#still firmly in the camp of well let's see what happens and let's see how everyone in the band is feeling about this in a year or two

[tragedybunny]

Something Like Love - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion has failed to seduce you, but even so, a bond has begun to grow between the two of you. It all comes to a head when Astarion almost loses you.

You infuriated Astarion. At first it was because stopping to help every person you happened upon was delaying dealing with his problems. Now that you had been traveling together for some time, not only were these little side adventures a delay, but you didn’t seem to be careful about how much they took out of you and how tired they left you. Even your other companions didn’t seem to care, letting you agree to solve every problem that you came upon and even adding to the pile.

But not him. Astarion was always right there at your side with a glare and a snapping refusal, which you’d usually brush off, but at least he tried. The rest of them just smiled and nodded, without noticing the circles under your eyes, or how slow you moved some mornings, or how thin you’d gotten. Protector wasn’t a position he normally found himself in, but you were different, you were kind to him, without expecting anything in return, as far as he could tell anyway. The two of you hadn’t even slept together, not for lack of trying on his part. The couple times he’d tried you firmly refused, and yet somehow you stayed kind to him, even still offering him your blood. In fact you didn’t seem to want anyone in camp. That was also exasperating. How could he expect your continued kindness, and protection which he desperately needed, without repayment? And what was he better at than sex?

So he resolved he’d give you whatever small gestures he could. Whenever you tore an item of clothing, he’d mend it at first chance. When the group made camp for the night, he always made sure your tent was up first, in whatever spot you wanted, and helped you pack when it was time to move on. Every battle, he stood at the backline with you while you cast spells, aiming arrows at anyone who got too close to you, his first priority keeping you safe. And he still tried to keep you from overextending yourself, despite no one ever listening to him. Which had led to the shouting match with Halsin earlier. Well it wasn’t really a shouting match, the Druid had remained frustratingly placid in the face of Astarion’s blustering. He’d already been vocally unhappy about looking for this Thaniel or whatever, but you’d found him, and still Halsin asked more. “We need to worry about Thorm, we don’t have time to keep bothering with this!”

“Curing the land could help break Thorm’s hold. I know you all don’t owe it to me.” Gods why did he ask like that, all humble and dissembling. You would cave to that for sure,

“You’re right, we don’t.”

“But…”

“Hells, can’t you see how much all of this is taking out of her!” Astarion had exploded, voice loud enough that some of your other companions jumped.

“It’s fine Astarion,” you’d gently placed a hand on his arm, “let’s finish this.”

With a frustrated growl, he’d yanked his arm away, regretting the hurt on your face. “Fine.”

That all led to this moment, you’d fended off the creatures summoned by the corrupted spirit, and Astarion watches as you calmly approach it. Speaking softly, your words soothe it, and he could see it starting to trust you. As always, you amaze him with your ability to solve things with your words, but he feels a twinge of something else, a want for something like those kind words that fell from your lips so easily. The spirit vanishes and Astarion finally feels a bit of relief it seems over. That is until your knees give way and you collapse to the jagged paving stones beneath you.

He's at your side instantly, a scream tearing itself from his throat. “Somebody fucking help her.”

Shadowheart js the first to respond, hands peeling away the light armor you wear, revealing gashes left by one of those shadow creatures that had gotten close. Teeth bite down into his lip to hold back a sob, he hadn’t even noticed, he’d failed the one duty he had. That ire finds a new target easy enough though, as Halsin attempts to join Shadowheart in tending to you. He’s barely started to kneel next to you when Astarion lunges, hissing and fangs flashing. “No you stay the fuck away from her, this is your fault!” For a second his face falls with guilt, but Astarion is in no state for empathy, all blame now on the Druid in his mind.

Hands fight to grab hold of him, to get close enough to tear his thick throat out. A pair of strong arms wraps around his waist, pulling him back from his murderous goal. “Easy Fangs, she’ll be alright,” Karlach tries to reassure him.

He struggles against her iron hold, still flinging curses and furious words. “That’s not the point, this shouldn’t have happened. But no one wanted to listen to me, none of you selfish idiots care when you’re asking too much!”

That was it, they’d all turn on him now, especially without you aware enough to defend him. To his surprise, Karlach just holds him slightly tighter, and keeps whispering that it was going to be fine. Wyll comes over to lay a hand on his shoulder, face stoic. "Shadowheart has this.”

At least Halsin has stepped back, expression troubled. Good, let him suffer. A spell glows in Shadowheart’s hands, suturing back together your skin, and your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, for a moment before closing again. Karlach wisely releases him, leaving him free to hover over you and ward off Halsin as he takes a hesitant step toward you. He’d be damned if anyone else was carrying you, the lot of them were untrustworthy. Reverently, he leans down, taking you in his arms, and lifting you from the ground. Gods, you were so small, there was almost nothing to you. How did you seem so imposing most of the time?

Silently, the group makes it’s way back to camp, Astarion holding tightly to you the whole way. When they reach the cluster of tents, he goes straight to yours to lay you down gently in your blankets. Turning back to the rest of the party he snarls in their direction. "All of you better stay the hells out of this tent until she's properly healed," he snaps the tent flap shut and wishes he had a door to slam on their faces.

Sitting down next to you, he pulls your hand into his and tried to forget about the stinging in his eyes. "You're going to be alright Darling. You have to be."

For hours he sits there, hand holding yours, waiting, watching your chest rise and fall, the reassurance he hadn’t lost you. Losing you, he can’t even fathom it. His protector, companion, he'd even go so far as to say friend. Even if you didn't notice how he was always at your side whenever you stayed up to launder your clothes, or how you never took a turn to cook alone, or how he was always walking right next to you on the road.

You sigh in your sleep and he feels a tug in that place that sometimes wonders if you could be more than friends. Which was stupid, you hadn't even wanted sex with him. Besides, what you already gave him was more than he deserved considering what he had been planning after sleeping with you.

Finally, exhausted, he drifts into meditation, still holding onto you, until your sleep heavy voice pulls him out of it. "Astarion?"

His eyes are wide immediately and without a second thought, he throws himself into your arms, nuzzling into your neck. "You're awake." Then he starts crying like an idiot; ugly, undignified sobs against your skin. "I was worried," he tries to explain leaping on you and his ridiculous tears.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you." You put your arms around him, accepting him without question, like always.

"You silly, silly girl, you were the one that almost died. Don't apologize to me." He's trying desperately to stop bawling uncontrollably.

"I know, but I don't like to see you upset." Ever so lightly, he can feel your hand brushing through his hair.

"Why," he's managed to get himself somewhat under control, but doesn't move from where you've let him lay. "Why are you like this? Always giving, even when it's too much for you?"

You hesitate for a moment. "Because I care about you."

"You do," he asks, unwilling to let himself believe what he's heard.

"Well, I care about everyone," of course he should've realized, "but I care about you a very great deal, Astarion."

Astarion freezes, the words leaving warmth in that secret place inside that he's been trying to keep from himself and you. "I don't understand."

"I see you. I see how hard you try and how far you've come, and how much you try to do for me." There's a smile in your voice and impossibly he thinks it has something to do with him.

"Why didn't you say anything?" His hand searches yours out and your fingers interwine.

"I didn't think you were ready to hear it. But today it was almost too late to tell you." You've placed both of your hands over your chest and he can feel your heartbeat.

"I…I don't know how I feel." Inwardly, he quails, worried that will drive you. "But this is nice."

"It's alright Astarion, there's no rush to this." Impulsively, he leans up to leave a feather light kiss on your cheek, grateful for you in ways he can't understand.

[justabrunettewhowrites-stuff]

'Claimed By Wisdom'

Clarisse La Rue x DaughterOfAthena!Reader

A/N:Made this while in history class,enjoy.

What happens when Clarisse's unclaimed demigod gf gets claimed - Athena edition

Basically just how I think Clarisse would react when her gf gets claimed by Athena.Relatively a very short fic,part of Clarisse's reaction to her gf getting claimed.I think I'll do more parts-with different gods/goddesses eventually,but not sure.

A normal day at Camp Half-blood,right?Well,here she comes,Clarisse's mysterious and totally captivating demigod girlfriend,you.You've been low-key slaying monsters together,and the chemistry is off the charts.But you know how it goes, no godly parent, no claiming, and Clarisse is getting kinda frustrated about it. She's, like super mad and rants about it,constantly going like "Why won't the gods just claim my girl already?"

Then,one fateful day, it happens.And right during capture the flag too.Camp Half - Blood goes dead silent and Clarisse is, like, tense AF. But then,it happens - you are claimed as a child of Athena,the goddess of wisdom.You,her girlfriend,a whirlwind of untamed spirit - claimed by Athena of all gods.

Clarisse, with her scowl on full display, spots the whole thing and freezes.I swear, you could've heard a pin drop. She narrows her eyes at the symbol, then shoots Sherman a look,being like "Are you seeing this crap?"

But here's the kicker: instead of flipping out, Clarisse just smirks. I mean, seriously? Athena claiming her girl, and she smirks? That's some next - level confidence.

Later,when the two are alone,after the eventful and surprising game of capture the flag,she spills her thoughts like it's ambrosia.Clarisse takes a deep breath, a spark of determination flashing in her eyes. She strides forward, gripping your hand firmly,before speaking. "Look,you know my opinion on Athena,but..." she says,ephasizing the but - sharply - before she continues "...but if she thinks my girl's worthy, maybe there's more to her than I thought."

She goes on this rant about how Athena and Ares are like oil and water, but deep down, she's kind of impressed. "I guess you have some brains to go with that pretty face then." she mutters, still trying to wrap her head around it.

And get this – Clarisse might not be the biggest fan of Athena, but she's not about to let that ruin her moment. "Don't get too cocky now.We'll see if you can keep up with me in the next Capture the Flag." she challenges, grinning like she's ready to conquer Olympus by herself. "I may hate all of 'em Athena nerds - but you,for you I make an exception."

The camp may have a newfound member of cabin 6,but in you're still Clarisse's girlfriend at the end of the day.And no matter which god claims you,Clarisse is ready to help you face whatever challenges lie ahead - because true love - much like war, knows no boundaries.

A/N:This is like-random. Idk what's with this but yeah.

[salt-clangen]

Moon 5

Greenleaf

“Lynxkit, you have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed, it’s your wish to study the will of StarClan and care for your clan as a cleric yes?”

“Yes Wolfstar!”

“Then from this day on, until you receive your cleric name, you will be known as Lynxpaw. Your mentor will be our ancestors in Starclan. I hope they will pass down all they know on to you.

Warriors of StarClan, I present you with this apprentice. They have chosen the path of a cleric. Grant them your wisdom and insight so that they may understand your ways and heal their Clan in accordance with your will.”

Only Wolfstar was there to chant her new name, but Lynxpaw stood proud all the same.

“How do you feel?” Lynxpaw asked as she entered the clerics den, she’d decided it should be the den in the center of the half circled camp. Wolfstar even hung lichen and moss over the entrance for more privacy.

“Tired… I guess.” The white molly answered.

It’d been a quarter moon since they found Snowspeckle, laid out in the sand, bleeding from her head and babbling nonsense. She’d been out of it for the first few days, suffering from head trauma. Eventually she recovered enough to speak, though she’d been reluctant to explain what happened.

So Lynxpaw treated her with dandelion root for the pain and ragweed for strength, she’d even used the few sage leaves they had to prevent infection. Her hard work paid off and soon Snowspeckle’s head wound had healed completely. But there was still something wrong, Lynxpaw wasn’t sure what but she could tell the molly wasn’t completely healthy.

Finally, Snowspeckle revealed last night that she was pregnant.

“Let me check your temperature.” Lynxpaw put her nose into her ear. “Well you don’t have a fever, that’s good. Are you ready to talk about what happened now.”

Snowspeckle sighed.

“I fell down the rocky cliff over the beach.”

“I figured that’s how you got hurt.” Lynxpaw busied herself with sorting herbs, tying them with twine. “Why haven’t you gone back to your clan? I’m sure you had one.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well explain it to me.” Wolfstar called from the entrance, both cat’s heads whipped around in surprise. She stood watching them, eyes firmly on Snowspeckle. “If not then you need to leave, I can’t have a liability in my clan.”

Snowspeckle kept quiet, eyes misty and downcast. With a sniffle she cleared her throat.

“I was from Oakclan, I was an artisan and I met Nightleap. She was from Honeyclan, but we met up at gatherings and at the border. I thought she would join Oakclan, it’s happened before, my brother’s mate was from Duskclan of all places!” She laughed but it sounded hollow. “I guess I should’ve said something, because all of a sudden she’s asking me when I’m joining Honeyclan. I told her she was crazy, why would I leave Oakclan.”

She sniffed again, tears finally falling.

“We fought and broke up, but I missed her so much so I told her I would leave. I even announced it at the gathering, which was a mistake. It took moons to get out, everyone kept trying to get me to stay, clerics said they got messages from Starclan that I shouldn’t join Honeyclan. My own family threatened to disown me, they thought I was insane for wanting to leave.”

Lynxpaw sat beside her, pressed against her side in comfort.

“There was even a trial to see if I had broken the warrior code! I went through all of that and finally I was able to join her in Honeyclan, we’d met up all through out this time. And when we were finally together and then she tells me she doesn’t want to be with me anymore. After everything I had to endure and she did that!”

“Is that why you went to the cliffs?” Wolfstar asked, voice laced with worry. “Did you fall on purpose?”

“Oh stars no not on purpose.” Snowspeckle shook her head. “I was just trying to clear my head, I didn’t want to stay in the clan with Nightleap, but I couldn’t go back to Oakclan, not after everything that happened. I didn’t know what to do, next thing I know I was slipping and falling.”

“That’s awful.” Lynxpaw said.

“I don’t want to go back,” She sighed. “Can I stay here? I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Wolfstar finally settled in next to her, taking a moment to groom the top of her head, Lynxpaw resumed her grooming as well. Snowspeckle melted into her nest, calm washing over her.

“Of course you can stay.” Wolfstar said, resting her chin on her shoulder. “Plus we could use an artisan.” Snowspeckle laughed, stretching her legs out in front of her.

“Yeah I could tell, no offense but that twine is mouse dung.”

They spent the rest of sun high lounging in the shade, sharing tongues and stories until it was cool enough to go back to work.

“Are you sure about this?” Lynxpaw tried to hide her nerves, stealing glances up at Wolfstar as they walked.

“We have to, we’re a clan. We have to act like one.” Wolfstar hoped she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. “It’s time we stopped hiding.”

She didn’t say it out loud, but they both knew, Lynxpaw needed a mentor. She was doing her best, but she was visited by Starclan cats less and less as she got older. She hoped that by establishing themselves as a clan they could have Lynxpaw get lessons from the other clerics.

So at the next full moon, they traveled together crossing the east river and following it north to the Gathering Stone. They kept quiet as they walked, staying close to the river to avoid seeing other clans. The gathering was about to begin, she could smell the overwhelming mix of all the cats in attendance.

The sky was cloudy, but not enough to halt the start of the gathering, moonlight could still speckle through. As they walked over the small hill leading to the Gathering Stone, the wind shifted to carry their scent upwind.

Wolfstar could see a ripple effect of confusion, some cats noticed their strange, salty scent right away, others took a moment to realize.

Jaggedstar was the first to notice, from atop the stone with the other leaders, her face slack with disbelief. Wolfstar met her gaze, resisting the urge to flinch. A yowl break out as more cats realized they were there.

Rogues.

Outsiders.

Intruders.

Cats shouted out, hissing and puffing up at the sight and scent of them. But the pair of cats stood firm, at the top of the small hill, waiting for the right moment.

