#this post brought to you by getting notes on my previous post and remembering how much i ship them

[unabashegirl]

Enticing 48 — CEO

Harry, a young billionaire and CEO, is stern and private, especially about his newborn son, Oliver. When Y/N becomes his new nanny after the previous one quits, everything changes as her caring nature stirs unexpected feelings between them. As they grow closer, questions arise: Will they act on their feelings? Will Harry’s girlfriend accept their bond? And what about Oliver's mother—where is she, and how will she fit into the picture?

Author's note: Hiii, I had forgotten to upload Enticing since it has already ended on Patreon. It wasn't until someone asked me through my inbox when I was going to post that I remembered. I am so sorry.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to the rest of Enticing and one shots, blurbs and more :)

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masterlist

Y/N's eyes frantically traversed the black lettering on the PDF, an attachment to the email from her physician, with Harry leaning in closely over her shoulder. The words seemed to blur together, the medical terminology forming a language she struggled to decipher. Scroll by scroll, she ventured through the results until her eyes widened, and the weight of the revelation made her hands tremble, prompting her to clutch the phone against her chest.

"What?" Harry questioned, his concern evident as she blocked her phone. "What is it, love?" he pressed, observing the emotions playing out in her glistening eyes. Without hesitation, he gently took the phone from her grasp, his eyes scanning the results.

"We're having a girl," he whispered, his voice a mix of disbelief and wonder as he absorbed the implications of the genetic testing. The nerves he felt weren't just the typical anxiety of impending parenthood; they were layered with the complexities of his own tumultuous relationship with his father. Having Oliver had been a daunting experience, but the prospect of raising a daughter felt like uncharted territory, stirring a blend of excitement and trepidation within him.

Anger wasn't Harry's immediate response; instead, he sat in profound silence, contemplating the profound shift this news brought. Y/N, sensing his internal turbulence, gently broached the unspoken question.

"Are you angry?" she asked, her voice a delicate thread weaving through the room. The uncharted territory of raising a daughter seemed to hover in the air, and Harry, grappling with the weight of it all, finally found his voice.

A wave of joy began to replace the initial shock on Harry's face. Excitement sparkled in his eyes, and a radiant smile emerged, illuminating his features. "A girl," he repeated, this time with a newfound enthusiasm. "A little princess, huh?" The weight of the unknown seemed to lift as he looked at Y/N.

Y/N's concern softened into a smile as she saw Harry's genuine happiness. "You're not upset?" she asked, searching his eyes for confirmation.

Harry placing a tender kiss on her forehead taking her by surprise. "No, not at all. I'm over the moon, lovie. Just needed a moment to let it sink in."

As the gravity of the news settled, they found themselves wrapped in each other's arms, a shared warmth and anticipation replacing any lingering uncertainty. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a comforting ambiance as they settled on the bed, Harry's arms securely around Y/N.

"What do you think she'll be like?" Y/N mused, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on Harry's chest.

"Knowing she's ours, she's going to be brilliant," Harry said, a dreamy quality in his voice. "Smart, kind, and probably a bit stubborn, taking after her mum."

Y/N chuckled, playfully nudging him. "You think so?"

"I know so," he affirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

In the cocoon of their shared excitement, they decided to embrace the moment. Harry grabbed the remote, pulling up a list of movies they had been meaning to watch. They settled on a comforting classic, wrapped up in blankets, as the glow of the TV illuminated their joy-filled faces.

With the weight of the news replaced by the warmth of their love, they spent the evening lost in the magic of the movie, already dreaming of the adventures that awaited them with their little girl.

The room was immersed in the soft glow of the moonlight as Y/N gently shook Harry awake. His eyes fluttered open, momentarily disoriented, and his heart raced with concern. "What happened? Is everything okay with the baby?" he asked in a hushed tone, immediately reaching for her belly.

Y/N stifled a laugh, her hand resting on top of his. "No, no, everything's fine. The baby's doing great." She could see the relief washing over Harry as he sighed, the worry lines on his forehead smoothing out.

"Then why did you wake me up?" he asked, still half-asleep but attentive.

She hesitated for a moment, chewing on her lower lip nervously. "I, um, I have a craving."

Harry blinked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "A craving? At this hour?"

Y/N nodded, her cheeks tinted pink. "Yeah. It's a bit embarrassing, but I really, really want candy burgers."

"Candy burgers?" Harry repeated, a bemused smile forming on his lips. "You woke me up in the middle of the night for candy burgers?"

She nodded sheepishly. "I know, it's silly. But I can't stop thinking about them, and I thought if I didn't get them now, I might not be able to sleep."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle, the initial shock of being abruptly woken up giving way to amusement. "Candy burgers, huh? I don’t even know what candy burgers are?”

“Well, the buns are rice krispies, the patty is a reese's cup, with caramel drizzle like ketchup, the tomatoes are strawberries and the pickles are green gummy worms” she confessed, her cheeks warming with embarrassment. “They have to be green and not the sour kind”.  Harry, with a bemused expression, took in her explanation and couldn't help but find the idea amusing.

“Well, I suppose we need to keep our little one happy." He swung his legs out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he stood up. "Let's go get you some candy burgers, then." He spoke as he looked for a pair of joggers since he needed to head to the store for the ingredients.

The grocery store was bathed in the soft hum of fluorescent lights as Harry and Y/N strolled hand in hand through the aisles. Their journey had a specific destination tonight—the candy aisle. As they approached the colorful shelves filled with an array of sweets, Y/N's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "Alright, we need marshmallows, gummy candies, and anything else that screams candy burgers," she proclaimed, a playful grin on her face. Harry chuckled, finding the whole adventure amusing.

As they perused the candy section, Harry couldn't help but express his amazement. "You woke me up for candy burgers? I thought something was wrong," he admitted, his brows furrowed in mock concern. Y/N laughed, her voice echoing through the aisle.

"Harry, this is just a pregnancy craving. Get ready; you're in for a lot more sleepless nights and unexpected food runs," she teased, gently patting her baby bump. Harry raised an eyebrow, feigning shock.

"More of these midnight escapades?" he questioned, to which Y/N nodded with a mischievous smile. "It's all part of the journey, love," she reassured him, savoring the sweetness of the moment and the prospect of the candy burgers awaiting them at home.

Harry and Y/N turned the corner, the excitement of their candy burger quest lingering in the air, only to be met with an unexpected sight. There, standing in the grocery store, was Valeria, Harry's notorious ex-girlfriend. Dressed in a very short party dress and high heels, she clutched two bottles of hard tequila, her appearance revealing a Tuesday night of revelry. Valeria's eyes widened as she spotted Harry and Y/N, and a sly smile curved on her lips. It was a scene out of an awkward encounter.

"Harry, darling, long time no see," Valeria purred, feigning surprise. Her voice carried a note of mischief as she eyed Y/N from head to toe. Harry's grip on Y/N's hand tightened instinctively. "Valeria," he acknowledged, his tone reserved. Y/N tried to maintain composure, offering a polite smile despite the uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. Valeria's gaze lingered on Y/N, a subtle challenge underlying her expression.

"What brings you two lovebirds to this charming late-night rendezvous?" Valeria teased, the sarcasm evident in her voice. Harry cleared his throat, his response measured. "Just grabbing a few things," he replied, avoiding eye contact. Valeria chuckled, her laughter carrying a hint of mockery. "Well, don't let me keep you. Enjoy your... groceries," she quipped, the air thick with tension Valeria, pretending to be engrossed in the liquor aisle, subtly observed Y/N through the unzipped sweater she wore. The realization hit her like a sudden jolt — Y/N was pregnant. A mix of shock, jealousy, and resentment flickered across Valeria's face as she grappled with the unexpected revelation. Her plans to disturb Harry and Y/N's peaceful night with her presence took an unexpected turn.

Unable to contain her surprise, Valeria momentarily forgot about the bottles of tequila she clutched. Her eyes widened, fixated on Y/N's baby bump. The jealousy that surged within her was palpable. Her thoughts raced, contemplating how Harry had moved on, creating a family with someone else. A wave of bitterness washed over her, and she found herself caught between the desire to hide her emotions and the envy that fueled them.

[allisonreader]

At my work we have a pretty great tradition that to celebrate birthdays we get to have a lunch brought in for us all to enjoy. Birthday person's choice usually. I'm getting pizza this week.

[thefrogdalorian]

Candles

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Even though Din insists he doesn't want you to make a fuss over his birthday, you cannot resist spoiling him in your own special way. Although your perfect day does not go entirely to plan, you are determined to make the best of it...

Word Count:  3.8k ✯ Rating: Teen ✯ Content Warnings: A few suggestive lines, mentions of grief/mourning parents. Other than that, pure fluff! ✯ Author's Note: Thank you @decembermidnight for betaing this one, I always appreciate your help! Since we don't know Din's canonical birthday I thought May the Fourth was a good excuse to celebrate... but you get it on Revenge of the Fifth instead! ☺︎ I saw a post from someone (can't remember who) that said Din has holes in his socks, it's a hc I hold dear and was fun to explore in this fic!

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

Din Djarin does not delight in being doted upon. You know this with as much certainty as two suns rise over Tatooine. 

Yet, you cannot resist your urge to spoil him on the one day of the year that is truly his.

Din's reluctance to be spoiled is precisely why you rose before dawn, pottering around the modest galley, gathering the ingredients necessary to bake a cake. You hope that even though Din is ordinarily a light sleeper, the energy he exerted in passion the previous evening will have sufficiently tired him out so that he sleeps in, for once. 

After all, he does so much for you and the big-eared, bug-eyed baby boy you both vowed to raise as a Mandalorian warrior in the small cabin you share on Nevarro. Baking him a cake is the least you can do.

Preparing a cake to celebrate his birthday is not the only thing you have in mind. Even though Din already declared that the greatest gift of all is your love, you could not resist spending a few credits to treat him to a small gift. The thought of surprising him with it causes a knot of anxiety in your stomach, but you try to suppress those fears as you begin weighing out the ingredients.

You focus too on the beautiful sentiment Din expressed to you, how deeply he treasures your love. Such words are a far cry from the hardened, battle-weary warrior you had first encountered on Coruscant. Din reported to your boss, Carson Teva, for his latest missions from the New Republic. The first meeting in that office had left you curious, if a little intimidated, by the hulking Mandalorian who towered over you as you quietly worked at your desk.

Din extended a gloved hand to you at the end of your all-too-brief conversation. When you took it and shook it, marvelling at the softness of the leather and how his hand engulfed yours, you were sure that you had felt a spark. You wondered whether you detected a hint of longing in his lingering touch. Whether he, too, had felt a tingle across his skin as your hands touched.

Almost an entire cycle later, you had your answer.

You smile when you think back to those early days. How Din's visits became more frequent and led to longer and more personal conversations. Your chats became less concerned with threats that plagued the galaxy. Eventually, they continued outside the parameters of the depressing New Republic office building where you once worked. 

Life with Din was everything you had yearned for and more. A boring bureaucratic desk job was never your desired lot in life. Din had opened up an entire galaxy of possibilities for you. He had brought you to Nevarro and given you the life you had always wanted but never expected for yourself.

All things considered, making a special effort for his birthday is the least you can do to attempt to repay the enormous debt of gratitude you owe to Din. A debt you are certain you will never truly manage to clear but are determined to try anyway.

So, rather than spending the first moments of light of Din’s birthday cuddling with him... instead, you find yourself hunched over the kitchen counters as pale orange light streams in from across the lava flats.

You hum quietly to yourself while you mix the carefully weighed-out ingredients, careful not to wake Din. Pouring the batter into the tins is a rather precarious manoeuvre and you are careful not to waste a single drop of the mixture. 

With the cakes finally baking in the Nanowave, you turn your attention to the mountain of pots before you. Upon seeing it, you wish Din was a little more flexible on his no-droids policy. Or that Grogu was awake. 

The kid has been known to use his powers to aid his parents with domestic chores from time to time, particularly if you allow him to sneakily eat a frog from his pond without his father noticing. 

Unfortunately, there is to be no help. If you want to keep the secret cake under wraps until you present it to Din later, you must get stuck into washing up.

You make good progress, carefully scrubbing away the remnants of batter with a soapy rag. So consumed are you by your diligent cleaning of each pot and utensil that you do not hear familiar footsteps as they echo across the hard kitchen floor.

You let out a yelp of surprise into the stillness of the early morning when a familiar pair of long arms wrap around your waist and a chin rests upon your shoulder.

“Good morning, ner riduur,” Din rasps as he softly kisses the side of your neck.

His voice is rough and gravelly with sleep, even deeper than usual. You gasp as he presses himself into you. It seems that Din has sufficiently recovered from the exhausting activities which kept you awake for most of the night. Until dawn was far closer than you had intended, given how early you knew you had to be awake to bake his cake.

