interview that kind of ignited the tabloids. You’re obviously not used to those overstepping personal questions.” You nodded. “It’s fine, even if you’d completely shut it down, the tabloids probably would have picked it up still, they snap up anything and everything, true or not.” You softened at his reassurance. You hadn’t expected Harry to bring the interview up, but you were sure he wasn’t happy about it, he was so private, especially about his love life. “Thanks, I’m sorry I tried to laugh it off, kind of made it worse, didn’t I?” “No! Thought it was hilarious and I totally appreciated the sentiment. Little ol’me, an icon? And an amazing artist? All I gotta do is watch that clip and I’ve fed my narcissistic side for the week!” You giggled and replied slyly, “So does that mean I can raid your closet? As compensation, of course.” Harry threw his head back in an all consuming laughter, when he’d composed himself he looked in your eyes again and said, “You just...God, you get me.”

Harry had continued to put records on throughout the night, diligently flipping sides and asking for requests, he of course had an extensive collection. The two of you had moved onto his plush couch that looked out his french doors to the beautiful ocean view. Finally, your exhaustion caught up to you, mid-Harry describing his latest travel fiasco, you glanced up at the clock. You gasped. Harry stopped. “When did it get to be half 12?” you questioned almost incredulously, “I’ve gotta get home, Harry, but this has been truly amazing, more than I could have asked for, so thank you.” Your speech began to rush as you started to get up and gather your things, that had slowly scattered as you’d gotten more comfortable, jacket by the table, shoes around the back of the couch, your phone forgotten somewhere in the couch. You couldn’t believe you’d spent almost seven hours just talking with Harry Styles.

Harry quickly stood up from his relaxed positioned on the couch and asked if you were alright to drive this late. You scoffed, “Oh please, I’ve driven around at 3 am before, I just have to turn up the music and I can cruise.” He smiled, “This was great, Y/N, I know we didn’t really go super in depth into your writing process, but I’d love to write with you sometime or just hang out again f’course. Your seriously talented and obviously a wonderful person.” He didn’t include that he felt like he’d never met anyone like you, never met someone so perfectly matched to himself, in passions but also in work ethic and demeanor - compassionate yet confident. He felt like you got him perfectly and he got you. You had stopped your scramble to gather yourself and now you were both smiling at one another.

This had really been an unforgettable night, you couldn’t believe how well you two had meshed, like childhood friends reconnecting after years apart. “Can I give yeh a hug before you go?” Harry’s voice had grown raspier as the night had progressed. He had grown rather tired an hour ago, but had pushed through because they had been having so much fun and you hadn’t noticed his physical fading or the time, obviously. You stepped toward him and his large tattooed arms enveloped you into his body. His body truly dwarfed yours now as he held you to his chest. You both were warm and soft. He tucked his head on top of yours that rested on his chest. Your arms were loosely resting where his back met his waist because you would have had to strain to get them to encircle him. His arms rested around your small frame. “Love your jacket,” he mumbled into your hair. His rough voice was quiet, but the house was silent otherwise, Tusk Side C had finished around when you had noticed the time. The embrace lasted long, but it felt so amazing you had a hard time pulling yourself away, but you had to get back home.

“G’night Harry” you said softly at the threshold of his home. He had insisted on walking you to the front door at least, since you had declined his offer to walk you out to your car on the street. “G’night. Safe travels.”

You got in your car and headed to your apartment in the city. You didn’t bother digging for your phone so you turned on the radio and drove home singing whatever came on, including your own song at one point. The whole time you drove with a grin. Harry was the nicest person you’d ever met and you were confident that the two of you were friends now. As you pulled into your parking garage it dawned on you why you hadn’t connected your phone immediately when you got in your car. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you put the car in park and rested your palms in the depressions of your eyesockets, over your closed eyelids, and rubbed hard. “Fuck!” It was far too late to drive back out to Malibu for your phone and you obviously couldn’t text Harry that you’d left your phone at his place, despite the two of you exchanging numbers during the night for future hang outs, so they didn’t have to be arranged through your managers, like playdates. Even if he found your phone between the cushions, he couldn’t drop it at your place in the morning because he didn’t know your address. This was a whole mess, you thought. You’d have to drive over in the morning and hope he was still there or email your manager from your computer. The former meant you got to see Harry sooner and likely your phone, too.

part 2

@berrynarrybanana

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #har #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #I DID IT #I sat down and wrote it #and it took forever #and I need to write a second part but I made something coherent #one direction fanfiction #not my gifs #my writing #I love you h #you get me #my writings

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