She spotted her siblings, Greyclaw and Ashenstep, at the forefront of the crowd, eyes wide. She could recognize a few other Duskclan cats, Burnpaw was at the back, trying to push through the crowd. Thornstrike was standing on the stone where the deputies sat, his hackles raised and angry glare trained on them.

It was a blur of shouting and posturing, but Wolfstar stayed still and calm. Finally, Jaggedstar managed to call to order, her deep growl capturing everyone’s attention.

“Wolfpaw?” She called. “What is the meaning of this? Is it really you?”

This caused more yowls, Oakclan and Honeyclan cats confused.

“Jaggedstar what’s going on?” The silver cat on the Leaders stone was new, she didn’t remember seeing them before. She recognized Rookstar of Honeyclan, so this must be the new Oakclan leader. “Do you know these cats?”

“That’s her daughter, Archstar.” Rookstar answered. “I met her once before. Wolfpaw.”

Archstar’s head whipped to Jaggedstar, speaking lowly and intensely.

“My name is Wolfstar. I travelled to the Moon spring and received nine lives from Starclan. They’ve made me the leader of a new clan.” Wolfstar finally spoke, gaze sweeping over the crowd like she’d practiced. “This is Lynxpaw, our cleric apprentice. We no longer belong to Duskclan.”

Another surge of emotion gripped the crowd, multiple cats shouting at once. She saw Thornstrike lunge forward, but he was blocked by Ashenstep and Greyclaw. She couldn’t hear what they said, but she knew they were speaking harshly to their father. At the forefront she could see the Oakclan apprentice she’d met at Capri’s post, Shadowpaw.

For the first time since she arrived she felt flustered, the last time they’d met she’d lied and said they were kittypets. It would be embarrass and discredit her if he revealed this now, she quickly looked for Brackentail but he was missing.

Shadowpaw’s eyes were wide and harsh, looking between her and Lynxpaw who tried not to fidget under all the scrutiny. Despite his intense focus, the apprentice didn’t speak up. She felt a bit of relief and hoped her worry didn’t show.

“How can we be sure you’re truly a leader?” A cat from the back called out.

“Speak with Starclan, they’ll vouch for us.” Lynxpaw’s voice was a little shaky, but she didn’t stutter.

“Wait! Wolf and Lynx! The signs from Starclan we’ve received about a wolf and a lynx in the clans!” An older brown tom covered in leaves called out. Likely a cleric. “Archstar! They’re the visions I’ve been receiving!”

The silver leader is still looking at Jaggedstar but takes a moment to glance at their cleric. They don’t say anything and Jaggedstar takes a moment to jump down from the ledge.

“Enough of this nonsense! You’re coming back home to explain yourself!” She snarls, but Wolfstar takes a protective stance before Lynxpaw.

“We wont be doing that, Jaggedstar.” She hissed, hackles raised. “I’m the leader of Saltclan. Ordained by Starclan themselves, whether you believe me or not. But I won’t let you fulfill your plan to hurt Lynxpaw.”

That caused Jaggedstar to pause, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Jaggedstar! Enough of this foolishness.” Rookstar admonished. “The gatherings are not a place for you to work out your family issues.”

Jaggedstar turned to hiss at him, stepping away from Wolfstar.

In the brief lull of noise, a strong wind picked up and the wispy clouds broke apart allowing the moonlight to shine down brighter than it had all night. The light fell on Wolfstar and Lynxpaw, still poised atop the hill. Murmurs broke out again, many taking this as a sign.

“I believe Starclan has spoken. They honor Wolfstar and her leadership.” Archstar called out to the crowd, causing some gasps. Wolfstar was surprised they would speak up on their behalf.

“Don’t be so quick, Archstar. We still can’t be sure they’re truly a clan.” Jaggedstar argued.

“Yes, but this does suggest starclan is beside them.” Rookstar said. “It would be best to end this gathering, each clan will send a cleric to the Moon spring to commune with Starclan. Next gathering we’ll have our answers.”

“I’m in agreement with Rookstar.” Archstar said, several oakclan cats nodding along.

“Fine!” Jaggedstar spat, glaring back at Wolfstar.

“Wolfstar, do you agree to these terms?” Archstar asked.

“Yes, thank you both for allowing us the chance to prove ourselves.” Wolfstar nodded at the two leaders still on the stone. Ignoring Jaggedstar, who assembled her clan with a flick of her tail.

As the Leaders and deputies gathered to leave Wolfstar ushered Lynxpaw away from the gathering quickly. With the gathering over, the after-gathering would begin in full swing and Wolfstar didn’t want to risk running into any of her old clan mates.

The walk back to camp was quiet, the pair crossing the river back to their own territory. Lynxpaw pressed against her friend’s side, purring hard as they finally entered the camp.

“I’m gonna check on Snowspeckle,” Lynxpaw said. “Can I sleep in your nest tonight?”

“Of course.”

[sassenach77yle]

May 1, 1771 May Union Camp

I glanced sideways, careful not to move in case he was still asleep. He wasn’t. He was lying quite still, though, utterly relaxed, save for his right hand. He had this raised, and appeared to be examining it closely, turning it to and fro and slowly curling and uncurling his fingers—as well as he could. The fourth finger had a fused joint, and was permanently stiff; the middle finger was slightly twisted, a deep white scar spiraling round the middle joint. His hand was callused and battered by work, and the tiny stigma of a nail-wound still showed, pale-pink, in the middle of his palm. The skin of his hand was deeply bronzed and weathered, freckled with sun-blots and scattered with bleached gold hairs. I thought it remarkably beautiful.

“Happy Birthday,” I said, softly. “Taking stock?”

He let the hand fall on his chest, and turned his head to look at me, smiling.Aye, something of the sort. Though I suppose I’ve a few hours left. I was born at half-six; I willna have lived a full half-century until suppertime.” I laughed and rolled onto my side, kicking the blanket off. The air was still delightfully cool, but it wouldn’t last long. “Do you expect to disintegrate much further before supper?” I asked, teasing. “Oh, I dinna suppose anything is likely to fall off by then,” he said, consideringly. “As to the workings . . . aye, well . . .” He arched his back, stretching, and sank back with a gratified groan as my hand settled on him. “It all seems to be in perfect working order,” I assured him. I gave a brief, experimental tug, making him yelp slightly. “Not loose at all.” “Good,” he said, folding his hand firmly over mine to prevent further unauthorized experiments. “How did ye ken what I was doing? Taking stock, as ye say?” I let him keep hold of the hand, but shifted to set my chin in the center of his chest, where a small depression seemed made for the purpose. “I always do that, when I have a birthday—though I generally do it the night before. More looking back, I think, reflecting a bit on the year that’s just gone. But I do check things over; I think perhaps everyone does. Just to see if you’re the same person as the day before.” “I’m reasonably certain that I am,” he assured me. “Ye dinna see any marked changes, do ye?” I lifted my chin from its resting place and looked him over carefully. It was in fact rather hard to look at him objectively; I was both so used to his features and so fond of them that I tended to notice tiny, dear things about him—the freckle on his earlobe, the lower incisor pushing eagerly forward, just slightly out of line with its fellows—and to respond to the slightest change of his expression—but not really to look at him as an integrated whole. He bore my examination tranquilly, eyelids half-lowered against the growing light. His hair had come loose while he slept and feathered over his shoulders, its ruddy waves framing a face strongly marked by both humor and passion—but which possessed a paradoxical and most remarkable capacity for stillness.

“No,” I said at last, and set my chin down again with a contented sigh. “It’s still you.”

[...]

Jamie’s free hand rested on my back, his thumb idly stroking the edge of my shoulder blade. With his usual capacity for mental discipline, he appeared to have dismissed the uncertainty of the military prospects completely from his mind, and was thinking of something else entirely. “Do ye ever think—” he began, and then broke off. “Think what?” I bent and kissed his chest, arching my back to encourage him to rub it, which he did. “Well . . . I’m no so sure I can explain, but it’s struck me that now I have lived longer than my father did—which is not something I expected to happen,” he added, with faint wryness. “It’s only . . . well, it seems odd, is all. I only wondered, did ye ever think of that, yourself—having lost your mother young, I mean?” “Yes.” My face was buried in his chest, my voice muffled in the folds of his shirt. “I used to—when I was younger. Like going on a journey without a map.” His hand on my back paused for a moment. “Aye, that’s it.” He sounded a little surprised. “I kent more or less what it would be like to be a man of thirty, or of forty—but now what?” His chest moved briefly, with a small noise that might have been a mixture of amusement and puzzlement.

“You invent yourself,” I said softly, to the shadows inside the hair that had fallen over my face. “You look at other women—or men; you try on their lives for size. You take what you can use, and you look inside yourself for what you can’t find elsewhere. And always . . . always . . . you wonder if you’re doing it right.”

His hand was warm and heavy on my back. He felt the tears that ran unexpectedly from the corners of my eyes to dampen his shirt, and his other hand came up to touch my head and smooth my hair. “Aye, that’s it,” he said again, very softly. The camp was beginning to stir outside, with clangings and thumps, and the hoarse sound of sleep-rough voices. Overhead, the grasshopper began to chirp, the sound like someone scratching a nail on a copper pot.

“This is a morning my father never saw,” Jamie said, still so softly that I heard it as much through the walls of his chest, as with my ears.

“The world and each day in it is a gift, mo chridhe—no matter what tomorrow may be.”

I sighed deeply and turned my head, to rest my cheek against his chest. He reached over gently and wiped my nose with a fold of his shirt. “And as for taking stock,” he added practically, “I’ve all my teeth, none of my parts are missing, and my cock still stands up by itself in the morning. It could be worse.”

Cap 58 HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU ~the fiery cross

[clangenrising]

Month 9 - Leaffall

“Go home,” Russetfrond insisted for the third time. 

Nightfrost shook her head again. “If Razor comes back, you’ll need me to be here.” She was still rattled from the encounter with him and Ghost earlier that day. It wasn’t just that the city cats had come so close to their home, that Razor had been so close to starting a fight, that they had clearly intended to return. It was the way that Razor had leaned in close and tasted her scent like he owned it while making a threat in the same breath. She knew that he was probably just trying to upset her but that information didn’t make it feel any better. 

Even from her small interaction with him, she could tell that Razor was a tom who had power and liked to wield it. She wasn’t going to let him catch her or her Clan unawares. And so she had stayed out when Russetfrond, Sparrowpaw, and Ospreymask had come to relieve her and intended to join Goldenstar and Branchbark for the night shift. Her replacements had been less than pleased.

“We need you to rest,” Russetfrond said, stomping out in front of her path. “If they show up now you’ll be no use anyway.” 

“I’ll be fine,” she grumbled. She tried to ignore the fact that her paws had been numb for a while. 

“Nightfrost, please,” Ospreymask cut in, leaning up against her side. “We’ve got it. If something happens we’ll send Sparrowpaw to get you and you can come right back.” 

“Yeah!” the apprentice piped up. “Please, Nightfrost?” 

She looked at him, his bright golden eyes shining with the courage of youth, and she imagined him breaking between Razor’s teeth. “No,” she shook her head firmly. “No, I’m fine. I want to stay.” 

“Fine, then,” Russetfrond huffed, squaring his shoulders confrontationally. “Maybe I’ll send Sparrowpaw to find Sagetooth instead and she can talk some sense into you.” Nightfrost glared. He had picked the one cat she knew she couldn’t argue with and she knew it wasn’t an empty threat.

“You snake,” she growled, half joking. 

“Yeah, yeah, go curse me out back in camp,” he said. Sighing, Nightfrost turned towards camp. She didn’t like being beaten but even more she didn’t like that he was probably right. Already, as she crunched her way through the snow, she felt exhaustion starting to creep into her bones.

“Rest well!” Ospreymask called after her. She flicked a disgruntled ear in response. 

Her paws felt like clumsy chunks of ice at the end of her legs as she picked her way through the snow drifts. Now that she had agreed to return to camp, the desire to curl up and sleep was starting to take hold of her mind. She closed her eyes, imagining Yarrowshade’s warmth and weight against her flank. 

Oh, stars. Yarrowshade had been waiting for her this whole time. She groaned at the thought of facing him now. She had been so harsh with him lately and she hated it. She knew he didn’t deserve it, but for some reason, his insistence on his continued friendship with Scorch had been getting on her nerves. She knew she was being petty about it. She knew she was being unreasonable. That didn’t stop her from taking her frustrations out on the both of them. She’d started scheduling them on separate patrols, started inserting herself between them every time he tried to reach out. 

She was hurt. How could he stand to be around her now that they knew the truth?! Didn’t he understand what she had done? Did he care more about her than his Clan? She knew that wasn’t fair. Yarrowshade was a relentlessly kind cat. It was one of the things she loved about him. Like Goldenstar, he somehow saw something worth caring for in Scorch, something she was probably too guarded to see. 

Was she jealous? Maybe. She didn’t think that he was interested in Scorch like that. He had promised her he wasn’t and she was inclined to believe him. Still, she realized, she was jealous that he cared about her at all after everything she had done. How could he still spend so much of his time worried about a cat who had been so favored by Razor? 

Razor. She shuddered again at the thought of him. Or maybe she was just shivering. She sniffed hard at the snot dripping from her nose. The longer she walked the more she felt like she might collapse. Luckily, she could hear the sound of cats speaking up ahead. She spied a dip in the white sheet of snow and knew she was nearly home. She sighed in relief. 

As she headed down into camp, she found Yarrowshade standing by the nursery talking softly with Smokyrose. The moment he saw her, he sat up straight and stared as if he’d thought he’d never see her again. She smiled fondly. 

“Nightfrost,” he started then, realizing his mistake, said, “Excuse me, Smokyrose. Thank you.” 

“Anytime, dear,” purred the mediator, turning a kind eye in Nightfrost’s direction. She slipped inside the den as Yarrowshade stood to meet Nightfrost at the edge of camp.

“Hey,” she mumbled. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, eyes wide. “When you didn’t come back, I…” 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she said. “A little cold, but fine.” She sniffled again and swiped her tongue over her nose to clear the snot away. 

“Why don’t we go see if Sagetooth has some herbs for your nose,” he said, “and then we can curl up in the Warriors’ den with a fat dove, yeah?” 

“Sure,” she nodded. She didn’t particularly want to go see Sagetooth, but she was so tired. She didn’t have the energy to protest. 

Yarrowshade smiled and pressed his pelt against hers, spreading warmth through her thick, frosty fur. Together they padded to the Healers’ den and Nightfrost felt at home, perfectly fitted to his side. 

“I think I love you,” she mumbled without thought. 

Yarrowshade stopped. “What did you say?” 

She blinked, drowsy, and said again. “I think I love you. I don’t know why it took me so long to say that.” Yarrowshade was staring at her, open jawed. She smiled. What a ridiculous adorable face he had. 

“Nightfrost, I…” he laughed breathily. “Wow! I’m sure you don’t need me to say I love you too.” 

“It would be nice,” she hummed. Stars, her eyes were so heavy. 

He smiled and stepped closer, pressing his forehead against hers. “I love you too, Nightfrost. I have for a long time.” She leaned into his warm touch, purring, and he purred in kind. She bobbed tiredly and he laughed as he reached out to steady her. “Woah. Let’s get you inside before you pass out, alright?” 

She nodded and leaned against him again, letting him guide her into the warmth of the Healers’ den. Oddstripe was sitting in the back of the den, carefully winding cobwebs around a stick. Sagetooth supervised from her nest, probably resting her old joints after the storm. She looked up at the both of them with a scowl. 

“What do you two need?” she asked. 

“Nightfrost has a runny nose,” Yarrowshade laughed, his tail twining with hers. Sagetooth sighed. 