For a moment, it is enough to make you forget the task at hand. 

Then you remember with a jolt why you are in the kitchen at such an early hour. You spin around in Din's embrace and vocalise your disapproval. 

“Din! It's far too early. Go back to bed!” you plead, keen for him to leave immediately.

Din responds by tightening his grip on your waist and continuing to press hot, open-mouthed kisses on your neck. It takes all of your strength to push him away.

"Please, Din," you whine, staring into his eyes, “I'll join you soon.”

Din sighs and then nods slowly, “Don't be too long, I'll be lonely...”

You exhale deeply as he turns to leave, pleased that Din is none the wiser about the surprise sweet treat. 

Unfortunately, the Nanowave has other plans. The characteristic ding lets you know that the cake is ready. Before you can respond, Din is over there in a shot. For the first time, you notice that he is wearing nothing except a pair of loose-fitting cotton shorts. His toned physique bared to you, muscles straining under his scarred skin as he leans over to take the cake out of the Nanowave. 

Din spins around with the cake cradled in his hands, the tin covered in a towel to protect his hands. He raises an eyebrow at you, clearly confused at what you have been making.

“Surprise!” you halfheartedly exclaim, with a nervous chuckle, “Well, it was meant to be a surprise at least…” 

“Ner kar’ta, you shouldn’t have,” Din whispers, with no true sense of disapproval in his tone. His brown eyes are glassy as he smiles at you with such tenderness that you feel your chest tighten.

Din asked you not to make a fuss over his birthday. But you can tell he is deeply touched by the gesture. The emotion on his face is almost enough to distract you from the fact that your riduur is barely clothed, practically glowing in the soft golden light which brings the promise of a new day. 

Almost.

All frustration and disappointment vanished at the sight of him before you. Din is always stunning, but in dawn's soft, golden light, you are convinced he is the most breathtaking sight in the entire galaxy.

You take the cake from his hands and gently set it on the kitchen counter to cool. Although Din has seen the cake, he has no idea of the decoration you intend to adorn it with. Later. You can finish the cake later.

For now, those honey-flecked brown eyes and the expanse of golden skin on display are far too irresistible. You pad across the kitchen and wrap your arms around Din’s neck, pressing your lips against his. It is a show of intent. You groan in delight when he cups your cheeks with his large hands and deepens the kiss, tenderly stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. 

Icing the cake can wait. For now, there is something far more mouthwatering to occupy your time...

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Fortunately, you and Din slipped some clothes on before you drifted off after exhausting yourselves with your early morning lovemaking. So, when Grogu uses the Force to leap onto your entwined forms a few hours later after the golden light has turned to something paler and more indicative of mid-morning, he is saved from a scandalous sight. 

“Good morning, ad’ika,” Din coos, grinning widely in an expression which makes his eyes light up despite the sleepiness there.

Grogu chirps in response. His familiar baby babble is still only way he communicates with you and Din. Din nods and presses his forehead to his boy. Your heart soars as you watch the two of them interact. 

You wonder how Din understands him. You love Grogu; bonding with him was effortless. But their bond is something special, something which goes beyond words, a bond which you feel truly privileged to witness. Grogu saved Din in so many ways and made him into the man who is so easy for you to love today. 

“Why don’t you two get up and make something to eat?” you ask, yawning and stretching as you come around after the rude awakening.

“No special birthday breakfast for me?” Din asks, feigning incredulity.

“I thought you didn't want me to make a fuss?” you giggle, then add with a hint of seriousness, “I would never deprive you of a lazy morning of making flatcakes with your son.”

Din’s eyes flash with sentimentality and he leans over to kiss you again. Then, he rises from the bunk, chatting away to Grogu as he goes. You smile in their wake, so proud of your little Clan. 

You had an ulterior motive for suggesting Din and Grogu prepare something to eat, unrelated to your reluctance to find yourself in the kitchen again given the considerable time you already spent there this morning. While Din and Grogu go to make breakfast, it gives you the perfect opportunity to finish wrapping Din’s present.

Even though he said there was nothing you could buy for him, you still wanted to treat Din to something that would truly be his own. Much of his disposable income and free time is spent making your and Grogu's lives easier. Although you know acts of service are his love language, the thought that he would not have any gifts to open for his birthday is unacceptable to you. 

Mercifully, you had settled upon a present with surprising ease. You knew that Din needed nothing more than he already had to be satisfied, so the prospect of finding something small yet meaningful had seemed slightly daunting. 

Fortunately, the weekly artisan market on Nevarro came to your rescue. 

Din is meticulous in polishing and maintaining every part of his armour, especially the parts visible to the admiring eyes of others. Din does not neglect a single part of it. 

There is one piece of his everyday attire, however, which was noticeably shoddy compared to the rest of his beskar brilliance—his socks. 

They were threadbare and riddled with holes. A fact you had pointed out to Din numerous times, but the stubborn man still refused to have them darned. 

So, when you saw the deep red, thick socks at the weekly market on Nevarro, you knew they would be perfect, to the extent that you had purchased two pairs. 

You are sure that Din will appreciate them and not take umbrage with the gesture, that he will realise you are doing it for his comfort. Still, your hands tremble as you wrap the socks up in brightly coloured paper. You hope that the socks are as well-received as you have imagined they will be.

When Din calls to let you know that breakfast is ready, you stash the wrapped socks beneath the covers on your bunk and eagerly make your way to join them. 

Although you try to be present and enjoy the simple domesticity of breakfast with them, your mind is preoccupied with worries about whether the gift will be appreciated. The worry does not dissipate, remaining a leaden weight in your gut.

After finishing the flatcakes, you insist on cleaning up since it’s Din’s birthday. Even though you have done far more washing up than you intended, having some alone time while Din takes Grogu outside to his favourite pond gives you time to think.

You had planned to give Din the socks after you returned from a planned walk across the lava flats. But when Din and Grogu return to the cabin and are eager to leave for the walk, you can wait no longer. You want to enjoy this time with them, rather than being preoccupied with worries over how your gift will be received.

Din and Grogu hover by the entryway, clearly buzzing with anticipation for the walk. You are relieved that Din had not yet placed his helmet on, cradling it under his arm. The days when he wore it constantly feel so long ago; like they are from another age. Over the time you have known him, you have seen far more of his brown eyes than that dark T-visor. Yet, he still wears it whenever you leave the cabin. 

“Just need to use the ‘fresher,” you insist, excusing yourself.

“Alright,” Din nods. 

Instead of heading to the ‘fresher however, you scoop up the presents from underneath the covers on your bunk, taking deep breaths to compose yourself as you head back towards them. 

Din looks over at you curiously, shaking his head as he attempts to repress a smile when he sees the gift. You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that he appears to be excited by the prospect of a present. 

“I know you said no gifts, but these are practical, I promise,” you vow.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Din says sternly, his eyes darkened like they do when he scolds Grogu before his entire expression softens and you feel instant relief. He adds affectionately, “But thank you, ner kar'ta. You are too good to me.”

“You deserve it,” you smile, leaning in to kiss Din on his stubbled cheek. 

Din nods and then tears into the brightly coloured paper. You wait with bated breath, anxious to see his response. For a terrible moment, he does not move. Then, your heart aches as his face drops. Din scowls at them, clearly unimpressed.

You open your mouth to apologise before Din plasters a grin across his face, a smile that does not quite reach his eyes and addresses you.

“Thank you, ner riduur,” Din smiles weakly, “Let me go and put them on right away.”

“Okay, Din,” you reply, your tone unsure.

Din hands Grogu to you and disappears off into your quarters. Grogu tilts his head to one side as though he is appraising the situation.

When Din is not quick to return, your concern is immediate. He had been itching to get out on the walk. Now that he is taking his time to put the socks on, you are certain something is wrong. Fear and guilt settle in the pit of your stomach.

“I don’t think he liked them,” you murmur, searching Grogu’s large eyes for answers.

Grogu nods slowly. 

You take another steadying breath in preparation to assess the situation. Despite your trepidation, you head down the hallway towards your quarters. The thought of Din being unhappy for even a second on his birthday unsettles you, especially if you were the cause of such an unwelcome emotion. 

When you make it to your room, the hulking silhouette of a Mandalorian warrior, with his broad shoulders slumped over in anguish greets you. The guilt is instant. You hover in the entryway for a few moments, cradling Grogu and pondering your next move.

“Din, did I offend you with the gifts?” you finally question as you set Grogu down on the bunk. 

Din sighs and shakes his head, turning to face you. The happy expression of this morning has been replaced with one of anguish. 

“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday,” you feebly murmur.

Din’s eyes widen in horror as he stands up from the edge of the bunk, instantly closing the distance between you and reaching out to hold your upper arms in his large hands. 

“No, never,” he promises, brown eyes darkened with sincerity.

You nod, shooting him a sceptical look.

“They, uh…” Din closes his eyes and sighs, clearly struggling with something, “They just remind me of something…”

You look at him, still confused by his evasiveness. You weren’t sure what such a simple pair of deep red socks could have done to disturb him so deeply.

Din opens his eyes, “Of somewhere,” he clarifies before he shuts them again.

He pauses for a few more seconds and you stand there unmoving, barely daring to breathe.

“The colour reminds me of the robes we wore on the planet of my birth.”

You swallow the lump which has abruptly formed in your throat, nodding at him to indicate you understand. He does not have to elaborate, to go back there if he does not want to.

“Okay, Din,” you say gently, wrapping your arms around his waist and bringing his head into your chest, “I can exchange them for a different colour.”

Din shakes his head, “No, I love them. It was just…” he sucks in a deep breath, voice quivering slightly as he adds, “A surprise. I try to avoid that colour at all costs.”

You think back to why you had been drawn to the socks. Perhaps your subconscious picked up on the fact you had never seen him with anything of that colour and wanted him to try something new. 

“They feel incredibly warm, the material is so soft. Thank you, it was very thoughtful of you,” Din smiles weakly. 

You can tell that something is still troubling him, so you boldly ask, “Do you think of them on your birthday?”

Din seems taken aback by your question but nods. 

“Before I met Grogu and you, when my heart was hardened and I rarely allowed affection in, my birthday was the one day of the year I would allow my mind to wander back there,” Din admits, “To think of them, of the life we could have had. Now I realise, of course, that if I stayed on Aq Vetina, I would never have met Grogu. Or you.”

Din addresses his son now, scooping him up and cuddling him tightly, “You are the best things that ever happened to me.” 

You feel overwhelmed with emotion as you look at them. Din presses his forehead to Grogu's for a few seconds, closing his eyes and relishing the contact.

Din opens his eyes and meets your gaze, “I have to let that place go. It’s not my home anymore. Not even this cabin is home,” Din muses.

You look at him quizzically, not following his train of thought. 

“Home isn’t a place for me,” Din whispers, “It’s a feeling. It’s the way you and Grogu love me.”

You are floored by the sentiment. That this once stoic warrior has such tenderness to him still amazes you.

“Oh, Din,” you whisper, cupping his cheek as you press your forehead to his.

Your arms encircle his waist. He brings you close with one hand and you know that he is drawing comfort from embracing you and Grogu like this. When you finally lean your head back, you detect a certain tiredness in those brown eyes you love so much.

“Why don’t you get some rest, honey?” you question, “Grogu can join too. It’s been a long, emotional day already and I want you to enjoy the rest of your birthday.”

Thankfully, Din does not fight you, conceding that he needs rest. When he climbs under the covers, you drop a tender kiss on both of their foreheads and turn to leave.

Before you leave the room, soft, even breaths indicate that they have already fallen asleep. The sight of Grogu’s tiny head on Din’s chest as they nap together makes your heart swell.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The cabin is bathed in golden light once again, this time after the sun has set. The three of you sit in contented, companionable silence as you appreciate the full feeling after a good meal.

You utilised Din and Grogu’s nap to ice the cake and prepare a special dinner consisting of Tiingilar, a traditional Mandalorian dish. Despite your apprehensiveness at perfecting the recipe, Din approved of your attempt.

As you sit there, you contemplate suggesting another nap. Consuming a sizable quantity of rich food always leaves a certain tiredness. 

But there is still one important duty yet to be carried out.

While Din is somewhat distracted talking to Grogu, you quietly excuse yourself and stealthily prepare dessert.

Your fingers tremble as they did when you wrapped the presents as you light the candles. You head towards the table on shaky legs. You begin singing the traditional birthday song with accompaniment from Grogu, who tries his best to join in with various chirps. 

Din grins as he watches you. You notice with relief that the spark in his eyes has returned. When you finish the song, you place the cake before him on the table.

“Blow them out!” you encourage.

Din nods and leans forward to extinguish the candles after savouring the moment a few beats longer. 

The excited expression on Din’s face is soon made bittersweet, “I’ve never blown out my own candles before,” he admits.

“There’s a first time for everything,” you whisper, touched by the years of agony which lie behind those words.

You are grateful that shovelling the sweet dessert into your mouth gives you an excuse not to speak as you are unsure how to move on from such an admission. Din has been through so much. Yet, he is still one of the kindest, gentlest men you have ever met. You want to give him all the experiences the galaxy has to offer. To make up for all of the years of hurt. 

“Thank you for the cake, it was delicious,” Din appreciatively says after he swallows his last bite. 

“You’re welcome,” you smile, “I think Grogu enjoyed it, too.”

You nod over at your mischievous son, who has more of the bright blue icing smeared around his face and tunic than ended up in his mouth.

Din smiles as he places the plate back on the table before you. He rubs his belly contentedly and adds, “Thank you for making this my best birthday yet.”

“Of course, Din,” you shrug, “You deserve it.”

You are already planning ways to make next year even better.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

[sunshinedeekay]

The Craving (DK’s version) || lsm.

pairing: dk x gn!reader

genre: tooth-rotting fluff

warnings: tbh none. just some kissing n hugging n stuff. slight cursing but not really

word count: just over 6k

author’s note: WOW okay hello. this has probably been a little longer awaited than i anticipated, but it is done now! the first idea on my previous post and first completed fic i’ll ever post on this account,,, and tumblr in general.

anywho, if you notice some odd spelling of some words (centre, colour) i am canadian, so things are normally spelled a little differently here. so i apologize if that throws you off 😭

but finally, i felt like i had to base a fic off of this song. after hearing the craving (jenna’s version) for the first time and seeing the video for it. i was brought to tears just because of how cute and sweet it was. i’m also a huge twenty one pilots fan, so that’s another part of me that went “WRITE THIS FIC.” so, here it is. i really hope you guys enjoy it :))

special shoutout to my bestie @wooziorgans for helping me with publishing, tags, banners, and also gassing me up to actually finish this and post this. you all should follow him as well because his posts are SO GOOD. he’s such a great writer.

divider by @cafekitsune

now, onto the fic!

~sunshinedeekay <3

“I don’t know why I can’t stop crying. I fear about getting old, and I don’t know a lot about you still…”

That was a voicemail that Seokmin constantly replayed in his long history of Y/N’s voicemails they had sent. He saved every single one. Even if it was the most mundane voicemail in existence, any sound of his precious Y/N’s voice was utter harmony to his ears.

He remembered that voicemail vividly. Waking up early in the morning to see a missed call and a voicemail from his partner of a few months. Y/N’s whisper sounded like they were crying, but also attempting to stay quiet and hold everything together. He remembered how nervous Y/N was of being good enough for Seokmin, and still not knowing a whole lot about him because they had only dated for a short amount of time. It crushed his heart to hear them like that.

He sent a plethora of loving words to them that day.

Now, here he was. Lied in an unfamiliar hotel bed in an unfamiliar hotel room. Darkness overcame the space, and the only light that shone was the screen of his voicemails. His thumb pressed the play button over… and over… and over. He kept thinking. Thinking more than actually doing, and that was what led him to the sinking feeling in his stomach. He felt so much guilt and remorse for what happened between them before he left for tour, and even if they talked after like nothing happened, it still lingered on his mind.

——

“You’ve been distant…” Y/N’s quiet voice brought up softly as Seokmin was cuddling their tired body that was still under the covers. He was up and ready to leave for SEVENTEEN’s short tour around the area. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Why would you think that?” Seokmin’s voice responded just as soft, if not even softer than Y/N’s sleepy tone. “I would tell you if something was wrong. You know that.”

“But you haven’t been telling me.” Y/N spoke back. Seokmin stopped in his tracks with that statement. “You’ve been out late at practice, always on your phone with something, and always sitting with that lost puppy look in your eyes. Every time I ask what’s wrong, you dismiss me.” Y/N continued as they slowly sat up and gently pushed Seokmin off. They finished their explanation with a rub to their sleepy eyes. “I’m beginning to worry there’s something you’re hiding from me.”

“Why would I hide anything?” Seokmin found himself getting defensive right off the bat. Why was he speaking like this? He never spoke like this right away to anybody, let alone Y/N who just asked a harmless question.

Y/N’s brows furrowed from the sudden defensive tone. Their nose scrunched with slight irritation. “I don’t know why you would. You never have before, so why do you seem to be now?” They spoke in the same tone back to him. Seokmin could tell that the way he spoke to Y/N irritated them.

“You act like I’m cheating or something.” Seokmin suddenly muttered. Then he thought about what he just said, and his eyes widened while his blood turned to ice. Did he really just say that? Even after he knew that was a sore subject for you? He cursed that dirtbag for even considering another woman over you… Now he just threw that out into the open.

“…What?” Was all that could come out of Y/N’s mouth. Their voice got quiet again, and their brows angled more with worry and irritation. “There’s no way you said that just now.” Despite the instant regret Seokmin felt for saying what he just said, he felt all of the stress from his planning and work bubbling over. He couldn’t stop himself from speaking now.

“Jesus, Y/N. I just wanted to say goodbye. I don’t have time to talk about this right now. Do you really not trust me enough to believe I could cheat on you?” Seokmin asked. His voice slightly sharpening with every syllable as he stood up and looked at his partner. His heart squeezed just looking at Y/N, their expression read as two parts confused, and one part hurt.

“Well excuse me for being a little worried and skeptical about your shady behaviour recently. You haven’t exactly been open and affectionate with me as of late.” Y/N started to argue. It was true. Because of Seokmin’s thinking and panicking about their relationship, he said less, and gave Y/N less affection than he normally did.

“Do I have to be clung to your hip the whole time in order for you to trust me? That’s a little much.” Seokmin retorted back. He slung his backpack over one shoulder and raised the handle of his suitcase.

“That’s not what I said at all, and you know it.” Y/N raised their voice slightly. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back for Seokmin.

“Well then I don’t know what you want from me, Y/N! It’s ridiculous that I change my routine with you just slightly and suddenly you think I could be cheating?” Seokmin just spoke without thinking. If current him could go back in time, god he would slap himself in the face. “I don’t have time for this. I gotta go before I’m late.”

“Fine. Leave.” Y/N spoke sharply. No “travel safe” or “I love you” spoken between either of them. Seokmin just left without a word, and probably too harsh of a slam of the front door.

——

Seokmin groaned internally thinking about that fight. Even though he apologized profusely over the phone to Y/N that night after he landed in Japan, he felt his heart still hurting. If he could explain everything, he would. But it wasn’t like that.

Truth be told, he was thinking about proposing to them.

He thought about it so much that it made him panic to himself. What if they weren’t ready? What if they said no? What if they realized they suddenly didn’t love him enough to want to spend a life with him like that? Sure, they had been together for about three years now, living together for one, and everything had been absolute bliss for Seokmin since then. But what if Y/N didn’t feel the same?

Seokmin continued to scroll his camera roll now. Having a folder made specifically for any of Y/N’s pictures or videos he would end up taking or saving. Every time he would look at a photo, the memory replayed in his mind.

Oh! Like the beautiful one of Y/N walking a trail full of looming evergreen trees. Dawned in a cute trench coat, a beanie, and a scarf he had bought for them just moments ago before that point. Their nose and cheeks were red from the cold, and their eyes were crinkled from their joyful, genuine smile.

——

“Take a few steps ahead, love! The scenery is perfect for a picture!” Seokmin told Y/N. His new camera he got for his birthday held in his chilled, slender hands while he placed it closer to his face to get a good frame.

Y/N didn’t even question it, but he could see the way they got flustered from him being so eager to take a picture of them. He knew they always got bashful when he insisted on taking a picture of them because that moment was just right. Even if the scenery wasn’t perfect, Y/N always was to Seokmin’s eyes. So a pretty scenery like this was just the cherry on top of an already delectable sundae.

Seokmin snapped a couple pictures, and as he looked back at them, his heart lept. Y/N looked so pretty. They were always so pretty. He couldn’t suppress the goofy smile on his face. He caught up to Y/N after taking the pictures with the same smile that started to ache his cold cheeks.

“Did they turn out good?” Y/N asked, but before they could even finish that breath, they felt Seokmin’s strong arms around their waist. Lifting them off their feet and spinning them in circles. Y/N burst into a fit of laughter, and held onto him tight.

“You’re so pretty.” Seokmin mumbled into their warm neck. He placed a lingering kiss against their supple skin. “I love you so much.”

——

Seokmin continued to scroll. Finding a video of him and Y/N playfully partner dancing courtesy of Seungkwan. There wasn’t any special setting, no special occasion, they were just dancing in their kitchen to the music playing on the TV. Both of their smiles infectious through the screen as they just looked happy to be with each other, and Y/N’s darling laugh as Seokmin tried (but ultimately fumbled) a complicated spin around. Seokmin wrapped his arms around his love, and the video ended.

There were so many little things. So many pictures that were taken at such different points in time. From fun and outdoorsy, to the mundane, soft, and intimate moments Seokmin got to share. All with one person. One person he knew he could and would love for the rest of his life. If Y/N wasn’t ready, he would wait for the rest of his days until they were.

He needed to let them know just how much he was ready for this next step. How much he loved them. He hated the thought of putting them on the spot like that, but goddammit, he would give Y/N the universe if they asked for it. Even if it meant taking a chance, and possibly taking some sense of security for such a big decision even for a split second. He would give them everything.

And that’s exactly what Seokmin was determined to do. He was gonna marry Y/N.

“So, I’ve had this idea for a while,” Seokmin started casually, sitting across Joshua in a secluded café the next morning. The warm sun comforting both of their bodies in addition to the lattes and pastries on a large plate in front of them. “But you have to swear to me that this stays between us. It goes to nobody else in the group or anybody else you know unless I say something to somebody else.”

This puzzled Joshua. He eyed Seokmin over his mug as he sipped from it for a lingering moment before setting the drink back on its saucer. He licked the frothed milk off his lips before he spoke. “Alright. What are you thinking about?”

Seokmin felt his heart begin to race in his chest once more as he nervously tapped his index finger onto the porcelain cup of his half-drank latte. He had to prepare himself to gain the courage to even say a few words- the main words- of his plan. How was he gonna explain everything he thought about the whole process?

“I…” His voice fell short for a moment. His throat forced a hard swallow before he sighed and tried again. “I’m proposing to Y/N.”

It was a good thing Joshua had his mug set down by now. Otherwise he’d have choked and had hot coffee spilled all over himself. Fortunately, only one of the two things happened. Except he choked on air when he heard Seokmin finally explain the summed up version of his idea.

He finished coughing a couple more times before patting his chest softly. “You’re being dead serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious than anything in my life.” Seokmin breathed. His brows furrowed in concern for his friend, but they quickly softened once he saw Joshua was fine. “I just,” he continued. “I was thinking about it all last night. Listening to their beautiful voice over the phone, looking over our old pictures and videos… It made me realize just how lucky of a person I am to have somebody as great as Y/N. They make me shine only the best parts of me, and I’ve never felt unsafe or uncomfortable around them once. I’ve thought about this for so long, and it was what was making me so off these past couple weeks. But now, I don’t think any other choice is a compromise.”

Joshua stared in awe, but the way his doe eyes twinkled when hearing Seokmin just open his heart up and speak truthfully about such a huge decision made his heart swell with pride for his best friend. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if he cried at the wedding. “Seokmin…”

Seokmin looked to Joshua, and paused for a moment before continuing. The tapping on his mug stopped. “Every moment we’ve shared together has held a special place in my soul. Y/N is the most patient, loving, and perfect person I’ve been graced with. I want your help in carrying out the plan, and even the planning. I was thinking of asking Seungkwan as well, but I wanted to tell each of you this privately.”

Joshua couldn’t fight the smile on his face. He reached to take Seokmin’s nervous tapping hand and clasp it in a firm grasp. “I’ll do anything you need me to do. I’m so proud of you, Seokmin. You deserve Y/N and Y/N deserves you. To see the way you two have blossomed over the past couple years has been an honour, and I would love nothing more than to help you take the next step.”

Seokmin felt his eyes gloss slightly. He squeezed Joshua’s large hand with the same intensity as he gave him a tearful smile. His bright teeth in full view and almost glimmering from the morning sun coming through the window.

“I knew I could count on you.”

“Y/N-ah!~” Seokmin’s sweet sing-song tone would call out to his beloved partner. His feet scuttled from the kitchen to their shared bedroom, where a sleepy Y/N, probably only about half awake thanks to Seokmin’s loud voice, would lie.