“I can handle it,” Oddstripe offered, but the old healer shook her head.

“No, no, you stay right there. I’ll handle it,” Sagetooth said as she heaved herself from her nest and plucked a few mint leaves from the stores. She padded over and placed them in front of Nightfrost. “Chew those.” Nightfrost obeyed, already salivating over their menthol smell. She purred at the taste and settled down to warm her freezing paws under her belly as she did. Yarrowshade curled up beside her, also purring. 

“You’re awfully cheery,” Sagetooth observed with a frown. 

“I am,” Yarrowshade chuckled, glancing at Nightfrost. 

When he said nothing more, Sagetooth grumbled and rolled her eyes. “Alright then. You’ve had your mint. Off with you.” 

“Aww, you don’t want to enjoy our company?” Yarrowshade said playfully. 

“No,” Sagetooth said flatly, turning away. “I have no time for lovesick fools.” 

“Is it that obvious?” Nightfrost asked with a tinge of embarrassment. 

“With Yarrowshade?” asked Sagetooth. “Always.” 

Yarrowshade chuckled and stood. “Okay, okay, we’ll get out of your fur.” He looked at Nightfrost and she smiled. She couldn’t wait to go take a warm nap beside him. 

“Thank you,” she said and Sagetooth grunted. Nightfrost moved to stand and then hissed in pain. Suddenly her paws felt like they were on fire. While she was sitting on them, they had started to prickle, but she had thought nothing of it. Now that prickling stung up through her paw pads under any kind of weight and she thumped back onto her side. 

“Are you alright?” Yarrowshade asked. 

“My paws are stinging,” she said, lifting one to give it a lick.

“Ah-ah!” Sagetooth snapped, interrupting her. “Don’t you touch those paws! Let me look at them.” She padded back over and took one paw in both of her own, tilting it gently to look at the pads. “Tch! Your skin is nearly black! What were you doing out there?” 

“Protecting the border,” Nightfrost said lamely. She stared in disbelief at the stinging flesh of her paw pads. The exposed skin had started to turn black and necrotic. 

“Why didn’t you come back sooner?” Yarrowshade fretted, “Weren’t you in pain?” 

“No, they just felt numb,” she replied. 

“Fool child,” Sagetooth scoffed. “Tuck those back underneath yourself. We need to warm them up immediately.” Nightfrost obeyed. If only her shame could heat her paws and not just her face. 

“Oddstripe,” Sagetooth continued, “We’ll need those cobwebs and some fresh garlic.” 

Oddstripe shifted awkwardly. “The squirrels got to the garlic patch, remember?” 

“Fox-dung!” Sagetooth cursed. “Horsetail then!” 

“We’re still out,” Oddstripe said, ears pressing back guiltily. “I can go find some though.” 

“In this snow?” Yarrowshade asked. He looked very pale. 

“Great,” Sagetooth shook her head. Her tail twitched back and forth as she thought, eyes flickering over the ground. “Alright. We’ll clean the wounds and bandage them tonight. Tomorrow, if it isn’t snowing, we’ll both head out first thing in the morning in search of horsetail. Maybe you can get your kits to lend a paw.” 

“Of course!” Oddstripe said. “Between the five of us we’ll definitely find some, Sagetooth, I promise.”

Sagetooth frowned at him. “Don’t promise things you can’t control.” 

Oddstripe deflated under her stare. “Right. Sorry.” 

Nightfrost shook her head again. “I can’t believe I let it go so far. I didn’t think I was out there that long.” 

“You were gone for a long time,” Yarrowshade said softly.

“And it only takes half an hour for frostbite to set in,” said Sagetooth. “You’re lucky its not worse.” 

Yarrowshade settled down beside Nightfrost again, curling around her and starting to groom her shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “Just… get your rest.” 

“Thank you,” she sighed, butting her head against his. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he said back. “I’ll be here as long as you need me.” 

“Thank you,” she breathed against his fur.

“It’ll be okay,” he said again. “Right?” He looked up at Sagetooth. The healer pursed her lips and sighed. 

“We’ll do what we can,” she said. It wasn’t very reassuring. But she supposed that she preferred that over a promise Sagetooth couldn’t keep.

UPDATES: - Nightfrost stays out too late and returns with frostbite. - Nightfrost and Yarrowshade confess their feelings and become mates.

[strangerquinns]

Deadly Reunion| Chapter 15

Eddie Munson x female!reader // a stranger things apocalypse au

summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since childhood. But when the outbreak happened five years ago, you were torn from one another in the chaos. but now you’re left alone, after your group was killed by another radical crew, leaving you to seek out what was once home. // zombie apocalypse Hawkins set in 1993

warnings: angst + adult themes w/ descriptions of violence, blood, torture + other zombie apocalypse related issues (no use of y/n)

word count: 2.6k+

⪻ previous chapter | next chapter ⪼ | stranger things masterlist

You let out a curse as you felt the needle thread through your skin again, with Gareth behind you whispering a soft apology. The pain was becoming less and less with each pull of the thread through your skin. It was like your brain was slowly turning off more and more with each passing second.

“I’m almost done,” Gareth spoke with a sigh, the clatter of his instruments against the metal table before the burning sting returned to your shoulder. “You’re lucky that bullet was a through and through or else this would be an entirely different story.”

“I’ll make sure to send a thank you card,” You spoke through gritted teeth, your knuckles turning white from the grip you held on to the edge of the table.

“Your sarcasm is still there, so guess that’s a good sign,” Gareth chuckled softly before finishing off the stitches.

He tied off the thread before grabbing gauze and bandage and carefully covering the wound on either side. Your body sagged even more as he cleaned up. Gareth couldn’t help but shoot a few glances of worry at you, seeing the fatigued look all over your face.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Gareth asked softly, his eyes filled with concern as he looked up at you.

“I’ll be fine,” You nodded your head, not sure if you were trying to convince your friend more or yourself.

“I can walk you back to your room. Fear Eddie will be a while, usually, a debriefing can take…well…”

Soon after Eddie had brought you to the hospital wing, someone had come down to take him away for a debriefing. A part of you wasn’t surprised since Nancy didn’t come back with the rest of you. Karen Wheeler’s screams still echoed through your mind. You weren’t sure if that sound was going to leave your memory any time soon.

“I-I…do you think Eddie would care if I stayed with him?”

Gareth couldn’t ignore how you seemed to turn in on yourself as you sheepishly looked at him.

“I think he’d prefer it, honestly.” Gareth sighed softly. “I’ll walk you back, and I’ll stay with you till he comes home.”

“You don’t have to…”

Gareth spoke your name softly, but firmly, cutting you off. “I want to. Ok? You’re my friend and I wanna make sure that you’re ok.”

You nodded your head and turned your gaze away from him, looking down toward your lap. As you heard Gareth move around the small area cleaning up as you sat there in silence. As your eyes stayed focused on your lap, you began to notice how dirty they’d gotten. Covered in a mix of blood and mud from the travels.

The moment Gareth was done cleaning up, he gently led you out of the hospital wing and toward the back of the camp. As you walked through you quickly noticed and felt the somber feeling that seemed to fall over the small community. It was mostly cast in darkness with small flashes and glimmers of candlelight in the windows or a small cluster grouped together. You didn’t miss the sound of tears as you passed by, and the feeling of guilt returned.

“I’m guessing you and Eddie are good now. Not pissed at him anymore?” Gareth asked, looking back over his shoulder at you for a moment.

“Yeah, we’re good.” You spoke, “We have some more talking to do, but…I understand, I guess.”

“Good. Couldn’t stand his moping around anymore.” Gareth smirked, causing you to laugh lightly.

The two of you came upon Eddie’s trailer tucked along the back of the camp with a few others. Gareth walked in first and flicked on the light bringing the small space to life. The lighting held a soft yellow glow around the room. A small couch was pressed against the back wall, tucked beneath a window that had a faded floral pattern curtain. An older tv was on the other side with a stack of vinyls and CDs sitting within a milk crate. An old worn two-chair table sat beside the small kitchenette with a two-burner stove, fridge, and small counter space.

As you looked around you couldn’t help but feel reminiscent of the trailer Eddie lived in with his uncle back when you were all in high school. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face when you saw the faded Garfield mug sitting in the sink.

“His bedroom is in the back, it’s crammed as hell, but I’m sure he won’t care if you make yourself home,” Gareth said.

“I feel like I’ve stepped back in time.” You laugh lightly.

“Wait till you see his room. Nearly like a time capsule.” Gareth smiled. “Uh, the bathroom is the door to the left, sure you would wanna clean up. Though it’s gonna be a cold shower.”

“Any kind of shower sounds good right now.” You mumbled, moving past Gareth and down the small hallway.

In a few short steps you were at his bedroom door, you hesitated for a moment before pushing it open. A bed was pressed into the corner with the sheets disheveled and pillows thrown at the top of the bed. The wood paneling was covered with posters, most faded, but still able to make out the band and movie names. The one that made you smile the most was the Corroded Coffin handmade banner. You walked along the small space left to walk and saw the many trinkets and clutter that covered the top of his dresser. Noticing the ashtray with a few stubbed-out butts, comic books stacked in with magazines, and a small container holding cassettes with a Walkman beside it.

“Some things never change,” You whispered as your eyes landed on the warn-down, dog-eared copy of the Hobbit.

You knew that you were the last to have that book. Knowing there was truth behind Eddie’s story of going back to your home. Opening up his dresser, you grabbed an old tshirt and a pair of sweatpants before moving back out and toward the bathroom. When you stepped out of Eddie’s room, you noticed that Gareth was no longer in the trailer. Moving toward the window you saw him sitting outside near the fire pit.

You stripped down and out of your soiled clothes and turned on the shower. You made sure to be careful of the wrapping on your back, as you washed with Eddie’s body wash. The cold water causes your skin to break out in goosebumps. Once you began to shake from the old, you turned off the water and quickly dried off. You felt more comfortable and relaxed once you were clean and in warm clothes.

“Where is she?” You heard, recognizing Eddie’s voice, outside the trailer.

You froze for a moment at the sound of his voice causing you to hesitate for a moment.

“Inside, cleaning up,” Gareth answered, his voice now sounding heavy with sadness. “How was the debrief?”

There was a moment of silence. Some of you felt bad sitting there and eavesdropping on their conversation, but a bigger part of you couldn’t help yourself.

“Karen Wheeler is torn up, as expected. Steve had to recount everything Robin told him along with everything else that happened.” Eddie sighed heavily, “Chief is sending a group back for her tomorrow…if she’s still there.”

Gareth groaned and shook his head. You pulled away from the small window and stepped back to Eddie’s bedroom causing their voices to fade into background noise. You slowly moved to crawl up Eddie’s bed till your body fell and sank slightly into the soft mattress. Instantly you were surrounded by the musky warm scent that could only be Eddie. A mix of his body wash and cigarettes. You nuzzled your face into the pillows and sighed softly as you felt your body slowly slipping into the safety of unconsciousness.

But that was soon interrupted when you felt the bed dip from beside you. You opened your eyes slowly and were welcomed by Eddie’s forlorn face. His brows pulled together tightly with a deep upset that caused his eyes to lose the sparkle you loved dearly.  Eddie reached down and caressed your cheek slowly, his calloused fingers moving along your smooth skin. You reached up and placed your hand over his and held it there, leaning into his touch as you closed your eyes again.

“You ok, sweetheart?” Eddie spoke softly.

You didn’t open your eyes as you shook your head, your grip tightening on his hand. A soft whimper left your lips as Eddie pulled his hand from your face. But when you opened your eyes, ready to protest the loss of his touch, you watched as he stripped out of his clothes. His leather jacket fell to the floor along with his boots, jeans, and flannel. The black and white barbwire and skull bandana are lost to the chaos on the floor. You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes moved down along his body.

No longer was he the slender boy you’d known in high school. Over the years his body became stronger, and it showed. Along with the decoration of more tattoos and scars. Eddie looked at you and saw your eyes and couldn’t stop the blush that covered his cheeks. A bashful look took over his features as he moved back toward the bed.

“Sorry,” You whispered, sheepishly looking away with a small smirk.

Eddie shook his head as he moved onto the bed beside you, slowly moving to press you against the wall to sandwich you. His long legs tangled with yours quickly as he pulled you into his warm body. Your head settles onto his chest and his arm wrapped around you.

“You can look all you want, sweetheart,” Eddie spoke softly, the deep rumble of his voice echoing against his chest.

Now it was your turn to blush as you turned your face into his chest more. Eddie could feel your small smile against his chest as you lay against him, causing him to do the same. Soon the two of you fell into a silence that was comfortable. The sounds of the world outside around you both slowly become the soundtrack to your night. The crackle of the fire Gareth had started earlier. A conversation too far away to hear words but heard the grumbles and tones of voices.

“I’m sorry if I’m…invading your home. I-I can leave in the morning.”

“No,” Eddie spoke firmly, the random pattern drawing on your back stopping, and his fingers gripping tightly to the shirt you were wearing. “Stay. I like having you here, physically feeling that you’re here with me and alive. I would’ve come for you if you hadn’t come here.”

“How is Robin?” You asked after a long moment of silence. The lull of Eddie’s fingers moving along your back continues.

“She’s with Steve. I-I don’t really know how she’s doing.” Eddie spoke.

Now you were even more grateful to be with Eddie. You didn’t wanna be left alone, especially with your thoughts at the moment, scared of how dark and deep they’d take you if you didn’t have Eddie.

“I don’t know what I would have done if it was you,” Eddie spoke, moving the two of you so he was laying beside you face to face, the two of you nearly lying face to face.

“Don’t go there,” You speak quickly, reaching to push back the dark curls away from his face. “Don’t think about it.”

Eddie frowns slightly, “I can’t help it. I heard it…the gunshot. I heard it followed by Robin’s screams and for a moment…for a second I-I had to think…” He shook his head and sighed heavily.

Eddie moved to nuzzle into your neck and relaxed his body into his arms. You rested your head on top of his, the two of you falling asleep like that.

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the loss of warmth. Your hand reached out and caressed over the cool and empty sheets where Eddie was laying. A small groan left your lips as your body ached and stretched as you slowly rose from the rumbled sheets of Eddie’s bed. Your feet shuffled down the carpeted hallway. You came around and around the corner to find the rest of the trailer empty. A deep frown was set against your lips before you moved toward the front door. The moment the door opened you saw Eddie sitting at the small picnic table that was right outside his trailer. It was tucked beneath the awning that stretched out the side of the trailer.

“Morning,” He smiled slightly, his eyes trained on you as you stepped down the three steps and toward him.

A small, breathy laugh sounded from you as you looked down to see what was sitting on the table in front of him. Worn, old, and faded copies of Dungeons and Dragons books. A notebook opened up in front of him with writings and drawings along the paper.

“You’re still playing?” You asked, squeezing yourself in beside him.

“Of course,” Eddie spoke a slight offense in his tone, reaching for the cigarette that was resting in the nook of his ashtray. He brought it to his lips and took a long pull, before flicking off the ash and resting it back. “We actually have quite a few that play with us when we can.”

“Still called Hellfire Club?” You asked with a small teasing smirk.

“I can see that you’re teasing me, and I won’t entertain it,” Eddie spoke turning back to his notebook.

“I’m not making fun of you.” You spoke and moved to rest against him looking down and reading over his campaign. “I think it’s sweet that you’re still doing Hellfire. Nice to see that being a rockstar didn’t change you.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call myself a rockstar,” Eddie muttered. “Album didn’t even get released. World decided to end instead.”

“You know what I mean,” You mumbled.