“Min…” Y/N would grumble. Opening their eyes and squinting from the neutral light that now flooded the bedroom. “What time is it?”

“I’m sorry, lovebug, I know it’s early and you like your sleep,” Seokmin started. Straddling his partner’s legs to lean over them and slightly press his weight onto their body. Peppering Y/N in delicate kisses. “But I have a big day planned. I’m making breakfast right now, so you can get ready while I finish. Dress nicely, because I’m pampering you, today.” He gave a cheeky grin. Leaning over to place one last kiss right in the centre of their forehead.

Y/N would laugh gently through their nose. They moved to lazily wrap their arms around Seokmin’s toned body and pulled him closer on top of them. “But you’re so warm and comfy like this…” They’d whine into his warm neck.

Seokmin would breathily laugh in return. He rested more of his weight onto Y/N’s body as he nuzzled his nose into their cheek and gave a lingering peck on their skin. “Mmm… But today is gonna be so fun. I know you’ll love it.” His voice was a sweet and low purr into Y/N’s ear. Something that could always make them shiver just from the sensation of his breath and the vibrations from his voice.

“Fine.” Y/N sighed and slid their arms from around Seokmin’s broad body. They lied flat with their arms sprawled out so he could climb off of them with ease.

Seokmin would grin like a child on Christmas while hovering over Y/N. Placing one more kiss onto their lips before climbing off. “That’s my lovebug. Trust me. You won’t regret it!” He exclaimed, then hurriedly shuffled his way back out to the kitchen.

Y/N pushed themselves up and sighed softly again. They looked over to the clock, 7AM. Jerk. As they rubbed the sleep from their eyes and face, they couldn’t help but wonder.

What did Seokmin have planned?

“Okay… And… Open!” Seokmin uncovered Y/N’s eyes. He had covered them some minutes ago to lead Y/N to a very special place for the both of them. One they would often go to when they needed a break outside, but also didn’t want to do anything too huge. In front of Y/N was the small café where they and Seokmin had their first date. Nothing had changed about it, despite it being a couple years since that fateful day, but that’s what always made the experience so wonderful each time they revisited.

“I had a feeling you’d bring me here.” Y/N teased Seokmin with a grin and a small poke to the right side of his ticklish waist. Seokmin would laugh and grab ahold of Y/N’s hand, lacing his long fingers with theirs.

“Yeah, yeah… But you don’t love coming here any less.” Seokmin chuckled and led them into the café. The little bell rang as the cyan door opened, and Seokmin held the door for Y/N to let them enter first.

Y/N entered and absentmindedly made their way towards the table they always sat at since that first date, but a sight of something caused them to stop in their tracks.

Already lied out on the table was Y/N’s favourite pastries and coffee. The beverage being made just the way they liked it. On the little cup, the word “Lovebug” was written beside it with a small heart beside it.

“Min…” Y/N would gasp softly. Bringing a hand over their mouth as they felt their heart swell from the sweet gesture.

“Yes, love?” Seokmin would have a loving grin on his face again. Bringing his arms around his lover’s waist as he pressed them up against him a little more. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course, yes! Sorry I’m just—“ Y/N tried to explain. But there wasn’t any words that could put together the amount of love and tenderness they felt in this moment for Seokmin. Maybe it was because they resolved their fight just the night before, but they also just felt… Happy. Overjoyed to have somebody like Seokmin who loved them enough to do this.

“It’s alright… Just sit down and enjoy. We can take whatever we don’t eat back with us to the car.” Seokmin reassured with his gentle tone. Moving his hands over Y/N’s hips to gently rub gentle circles around the bones with the pads of his thumbs.

The café date was everything Y/N could’ve dreamt it would be. They caught up with Seokmin, who told many stories about SEVENTEEN’s escapades during their tour, showing pictures, videos, and whatnot. But not to mention, Seokmin was just as lovey-dovey as he always was.

He held their hands over the table, under the table, gently grabbed their knee under the table and gave it a loving caress. But the way he looked at them…

Y/N had never noticed it before, maybe because they didn’t believe the people who told them all the time about how Seokmin looked at them, but they saw it now. His eyes glimmered with the sun whenever his attention was on you. His expression was bright, beautiful, endearing. They didn’t think it was true, but Joshua was right.

“He looks at you like you put stars in the sky.”

“Everything okay, lovebug?” Seokmin’s voice would bring them back to reality. Y/N suddenly looked up to Seokmin’s curious, and almost concerned expression since they had zoned out suddenly.

“Mm? Yeah. I’m all good.” Y/N reassured. Gently squeezing Seokmin’s hand that was holding theirs on top of the table. “Keep talking, I’m listening to every word.”

To let the food settle, Seokmin took them to a park next. One in the middle of town where they’d normally walk at any time of the day. Early morning, afternoon, middle of the night, you name it. They walked it.

Seokmin had Y/N’s hand in one hand, and the strap of his camera bag in the other. He was looking for a perfect scenery spot to take pictures. But not just of the trees, or that cute little bird that perched and twittered on the branch, no. He needed a picture of Y/N. One where he could capture the memory of this moment, of Y/N, before both of their lives would change forever.

“Y/N, go stand over there. Right under those trees. You see that little divot in the grass?” Seokmin tugged gently on Y/N’s hand to get their attention. Then leaned in real close to their side to point. He wanted to make sure they could see the spot, and that he wasn’t just crazy. But honestly? It happened more than he’d admit.

Y/N squinted to look for the spot. Seokmin looked over to their expression, and a small grin spread on his narrow cheeks. The way their nose scrunched always had his heart in a knot.

“I see it!” Y/N grinned. Slipping their hand out of Seokmin’s and making their way towards the spot. Seokmin was already getting his camera out. Taking test pictures to alter anything that made the picture look less than perfect. He then watched Y/N through the camera, and his heart pounded against his chest.

God. He was down horrendously.

“Now just look around. Don’t even worry about me being here. Just be you.” Seokmin instructed. Holding the camera up to his face as he carefully watched his loving partner through the lens. He couldn’t fight the goofy smile from his face.

Y/N would casually pose and look around. Smiling up at the little bird on the branch and even whistling back. Well— they attempted to, anyway. This made Seokmin laugh behind the camera.

When they saw Seokmin lower the camera, their attention caught glimpse of a group of pigeons. Picking from the ground and minding their own business. Y/N suddenly wondered how close they could get to the pigeons without startling them.

They took careful and slow steps to the group, and eventually found themself in the centre of the pigeon circle.

Seokmin looked up from his camera to where Y/N was before. They weren’t there? He looked around the area for them, and then found his partner standing in the middle of what looked like a pigeon cult. This made his chest ring with a hearty laughter as he took out his phone and started to video them.

“How did you get in there?” He laughed.

“I don’t know! I just walked in!” Y/N would respond with a giggle. Looking up to Seokmin and shaking their head when they noticed him recording. They continued to look down at the pigeons all strutting around them. Smiling when just watching their little mannerisms.

Suddenly, Y/N did a little hop. The pigeons went flying around them. They would laugh and shield their head. Rushing their way back to Seokmin, who was laughing even harder at this point. His dimples on full display as his eyes crinkled happily. He placed his phone away and took Y/N into his arms while they both still laughed.

After the walk in the park, things were staring to get a little darker now. The afternoon was setting into dusk, and the air stared to get a bite of chill within the breeze.

“We’ll head home soon. There’s just one more thing I need to do.” Seokmin smiled. His voice had suddenly gone more quiet. It faltered slightly. Was he suddenly nervous?

“Is everything alright, Min?” Y/N asked. Squeezing his hand to attempt to reassure him, even if they didn’t know what was happening.

“I’m more than alright, my love. Don’t worry.” Seokmin smiled. Squeezing Y/N’s delicate hand in return as he led them to another small place. An abandoned boardwalk over a lake not too far from the park. It was deserted. Not a single soul in sight.

The only sign of life Y/N could see on it, was a path made just for them to walk. Small candles bordered the pathway to lead them towards the end of the dock. Their flames danced elegantly in the breeze.

“Seokmin? What is this?” Y/N asked with a surprised laugh. A wide smile on their face as they gawked at the scene in front of them. They couldn’t help but pull out their phone and take a picture.

“Shhh… Just walk with me.” Seokmin grinned. Moving his arm to wrap around Y/N’s waist and pull them into his hip. Leading them through the path in a slow pace. Like one you’d take through an art exhibit. Y/N took in the sight around them. The clear sky showed the beautiful colours of the forming sunset, the gentle waves of the lake plopped onto the shore from the slight breeze. They felt their heart beat pulsing against their chest. What was all of this?

Seokmin, on the other hand, was quaking in his dress shoes. This was it. This was the final step to take before he asked Y/N the biggest question he’d ever ask in his life. He did his best to stay calm on the outside. Pulling Y/N closer and just walking in silence to let them take in the scenery. It was beautifully romantic. Seungkwan nailed it.

As they approached the end of the dock. There was a projector screen that came into view, as well as a plethora of rose petals, and a small rug that was lied down in front of the projector.

Seokmin guided Y/N by the small of their back to stand on the rug. Watching their expression light up and their jaw slightly hang open as the projection finally came on. What would play is little video memories of Seokmin and Y/N together. From when they first dated, progressing into more recent times. While a gentle song played in the background. One Y/N had sent to him when they first started dating.

“When you touch me, yeah I feel butterflies

I’m gonna love you ‘till the day I die.”

Y/N covered their mouth with both of their hands now. Feeling tears well up in their eyes as they continued to watch the compilation of videos. There were so many. Recorded by Y/N, recorded by Seokmin, or even from an outside source of one of their friends.

Seokmin stood carefully behind Y/N. Making eye contact with Joshua and giving a small nod of acknowledgement. Joshua followed the signal. Sneaking out from his hiding place to hand Seokmin the ring box.

Seokmin clasped his fingers around the box. Joshua placed his hand over Seokmin’s fingers and the box. Joshua gave Seokmin a silent encouragement through the reassuring touch. Seokmin nodded, feeling tears already well in his eyes as he smiled to Joshua.

When the slideshow looped again, Seokmin tucked the ring box in his back pocket. He approached behind Y/N and casually wrapped his arm around their waist. He took a moment to appreciate the new music playing. A peaceful, romantic piece that Woozi had put together just for this special night.

“We’ve spent so many memories together, haven’t we?” Seokmin started. His voice just above a whisper as he tried his best to keep his own emotions in check for this important moment.

“Min…” Y/N started. Looking up to Seokmin. But he took their hands in his and gave them a tender grin. Rubbing his thumbs over their knuckles as if he still didn’t remember how they felt off the top of his head.

“I love you, Y/N. I always get so scared I don’t say it enough.” Seokmin started now. His chest tightened with tears. He sighed softly and just kept himself grounded by rubbing his thumbs over their small knuckles. “But I really do love you. With all of my heart, my soul, my existence. I wouldn’t be who I am if you weren’t by my side. I don’t know who blessed me to have you, whether it was some sort of god, or the universe, or just something that drew us together. But I will always be thankful for what I have. That I have you.” His voice broke slightly. The tears making his vision blurry as he tightened his grip on Y/N’s hands. Bringing both of them up to gently place a kiss on each set of knuckles.

“You’ve been my world, my happiness, my inspiration, my muse… You’ve been and always will be all of these for me. And Y/N I— to imagine a life without you in it breaks my heart.” Seokmin continued. He gently lowered their hands, but kept them in his grip. Blinking back his tears to meet Y/N’s tearful gaze.

They already figured it out.

“Which is why…” Seokmin trailed off. Slowly bringing himself to his left knee. His gaze never leaving Y/N’s, and his heart leaping when he saw them gasp alight from surprise and start to choke out silent sobs.

“I want you to be my everything for the rest of my days, Y/N. I don’t see myself in the future with anybody else other than you. You complete me, you love me in ways that I’m sure you don’t even know yourself. You’re kind, patient, caring, selfless… You’re everything I could ever hope to achieve.” Seokmin’s voice now began to break. Seeing their tearful expression mixed with the overwhelming feelings of both love and fear made it impossible for him to hold back his emotions now.

“I don’t say enough how much I love you or appreciate you, and I feel terrible I can’t remind you every single day just how deep my feelings root for you. So… I hope that this can tell you just how much I need you with me.” He finally one of his hands out of Y/N’s. Reaching into his pocket to pull out the black velvet box and lifting the lid of it. He held it up to them. The ring was a beautiful silver. The jewel wasn’t just a diamond within it, but instead, a mix of amethyst, his birth stone, and Y/N’s birthstone. A(n) [insert birthstone].

“Y/N. I’m not perfect in loving you like you deserve. But I’ve never been more sure of this choice in my life. So my question is, do you want to love me for just as long? Will you marry me?” Seokmin finally asked. There wasn’t much silence between them in terms of words, but even the most brief pause felt like a million years. Was he pushing this too far too soon? Was Y/N not ready? What if he just put them on the spot all for nothing?

“Yes… God, Seokmin, yes.” Y/N choked out through sobs now. Frantically nodding their head as they covered their trembling lips with their free hand that still wasn’t in Seokmin’s.

Seokmin felt his world stop for a moment. They… They said yes?

“You… You will?” Seokmin stuttered out. His eyes going wide in surprise as his jaw hung agape. The tears were now flowing down his tanned and flushed cheeks full throttle now. They said yes. He couldn’t believe they just said yes.

“Yes!” Y/N nodded as they nodded frantically again. Feeling more sobs escape their chest as they looked over the ring, then to Seokmin. The Seokmin who had lived them better than anybody ever could, the Seokmin who was made of affection and tenderness, the Seokmin who was now on one knee wanting their souls to be dedicated to each other.

Seokmin quickly took Y/N’s trembling left hand and the ring out of the box with his other hand. Sliding it over their finger and looking over it now. It was beautiful. Just as amazing as he’d imagined. The best part was, it fit perfectly.

Now, Seokmin had pushed himself up to envelop Y/N in a tearful embrace. Sweeping them off their feet to wrap their legs around his waist as he quietly sobbed into their neck, while they did the same on him.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.” He sobbed quietly. Moving one hand to the back of their hair to press their face a little more against his warm skin. He wanted them to be as close as possible.

“I love you too, Seokmin. With everything I have.” Y/N sobbed back. Clinging to him tighter as if it would be the last time they would ever hold him. But they both knew now that that was far from true.

Suddenly, cheers erupted from behind the embracing and tearful couple. Y/N would look up and realize that indeed. Seokmin had help.

Seungkwan was throwing leftover rose petals in celebration, also crying with the two. Joshua was just crying and cheering for Y/N and Seokmin, a clear smile of pride written all over his tearful face. Wonwoo was clapping for the pair, his camera hanging from its strap over his neck as he had the widest smile out of the bunch. Soonyoung standing next to Seungkwan, who was also throwing petals and shouting in victory like a biking going to war. Finally, a calm Jihoon and Minghao, well— calm compared to the rest. They were just as happy as everybody else, but weren’t the open crier types.

Seokmin set Y/N down, which caused Y/N to look back up to him with a trembling smile. Seokmin wouldn’t hesitate in taking their face between his hands and connecting their lips together in a deep, loving kiss. Wonwoo raised his camera to take a few more final pictures of the beautiful moment.

When Seokmin pulled away from Y/N, his forehead went to rest against theirs. Just closing his eyes and enjoying their new moments as an engaged couple.

“You won’t regret this. I’ll be the best husband anybody could have…” Seokmin promised through a whisper.

“I know you will…” Y/N whispered back. “I love you, Min.”

“I love you, too…”

As the group now worked to clean up the romantic scene, there was nobody short of a smile, or a stray tear. Joshua was clinging onto Seokmin from pure excitement, even though he wasn’t even the one that got engaged.

“Well,” Jihoon started. Approaching Y/N’s side and placing a gentle hand on their shoulder. “I guess the bad news from all of this is you’re really stuck with us now.” He joked with a slightly cheeky grin to his round face.

“Oh no, that’s gonna be terrible.” Y/N chided sarcastically as they playfully rolled their eyes.

“Listen, I’m just warning you now, this is your last chance to run for the hills.” Jihoon added. A chuckle leaving his chest as he finished. There were a few moments of comfortable silence between the two, before Jihoon tightened his grip slightly on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (see full series list here)

1994

I've just been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here.

That's what Harry had written in his note to you and Sirius — and also in notes to Ron and Hermione too.

The pair of you had been livid, of course — "this is what happens when he's left alone with those people!" — and three days later, you stand on the doorstep to Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging with a group of other Order members.

"Alohomora," you say, pushing the door open. You make your way into the hallway, all the lights turned off.

Tonks lets out a whistle at a stack of antique decorative plates on a table beside her. "Wow, look at these plates, they're proper fancy! Just look — "

She immediately drops it with a crash.

"Oops," she says, repairing it with a wave of her wand.

You make your way up the stairs, unlocking the door with your wand while the others wait at the bottom of the stairs. Harry slowly emerges from the room, poking his head out the door, wand clutched tightly in his hand.

"Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out," Moody growls.

Harry doesn't lower his wand. "Professor Moody?"

"I don't know so much about 'Professor'. Never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

Harry still doesn't move, clearly wary of your party.

"It's alright, Harry," you say gently. "We've come to take you away."

"P-professor?" he says disbelievingly. "Is that you?"

"Why are we all standing in the dark?" Tonks says. "Lumos."

The tip of Tonks's wand flares, illuminating the hall with light. You beam at the sight of your godson, already looking older than when you last seen him.

You stride forward and wrap him in a tight hug, beaming. "Good to see you, Harry."

"Yeah, you too..."

"Ooh, he looks just like I thought he would," Tonks says excitedly. "Wotcher, Harry!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus," Kingsley Shacklebolt says from the back. "He looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," Dedalus Diggle wheezes. "Lily's eyes."

Moody squints suspiciously at Harry, his magical eye pointed towards him searchingly. "Are you quite sure it's him? It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater personating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?"

"Harry, what form does your patronus take?" Remus asks.

"A stag," Harry answers nervously.

"That's him, Mad-Eye."

Harry descends the stairs, still looking a bit confused, stowing his wand in the back pocket of his jeans as he goes.

"Don't put your wand there, boy!" Moody roars immediately. "What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost a buttocks, you know!"

"Who do you know that's lost a buttock?" Tonks asks curiously

"Never you mind, just keep your wand out of your back pocket!" he barks, hobbling off to the kitchen. "Elementary wand safety, nobody bothers about it anymore..."

Wow, how many times did you hear that during your training?

"And I saw that," Moody adds irritably as you roll your eyes at the ceiling.

Remus holds out his hand and shakes Harry's. "How are you?"

"Fine..." Harry replies, looking as though he's still in shock at what's going on.

"I'm — you're really lucky the Dursleys are out..." he mumbles.

"Lucky, ha!" Tonks exclaims, grinning. "It was me that lured them out of the way. Sent a letter by Muggle post telling they'd been short-listed for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They're heading off to the prize-giving right now...or so they think."

She winks at you and you smile back, remembering the side-splitting laughter that had infected you as the two of you cooked up that idea a few nights previous.

"We are leaving, aren't we?" Harry asks. "Soon?"

"Almost at once," Remus says. "We're just waiting for the all-clear."

"Where are we going? The Burrow?" Harry asks hopefully.

You shake your head. "No, not the Burrow." You follow Moody into the kitchen, the group of Order members walking in after you. "Too risky. We're set up headquarters somewhere else, somewhere undetectable."

Moody sits at the kitchen table swigging from a hip flask, taking in the many electrical appliances in the Dursleys' kitchen.

"This is Alastor Moody, Harry," Remus tells, pointing toward him.

"Yeah, I know."

"And this is Nymphadora — "

"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus," Tonks says with a shudder. "It's Tonks."

" — Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," Remus finishes, glancing at Tonks.

She folds her arms. "So would you if your fool of a mother called you Nymphadora."

"And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt," Remus continues. "Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle — "

"We've met before," squeaks Diggle, dropping his top hat excitedly.

" — Emmeline Vance — Sturgis Podmore — and Hestia Jones."

Harry nods awkwardly at each of them in turn.

"A surprising number of people volunteered to come get you," Remus says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, well, the more the better," Moody says darkly. "We're your guard, Potter."

"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off," Remus explains, glancing out the kitchen window. "We've got about fifteen minutes."

"Very clean, aren't they, these Muggles?" Tonks says as she looks around the kitchen with heat interest. "My dad's Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just like with wizards?"

"Uh — yeah," says Harry, turning to you. "What's going on, I haven't heard anything from anyone, what's Vol — ?"

Several of the witch and wizards make odd hissing noises and Moody growls, "Shut up!"

"What?"

"We're not discussing anything here, it's too risky," Moody explains, looking around him warily with his magical eye.

"We can talk about it once we're back at headquarters," you say.

"How're we getting there?"

"Brooms," Remus replies. "Only way. You're too young to apparate, they'll be watching the Floor Network, and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorised Portkey."

"She says you're a good flier," Kingsley says, gesturing to you.

"He's excellent," you reply proudly, smiling at Harry.

Remus glances down at his watch. "You better go and get packed, Harry, we want to be ready to go when the signal comes."

"I'll come and help you," Tonks says brightly, following Harry upstairs to his bedroom.

Remus pulls an envelope and piece of parchment out of his pocket, bending over the kitchen table to start scribbling something down. You walk around the room, looking at different photos of the Dursleys.

Baby Dudley, with a proud Petunia and Vernon standing over him; Petunia and Vernon on their wedding day; several more photos of Dudley growing up — there's an obvious absence of Harry. If a stranger were to walk into this room without knowing anything about the Dursleys beforehand, they would never know Harry even exists.

"What a strange device!" Podmore exclaims, curiously opening and closing the kitchen microwave while Kingsley stands behind him. He waves you over. "What does it do?"

Because of your Muggle father, you are often questioned on Muggle items and customs — though usually by Arthur Weasley.

"It cooks food," you reply. "It's called a microwave."

"A microwave..." Kingsley repeats thoughtfully, opening the door and peering inside with immense interest.

Nearby, Hestia laughs at a potato peeler that she came across in one of the drawers. You give her a look, confused as to what could possibly be so humourous about a potato peeler, but she just continues to snicker and giggle as she turns it over in her hands.

"Excellent," Remus says when Harry and Tonks return, Harry's trunk bobbing along in the air behind them. "We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Harry, I've left a note telling your aunt and uncle not to worry — "

"They won't," says Harry.

"That you're safe — "

"That'll just depress them."

" — and you'll see them next summer."

"Do I have to?"

Remus smiles but doesn't answer.

"Come here, boy," Moody says gruffly, beckoning Harry towards him with his wand. "I need to Disillusion you."

Harry's brows knit nervously. "You need to what?"

"Disillusionment Charm," Moody replies, raising his wand. "Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll disguise you better. Here you go — "

He raps Harry hard on the top of his head and Harry's body takes on the exact colour and texture of the kitchen unit behind him, like some sort of human chameleon.

"Nice one, Mad-Eye," Tonks says appreciatively, and Harry looks down in surprise, spinning in place as he surveys his new look.

"Come on," Moody says, moving towards the back door and unlocking it with his wand.

You all step out onto the Dursleys' impeccably well-kept lawn. It looks practically untouched — a contender for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition indeed.

"Clear night," Moody grumbles, peering up into the dark sky above. "Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you," he barks at Harry, pointing his finger at him, "we're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks'll be right in front of you. The rest'll be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed — "

"Is that likely?" Harry asks apprehensively, but Moody ignores him. When he turns his worried eyes to yours you shake your head, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Moody's grimness.

" — the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they'll join you."

"Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he'll think we're not taking this seriously," says Tonks as she straps Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage into a harness hanging from her broom.

"I'm just telling the boy the plan," Moody growls. "Our job's to deliver him safely to headquarters and if we die in the attempt — "

"No one's going to die," you say calmly, receiving a doubtful grumble from Moody in the process.

"Mount your brooms, that's the first signal!" Remus says sharply, pointing into the sky at the shower of bright red sparks flaring high above you.

You swing your leg over your broom — your dusty old Cleansweep Seven that you've had since you were fifteen and that has seen more of the inside of your garden shed than the open air — and wrap your hands around the flaking handle. You're a pretty average flier — nothing compared to James, of course...but who could ever compare to him?

"Second signal, let's go!" Remus says loudly, as this time green sparks explode into the air far above you.

You kick off hard from the ground. The cool night air rushes into you as you rise higher into the air, the houses and buildings of Little Whinging becoming smaller and smaller as your group ascends. Looking up, the sky is vast and clear, revealing the billions of gleaming stars twinkling above. You can't help the small rush of giddiness that sparks in you at the sight of it.

"Hard left, hard left, there's a Muggle looking up!" Moody shouts over the wind, and your circling group follows Tonks as she swerves, Harry close behind. "We need more height...give it another quarter of a mile!"

"Bear southeast and keep climbing, there's some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!" calls Moody.

"We're not going through clouds!" Tonks shouts angrily. "We'll get soaked, Mad-Eye!"

You're glad to hear this, your fingers turning numb around the handle of your broom in the chill.