The comfortable silence from the night before returned quickly between the two of you. The rest of the camp slowly began to wake as others emerged from their homes and started their day. In the distance, you heard the small calling of some of the animals that were kept within the grounds. The neighbor in the trailer beside Eddie’s stepped out of the front door. She paused for a moment when she noticed the two of you sitting at the small table.

“Morning Greta,” Eddie spoke with a smile and waved toward the older woman.

“Morning Edward,” She nodded her head toward him, her face lighting up slightly before she turned to continue on her way.

“Edward?” You stifled a laugh, “I remember when you used to bite Wayne, or anyone else’s for that matter, head off whenever they called you your full name,”

“Greta is an exception.” Eddie shrugged his shoulders “She bakes me cookies.”

You laughed again before leaning over and kissing his cheek softly. Eddie turned toward you for a moment, before reaching to pull you closer to him, before pressing his lips lightly to yours. You moaned softly and seemed to melt into him as his lips pressed against yours. Eddie pressed back and pressed his forehead against yours and relaxed more into you.

Neither of you said anything, you didn’t have to.

At that moment, the comfortable silence between you said more than any words you could think of.

Hope you all enjoyed it! Please leave any comments, thoughts, or anything I really do enjoy seeing them from your guys. Wanted this chapter to be more of a filler and a little softer, especially after the tragedy that happened (rip nancy)

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[ladyinred2248]

King of the North, Finan x Reader, Part 2

Warnings: Mature. Minors DNI. Sexual themes and violence. Angst.

“Haestan?” Uhtred scoffed.

“Yes,” Finan replied, rolling his eyes. “East Anglia.”

Uhtred continued fidgeting with his saddle, preparing his horse for the journey ahead as Finan stood before him. He spoke to Finan firmly, his Danish-mixed accent lingering on every word.

“Finan, this is madness. You understand that you have all but killed the King of Wessex? You are now a traitor, an outlaw. This could cause tension and war between Ulaid and Wessex for generations.”

Finan let out a tired sigh as Uhtred scolded him, petting his horse on its back as the men looked at each other.

“Lord, do ya think I don’t know that? Alfred was the one who started all of this!”

“Yes, and you have finished it,” Uhtred continued, “He will have you killed for this.”

Finan scoffed at him, rolling his eyes. “The weak bastard can try.”

Uhtred grew increasingly frustrated at Finan’s stubbornness, his voice growing stern and commanding. “You will beg him for mercy. You will release him. We can still retrieve your woman, but Alfred will go free.”

Finan’s eyes grew wide with rage and surprise at his Lord’s words. “…What?!”

Uhtred raised his voice to him. “Finan! It’s the only way. All of us will be traitors, and all of us will die. Is that what you want?!” 

Finan shook his head. “No. You are all under my protection, as King.” 

“Believe me, Finan, I wish it was that simple. But your Kingdom is a month's journey from here.”

The men kept preparing supplies for a few minutes in frustrated silence, Sihtric and Osferth giving each other knowing glances and raised eyebrows before Finan spoke furiously again.

“I will not release him, Uhtred. He sold my woman to the Danes!”

Uhtred glared at him with wide eyes, a glance of rage that the men knew well.

“You will do as I ask.”

Finan’s anger grew at Uhtred’s words, his emotions lingering on his face. He chose not to challenge Uhtred’s command and instead pondered it while still fuming. The men stood silent for a few moments, until Uhtred approached Finan again with calmness.

“I will do all that I can to ensure you make it out of this alive. But do you realize how futile this is?”

Sihtric and Osferth were eavesdropping on the conversation still, both pairs of eyes looking up to the Irishman to see his response.

Finan swallowed hard, nodding to Uhtred. “I do. But would ya not do the same if it were Gisela, Lord?”

Uhtred nodded, putting a hand on Finan’s shoulder, “I would, my friend. You and I along with Sihtric and Osferth will travel to East Anglia. But I will not have the Scottish Prince whispering in your ear and corrupting you any further. He stays here.”

Finan nodded, continuing to listen.

“And before then, I must speak with Alfred and beg his forgiveness.”

“Lord,” Finan scoffed, “That will never happen.”

Uhtred gave Finan that wide eyed, intense gaze of his again, throwing his arms out as he spoke, “What other choice do we have?”

Although King Alfred had been taken prisoner by Finan’s men, he was not subject to brutal conditions. Domnal ensured that he was fed and treated with dignity, regardless of the circumstances. Alfred sat in the camp close to the fire, his hands bound and the cuts and bruises on his face bestowed by Finan showing like beacons of how defeated and foolish he felt at this moment. Uhtred came over to sit next to him, and Alfred barely glanced up at him as he started to speak.

“Lord King,” Uhtred acknowledged him, “I hope you believe that this is a means to an end. I would like for this to end with peace.”

Alfred glared at him, slightly trembling while he spoke slowly. “I have been humiliated. My Kingdom seized by Scots…my wife taken as a prisoner. And you believe this will lead to peace, Uhtred?”

Uhtred sighed, speaking with determination to hopefully speak some sense into him. “Do you not realize the part you played in this war? You kidnapped the future Queen of Northern Irland. King Constantin’s daughter. You have made her suffer in many ways, all for your own selfish plight.”

Alfred was silent for several moments, gazing into the light of the fire beside them. “I love her, Uhtred.”

Uhtred scoffed and shook his head. “Lord, you have no love for her. You don’t torture those you love,” Uhtred nodded to Finan in the distance, “That man would stop at nothing to keep her safe, to have her as his own. Even if it meant defying you and risking everything. All I ask is that you remember how my men and I have served you and your Kingdom. You still have my oath, Lord…let us have our peace.”

Alfred nodded once to him, looking down into the fire again but not replying.

“I will be back for you after our journey to the Danes. Until then, I would suggest that you think on my words… and repent for your sins to your God.”

Uhtred stood then, walking away from Alfred and towards Finan in the distance, until Domnal abruptly stopped him and they glared at each other.

“I think you are disrupting authority, Lord.” Domnal said with a smirk.

Uhtred looked between his eyes, stepping closer to him. “You will stay here, and you will make sure no harm comes to the King of Wessex. You will no longer escalate this.”

“I do not take my orders from you, Lord Uhtred.”

“These orders are from the King of the North.” Uhtred said with a smirk, holding Domnal’s gaze as he started to walk away.

Uhtred, Finan, Sihtric and Osferth prepared the journey to East Anglia with a band of Ulaid guardsmen, while Domnal and a band of Scots held Alfred at the encampment. Aethelflaed and the Mercians had simultaneously begun their travel to Wessex to aid in recapturing her father and mother’s lands.

Finan had now begun to come down from the unrelenting rage and bloodthirst he had felt for several days, Uhtred’s commands steadying him and anchoring him back to reality and his mentality becoming clearer after being apart from Constantin and Domnal. Finan now realized just how mindless, ill-advised and reckless he had been. For the second time in his life, he had let his heart guide his body into impossible circumstances, putting his life and others in danger once again. He started to feel an unyielding sense of guilt as he gazed at an exhausted Sihtric, a worried and traumatized Osferth, and a stern, contemplating Lord Uhtred. He let his mind drift to you while the men rode their horses to the East, thinking back to a year of strife but mostly joy, feeling more love for you from the distance than he did before the day you were taken from his arms. He remembered the several months you had together in Coccham, falling into a blissful routine and a simple life together. He wondered where exactly you were, how you were feeling, and what you might think of him now in the aftermath of his rage. He tried not to think of how long you had been in the company of savage Danes and what that entailed. His chest pained and his heart ached as the men went further on their journey.

You rode horseback in front of Haestan who kept you binded in his arms, your hands still bound with ropes at the wrist and you cringed at his foul odor being so close to him. 

You were unknowing that Haestan had in fact heard word of the siege on Winchester, and he nonchalantly let you believe that you were still traveling to be traded for silver and riches. His objective now was one of stronger intention, his undying desire to conquer Wessex and Mercia. Finan and the others were on the same road, heading in the opposite direction and unknowingly towards you.

“We make camp here,” Haestan ordered the Danes, helping you off his horse and keeping a grip around your waist that made you feel somewhat violated, until he walked you over to a tree and knelt you down to a seated position in front of it.

“Lady,” Haestan growled, his eyes seemingly hungry, “I can imagine how lonesome you must feel.”

You swallowed hard, trying not to hold his gaze. “I am not, Lord.”

“You aren’t very convincing, little one,” he said as he grazed his dirty fingers over your cheek, “Keep me company this night, hm?”

Rage built in your belly as your mind raced. You had already known that it wouldn’t be long before Haestan or one of the other Danes would beg your attention, with words or by force.

“I am loyal to my betrothed, Lord.” You spoke sternly, trembling with your words.

Haestan cackled with a wheezing laugh. “Your betrothed, my lady, seized Wessex and is now an enemy of the Crown. I don’t think he shall last very long.” Haestan chuckled again.

Your cheeks turned red with rage, your eyes searching Haestan’s for either truth or lies. But you knew in your heart it was real.

“He… he besieged Winchester?” 

Haestan chuckled again. “With Scottish and Irish forces. Which led me to understand that you…must be Constantin’s daughter, yes? Nothing less would start a war such as this on Wessex soil with the Scots.”

You knew that Haestan would use you as a bargaining chip now, but there was no stopping it.

You nodded hesitantly, fearing the repercussions if you lied. “I am, Lord.”

Haestan took his hand to your cheek again, trailing it down to your neck and collarbone. “So fair,” he rasped out as he took you in with his gaze, eyeing you like a predator would its prey.

“I… I do not wish to be bothered, Lord, please.” you said, turning away from him as much as you could in your binded state and trying to hold your composure, although your first thought was to spit directly in his face.

“Suit yourself, Princess. You won’t be able to deny me for long.” Haestan rasped angrily, standing from his knelt position. You sighed in relief as you watched him walk away from you without bestowing you harm. By now, you thought perhaps Finan knew of your fate. Perhaps he was traveling towards you. But perhaps he was dead already, the thought of which left your soul feeling like it was crushed into a million pieces. You thought maybe it would be better to fall on a sword at this point and end the misery.

The next morning, Haestan and the Danes prepared to continue on the journey, and he was less gentle with you when he grabbed you up from the ground forcefully and mounted you on his horse. They headed West, and Haestan’s plan was more of a hasty departure toward the unknown than it was a calculated endeavor. He was unsure of how exactly he would use you to conquer Wessex, but persisted nevertheless.

Uhtred, Finan, and the others continued on the path, storm clouds raging overhead and darkening the horizon as they rode, and Osferth shouted at the men over the impending noise of thunder.

“Should we rest and let the storm pass?” He yelled to the others.

“No,” Uhtred answered him, “We keep going.”

Finan looked to Sihtric, who nodded to him in agreement.

The men continued on their horses through a light drizzle until they heard stirring in the distance, then the sound of horses shuffling. Uhtred shushed the men with a wave of his hand, the others bringing their horses to a stop to listen for a moment.

Uhtred dismounted his horse swiftly and quietly, Finan following as they trudged through a brush filled area, pushing back branches as quietly as possible until they caught the sight of Haestan’s fleet. Finan’s heart raced in his chest, his arms already tingling with adrenaline as he slightly squinted his eyes and looked through the trees at the Danes traveling in a line with their horses. When he caught sight of you in Haestan’s arms, his breath caught in his throat and a shudder went down his spine, and Uhtred seemed to have caught the same sight as he looked to Finan. He put his hand on Finan’s chest, almost as if to hold him back. Sihtric and Osferth had trudged through the same brush and snuck up behind them at this point, their sudden arrival jolting Finan and scaring him half to death as Sihtric chuckled, his gaze having been so transfixed on the Danes.

“What now, Lord?” Sihtric asked.

Uhtred looked to Finan, emphasizing his words carefully, “We must go to them calmly. We approach this rationally. Understood?”

Finan nodded, biting his lip.

Uhtred, Finan and the others went around the brush to come in contact with Haestan, walking up to them with their hands on their swords but not yet drawn. The Danes immediately became unnerved, some of them dismounting their horses and drawing swords and axes.

Uhtred approached them slowly with his hands up.

“Haestan, we do not wish to fight. We are only here for one thing,” Uhtred nodded to you. 

Your heart raced when you saw Finan, and you caught his urgent state when Sihtric had to hold him back from running to you and the Danes, Uhtred commanding him to stay put.

Haestan sighed, teasing Uhtred with his cockiness and facial expressions. “I will give her to you. For a trade.” He chuckled.

Finan couldn’t be held back anymore as he shoved Sihtric away and ran over to you, shocking the Danes and nearly being tackled by one of them before reaching you, but not taking his eyes off of you.

Uhtred rolled his eyes. “Trade? For what?”

“The King of Wessex.” Haestan grinned.

Finan shoved the Danes away from him, moving towards you and Haestan and drawing his sword. 

“My love,” he whispered to you as he caught your gaze.

Tears fell from your eyes as you took in the sight of him, new cuts evident on his pale skin, dark brown eyes you thought you might never gaze into again. Your lips parted to speak but nothing would come out, and you tried to reach for him forgetting your hands were bound. More Danes grabbed Finan by his arms, pulling him away and starting to brawl with him.

“Enough!” Uhtred shouted at them, “Haestan, I will tell you where he is. Nothing more.”

Haestan held a serious demeanor now and licked his lips. “You don’t have much to bargain with, Uhtred.”

Uhtred shook his head, looking over to Finan and seeing the absolute fury in his eyes, then back up to meet Haestan’s gaze. “We will take you there. Release her.”

Haestan practically shoved you off of his horse and Finan ran over to catch you just in time, taking you into his arms. He knelt you down to the ground, swiftly drawing his dagger to cut your wrists free from the ropes and gently whispering to you as he cupped your face in his hands and nuzzled your nose with his. 

“Dear God!! My sweetest love... are ya alright?! Have they hurt ya?”

Your hands grappled at his armor, pulling him as close to you as possible. “N-no, I…I’m alright,” you whispered, tears falling from your eyes as you started to sob into him, nuzzling your face into his neck, “I thought you might be dead.”

“No… No, I swore to you a long time ago that I would never leave ya,” Finan said, holding his grip tightly on you as he pulled you against his chest. “I will never leave you again.”

>>> Part 3

Special thanks to @gemini-mama for beta reading! 💓💘

Taglist: @gemini-mama @persephones-journey @alexagirlie @whitedarkmoonflower

@bcon24 @ficnation

[strykingback]

Im sorry, but Jaune stans have really delicate feelings... Adam and Ironwood stans have had way more horrible words flung to them, both Bumbleby and Blacksun shippers too... It's sadly just the normal behavior of the FNDM. I feel bad that Jaune stans are receiving punches too, but they really act like it's the end of the world and like haters have kicked them in the gut. This is normal. Welcome to the actual experience in the RWBY FNDM!

I have to agree as well. I know that there are some good Jaune fans out there that understand that Jaune is poorly written as a character same with those in the Ironwood and Adam camps as well. These three characters in particular all lacked something when being written. Which I think for Adam and Ironwood fans held up firmly while Jaune stans just need to see that Jaune is poorly written... and not a good character.

For Jaune his poorly written status are in line with his lack of accountability, how the writers mostly Miles and Kerry treat him like a self-insert, and lastly poorly-done and pretty generic Semblance and allusion. What he lacks in accountability and responsibility, more respect towards his historical allusion, lastly, not being treated as a "Nice Guy" self-insert character.

Adam was VICTIM of racism even his bio on the now defunct Amity Arena mobile game even supports this. Yet people want to call him abusive or a PDFile because.

The Writers didnt know what to do with him. (Once again, fuck you Miles and Kerry.)