You alter your course every now and then according to Moody's instructions, you and the rest of the guard circling Harry and Tonks as you move.

"We ought to double back for a bit, to make sure we're not being followed!" Moody shouts.

"Don't be mad! We're nearly there now!" You yell, recognising the streets hurtling past below. "If we keep going off course, we won't have to worry about being followed because Harry'll have died from hypothermia by then!"

"Time to start the descent!" Remus orders. "Follow Tonks, Harry!"

You dive, flying lower and lower until you touch down on a quiet street with several less-than-welcoming houses lining it.

"Where are we?" Harry asks.

"In a minute," Remus says quietly, looking at Moody expectantly as he rummages around in his cloak.

"Got it," he mutters, pulling out Dumbledore's trusty Deluminator and clicking it. The nearest streetlamp goes out with a pop. Moody clicks the Deluminator again and one by one each lamp on the street distinguishes, leaving the faint glow of lit rooms behind curtains the only source of light on the street.

"Borrowed it from Dumbledore," Moody explains to Harry, pocketing the Deluminator once more. "That'll take care of any Muggles looking out the window, see? Now, come on, quick."

Together, your group makes it towards houses Number 11 and Number 13. Even though he's been Disillusioned, you can still see Harry's form shivering with the cold, and you make a slow sweeping motion down the length of his body with your wand, muttering a quiet warming spell under your breath. You hear him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks."

Remus tuts quietly under his breath. "No spell for the rest of us, then?"

You smile. "You're not my godson."

Even in the dark, you can see him rolling his eyes at you.

"Here," Moody says, thrusting a piece of paper towards Harry. "Read quickly and memorise."

"What's the Order of the — ?"

"Not here, boy!" Moody snarls immediately, his eyes wide. "Wait 'til we're inside!"

He snatches the parchment out of Harry's hand and lights it on fire, dropping it to the ground, the edges curling in the flame.

"But where's — ?"

"Think about what you've just memorised," Remus says quietly.

After a moment, the run-down door of the Black house emerges in the space between 11 and 13, followed soon by grimy walls and windows.

"Come on, hurry," Moody growls, prodding Harry in the back.

You tap the door with your wand. Loud metallic clicks and squeaks sound behind the door before it creaks open, revealing the darkened hallway beyond. "Get in quick, Harry. But don't go far inside and don't touch anything."

You shuffle into the hallway behind Harry, casting a wary eye to the curtained portrait at the end of the hall, waiting for Moody to finish returning the light to the streetlamps before closing the door behind him.

"Here." Moody raps Harry hard over the head with his wand, lifting the Disillusionment Charm and returning Harry to his usual, visible state. Probably could've been a bit more gentle with it, but whatever.

"Now stay still, everyone, while I give us a bit of light around here," Moody says quietly. With a soft hissing noise, the old-fashioned gas lamps flicker to life, illuminating the depressingly drab hallway you're standing in.

Hurried footsteps alert you to Mrs Weasley's entrance, emerging from the basement door with a smile on her face as she makes her way toward you.

"Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!" she whispers, pulling Harry into a tight hug before holding him at arm's length and examining him critically. "You're looking peaky; you need feeding up, but you'll have to wait a bit for dinner, I'm afraid..."

She turns to you and the rest of the Order members and whispers urgently, "He's just arrived, the meeting's started..."

Everyone starts to make their way through the door, and Harry moves to follow Remus when you gently hold him back, a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, Harry. Order members only. We'll talk later, yeah?"

"Ron and Hermione are waiting upstairs, you can wait with them until the meeting's over, and then we'll all have dinner," Mrs Weasley whispers to him. "And keep your voice down in the hall."

"Why?"

"I don't want to wake anything up."

"What d'you — ?"

"I'll explain later, I've got to hurry, I'm supposed to be at the meeting — I'll just show you where you're sleeping."

You give Harry and Mrs Weasley a wave before heading down into the basement, opening the door as quietly as possible and slipping into your usual spot beside Sirius at the table while Dumbledore speaks to Remus and Moody about Harry. You listen as Dumbledore outlines plans and guard duty: looks like you're on tomorrow night. Brilliant.

Snape sits across from you, and when your eyes meet he gives you a near-imperceptible head shake. Nothing on Wormtail yet. Then his eyes shift to hatred as he wrinkles his nose at Sirius beside you, and you notice that your husband is currently pretending to scratch his nose with just his middle finger extended, directly in Snape's eyeline.

Of course.

When the meeting is finally over, most of the Order members file out of the kitchen and upstairs, speaking in hushed voices as they enter the hall. You pull one of the scrolls of parchment from the middle of the table into your hands, skimming your eyes over a plan of the Department of Mysteries, exits and entrances marked in red.

Just then, you hear a clatter and a great, thankfully muffled, screeching starts from the hall. You sigh, rubbing your temples, and move to stand up and deal with your darling mother-in-law when Sirius gently pushes you back into your chair, standing up.

"I'll handle it."

Bill and Mr Weasley sit close by, heads pressed together as they mull over parchment and documents. After a minute or two, the screaming stops and Sirius reopens the door, Harry following close behind with Remus and the rest of the kids.

Mrs Weasley clears her throat and Mr Weasley jumps to his feet, hurrying over to give Harry's hand a shake. "Harry! Good to see you!"

Bill starts to try and roll up the scrolls and you move to help him, handing him the plan of the Department of Mysteries.

"Journey all right, Harry?" he asks. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, did he?"

"He tried," Tonks says, striding over to help you and immediately knocking over a candle, sending the wax spilling onto the parchment. "Oh, no — sorry — "

"Here," you say, waving your wand and muttering a spell to repair the parchment. In the light your wand casts, you spy Harry trying to catch a glimpse of what's written on the parchment.

Mrs Weasley sees him too, and clicks her tongue disapprovingly, snatching up the scrolls and shoving them into Bill's arms. "This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings."

She sweeps off towards a dresser to start unloading dinner plates and you grab a cloth and wipe down the table for dinner.

"Sit down, Harry," Sirius says, retaking his usual spot at the table. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"

Mundungus, who has been snoring away at the end of the table, stirs and jolts awake. "Someone say m' name? I agree with Sirius..."

He raises his hand in the air as though voting, and you snort.

"Meeting's over, Dung," you say with a smile, giving his back a poke as you pass by with more plates. "Harry's arrived."

"Eh?" He peers at Harry before his face lights in recognition. "Blimey, so 'e 'as! Yeah...you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah."

Mundungus fumbles in his pockets and produces his trusty black pipe, lighting the tip with his wand and taking a long pull from it. A cloud of green smoke thickens the air around him instantly.

"Owe you an apology," he grunts.

"For the last time, Mundungus," calls Mrs Weasley in frustration, "will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!"

"Ah. Right, sorry, Molly."

He stuffs the pipe back into his pocket, with slight reluctance.

Soon, a series of heavy knives are chopping meat and vegetables on their own, supervised by Mr Weasley, while Mrs Weasley stirs a cauldron dangling over the fire. Mundungus, Sirius, and Harry are talking at the table, and from the few snippets you overhear you can tell Sirius is complaining about being stuck inside with nothing to do — which you don't blame him for.

"At least you've known what's been going on," Harry says bracingly.

"Oh, yeah," Sirius says sarcastically. "Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time...asking me how the cleaning's going — "

"What cleaning?" Harry asks.

"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation," Sirius replies, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. "No one's lived here for ten years, not since my mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist, hasn't cleaned anything in years — "

"Sirius?" Mundungus pipes up, eyes focused on a silver goblet in his hands, examining it with immense interest. "This solid silver, mate?"

"Yes," he answers, surveying the goblet with obvious distaste. "Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."

"That'd come off, though," Mundungus mutters thoughtfully, scrubbing the crest with his cuff.

"Fred — George — NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Mrs Weasley shrieks.

Fred and George have bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, to hurtle through the air towards the table. Harry, Sirius, and Mundungus leap away, just in time to avoid the pot of stew that skids the length of the table before stopping at the end, the flagon of butterbeer that falls with a crash and spills over the surface, dripping onto the floor, and the sharp knife that slips from the breadboard and sticks in the table where Sirius' hand had been moments before.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" Mrs Weasley screams, face red with fury. "THERE WAS NO NEED — I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS — JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW DOESN'T MEAN YOU HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" Fred says, hurrying forward and wrenching the knife out of the table. "Sorry, Sirius, mate — didn't mean to — "

Harry and Sirius are laughing, and you turn your face away to hide your laughter from the furious Mrs Weasley. Mundungus struggles to his feet, swearing and muttering under his breath.

"Boys," Mr Weasley steps in, lifting the stew pot back into the middle of the table. "Your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now that you've come of age — "

"None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs Weasley snaps at the twins, slamming a fresh flagon of butterbeer onto the table while you clean away the mess from the previous with your wand. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy — "

She stops dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband. Mentions of Percy are not particularly welcomed in the house at the moment, after Percy and Mr Weasley had an especially heated argument and Percy chose his job at the Ministry over his own family.

"Let's eat," Bill says quickly.

For a few minutes, there is silence in the room but for the scraping of plates and cutlery and the creak of chairs as everyone settles down for the meal. You sit beside Sirius, who smiles and pulls your chair closer to his as you eat.

He tugs on the sleeve of your jumper, rolling the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. "I like this, it suits you. You look very pretty."

You scoff, giving him a smile. "Of course you like it, Sirius, it's yours. Anyways, I'm thinking of going back home soon just to collect a few things," you say. "Is there anything you want? I am seriously missing my telescope here — "

A loud burst of laughter drowns out the rest of your words, as Fred, George, Ron, and Mundungus roll around in their chairs.

"...and then," chokes Mundungus, tears running down his face, "and then, if you'll believe it, 'e says to me, 'Dung, where did ya get all them toads from? 'Cause some son of a Bludger's gone and nicked all mine!' And I says, 'Nicked all your toads, Will, what next? So you'll be wanting some more, then?' And if you'll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all 'is own toads back off me for twice what 'e paid in the first place — "

"I don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings thank you very much, Mundungus," Mrs Weasley says sharply.

"Beg pardon, Molly," he answers at once, wiping his face and winking at Harry. "But, you know, Will nicked 'em of Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn't really doing anything wrong — "

"I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seemed to have missed a few crucial lessons," Mrs Weasley says coldly, before shooting a particularly nasty look at Sirius and standing up to fetch a large rhubarb crumble for dessert.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Mundungus is certainly not the most law-abiding man, but he has his uses.

"Molly doesn't approve of Mundungus," Sirius says quietly to Harry.

"How come he's in the Order?"

"He's useful," Sirius mutters. "Knows all the crooks — "

"Well, he would, seeing as he is one himself," you add, taking a sip from your wine.

Sirius nods. "He's also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don't. But Molly thinks inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn't forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you."

Several helpings of crumble later, the air in the room moves to a relaxed laziness as you finish telling the story of Remus's first time getting drunk at Hogwarts to Tonks, who giggles and laughs while Remus shakes his head and becomes increasingly interested in his goblet. Sirius's hand rests on your hip, idly drawing circles with his finger.

"I don't — uh — I don't remember that," Remus says, cheeks crimson as he glances at Tonks to see her reaction.

You hum, smiling at him. "Well, I certainly do. "

Tonks smiles appreciatively at Remus, yawning loudly.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," Mrs Weasley says, yawning too.

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius says, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

The change in the atmosphere is rapid: Mrs Weasley sits bolt upright, her fists clenched; Remus lowers his goblet warily, eyes meeting yours.

"I did!" Harry says indignantly. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so — "

"And they're quite right," Mrs Weasley says firmly. "You're too young."

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" Sirius asks, raising his eyebrows. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen — "

"Hang on!" George interrupts loudly.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" says Fred angrily.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!"

"You're too young, you're not in the Order," Fred says in a high-pitched imitation of his mother. "Harry's not even of age!"

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's been doing," Sirius says calmly. "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand — "

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" Mrs Weasley says sharply, a dangerous look on her face. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" His tone is polite, but you spot the familiar tense in his jaw and know that this calmness won't last long.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know," Mrs Weasley replies stonily.

Everyone else in the room is dead silent, their eyes flitting between Sirius and Mrs Weasley as though watching a tennis match. You meet Remus's eyes across the table, subtly shaking your head.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly," says Sirius. "But he was the one who saw Voldemort come back. He has more right than most to — "

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" Mrs Weasley snaps. "He's only fifteen — "

"And he's dealt with as much as most in the Order, and more than some — "

"No one's denying what he's done!" Mrs Weasley's voice rises, her fists trembling with anger. "But he's still — "

"He's not a child!" Sirius says impatiently.

"He's not an adult either! He's not James, Sirius!"

Sirius stares back at Mrs Weasley, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. His voice is ice. "I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly."

"I'm not sure you are!" Mrs Weasley says hotly. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" says Harry.

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him! You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?" Sirius demands, his voice rising.

"Meaning you've been known to act rashly — "

"Enough," you say loudly, stopping the two. You inhale deeply. "Harry deserves to know a certain amount. He has been left in the dark for a month, and I have no doubt that he's used this time to come up with a few interesting theories of what's been going on. Don't you think he deserves to know what is true, from us, rather than a muddled version from...others?"

You don't doubt that a few of Fred and George's Extendable Ears have survived Mrs Weasley's purge.

Mrs Weasley looks back at you, breathing deeply. "Well..." she looks around the table for support, but receives none. "Well...I can see that I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart — "

"He's not your son," Sirius says quietly.

"He's as good as!" Mrs Weasley snaps back fiercely. Great, just when you thought the argument had come to an end. "Who else has he got?"

You pause, hoping you misheard her.

"He's got us!" Sirius snaps back, gesturing between you and him.

"Yes. The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

Immediately, you feel your anger flare and you glare daggers back at her. "It's not like he had a choice, Molly!" You snap defensively. "How could you say something like that — "

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," Remus says sharply. "Sirius, sit down."

Sirius, who had begun to rise from his chair, sinks slowly back into his seat, face white.

"I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Remus continues calmly. "He's old enough to decide for himself."

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry says at once.

Mrs Weasley looks at him for a moment, swallowing harshly. "Very well. Ginny — Hermione — Ron — Fred — George — I want you out of this kitchen, now."

Instant uproar.

"We're of age!" Fred and George cry together.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" Ron shouts.

"Mum, I want to!" Ginny wails.

"NO!" shouts Mrs Weasley, her chest heaving as she stands. "I absolutely forbid — "

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," Mr Weasley says wearily. "They are of age."

"They're still at school — "

"But they're legally adults now."

"I — alright, fine, Fred and George can stay, but Ron — "

"Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" Ron says heatedly. "Won't — won't you?" He adds uncertainly, meeting Harry's eyes.

"'Course I will."

Ron and Hermione beam.

"Fine!" Mrs Weasley shouts. "Fine! Ginny — BED!"

You hear Ginny stomping and raging at her mother all the way up the stairs, awakening Walburga's portrait when she reaches the hall. You sigh, hurrying off to force the curtains shut over the crazy woman with immense effort. You return, shutting the door to the stairs behind you, and fall back into your seat with a heavy sigh.

"Okay, Harry...what do you want to know?" Sirius speaks.

"Where's Voldemort? What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news," Harry asks immediately, "and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything — "

"That's because there haven't been any suspicious deaths yet," says Sirius. "Not as far as we know, anyway...and we do know quite a lot."

"More than he thinks we do, anyway," Remus adds.

"How come he's stopped killing people?" Harry asks.

"He doesn't want to draw attention to himself at the moment," you answer. "It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't quite come off the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for him," Remus says with a satisfied smile.

"How?" Harry questions, perplexed.

"You weren't supposed to survive!" Sirius says. "Nobody apart from his Death Eaters were supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore," says Remus. "And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once."

"How has that helped?"

"Are you kidding?" Bill says incredulously. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of!"

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix the day Voldemort returned," says Sirius.

"So what's the Order been doing?" asks Harry, looking around the table at everyone.

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," Sirius answers.

"How do you know what his plans are?"

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea," says Remus, "and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate."

"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?"

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again," says Sirius. "In the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one group he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?"

"We're doing our best," you say.

"How?"

"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard," Bill tells. "It's proving tricky, though."

"Why?"

"Because the Ministry is still in denial," you say with a sigh. "You saw Fudge after Voldemort came back, Harry — he hasn't changed his mind at all. He's completely refusing to believe it."

"But why?" Harry asks desperately. "Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore — "

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," says Mr Weasley with a wry smile. "Dumbledore."

"Fudge is frightened of him," you say.

"Frightened of Dumbledore?" Harry says incredulously.

"Frightened of what he's up to," says Mr Weasley. "You see, Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic."

"But Dumbledore doesn't want — "

"Of course he doesn't," Mr Weasley speaks, adjusting his spectacles. "He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job."

Remus clears his throat. "Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice. But it seems that he's become fond of power now, and much more confident. He loves being Minister of Magic, and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can he think that?" Harry says angrily. "How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up — that I'd make it up?"

"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," Sirius says bitterly. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilize him."

"Ignorance is bliss," you say sardonically.

"You see the problem," Remus says. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they don't really want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's 'rumourmongering', so most of the Wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"But you're telling people, aren't you?" says Harry, looking around the table. "You're letting people know he's back?"

You smile humourlessly.

"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mass murderer and the Ministry's put a ten-thousand galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" Sirius says grimly.

"And people don't exactly find the wife of said criminal the most trustworthy either," you say bleakly, shrugging.

"I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," Remus tells. "Occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

"Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off," Sirius explains, "and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

"We've managed to convince a few people though," Mr Weasley says optimistically. "Tonks here, for one — she's too young to have been in the Order last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage — Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset too. He's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"But if none of you is putting the news out that Voldemort is back — " Harry begins, but Sirius stops him.

"Who said none of us was putting the news out? Why d'you think Dumbledore is in so much trouble?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asks.

"They're trying to discredit him," Remus explains. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true, he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot — that's the Wizard High Court — and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards," Bill chimes in, grinning.

"It's no laughing matter," Mr Weasley says shortly. "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban and the last thing we want is Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to, he's going to go cautiously for a while. If Dumbledore's out of the way — well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

"What's he after apart from followers?" Harry asks quickly.

You exchange a glance with Sirius before he says, "Stuff he can only get by stealth."

Harry stays looking confused, and Sirius continues, "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon?" Harry asks. "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra — ? "

"That's enough."

From the shadows beside the door, Mrs Weasley stands, her expression furious. "I want you in bed, now. All of you."

"You can't boss us — " Fred begins.

"Watch me," she snarls, before turning her unapproving gaze on Sirius. "You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straight away."

"Why not?" Harry says. "I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight — "

"No."

This time, it's not Mrs Weasley who speaks, it's Remus.

"The Order is comprised of overage wizards," he says.

"Wizards who have left school," you add quickly, seeing the twins open their mouths. You sigh, pushing your chair away from the table, patting Sirius's arm softly. "Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough. I think it's time everyone got some rest."

He gives a half-shrug but doesn't argue, waiting as Mrs Weasley leads her children and Harry upstairs to their bedrooms.

Later, you yawn around your toothbrush, facing the mirror in the dimly-lit ensuite off Sirius's bedroom.

"She can't seriously think leaving Harry in the dark about all this is the better option," Sirius muses testily, idly fiddling with your jewellery on the nightstand as he talks. "He's not a child. He's deserves to know what's going on."

"I agree."

"And the way she brought up James — as if I can't tell the difference between my best friend and my godson," he continues in frustration. "I know he's not James, of course I know that — "

You spit into the sink, pulling the tap to rinse it out. "She didn't know James. She doesn't know how difficult it is to stop yourself from looking at Harry and seeing him. How hard it is to not look for him and Lily in everything."

"No," Sirius says after a moment. "She doesn't."

You run your hands down your face, sighing. "I can't believe she said that thing about you in Azkaban. I can't believe she would stoop that low, as if you had any fucking choice to be in there."

"She hates me," he says. "Do you see the looks she gives me?"

"She doesn't hate you," you tell him wearily, flicking off the light and closing the bathroom door behind you. You lean against the doorframe, folding your arms. "She's scared and worried about Harry, that's all. She's stressed."

"She's not the only one."

"No, she's not," you say softly, making your way over to where he sits on the bed, gently taking his face in your hands. "Look, forget about it now. What's done is done, there's no use dwelling on it now."

He sighs, leaning into your touch with a small sigh. "You really are the most amazing woman I've ever met."

"I try."

He kisses your knuckles one by one, then presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. "And clever."

You hum, watching as his lips slowly travel up your arm, arriving at your neck, where he lingers for several moments to kiss every inch of exposed skin he can reach. "And beautiful."

He pulls you toward him so you're straddling his legs, and he grins. "So very beautiful indeed."

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter twenty-seven here!

→ all kinds of interaction appreciated

absolutely massive thank you to my taglist lovelies <3 :

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[the-quiet-youve-been-longing-for]

Okay time for another small (I hope) analysis on IWTV, mainly the way it's written and its place on current television. I'll try my best to format this so it's not ramblings all over, I promise.

IWTV and plot points

I watched a good amount of television in my time, and one thing I noticed here is the fact that it doesn't hold your hand. It doesn't tell you "hey, this thing x is important, now we will tell again why x is important, now here see x being used, the important thing we talked about so far, did you remember, audience?".

Let's take as an example the "don't drink the blood of the living" thing. It's said to a young Louis (telling also to the audience in the 2nd episode how vampirism in this setting works) and then every time it's brought up it's indirectly (Lestat spitting out the sick man's blood, we see Claudia buying Laudanum and we know what it will be used for, but they don't tell us "Hey, Claudia is planning to poison someone so that Lestat drinks it, because remember audience, dead blood kills them"). Sometimes not only it doesn't hold your hand, but shoves you in a different direction, especially in S2. It contradicts himself, backtracks and then it's up to you to spot it.

For example, attentive viewers may have noticed that Sam was in 2 places at once in the trial, one episode before the actual reveal. It isn't a gotcha they came up with in the finale to give more gravitas to the revelation. When they tell us Lestat mass manipulated the audience, it makes sense for the storyline too because we already saw him do that with the soldiers, we have a previous example to refer to, Armand never used that particular power.

In a time where we see so many social media adopt the "short videos" gimmick, like reels and shorts etc, having a piece of media that references back in this way is super refreshing.

2. Character complexity

Complex characters are the backbone of this show. It's easy to place a character in a box and leave them there. You see it with the stereotype of the villain, the best friend, the hero. Some tv shows may have the character shift into a different box, but it's almost never permanent (think of the times where a hero gets corrupted by the Evil Power, but then reverts back to their hero status after Defeating the Evil Power because they remembered the Power of Friendship).

We have Louis, well meaning vampire who is capable of horrible deeds when pushed to the brink. Lestat, who feels so much to the point it hurts the people around him. Armand, whose trauma and fear bring out the need to control, but at the same time he needs to do that without actually controlling. They are all these things at the same time, and it's impossible to see them in a black and white perspective.

3. Details

A line almost always has its parallels to another line in the show, gazes always mean something, props are detailed and shown (I made a post looking at Daniel's notes in 2x05, which were shown for a second only, but you can also think about Claudia's diaries, all handwritten, or the astonishing amount of folders that were in Daniels computer from the Talamasca. That is all prop work done to be shown for a few seconds at most).

4. Analysis

This is more of a fandom thing than the show itself, but I was suprised by the amount of deep analysis that people here on Tumblr did (but also on other social media). Long essays on the meaning of a scene, or on the many many topics the show brings to light (the fallacy of memory, the impact of trauma, the meaning of free will and agency).

Similarly lots of people said that the show brought them back the urge to start creating, whether it's gifs, video essays, edits, fanart, fics, what have you. I started going back to Tumblr after years (last time I was here was during S4 of Sherlock).

And I feel like this is only possible if you give your audience something to work with, something to talk about and to dissect, rather than simple "entertainment".

5. Final thoughts

Of course, this isn't to say IWTV is error free, all perfect, without flaws. Nor is it the only one that has had this amount of labor and impact. But it's still miles ahead from most media we have available at the moment in my opinion, and I really hope its success brings other showrunners or directors to want to try and dare, to trust in their audience, to avoid shortcuts and to pour love in their creation.

If you got this far, I just want to thank you for taking the time to read my ramblings again! Have a cute Louis as a reward, and see you next time :)

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 3

MASTERLIST

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Summary: You find out who Aldwin is, and you get the cleansing you deserve.

A/N: Mentions of taking clothes off, nothing further than that. Also, my hc is that the tarnished has short curls, but you don't need to imagine that if you don't want to.

A03 link

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Chapter 3: Treatment

It is uncertain how long you were being dragged for, past winding corridors you couldn't remember, hallways seemingly going on forever, until you were pulled into a large room. You could only guess you were back on the ground floor, where Messmer mentioned the so-called Sir Aldwin. When the knights threw you to your knees, you hissed from the pain, panic rushing in your chest as you looked around your new surroundings.

The room is oddly clean for what you feared was the torturer's chambers, yet it seemed to be the opposite. Cleansed instruments decorated the walls, candles had been lit and an aroma so sweet yet husky filled the air, bringing a sense of tranquility to fill your lungs. Lavender, you noted, silent as you slowly rose to your height, waiting for when it was all a lie to bring you to a false sense of security.