We still have no official confirmation about his age, despite A/rryn Z/ech claiming that he's in his twenties. Once more. Voice Actors dont write the show.

Instead of that. It would have been best to see how racism towards the faunus affected Adam when he was younger, since he has the Schnee Dust Company brand on his eye. Another thing would be to reinforce the student-master relationship and thats it. Nothing romantic between Blake and Adam just a student and master stuff that is all. T

he fact that we could have seen him at first glance hesitant to help humans after the Haven Academy attack because of his morals when he is exiled by the White Fang's council and a new High Leader. While at the same time revealing why he does not trust humans.

Not to mention making him a key-player in the downfall of Jacques Schnee alongside Blake, Weiss, and Winter. Most important of all for that specific arc being that he could see that both Faunus and Humans in Mantle suffer underneath Atlas and the corporations that live up there.

Ironwood just like Adam felt like wasted potential as well for lack of development and no exploration about his past at all. Just suddenly revealing that: "Oh he was evil all along" instead of understanding that he is in a position of leadership and doing what he can while also letting the stress of that position get to him.

We should have gotten the reveal on what happened to half of his body, why he is so focused on maintaining order to better fit the Tin Man allusion, and developing around him to the point where he reveals a kinder side to him. Showing that he has a heart.

Lastly, his semblance not being an ableist allusion for ADHD, which is on the spectrum by the way. Instead why couldn't it have been powered up shots depending on which gun he is using.

God thats another thing I want to touch on. As someone who ships Blacksun as well, I feel very sorry for the peeps who shipped Blacksun a lot, even to the point when BB did become canon that they may have insults flinged at them especially in their ask boxes anonymously. Which I also feel sorry for any BB fans who wanted a natural confession instead of the forced one they got in Volume Nine and perhaps in some case wanting Blacksun or Sunnybees (basically Polyamrous Blacksun and BB) .

To end this.

Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter The RWBY FNDM For if you disagree with what the FNDM says, thou shalt be shamed for it.

[slusheeduck]

Fictober 2023 Day 13 - Prompt: "Who takes care of you?" Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

It wasn’t an easy sleep Gale had dropped into, but he really couldn’t recall the last one he had. Probably before, well, everything. But fitful as his slumber was, he still wasn’t happy when it was interrupted by a paw batting his face. He grumbled, trying to ignore it. Half the time, Tara was just trying to see if he was awake; if he didn’t stir, she’d go somewhere else.

But clearly not today. Another bat came, even more solid than the first. It was finally an exasperated “Mr. Dekarios” that got him to answer.

“Tara, not now,” he said blearily, rolling over. “It’s not time for breakfast.”

“I should say it is not. This is where you’ve run off to?”

Gale opened his eyes, sitting up. He wasn’t in his tower; he was at camp, sleeping beside the fire with the others. From the look of it, they hadn’t heard Tara’s entrance. He looked back down at the tressym.

“Why are you here?” he whispered. “You promised to stay in Waterdeep. ‘Promise,’ verb, meaning to swear that something will or will not be done.”

“And I decided will not.” Tara sat down very primly in the dirt, nose up. “It’s a good thing, too. You look terrible.” She looked around appraisingly. “Have you fallen in with a bad crowd?” she whispered. “That explains that thing on your face, and…” She paused, nose twitching intently before she turned around, back immediately arching. “Oh, by the gods, you’ve even picked up a dog! I let you out of my sight for one moment and look what happens!”

Gale rubbed his face. “I’m not in with a bad crowd. I’m fine. Well, as much as I can be.” He sighed, looking back at the tressym. “It’s not safe for you to be here. Go back home, Tara.”

“The dog can be here, though?”

Gale let out an irritated huff. “The dog belongs to someone else. You belong to me, and—” Oh. Oh no. Oh no, no, he knew the mistake he made the moment the words left his mouth, but there was no time to apologize before Tara was arched up, wings out and a low growl escaping her.

“I belong to you? Oh, no, no, Gale Dekarios—if the decades I’ve been with you have taught you anything, it’s that you have that backward. Who takes care of you? Who spent the better part of a year looking for items to sate that ticking time bomb in you? Who was it that has sat by your side through hells and high water, only for you to stomp off and leave me and your mother worried sick?”

Gale tried to shush her as she railed off with her (admittedly very valid) points, but the damage was done. Astarion was the first to push himself up with a groan.

“What in the hells is that noise?” he grumbled.

“It’s the angriest meowing I’ve ever heard.” Falerin sat up, rubbing his eyes. He squinted at Gale, then glanced down at Tara. His eyes suddenly went wide, and he sat up straight. “Is that Tara?”

“Tara?” Karlach was up in a moment, already wide awake. “Tara’s here?” She looked over at the tressym, hands going to her mouth. “Oh my gods, it is Tara! That’s your sigil on her collar, Gale! Oh, aren’t you a pretty girl?”

In the wake of attention, Tara’s anger subsided, and she sat up to preen. “I see my reputation precedes me. As it should, of course.”

Gale sighed. “Yes, this is Tara. Tara, these are my…my friends.” Oh. It did feel good saying that.

“Some friends indeed, if they’re not telling you to shave,” Tara sniffed, though she wandered over toward them. Falerin held out his hand for her to sniff, and she responded by shoving her face right up against it. As he scratched beneath her chin, she purred. “I do like this one. He can stay.”

“At any rate, Tara was just leaving,” Gale said firmly, only to get a loud protest from all three around the fire.

“How can she leave now? She’s just arrived,” Karlach said between trying to pspspss her over. “And you’ve talked about her nonstop!”

Tara looked up, surprised. “You have?”

“I…may have shared one or two stories,” he said, scratching his chin. “Mostly about how you’ve massacred any pigeons that have come within a twenty-mile radius of the tower.”

“As is her right,” Astarion said. “Clearly she’s never done a single thing wrong in her life. Really, Gale, you’re being terribly unfair.”

“That one can stay, too,” Tara said, unceremoniously climbing up into Karlach’s lap—thank the gods they’d gotten that mechanic to fix her up. The tressym did look pleasantly surprised at the warmth, and she settled in comfortably; Karlach looked on the edge of tears at being chosen. “This one, too. Oh, she’s like a personal heater, how lovely.” She tucked up her wings and wrapped her tail around herself. “Perhaps you are doing quite well out here in the wilds. Even with the dog.”

Gale let out a long sigh. “Fine. You can stay the night,” he said, throwing up a hand. “We’ll discuss this in the morning.”

“Yes, over a decent breakfast. I can tell you haven’t had one since you left home,” Tara said, eyes squinting as Karlach delicately scratched at her ears. “I do hope one of your friends knows Speak with Animals. I’d like to hear a much less biased account of what you’ve been up to while off and about—and give some proper instructions on how to care for you. I can’t have people thinking you’re a stray, Mr. Dekarios.”

Fictober 2023 Drabble Master Post

[jeonaachu]

Campsite || MYG

Genre: Married couple, fluff, workplace romance

Pairing: Min Yoongi × Fem. OC

Word count: 1.6k+

Summary: Seol is angry at her workaholic husband because he forgot a cozy date night.

A/n: This is my first time writing on Tumblr and I'm still trying to make sense of things so I really don't know what to expect 😭

"Okay, everyone! It's time to partner up!” The loud voice of the department head, Ms.Song attracts the attention of all the employees sitting around the huge bonfire.

“Partner?” Someone questions from behind.

Ms. Song adjusts her glasses and looks at the person, clearing her throat. “We don’t have many tents so two people will have to share one.” Once the announcement was done, most of the people pair up with either their significant others or best friends and start pitching their tents, leaving Seol, Yoongi, Ms. Song and a few others still sitting around the fire. 

Seol looks over at Yoongi and he looks over at her before she looks away. 

Sigh.

“What’s with you two? Go pitch your tent.” Ms. Song comments, using her finger to gesture between both of them after witnessing all the cold gazes Seol had looked at Yoongi with this entire trip.

A huff leaves her mouth, arms folded across her chest. “I don’t want to share a tent with him,” She gives Yoongi a sharp glare causing the male to let out an inaudible, defeated breath.

On Ms. Song’s curious question about what had happened, Yoongi shakes his head, his shoulders drooping down as he does so. His eyes run back to her figure, just across him, only to find her still being sulky over what happened yesterday. “Seol arranged a date for us yesterday but I forgot and stayed till late at work and now, as you can see, she’s angry.” He summarizes the events that happened last night. 

The lady clicks her tongue and facepalms herself, "Well, she's right in this then. I have told you many times to not stay till late at the company." She gets up from her seat to get herself some water. "This is why I didn't get married," her tone and words make others laugh while Yoongi just lowers his head. 

He knows he's messed up.

After a few more minutes, when neither of them make any move, the department head clears her throat. "Okay, if you both don't want to share a tent then Yura pair up with Yoongi and go prepare your tent," her words make the said girl to spring up excitedly from her seat and Seol to spring up aggressively. 

She's undoubtedly the possessive kind and definitely knows about the itty bitty crush Yura has over her husband.

"No, I'll share the tent with him," She says firmly before grabbing her husband's hand and taking him along with her.

There's complete silence for the next ten minutes, he didn't say anything and neither did she while both of them set up the tent together to spend the night. Yoongi, of course, didn't let her do much of the work.

"About yesterday-" His apologetic voice hits her eardrums and she instantly turns to face him. 

She shakes her head slightly, "I don't want to talk about it."

With that she walks away from there. Her feet coming to a stop only when they reached the lake beside which the department team was camping.

She never liked arguing and not being on speaking terms with her husband but lately, he was barely giving her any time as if his work was his wife instead of her. He works in the same department as hers and yet managed to keep her out of his daily schedule these days.

It was frustrating. 

Even more so when Seol had planned an indoor date just because he loves staying home rather than going out, cooked his favorite food even though she doesn't know how to cook very well and instead of getting appreciated for her efforts, she had to stay up till one in the morning until you got too tired and went to sleep.

This was a first.

In their six years of being together, he had never done that. She was ready to let it slide but at the same time she was enjoying the attention Yoongi was giving her to make her forgive his blunder.

Standing by the lake, she felt all her anger and sadness leave her body. The lake water glittering because of the bright moonlight falling on it really seemed to calm her mind. She takes in a deep breath, quite amazed by the refreshing fragrance of the trees and flowers around the entire campsite and allows herself to focus on the sound of the rustling leaves, crackling bonfire and several nocturnal insects hiding in the bushes. 

A cold gust of wind makes her shiver slightly. As the night grew more, the temperature seemed to be getting lower too. Seol was busy covering her bare arms with her palms when a bowl of ramen came into view, right in front of her. Her gaze follows the hand that was holding it and comes to a pause only when she locks eyes with her husband. 

"I sneaked in a couple of these in my bag," Bribing her with food has always been an efficient strategy for Yoongi ever since they both started seeing each other, the past six years to be exact. 

She looks at the delicious noodles that were inviting her to devour them and then back at Yoongi who wanted her to devour them. In the fight between her ego and hunger, hunger won and she accepts the ramen he had prepared. 

His strategy definitely worked every time.

It wasn't difficult for her to notice the little smile dancing on his soft lips. "Don't think you're forgiven," She fills her mouth with the delicious noodles while sitting on the mat Yoongi had laid by the lake. 

Yoongi takes a seat beside his wife and watches as she takes another mouthful bite. "I'm really sorry about yesterday. I really didn't want to forget about it but it just slipped out of my mind," his words are followed by a weary sigh indicating he didn't want this matter to stretch more. 

"Honestly, I'm not upset because you forgot about the date, I'm angry because I planned a surprise for you." Her lips form a pout. 

He furrows his brows, "A surprise? What surprise?" 

"Guess it yourself." With that, she focuses on her noodles and he focuses on thinking about whatever surprise Seol might have prepared for him. 

A couple minutes passed without any words from Yoongi. If it wasn't for him biting his nails, deep in thought, she'd have thought he's asleep. 

"You bought new lingerie?" She chokes on her noodles when these words leave his mouth. 

An expression that screamed "done" alongwith a scowl his way and he understood he was wrong. "Okay, it's not that." There's a small pause before another guess. "You bought couple accessories?" 

"No, but I actually want to." 

"A new car?" 

"No." 

"A guitar?" 

"You already have many." 

"Couple hoodies?" 

"Nooooo." 

"House?" 

"Come on, Yoongi. Don't be ridiculous."  Seol sighs, a little pissed at her husband's cluelessness. 

Another stretch of silence follows her words, coming to an end only when Yoongi speaks again. 

"You got a new tattoo?" 

She shakes her head as a 'no'. If she was being honest, she didn't even want to respond now. 

"You got promoted?" 

Another no. 

"You're pregnant?" 

"Yes." 

Yoongi nods, not giving much attention to what he asked and what she replied. "So, you're pregnant." He hums before stopping and looking at her with wide eyes, his brain finally processing what just happened. "Wait- You're pregnant?? Like, for real??" 

She laughs at his big eyes and slightly parted lips, "No, I'm definitely pranking you." Her reply was sarcastic but she was quick to notice his unamazed expression at her reply. "Okay, yes. I'm pregnant." 

It felt like he just froze for a minute.

No movements,

No sounds,

He didn't even blink his eyes.

"So I'm going to be a dad?" A smile finally stretches across his face, followed by a couple happy tears which she wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the moonlight.

Seol nods her head without wasting a second. "Yes, you are. I got to know about it yesterday too." She blinks her eyes a couple times to avoid tearing up.

It was such a big news, a good news, that it overwhelmed the both of them. 

Out of nowhere, Yoongi hesitantly wraps his arms around her and puts his forehead on her shoulder. It's been six years of them being together but he still was shy to initiate skinship. "I'm really so sorry for yesterday. I know I have said this multiple times since then but I ruined such a big day for you, for us. I'm so stupid." He lets out in a low voice, still hugging her. 

She smiles slightly to herself, putting her own arms around him. "It's fine, it's fine. You realized your mistake, that's more than enough." She pats his back and places a soft kiss on his head.

The couple stays like that for a couple minutes, not saying anything, just being there in each other's embrace, Yoongi still having his head on her shoulder. 

"Thank you for this surprise, really." He kisses her shoulder before lifting his head to meet her eyes. 

Seol chuckles softly at his statement. "Well, half the credit goes to you, too." She leans forward, maintaining eye contact with him. 

Her husband snickers,"Oh yes, how can I forget the hard work!" His words being followed by a smirk. 

A groan leaves her mouth, shivers of cringe flowing across her body as she punches the male on his chest for his cheeky statement. "YOONGI!" She hides her face behind her palms while he laughs heartily at his wife's flustered state. 

All while the lake, stars, the moon and their colleagues witness the moment, without them both knowing. 

"I told you these two won't go a day without talking." A series of silent laughs follows Ms. Song’s statement while everyone makes their way back to their tents, leaving Seol and Yoongi to enjoy their time alone.

[castlebyersafterdark]

ok random thought. does anyone worry that we might get byler and a byler kiss or two and it might end up being… weird? weird in that we’ve watched these two actors grow up since being kids and yea we have shipped their characters but like actually seeing these grown now actors kissing after all these years after literally watching them growing up together might be different??? like awk or strange for some of us since most actors on shows we don’t grow up with them? idk if I am explaining it right lol. And like realistically I know finn and noah are good actors who have good chemistry and the show won’t let us down with the direction etc, but sometimes I am like… yea f/n have great chemistry and have been super cute over the years but it’s like there’s a block in my brain about how I might process them actually kissing as mike/will in the show? like i’m worried i might wait and be excited for byler to happen and then it happens and they kiss and I should be happy but instead im like….. oh. cause it feels weird to me or like what if god forbid the chemistry doesn’t lend itself to a good romantic kiss onscreen!!! I feel like I am overthinking lol but … does this make any sense lol

Have to be honest, I don’t really have this doubt! I fully believe Finn and Noah will deliver. I think the chemistry is so there, I think they want to do this, do this right. Here's one vision: imagine they're filming it, they've only blocked it so far in rehearsal, the first kiss is to really be the first kiss just to keep big moments for authentic filming. The first attempt is odd, they're kind of laughing a little as they go for it, angle was weird. Both end up just kinda laughing against each other's mouth before one pulls back fast. Tries to reset. Be serious. Then it happens again. After a few failed takes one of them asks to pause for a moment and they step away, a chat between the two actors. The closeness these two have from all these years, imagine one of them just talking soft like "Hey, hey. Slow down with me. We can do this." Finn really becomes Mike, with his gentle reassurances. Noah going serious, calm, looking up at him while he nods his head. They do another take. This is the one, or at least the first of the round of really good, authentic takes of the kiss. They flip a switch and they embody the characters. That initial take is the one the filmmakers go with, but they still do a few more. Just in case. Just one more. And one more. 😉

I don't see either of them complaining and saying "this is too weird" like the HP actors who probably took one awkward take and then said please just use it so we don't have to do that again haha. Maybe we do project other reasons onto F/N but it's not all that. They have actual chemistry on the show. We've seen it. So we'll be able to witness a kiss with actual chemistry as well. I very much trust them.

And I'm very firmly in the camp that I don't really put much personal stock in the "we watched them grow up" mindset as a detractors to make it weird. Because that's just it, they grew up. We're at a different place now. I don't look at every adult and think of them immediately as a kid, even if I'm familiar with them also younger. Irl and celebs. Just not how I view things because it's all a journey but watching the journey, here we are. I just don't think its fair to not afford the actors and the characters the full extend of the journey and life to say they'll always be those little kids we met in season one. Negates the story, the growth, the beauty of observing a fulfilled life, what they've worked towards. Its really nice we've gotten to observe and experience this with them.

[toasecretsanta]

From @tsarinatorment for NatureGuardian using the prompt Percy has heart to heart talk with Nico about everything (Happy or ANGSTY)

Nico frowned as he perched on the porch of the Big House, listening to the chaos of the infirmary.  Will had firmly kicked him out, pointing out that due to his early fade out from the battle, he’d been away from Apollo’s summoned miniature plague and therefore hadn’t caught it – and his boyfriend wanted it to stay that way.

Not that Nico could say he particularly minded not being in the thick of things, especially when that involved almost the entire camp’s population sneezing and snivelling so badly that none of them could stay on their feet, but he did mind that Will was running around and treating everyone else near enough solo, what with Kayla and Austin as two of the worst-affected, and Apollo himself being… well.

Will was a much better healer than Lester, even if Apollo clearly cared, and was trying.

Still, Nico wasn’t happy about the whole thing, and the company that had just appeared from the direction of the lake.

“Hey,” Percy said, grabbing one of the porch chairs and spinning it around before straddling it backwards.  His hair was wet, so clearly he’d let it get wet on purpose during his clean-up of the Colossus.  Nico suspected it was to drive away the hay fever fumes.

He grunted back at him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Percy.  Percy had been his hero since he was a kid, even if Nico had managed to shift the hero-worship-crush nonsense his younger self had had on the son of Poseidon.  He just didn’t want to deal with Percy right then.

Or at any point in the near future, really.

“This Apollo thing is a mess,” the older demigod said after a few more moments, obviously not getting the hint that Nico didn’t really want his company right then.

He grunted again, shrugging because Percy wasn’t exactly wrong, and looked back towards the infirmary again.  Occasionally, he could catch a glimpse of Will as he flitted about between beds.

“How’s Will holding up?” Percy asked him.  “Given… well…”  He trailed off awkwardly.

“He’s coping,” Nico muttered.  Badly, he added silently, which was another reason why he didn’t like being banished from the infirmary while Will fretted over everyone else and bossed his turned-mortal dad around.  Will was going to burn himself out and Nico hated the feeling of helplessness he got whenever that happened.

“Ah,” Percy grimaced, apparently hearing the silent addition.  “How about you, Nico?  We haven’t spoken in a while.”

There was no way Percy was dumb enough to not realise Nico didn’t want to have this conversation, but he stayed slouched on his backwards chair as though he didn’t have a clue, and part of Nico wanted to push him off, just to break the cool hero façade Percy had going on.  He’d seen him flailing frantically enough times to know he wasn’t so much a cool hero as just another demigod.

Unfortunately, the annoying little-kid part of Nico that had been making itself known more and more since he’d officially started living at camp and socialising with demigods – occasionally even those whose names didn’t start with Will and end with Solace – still saw Percy as the cool hero, and wouldn’t let him even give Percy a small nudge.

“Surviving,” he said instead.  “Not dissolving into shadows much anymore.”

The smile Percy gave him was genuine, because of course Percy was genuinely glad that Nico wasn’t about to fade from existence.  It was the sort of smile that would’ve made his stomach do backflips and butterflies, and drag yes out of his mouth to everything Percy said a year ago.  Now, it just gave him phantom butterflies, barely there but enough to remind him of what had been, before he’d met Will and discovered what a reciprocated crush felt like.

Discovered the difference between loving someone, and the idea of someone.

“I’m glad,” Percy said.  “Glad that you’re doing better, I mean.  I was a bit worried when I didn’t see you in the fight.”  The phantom butterflies dissolved as Nico’s stomach twisted unhappily at the reminder that he’d been near enough useless in the fight.

Percy, for all that he’d turned up to save the day again, had moved on from camp.  Sure, he dropped by every so often, but everyone knew he was going to Camp Jupiter at the end of the summer with Annabeth.  Nico didn’t blame him for wanting to live somewhere that was near-guaranteed to be safe from monsters taking opportunistic pot-shots, he didn’t.  Besides, another full summer at camp being reminded that he’d once had a crush on the heroic Perseus Jackson sounded like hell.

But Nico was uncomfortably aware that that left him as the camp’s resident Big Three kid, with all the expectations that came with it.  Percy was a front-line fighter, Thalia had been a protective pine tree for years, and Nico…

Well, Nico should be a front-line fighter, except he was also more of a guerilla warrior – or would be, if he could shadow travel without passing out almost immediately afterwards.  He didn’t regret the journey back from Greece with the statue, but he hated what it had done to his ability to travel through the shadows.

He hated how much it worried Will, too.

“I wasn’t needed,” he deflected, which was a lie in as much as his shadow travel had been the fastest way to get the flying chariot away from Sherman’s control, but otherwise true because he hadn’t been. Not when Apollo had already rescued all the demigods and had a plan all sorted that didn’t include him.

He pretended not to see the way Percy’s sea-green eyes darkened in disapproval.  “You’re always needed, Nico,” he said, and Nico scoffed.

“I wasn’t needed then,” he repeated, clarified.  “Apollo had it in hand just fine without me.”

The noise Percy made proved that his excuse wasn’t flying at all.  “No he didn’t,” he said.  “That guy did not have that in hand at all.”  Nico glanced over to see him sending a look at the infirmary, one that was usually reserved for people Percy didn’t really respect much.  “Apollo’s not the worst god, sure,” he continued, “but he’s still…”  He trailed off, scrunching his face up as he clearly tried to search for the word he meant.  “Flighty.  He did help us out once, I guess, but… he was kind of lame every other time I’ve met him.  This week very much included.”

Nico’s one encounter with the godly Apollo had included the first time he’d been treated decently since discovering he was a demigod, and now that the rose-tinted glasses he’d once viewed Percy with had shattered, Apollo’s kindness stood out even more amongst the sea of betrayal, abandonment, and dismissal he’d received that day.

Still, he couldn’t quite disagree with Percy’s assessment.  “I suppose,” he said.  “He’s definitely not the worst, for a god.”  Apollo cared, or was at least doing a very good job of pretending to.  Will was struggling with a lot of the current mortal-god situation, but the one thing he seemed to have accepted without any problems was his dad’s personality, so Nico was inclined to let that point stand unchallenged.  “Or a mortal-god.”

“He was on the front lines,” Percy agreed.  “And isn’t he trying to help Will now?”

Nico snorted.  “Trying to,” he said, not bothering to mention that Apollo was still doing a better job than he would.  Despite Will’s best efforts, he was not a natural at helping patients.

“It’s his own fault if he gets sick,” Percy pointed out, “given he summoned the thing in the first place.”

“As long as it doesn’t make Will ill,” Nico grumbled.  Percy sent him a teasing grin.

“If Will gets sick, you’ll just have to look after him,” he said.  “Not that I think I’ve ever seen Will get sick.”

“It happens,” Nico said shortly, although admittedly whenever he had seen him ill, it had been because he’d pushed himself too hard.

Like he was threatening to do again now.

“You’ll know better than me,” Percy admitted easily.  “In that case, good luck!”  Finally he stood up, kicking his chair to one side haphazardly.  Nico watched him wander towards the Big House, where Rachel’s shock of red curls stood out in the fading evening light.  “You’re good for each other, I think,” he added after a moment.  “I’m glad you’re happy again, Nico.”

Was Nico happy?  Not right then, with his boyfriend stuck with a bunch of ill kids of his own volition.  But overall?

“I’m getting there,” he admitted under his breath as Percy disappeared.  “I’ll get there.”

[calicheer-cove]

Select Clientele - Billy Hargrove x Chrissy Cunningham

Summary: Chrissy has her eyes on Billy. Billy has his eyes on Chrissy. He decides to have a little talk with her. What will be her decision?

Author’s Note: The pool flirting scene, but make it Calicheer. Also let me know if you want a part two.

Summertime in the small town of Hawkins meant something different for everyone. For El and Max, this meant sleepovers and playing around with her powers to spy on the boys. For Dustin this meant computer camp to learn and build with the latest in tech ware. For Will, he was hoping for D&D, while Lucas and Mike wondered if their girlfriends were mad at them. As for the older ones, summer internships and jobs to save up for future endeavors. Billy was more than happy to work as a lifeguard if it meant being out of the house. Chrissy, against her mother’s narrow mindedness, worked at the GAP.

Training alongside her friends was a nice change of pace instead of attending bible camp, again. Utilizing her people skills, practicing money management, and keeping the place in tip top shape made the time roll by. Even on days when only a small handful of customers came over, she was happy to be there. Aside from store discounts, she also had the benefit of stopping by Scoops Ahoy! to meet up with Steve and Robin during her lunch breaks. Harrington went on about his failed love life, while Buckley and her rightfully poked fun at him. Dustin was surprised to see Cunningham, feeling apprehensive at first. In time he was able to see that she was actually a nice person. Chrissy thought of him like a second little brother.

Aside from the mall, the community pool was also another big hot spot. The place to be for fun in the sun, much to the boredom of the juniors and seniors working as lifeguards. They did their training and work of course, their faces indicated that they would rather be anywhere than here. Billy was no different, still at least he was able to earn a little extra money and work on his tan. Billy was not ashamed of how he looked, he took pride in his appearance. A number of the mothers clearly took interest. He offered them a charming smile as he passed by, his face dropping immediately once he turned his back on them. He loved the attention of course, but there was only one set of eyes that Billy wanted on him. Eyes as blue as the ocean beneath the Santa Monica pier in July.

Nancy took in the warmth of the bright sun on her skin. Robin preferred to stay under the umbrella with Vickie, worried that the 50 spf wouldn’t be enough for her; despite her reassurances. Dustin was engaged in a battle of chicken, keeping himself steady on Steve’s shoulders. Making his best attempt to push Will off of Jonathan’s shoulders. Lucas and Mike were showing off in front of Max and El, the two girls focusing on each other rather than their idiot boyfriends. Erica and her friends were more than prepared to make fun of the older Sinclair sibling and his friend.

Chrissy’s nose was firmly in a copy of some trashy romance novel that Heather loaned her. A pretty predictable story, but one that she enjoyed nonetheless. In a small, shanty sea town, a faithful woman of god (who so happens to be a widow) crosses paths with a sexy pirate. He steals her, they go sailing, have sex, and that’s it. The words were enticing, the same could be said for the cover art as well. Muscular man with a tan, long flowing locks of golden, curly hair, eyes as blue as the sea, and he’s wearing a shirt that showed off more cleavage than the lady.

“So how are you liking it so far?” Heather asked, passing over a can of Tab to her.

“It’s good. Captain James is wooing Prudence in his quarters,” Chrissy answered back, eyes going back to the page.

“Ooh, you’re gonna love the next chapter. It’s so hot,” Heather purred, sliding a stick of gum into her mouth.

Chrissy wasn’t exactly a connoisseur of romantic smut, but her curiosity was definitely piqued in freshman year. During a slumber party, Heather shared her mother’s private reading collection and the girls all had a good laugh. Chrissy wasn’t sure what the flowery language meant, but she giggled as well. In sophomore year, she would find a private corner at the public library to read those stories; that is until Heather would offer one to get, in exchange for a little tutoring. As they studied for an upcoming science test, Heather noticed how distracted Chrissy appeared during a session. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Cunningham was crushing on Hargrove as he walked by. Heather, in good fun and genuine curiosity, had questions. Chrissy was easy to read: Cheeks glowing, heart thumping, and scowl that wouldn’t scare a rabbit. Heather swore to tell no one and she kept that promise.

Chrissy peaked over her heart shaped sunglasses at the tanned Adonis. She had an inkling that he was looking at her, despite wearing his aviators. She figured that maybe she wouldn’t register on his love radar, boy was she wrong. Billy wasn’t a stranger to certain members on the cheer team, little flings in between after school practice were commonplace. To his surprise, all she did was offer him a friendly greeting and nothing more. He sat behind her in geometry, staring at the gentle slope of her neck. The curled loop of her ponytail looked so pretty, often accessorized with a scrunchie or a bow. Her perfume smelled expensive, costing more than a six pack, a box of Camels, and gas combined. In the cafeteria their eyes met briefly before she went off with her friends. One of Hargrove’s fellow goons made the fatal mistake of jokingly stating that Billy had a crush on Chrissy. A threat and swift punch to the shoulder was enough to shut him up. Wounded pride aside, it was true; Billy did find her fascinating.

Getting paired up in class for a history project led to conversations, allowing for them to talk; even if it was surface level. They began to converse in the hallway and after school as well. People began to talk, Billy didn’t give a shit, but Chrissy did. He wasn’t sure why, but a part of his mind ordered him to keep her safe. If someone made an inappropriate remark at her, Billy was the first to know. If he noticed that she wasn’t in class, he would ask around. Max kept her distance between her step brother and the cheerleader. She figured it was going to be nothing more than another quick relationship that she would end up having to hear from her bedroom, again. Yet he seemed different around her. The last thing Max could do was bring it up. Still, she found it a little amusing that El didn’t understand what Mayfield meant by “happy screams” and why Chrissy wasn’t making any.

“Chrissy? Hello, earth to Chrissy?” Heather stated as she waved her hand in front of her friend’s face.

“Huh? What?”

She chuckled, “You were totally staring at Billy.”

“I was not,” Chrissy hissed back, her blush betraying her.

“Aww, look at you, you’re blushing.”

She crossed her arms, “No! I- I- I’m sunburned.”

Heather leaned back in her chair, expensive sunglasses perfectly perched upon her nose, “Uh-huh sure, whatever you say. I mean, it’s not like he’s been staring at you since you came in or anything.”

Was he? Chrissy wanted to check, but she didn’t want to be so obvious. She placed her own glasses back up, eyes lingering back to the beautiful man. Solar spectacles on, face on the residents having their fun. No one would ever know about the ocean eyes gazing at the strawberry blonde.

Chrissy inhaled slowly and made her way over to the pool. Fake it til you make it as the old saying goes. For Chrissy, her confidence always shined through whenever she cheered. Her feet and legs gracefully strolled over to the water. His eyes kept his sight on her, his mind taking in each and every step that she took. She dawned a two colored one piece swimsuit, purple and white adorned the fabric. She wondered if it was too revealing due to the revealing neckline and how the suit hugged her rear. Heather and Nancy insisted that she looked amazing, Vickie loved the colors, and Robin was speechless before giving her a compliment (well more of a ramble, but Chrissy still thanked her).

The water felt so welcoming along her skin, allowing her to feel so comfortable and so free. She always loved the water, be it rain, lakes, and whenever she took a bath. As a child, she used to pretend that she was a mermaid swimming far, far away into the endless depths. No more responsibilities, no more worries, and no more stress. She could be her own person with a strong, shining tail and locks as long as a kelp forest. If only this mermaid knew just how much the lonely sailor watched her. Billy slowly removed his sunglasses, admiring the incredible form and movement. Chrissy took to the water like a bird to the air, with ease and strength. Her vibrant eye makeup never washed away, strawberry blonde locks darkened to a warm amber hue. She was radiant, lively, and enchanting.

His job was to focus on everybody at the community pool, yet he simply could not look away. He could hear music playing loudly in his eardrums. The booming of drums, the slick plucking of a bass, the melodic riffing of a guitar, and the amorous lyrics from the vocalist all came together. In his eyes, Chrissy moved in slow motion to the tune of Foreigner’s “Hot Blooded.” As much as he loved Phoebe Cates in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, her presence was no longer lingering in his mind. Chrissy was the one to break the surface of the pool’s water, strutting towards him in a red hot bikini. Manicured fingers carefully unclipping her top from the front to reveal her small and pretty breasts. His whistle seductively brushed along his upper lip and tongue, blowing out a loud tweet. The loudness of reality returned, but he kept his eyes on her. Chrissy used the ladder and was pleased to see him walking over.

“Looking good out there, Chrissy,” Billy stated, unable to keep back his smile.

She couldn’t resist smiling as well, “Thank you.”

He offered her a towel, their hands touched for a moment, “Perfect form.”

She felt the pleasant spark, eyes drifting along his sculpted body before she met his eyes, “Well… your form is amazing.”

Oh god, did she really say that to him? She really said that to him. His smile grew, letting out a mischievous chuckle.

She felt the little twinge of embarrassment, “I’m sorry. I’ve seen you… teaching lessons. Swimming lessons.”

Chrissy looked away briefly, asking for the concrete below her to melt beneath her feet. Maybe getting buried in a rock solid hole would be less painful than this. Yet he was still here, more than ready to engage. She hoped that perhaps he could smooth out the wince inducing matter.

Billy’s toothy grin dropped from humorous to a heart palpitating smirk, “You know, I could uh… I could teach you, if you like.”

Did she hear that right? Or did she imagine those words? He fluttered his long, lovely eyelashes when he spoke. Chrissy stood there with her mouth slightly agape.

“Oh?”

He continued, grin still evident, “I know all the styles. Freestyle.” He took a step closer, his expression neutral; enjoying the way she obediently nodded her head and clutched her towel. “Butterfly.”

Chrissy could hear her heart racing many miles a second. Her brain begged her not to say something stupid again. She could feel her body heat rising. She swore that she could also sense the warm sensation of his body as well, despite the short distance between them. Chrissy was so lost in his eyes that she didn’t notice the fresh stick of gum that he unwrapped and fished from his pocket. Gazing at the thick fingers gently holding the treat beneath his lips.

There it was, that smile, that gorgeously handsome smile, “Breaststroke.”

Chrissy did not blink, fingers loosening up as the air from her lungs momentarily vanished. The sound of her towel plummeting to the hard surface brought her back. She bent down to grab it, finding herself looking at Billy’s face when he helped her; his hand brushing hers once again.

“You okay?” He asked, sounding a little concerned and a bit smug.

She wrapped the towel around her waist, trying to hide her shyness with a friendly disposition, “I didn’t think you- I didn’t think you taught other age groups.”

Billy smacked his lips while he chewed, his breath minty fresh, “Well I offer more uh… advanced lessons to select clientele.”

He looked her directly in her gleaming eyes, he could see her demeanor change. Any time they spoke, even if it was just for a few minutes, Chrissy noticed how she felt a little light headed. Being in such close proximity made her lower half pulsate, a feeling that would continue to plague her long after they spoke.

His voice became as soft as the wind, Pacific blue eyes drilling into her soul, “Come to think of it, there is a good pool out at a Motel 6 on Cornwallis. It’s very quiet. You know, very private. Shall we say tonight? Eight o’clock?”

Chrissy’s brain reminded her to breathe, her ears focusing on the sound of his deep, gentle tone amidst the noise of summer fun. She could feel her head nodding, having to stop herself when she gave him a sympathetic smile, “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

He sounded heartbroken, it was all an act of course, one that made her laugh, “Can’t what? Have fun? Chrissy Cunningham.”

She felt so weird in this unusual predicament, yet she couldn’t help but enjoy this extra attention that he was giving her. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Billy to flirt with others, but she couldn’t imagine herself being with him romantically; and yet her mind did wander to that possibility.

Chrissy ran her nails through her soaked locks, doing her best to calm down her racing heart beat, letting out another chuckle, “No. I… I… I just, uh… I don't think I need any lessons.”

How strange. Her voice sounded different. Breathy and just a little seductive. Billy liked that, he really liked it.

He was closer to her, truly towering over Chrissy, “Oh, you see, I think you do. I just don’t think that you’ve had the right teacher.”

She gulped, this was really happening, “I, uh-”

The smug bastard showed off his best smirk, his voice was like caramel, rich and smooth, “It will be the workout of your life.”

Chrissy wondered if it was possible for a human heart to thrust back and forth through one’s chest the way a cartoon character’s heart does. His wolfish demeanor should have disgusted her, but she couldn’t lie to herself, she was enjoying this. Yet she could sense the judgemental eyes of everyone around her. As if she were bare before all of Hawkins, a sensation that haunted her in life and in her dreams.

Chrissy gasped when she felt Heather’s grasp on her arm, “Hey Billy, don’t you have some cougars to flirt with?”

He rolled his eyes, “Speaking of cougars, how’s your mom doing?”

Heather scowled at him, “You’re such a prick.”

“Well, I’d like to stay and chat, but I have a job to do. See you later, Chrissy,” Billy stated before heading back to his station.

Chrissy covered herself with the towel, “Thanks Heather.”

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, “Yes, I’m fine. Just um… I don’t know… kinda weird right now.”

[hydropyro]

Slowly adding more ((((non smut)))) to Webs of Fate

Excerpt, spoilers!

Torture of Kar’niss

“It would be a mercy to put it down,” Lae’zel suggested. They stood in a semi-circle around the bound drider, who struggled with all its might, but could only manage slight rocking in the dirt.

The eerie black eyes of the drider seemed to burn into Alakvyr — he had lied to him — and as he was gagged he felt the drider pushing at his mind through the tadpole. The last time he’d looked inside, though, Alakvyr had quickly retreated.

“He probably has information that we can use,” Gale reasoned.

Lo — Astarion — laughed, “Feel free to ask him, darling. I’m sure someone can send your effects to your mother.”

The human frowned at the elf, crossing his arms. “Obviously we will need to convince him.”

“Convince like torture?” Wyll also frowned, the skin of his forehead pulling at the unfamiliar horns.

Karlach draped an arm over the Blade’s shoulder. Since the tiefling had managed to stabilize her engine enough to let her touch people safely, she had been very handsy — Wyll didn’t seem to mind. “We don’t torture.”

Abdirak had been listening quietly, his ever insightful gaze drifting over the monster before them. He raised his head to look at Karlach then. “Then you are fortunate to be traveling with someone who does.”

The drider’s glare flicked over to the human. Abdirak was capable, Alakvyr knew, but how was he going to handle such a powerful, unpredictable creature?

“We aren’t going to just let him do this,” Karlach looked around the group, her fiery gaze settling on Alakvyr. “Right?”

“Oh, I don’t see the harm,” — Astarion said.

“Excellent,” Abdirak clapped a hand onto the vampire’s shoulder without taking his gaze from the drider. “You will assist me.”

“Hold on,” the elf began to argue, but Abdirak was already leading him by the arm into the stable.

~~~

Karlach, Wyll, and Gale were all standing just outside of the stable door when Alakvyr roused from his reverie. He did not know the time — it was harder to tell time here than even the Underdark. But, he felt decently rested, so a few hours must have passed.

He started across the camp toward his companions. A shrill sobbing rang out in the still air, coming from behind the closed stable door — accompanied by Abdirak’s soothing, encouraging voice — though even the elf could not make out the words.

“We have to stop this,” Karlach said firmly. “I shouldn’t have even let it happen in the first place.”

Gale stood between her and the door, though he would not be much of a barrier should she want to pass. “None of us like this, Karlach,” he said, trying to calm her.

She threw a hand out toward the door and Gale flinched away. “That twisted fucker does. And Alakvyr’s no better!”

Alakvyr cleared his throat — more loudly than he intended. The companions whirled on him, and if Karlach could have become more red, she would have. “What am I no better than?”

Wyll spoke up for the angered, and then embarrassed barbarian. “The priest has been at it for hours. Listen.” He also gestured to the door when a particularly loud cry — a plead for ‘mercy’ — rose up, followed by a quiet, pleased murmur in Abdirak’s voice.

“We need information is we are going to survive this,” Gale argued. He gave a pleading look to Alakvyr.

The drow felt quite — stuck — then. He listened for a moment, and did not hear any sounds like beating or whipping, though he knew well the kind of torment the skilled Loviatan could bring without making a sound.

They did need information — desperately — and this creature was likely to know at least something useful. He had little doubt that Abdirak could pull it from the nightmare. And — well, Alakvyr wouldn’t say “it’s a drider” — that wasn’t a good reason to torture the creature. It had not chosen such a fate, surely.

Abdirak was skilled. This was his purpose — and he preached often that he did not like harm, so he would not go too far?

“I’m going in,” Karlach said, her anger winning out over her embarrassment. “I’d rather put that thing out of its misery than stoop so low!” With that, even with Wyll and Gale clutching to her to try and hold her back, she flung the doors open.

Everyone prepared themselves to witness the master torturer’s handiwork.

Abdirak sat, cross-legged, on the dirty floor of the stable. The drider was tethered to a support pole with a heavy chain, but all the other hobbling and even the gag had been removed. The chain was taut as the drider lay on the floor near the cruel Loviatan priest — his head cradled gently in the man’s lap as he cried.

Abdirak was running his fingers carefully through the long, once-white hair; untangling it. “It is not ever easy to confront betrayal,” he was saying soothingly, which brought another bout of crying from the monster.

The drider’s cries died abruptly, though his tears still wet his pale cheeks, when the door flew open. He skittered up onto his many legs, followed by Abdirak who caught him around where his drow half transformed into the arachnid body.

“Be calm, sweet child,” Abdirak spoke soothingly, though his glare was unmistakable as it landed on the intruders. He caught one of the aberration’s hands in his own and lifted the palm. Then he drew a blade from his robes and slit across his own bicep and let the blood fall into the pale hand.

“These are my dear friends,” he explained, quietly cauterizing the wound with a satisfied sigh. Alakvyr’s stomach flipped, and he guessed so did the others’ based on their small gasps or distasteful groans, when the creature brought it’s bloodied hand to its fanged mouth and began to lick it clean. “That means that they are your friends, as well.”

The drider relaxed and settled down, bending its legs so its belly rested on the floor, but it could leap up quickly if needed. Though it eyed them warily, the creature did not protest, and concentrated on the blood seeping between its fingers. Alakvyr realized that the drider had stood in defense of the Loviatan — not moving to attack the newcomers or retreating to protect itself, but putting its massive body between them and its ‘torturer’.

“Please, do come in,” Abdirak said to Karlach, not hiding his annoyance. He wiped the blade clean on his robes before returning it to the pocket. “This is not a delicate situation that, as far as I understood, was left in practiced hands.”

Neither Karlach nor Wyll spoke, both looking surprised. Alakvyr looked over the Loviatan carefully, but it didn’t seem like he had been injured by the monster beside him.

“Kar’niss, my friend,” Abdirak turned to the aberration, “I will send the archdruid, Halsin, or the High Harper to speak with you. They were here when the curse fell, so they will be able to answer your questions.” He ran his hand down the arachnid back of the drider -- waist height despite the monster sitting on the floor -- as he checked the sturdiness of the chains that bound him.

The creature did not care, though, and did not seem to mind being touched, though he watched the Loviatan while happily licking the blood from his fingers.

“Come morning Astarion, our friend, should have some food for you, as promised.”

Abdirak began to leave his side when the drider struck out, grasping his wrist and pulling him back toward itself so forcefully that Abdirak stumbled.

Alakvyr, Wyll, Karlach, and Gale readied themselves, but the priest held up a hand to them and shook his head emphatically.

The drider had released him once he was near, and when Abdirak was sure the monster would not be attacked he bent his head close to the creature.

Its whisper was disturbing -- airy and hissing. “This one swears on its Majesty that we are its friend?” Black eyes pierced Alakvyr in the background.

Abdirak put a hand on his chest, “I swear on my exalted, gracious Maiden that you,” he moved his hand to the paler, drow chest of the creature, “and I are friends. And it is my purpose to aid those in need, sweet child. I want to help you -- I will help you.

“Let me send those who were here when darkness was brought onto the land -- they will answer your questions.”

“This one can trust us, too.”

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Matthew | I Told You So | Romantic

Requested: Yes

Matthew proves wrong the doubtful Disciples when they question whether he indeed has a special someone back home.

With a tilted head, Matthew observes Thomas and Ramah across camp, narrowing his eyes in curiosity as one moves closer to the other, their gazes loving and affectionate. Something envious sparks within his gut, a feeling quite alien to Matthew, for he wishes he could be close to the one he holds dear to his heart. 

“You know that it is creepy to stare at people, but when you’re staring at two people who are very obviously in love with each other, it’s even more weird.” Simon Peter plants a hand on his hip as he catches Matthew’s current occupation after following the former tax-collector’s gaze, and Matthew sharply turns to the fisherman. 

“What?”

Simon chuffs. “You can’t just stare at people. And they are having a moment. I’m sure that you aren’t aware of these things, but when you find someone you love, you wouldn’t like being gawked at by some tax-collector.”

“Simon, stop picking on him.” Mary Magdalene interrupts their conversation, and Simon crosses his arms. 

“I’m just trying to teach him a life lesson. You’ll understand it in due time, Matthew, but I don’t expect you to know what it is like to have a special someone to make eyes at.”

Matthew shrugs and turns back to the clay writing tablet in his hands. “Actually, Simon, I do have a special someone back at home.” 

Simon’s eyes widen and Mary’s interest is piqued as well. Before Matthew can open his mouth to tell more, however, Simon whistles over his younger brother, who trots over to the others with a confused look on his face. 

“What’s happening?” Andrew asks.

Simon grins and nods at Matthew. “Our tax-collector here just claimed to have a special lady back in Capernaum. If that is the case, Matthew, we must know her as well! Come on, don’t be shy, tell who it is!”

Matthew, not really picking up the tone of Simon’s voice, who is still in doubt on the truthfulness of the tax-collector's words, finally opens up. “It’s (Y/n), the daughter of Jehoiakim.” 

Andrew lets out a sound of disbelief and Simon’s jaw falls open. “What, her? What does she have to do with a publicanus like you?” the curly-haired fisherman exclaims, “I always thought she was still a bachelorette.” His eyes suddenly shimmer a little disappointedly, “Well, if this is true, I’m glad that I haven’t made a fool out of myself by asking for her hand yet.”

“I don’t believe you.” Simon immediately retorts, “A lot of men have always been after her hand, why would she choose you of all people?”

Matthew blinks and fiddles with his handkerchief, formulating an answer. “W-Well, her parents and mine have arranged for us to be married ever since we were very young. We are just waiting for the right moment.”

Simon rolls his eyes and laughs, as if Matthew has just said something pretty funny, whilst Andrew looks rather defeated at the revelation. 

“Who is (Y/n)?” Mary pipes up, not familiar with the name. 

“(Y/n) is a woman in our village, neither of us knows her very well but we’ve seen her from time to time. I know that a few of our friends are interested in asking for her hand, so I’m curious to see how long Matthew can keep up his little joke.”

Matthew stands sharply and looks Simon straight in the eye, something he doesn’t often do, so it genuinely takes aback the son of Jonah. “I wouldn’t lie about such things, Simon.” he firmly states, “(Y/n) and I have been together for a long time.” 

“And everyone just failed to tell us? I don’t believe it.”

A tad nervously, Matthew lowers his gaze. “I think they kept it under wraps because of my occupation.”

“And (Y/n)’s parents still want to go through with it? My, they really have no spine, then!”

“Simon!” Mary snaps, “Stop being mean to him! Matthew, I would love to meet her one day.” She smiles at her abashed friend, “She sounds like she is a lovely person.”

Blushing slightly, Matthew nods at the thought of you. “She is, both inside and out.”

Andrew shakily exhales and runs a hand down his face. “I’m a fool. I’m such a fool, to think that I thought she was available!” Simon puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it. 

“Don’t worry, little brother. We’ll be going to Capernaum next week, so we’ll be able to see for ourselves.”

Whilst the sons of Jonah leave both Matthew and Mary behind to process the revelation, Ramah walks up together with Philip and Tamar, who give strange looks to the distressed form of Andrew retreating. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Ramah queries. 

Mary smiles. “Well, Matthew just told us he has a girlfriend.”

“He has?” Ramah squeals excitedly whilst Philip’s eyes widen in surprise and Tamar lets out a noise, “That’s wonderful, Matthew! Tell us all about her!”

Smiling, a tad bashful under the several pairs of eyes on him, Matthew shrinks, a fluster on his cheeks. “Her name is (Y/n), and she is my betrothed. And she’s very beautiful.”

Ramah grins and gives a dreamy sigh. “That’s amazing to hear!”

Tamar gestures towards the two fishermen who are now sitting a little away, the younger of the two sulking. “That doesn’t explain Andrew’s sour face.”

Mary shrugs before explaining: “Ah, it turns out that it isn’t exactly well-known that Matthew and (Y/n) are getting married, so he has just found out that he must look for another marriage candidate.” 

Philip whistles through his teeth and grins. “Good for you, Matthew!” he tells his friend, wrapping an arm around him, “I didn’t know you would be getting married soon!”

Matthew hums and rubs his arm, picking at a loose thread on his tunic. “W-Well, we were still waiting for a good moment, because we had a few mishaps in our families, but she is still very adamant on marrying me, so I am very glad and grateful. She–She is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and I’m so lucky to have her.”

The three women let out sounds of delight in unison, which catches the attention of a few other Disciples around. 

It does not take long for the entire camp to hear that Matthew is engaged to a woman named (Y/n), and all of them find out that they’ll get a chance to meet her soon. 

Curious, none of the followers wants to let this opportunity pass up.

_ 

Your smile brightens every room, but your gleeful demeanour is not limited to indoor spaces only. Every merchant at the market knows your name and face, and you are known as the woman who brings a little bit of positivity to every dark day.

When the love of your life had accepted the position as publicanus to work for Rome, your doubts had only been brief. You had been certain that Matthew would one day turn around again, that he would realise who he truly is, and that nothing will ever deter you from marrying him. Although not everyone in your family agrees with your decision and his father had disowned him for some time, you had always believed in him and would determinedly fight for him.

Concluding a morning of browsing stalls and purchasing some necessities, your attention is drawn to the shop selling colourful flowers of all kinds. Deciding to treat yourself, you hoist your basket full of produce a little better around your arm before heading there.

“Shalom, (Y/n),” the woman behind the flower stand says whilst you let your eyes go over her wares, “It is good to see you again. How can I help you today?”

“Shalom, Peninah,” you greet her, tapping your chin in thought. “All of your flowers are blooming so beautifully today, I barely know what to choose!”

The woman smiles and gestures towards her brightest blossoms, shades of pink and purple and blue, and you follow her gesture. “Because it’s you, they can go for a discount.”

“Really?” you muse, “You’re the best, Peninah, thank you!”

She starts assembling a small bouquet whilst you rummage around your pouch of money to take out the amount of shekels she tells you to pay. 

Right when you put the money into her hand, a familiar voice calls out to you. 

“(Y/n)?”

You turn over your shoulder to see nobody less than Matthew, who is holding the strap of his bag, giving you an almost pleading look. The smile that breaks out over your face causes him to brightly blush and you nearly forget your flowers, quickly thanking the merchant before taking your bouquet and rushing towards your lover.

“Matthew!” 

Although you’d love nothing more than to jump into his arms, you wait for him to make the first move, knowing better than anyone else that he is not fond of unsolicited touches, no matter how close you are. To your relief, Matthew has missed you greatly and opens his arms immediately for you to fall into and you laugh softly, whispering his name once again, inhaling deeply to take in his scent.

“I’ve missed you so much!” you murmur. Matthew’s hands tighten on your waist and he buries his face into your neck, smiling against your cheek.

“I’ve missed you, too.” he tells you softly, “You have been on my mind a lot.”

“There is probably so much you can tell me!” you breathe, pulling away from the embrace so that you can look into the pair of dark eyes that you’ve seen in your dreams countless times in the past months of him being away. Matthew nods, flushing a bit as he realises how close he is standing to you out in public for all to see, and he steps back to create some chaste distance between you, but the warmth in his eyes remains. “How are you, my love?”

The nickname makes Matthew look away shyly and he smiles. “I’m good. I’ve been learning a lot recently. And how about you? How are things here? And how is your pottery business?”

Your delighted face falls and you sigh. “Bah, my business idea was no success. People didn’t buy my wares and I had to shut down within a week.” Fiddling with one of the flower petals, you exhale sadly. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Matthew mutters, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. His touch is rare and so, a smile forms on your features again. 

“It is alright,” you say, “I will find some new opportunities. But what have you been up to? Probably to a lot more than me, that’s for sure!”

Matthew shrugs and smiles a bit. “Yes, I have met a lot of different people. Actually… I’d love for you to meet some of them, if you want to, of course.”

Eagerly, you nod, beaming brightly. “Oh, that is just wonderful, Matthew!”

Hooking your hand into the crook of his arm, you let him lead you to the house where most of them have gathered – you recognise this part of town, but aren’t too familiar with it – and follow him inside the home of a few faces you do know, although you don’t know which names are connected to them apart from Andrew and Simon. Your entire body stiffens, for Matthew had sometimes told you stories about them, and how they didn’t seem to be too fond of your fiancé.

“Shalom everyone,” Matthew announces, “I… I would like you all to meet my intended, (Y/n).” 

You curtsy and smile a little as you let your eyes go through the room, met with a few kind expressions, some curious, some beaming, Andrew’s inexplicably crestfallen as he gives you a wry smile. “Shalom, it’s nice to see you all.” you greet them.

Two women immediately head your way to investigate whilst a few others trail behind. 

“It is so nice to finally meet you!” a woman wearing a pink veil breathes, “My name is Mary!”

“And I am Ramah.” adds the other young woman, who shakes your hand. 

You bow your head and smile at them. “Shalom shalom, Mary and Ramah. Thank you for taking care of my Matthew.”

“Of course!” Mary ensures you.

Ramah puts a hand on your arm. “We are so thrilled to meet his bride-to-be! He mentioned you to be beautiful and he was right! Oh, we just– We want to know so much, from how you met, what made you decide to marry him, when you are planning to do so, everything!”

Matthew flusters beside you and you giggle, squeezing his hand. “I will tell you in due time!” 

“(Y/n),” Matthew speaks up, “I want you to meet a few of my other friends!” He gestures to three men who approach with inquisitive looks on their faces. One of them smiles kindly and introduces himself as Philip. The other two are named Thaddeus and Nathanael, the latter who slowly nods at you. 

“Matthew was right when he said he was getting married to a very beautiful woman! He is a lucky man, ha!”

Matthew gives you an apologetic look whilst Thaddeus punches Nathanael’s shoulder. “So sorry about that, (Y/n), Nathanael doesn’t always have a filter.” Philip says. 

You shrug and smile. “Well, thank you regardless. If anyone is lucky, it’s me. Matthew and I go way back, so we are meant to be!”

Simon Peter lets out a sound across the room. “Lucky? Are you serious?” There is a dangerous annoying edge to his voice, which you don’t like one bit.

With an estranged knitting in your brow, you plant a hand on your hip. “What is that supposed to mean, Simon?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Simon huffs. “Well, that a tax-collector gets to marry a popular woman like yourself. You know you could have done better, right? My brother, for example, was looking to marry you as well.”

“Apparently, you’ve got a lot to learn.” you sigh. “To see past Matthews former occupation, for example.”

“She is right, you know.” 

A familiar voice cuts through the air and you immediately spin to the source thereof, coming face to face with the Rabbi who had called your beloved to follow Him standing on the threshold, and you let out a slightly nervous huff. “Shalom, Teacher.”

Jesus smiles and enters, approaching you. “Shalom, (Y/n). It is good to see you again, it has been a while.”

You gulp, nodding. “I… I wanted to thank you again for seeing in Matthew what I saw in him all these years ago.”

Chuckling, Jesus puts a hand on your shoulder and lets His gaze go to Eden. “Actually, you’re not the only person in this room who has that beautiful sentiment towards their partner. I know that the two of you love one another very much, so thank you for letting us bring him along in this ministry.”

With a soft smile, you nod. “Of course, Rabbi. What kind of lover would I be to let him pass up on this opportunity?”

Jesus grins and turns to Simon, then to Andrew. “I understand your confusion regarding Matthew’s betrothal, but he, too, needs someone to come home to.”

Andrew gives a sad sigh and tugs at a loose thread on his tunic. Simon doesn’t dare to look his Master in the eye. 

“There will be someone for you too one day, Andrew,” Jesus promises, “There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

The pun causes a few people in the room to laugh, including you. 

Jesus pats your shoulder and winks. “And don’t you worry, (Y/n). We will be returning to Capernaum every so often, and one day, Matthew will return home. You will have a role in all of this, too, but that is a conversation for another day.”

Fondly, you wrap your arm around Matthew’s waist, holding him close. 

“I know.” you whisper as he looks at you besottedly, smiling. “I can wait.”

Matthew squeezes you gently against him. 

Simon’s wife approaches you. “Shalom, (Y/n), my name is Eden. Since I’ve already got a few guests over for dinner, would you also like to stay?”

With a grateful beam, you hum in agreement. “I would appreciate that.” 

She gives you a nod as she returns to her cooking, and you’re ushered towards the dinner table, where everyone starts talking your ear off by asking about your life as well as your relationship with Matthew. Your fiancé sits beside you, his hip pressing into yours, and you keep your hand in his throughout the entire evening.

For a few days longer, you have your sweet betrothed close to you, holding onto the promise of Jesus that one day, you’ll have him at your side for longer, as well as the words that you will have a part in all of this, too.

[the-final-sif]

I forget if you've been asked this before or not, but I wanted to swing back to the metadata conversation. You said you thought it was unlikely that Amanda would be able to get the stuff back by this point, so I wanted to know, what are her legal options if she is unable to get the metadata?

Okay!! So, with the help of some of my friends who actually use snapchat, I was able to actually figure this out, and uh, what I found has made me significantly more suspicious of Amanda's claims.

So, snapchat metadata for this time period would actually still be available! I was unsure if it was because I read conflicting reports, but I had friends test out the "my data" feature and they were able to access metadata for the time period that Amanda claims the sexting took place. So not only would metadata be available, but it would be available within minutes.

Specifically, in requested data you can see who sent a snap or chat, what kind of message was sent, and when it was sent. You can also see message history, and if there was a private story shared with a person, when they viewed it and what the file type was. For saved messages, you can see the actual text of the message & who sent it. Here's a visualization of that:

(screenshots provided by lovely people in discord and used with permission, first one shows snap message history for unsaved messages, second one shows snap message history for saved messages (the blue bar is a censored username, normally you would see the sender), third shows record of viewed snap stories).

So, Amanda would be able to request this data. She would be able to get logs to show any messages that were saved at the time, and a log of all messages from Dream's account sent to her, and what kind of message they were.

Now, honestly, finding all this out has made me incredibly doubtful of Amanda's claims. Because here's the thing, snapchat doesn't just send you an email with this data when you request it, they send you a link where you can download the data. A link you could then send to other people. Since that link is from an outside party, it would be impossible for her to edit the data in there.

During the period where she was active on twitter, Amanda was actively digging up "evidence", and showing screenshots/claiming she was going to provide proof. Now, all she would've need to do to provide incredibly strong proof of her claim would be finding an unrelated 3rd party (she was in contact with a number of people providing evidence, so anyone she trusted to not share other information would've worked), sending them the link to the data that snapchat provides (so the data can't be edited), and then letting them download + share the relevant information (record/log of messages with the account in question, saved and unsaved).

That's something that could've been done in a matter of 10-15 minutes at most. It would've completely put to rest whether or not Dream's account sent her any photos/videos during the period she alleged, and confirmed the messages that she had saved as real. By having a third party outside the situation verify what happened and confirm the logs from snapchat directly, there wouldn't be a way for her to edit anything. That would be pretty damning evidence as well.

Now, to be clear, I'm still firmly in the camp of "none of this should've happened on twitter, she should've gone to talk to a lawyer" and I'm glad that she logged off to talk to the police/a lawyer regardless of the outcome.

That being said, the fact that she was actively on twitter and going out of her way to find and provide "evidence" including making claims about going live on twitch, sending screenshots to other people, responding to dms about how she had proof, etc. And then admitting she had no physical evidence when she should've had these logs easily accessible and verifiable by other human beings. I've seen reports that people were messaging her/explaining how to access the data as well, so I can't see a way she wouldn't know about this option. But as far as I've been able to see, she never requested the data or replied to people telling her how to.

Well. That uh. That looks really really bad for her claims. I was under the assumption before that accessing this kind of data would be hard or impossible, but everyone who tested it for me was able to get it in minutes without any issues. Including back at the same time period. It's actually much easier to get this data than it is to record a video on another phone to show messages, and it's would've been very strong evidence that could be confirmed by third parties without a possibility of editing.

The fact that she was going out of her way to try to provide evidence only to admit she didn't have proof when she should is extremely suspect. If these events actually occurred, then she should have a way to prove 1) that all her snapchat messages that she had saved are real/unedited and 2) that Dream sent her image/video files at the time she alleges there was sexting between them. The fact she doesn't seem to have/didn't provide that is... well, it removes a lot of credibility.

I'm still waiting for a lawsuit/for the parties involved to figure stuff out between them before I have a definitive opinion. Sometimes people make strange choices. However, knowing now that she should've had access to hard to dispute evidence and never mentioned/even attempted to share it leans me heavily towards the "it's fake" side of things. Who knows though.