"Ah, my Lord mentioned a Tarnished would be sent to me?"

A reedy voice called from behind you, jolting you into action as you turned to face him. You had not spotted him right away, tucked in the corner with books he was drowning in. He lifted his head to you, a white beard, long and uncombed was the first thing you noticed on him, followed by his silver-grey skin.

"You're Nightfolk?" you whispered, already feeling slightly in awe and uneasy. Nightfolk came from the City of Nokron, with few in numbers. Some say they were bred with humans or Nox to create human-like offspring. At closer inspection, Aldwin seems to glint his eyes, and when you look too hard, you realise his eyes are a pale silver. It was said they bled silver, and you could only imagine it may have been true just from looking at him.

Aldwin was slightly taller than you, with a spindly body, dressed heavily in robes you could almost compare to the robes of Raya Lucaria, but theirs were of blue with red sashes, his was black and grey, no emblem in sight. "I am simply just a man," he says earnestly. "I am Sir Aldwin, the healer and physician of this keep. Messmer asked me to look at your wounds."

"Messmer cares for me now? His prisoner." You scoffed, though you found unease as you picked at your nails. 

There is unease, no matter how the man in front of you tries to make you feel safe. Your first immediate thought is to find any weapon in this room to use to fight your way out, even if it means using it in self-defense against this man. He seemed old and weakened, but you could not trust what waited outside those doors. It would be simple enough, and it would also be a maze to find your way back to the previous site of Grace. But you knew Messmer was no fool, it would be easy to leave a knight posted outside this room, to sound the alarm if you dared overstep. No matter how tempting it was, you straightened your spine, trying to hide the discomfort from your pain, watching him cautiously. 

Ser Aldwin was gentle with you in your surprise, nodding wisely. "Indeed. He asked that I take a look at your wounds." Reaching forth with a hand, he pointed towards the cot, larger and more comfortable than the one in your cell," May I have a look?"

You hesitated for far too long, which brought the aged man to reassure you further, "I do not plan to inflict pain on you if you are concerned. My healing is far recommended by everyone in the keep, even his Lord himself."

You didn't question what he meant by that, but you had no doubt Messmer came to him when he was injured. Slowly inching your way to the cot, you sat on it, legs dangling as you watched the man move around you to find what he needed. You watched him for far too long, out of vigilance, silently too engrossed in what he was doing before you found something pressing into your wrist, checking your pulse.

You recoiled your hand quickly, expecting pain, yet none came. Aldwin looked at you calmly, as if he had all the experience and patience of a saint to deal with a patient as difficult as you. "I did not mean to scare you, milady." He responded, retracting his hands, waiting for you to accept rather than him continuing. It amazed you how kind he was, treating a prisoner to treatment far better than the kinder hands of allies who had helped you bind your wounds.

Aldwin worked beside you, humming a soft tune you couldn't recognise from the tune, rummaging until he found salves, cloth and glass cauldron already simmering on its own without the need for heat or flame. You watched in amazement, as he began applying a white ointment to your burns, wrapping them lightly to exposed areas of your skin. He paused, looking up at you, "I will have to look under your shirt to see for further burns."

Silently and begrudgingly, you removed your shirt, thankful for the breast band covering you up. It stung when he applied the ointment to wounds that were bigger and deeper, yet when he was done, you were silently thankful. It was when we shocked you, placing a hand to put over your burnt skin, he whispered an incantation, words foreign to your ears, but miraculously, you watched a burn that would've taken months even years to heal, disappear to become barely a visible scar.

"My mother was a sage," he answered as if he knew you would ask how he knew of magic, "she helped a great many, including against the purge done by the Hornsent." There was a sense of doom that could be present in his eyes. "My mother suffered alongside those of Queen Marika's village."

Messmer's mother. You thought, and it did indeed bring a sense of sympathy to fill your heart, despite him being a tyrant. Your family were destroyed by war, and being a sole survivor, you in time, forgot their names and faces, a relic in time to fade away. "Thank you." You murmured. 

When he was done, you could finally pull your shirt back on, looking over the content on his desk.  Jars of different sizes, salves and notes scattered in a language you couldn't recognise, scribblings that could belong to a madman. Aldwin noticed your curiosity, shooting a glance to his table before beginning to pour the content from the cauldron into a decanter.

"The oils I use bring great ease to some. It brings great relief to those who suffer in daily pain. They can be used in baths or body oils." Aldwin presented you with the cup, still bubbling with the heat. You could feel it press into your palms, a great relief to soothe your cold bones, but the smell seemed suspicious. "What is this?"

"Just something to help if I missed anywhere, it helps give you the much-needed strength." He chimed, "For example, having been in a damp call for three days, can do a lot to the human mind and body."

You had already brought it to your lips when you nearly spat it out. "Three days I've been stuck up there?"

"Indeed, and it was in those three days, that his Lord was not seen, keeping to his throne room."

You were silent, idly sipping on your drink which helped invigorate you greatly. There was a strong taste of ginger and pine, though you couldn't place any other ingredients.

It was only once you washed down the content did Messmer's knights entered the room, three you counted, all awaiting your next moves. You watched them back before Aldwin butted in. "Ah, milady, they're waiting to see if you're going to put up a fight."

"Right," you stood back up, feeling the strength come back to your legs, "I will be right with no need to be touched."

They formed a circle around you as you were escorted out, Aldwin waving his goodbyes before resuming whatever he was doing. An odd man, but a kindly one that was needed in these lands.

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

"Strip."

Something scratched at the back of your shirt, almost ripping it from your body with enough force that made you jolt. Messmer's knights had escorted you into the bathhouse, with hooded willowy figures awaiting you. The bathhouse steam helped your pores, relieving your lungs. The much-needed relief was being cut short by the way Messmer's maids he assigned to you swarmed you like a pack of hounds. 

"Strip." The older of the women ordered again, and you did not like the way they watched, even if you could not see their eyes. You obeyed silently, thankful Messmer's knights awaited outside, not that they would care if you were to be attacked in your most vulnerable state.

Your body, now nude, could still feel the cold despite the heat and steam of the room, covering yourself best as you quickly waded your way through the water until it reached chest height. The bath you laid in was small and narrow, but there were a great amount of oils that helped you feel slightly more relaxed.

With a nod from the older woman, the two others gathered around you, suddenly grabbing you by your wrists, plunging their ashen hands into the water, and grabbing sponges that they used to scrub you to death.

"Hey!" You yelped, taken aback by their boldness as they scrubbed you as if you were incapable of doing so. The roughness of the sponges hurt your already healing skin, leaving it raw and almost as if aflame by Messmer's kindling once again.

The elder woman came behind you, grabbing you by your head, her long nails digging into the back of your helm, lifting it from your dampened scalp-

"Enough." Your voice cut the air like the cut of a blade. The women scrubbing you even stopped as they all three watched.

"The helm." One of the women spoke, but you were not sure which one. 

"I am perfectly capable of washing myself," you commanded, making sure to use a voice stern enough and direct. "Leave me."

They hesitated at first, unsure to trust you, as if you would disappear in a puff of the steam and make your escape, but you simply waited, "Leave me." You repeated louder this time.

The three left, their robes swishing as if they were floating, rounding the corner in what you thought was the exit, but you knew wasn't. When you felt you were alone, you slowly raised the helm off your face. The steam was making it almost hard to breathe, but you sighed in relief when you could finally feel your face getting the much-needed cleanse.

Your curls were short in a bob, and when you ran a comb through them, it took much of a struggle to get it through a few times. Using the hair oils provided, you cleansed your scalp, dunking your head beneath the water and pretending you could drown. 

You sighed, the warmth of the water felt like the hug you yearned for, enveloping you and leaving you with the feeling of safety. When was the last time you felt safe? Maybe never.

You rose your head out from the water, drying your hair as you cleaned the inside of your helm before putting it back on, sighing in defeat as you could feel the steps of the maids return for you.

-

A/N: Sorry guys, the helmet stays on during bath time.

[vinvantae]

Unmasked

Part 10/16

<<< Previous part

Word count - 4.5k

Between Australia and Imola, Sebastian decided not only were you going to go through your contract but he was going to get you both over for dinner - using his friendship with Charles as a facade for why the two of you would be spotted in Germany during the time off. You weren’t even sure if you would be spotted but you could never really be too careful, not wanting to make Team Thirty suspicious. They knew you and Sebastian had remained friends after his departure from the team but this would be the first time you had been around his place since he left Ferrari.

But, even if they saw you with Sebastian, they would have no idea what you were really doing there - that once you were in your former teammate’s home, he had dug out every highlighter and post-it note he owned to make notes on the copy of your contract you’d brought. Getting a spare copy was easier than you thought, Charles’ keeping the general office distracted whilst you used the photocopier. It felt almost thrilling sneaking around but you knew it had to be done.

The three of you were currently all sitting on the floor around the coffee table, their living room was cosy - toys strewn about, family photos decorating the walls - you always felt at ease here. Hanna was also privy to the secret, having learnt the truth one night you’d broken down on Sebastian, and never wanting to see you struggle like that again, she always went out of her way to ensure whenever you visited she took care of you.

“Thank you.” You smiled at Hanna as she passed you a mug of coffee, your legs crossed as you watched Sebastian at work. “Sorry for the mess.”

She waved her hand a little dismissively before giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, her eyes kind as she studied you. “Y/n, you’re a friend. This means as much to us as it does to you.”

“You have no idea how grateful I am for you both…”

Sebastian gave you both a compassionate smile before pushing a page of your contract in your direction, a section highlighted - he lent across the table a little. “This is interesting.”

You raised a brow, both you and Charles moving forward to get a look at the paragraph your mentor had highlighted. Your teammate shuffled a little closer to you to get a better look at the small text.

Ferrari are liable for any character assassination or defamation caused by mistruths and lies used to help in the fabrication of the mystery driver.

“I remember Isabella, my lawyer, insisting they put that in now…” You let out a sigh. “I knew they’d have to lie but I didn’t want my character getting destroyed y’know? Not sure they really thought about that before they put me in a media relationship with their golden boy.”

The German man simply nodded, adding the page to a pile he was creating - you believed that it was points in the contract he could use to defend your case if necessary. He wasn’t really giving anything away, keeping his head down as he focused but as you turned away you heard him drop something on the table. Charles frowned and you turned back to Sebastian, he had a hand over his mouth as his eyes flickered over the same bit of page over and over.

“...am I screwed?”

He looked up at the page, his eyes a little wide. “They had you throw the F2 championship?”

Your teammate’s frown only deepened as he turned to face you - your head now lowered as you picked at your fingers. It was a secret you had kept for so long you’d almost convinced yourself that you’d genuinely lost the championship for real. But instead you’d let your rivals slip past you and clinch the title as per their request. Looking back, it was probably stupid, but Ferrari had offered you an F1 seat at 18 and you’d have done anything to get it.

You opened your mouth to speak but no words escaped. Charles ran a soothing hand up and down your back. “I can’t believe they asked that of you… surely… why wouldn’t they want a champion?”

“It was part of the plan. It would be harder to conceal me if I was a champion so I lost and then my seat was gone.” Your voice was quiet, letting your head lean on your boyfriend’s shoulder. “It wouldn’t be believable enough that a champion would just quit racing just as a mystery driver was revealed.”

“How come you never told anyone?” Sebastian asked, no accusatory tone to his voice.

“Who would believe me, honestly?” You laughed sadly. “I was just a kid… and then after a while I kind of convinced myself that it was true. It’s kind of hard to explain, part of my contract to not tell people either. Because, tell me honestly, would you believe Ferrari let a girl who didn’t even win a championship in F2 on their team?”

Charles winced. “When you say it like that…”

“Wow.” Seb whistled low. “I’m sorry to hear it, y/n. It’s crazy they asked that of you.”

You shrugged and carried on digging through the contract, highlighting anything that you think could be helpful - leaning forward, sticking the tabs on the pages. Charles muttered quietly in Italian and French to himself as he read the pages he had, his brow furrowed in concentration. You started to feel a little hopeless, Ferrari had a really air-tight contract. Of course they did, they had dealt with a 17/18 year old girl who didn't know any better. Your lawyer, Isabella, tried her best to get you a good deal and at the time, it was, but coming up on 8 years later things weren’t the same anymore.

“...So. There’s nothing super solid in here.” You and Charles both lifted your eyes from the pages of the contract you were studying, Sebastian was looking straight at you - determined look in his eyes. “But I have an idea.”

****

Yourusername added to their instagram story

***

“I’m not particularly worried about Thirty to be honest.” Max stood tall in the media pen that weekend in Imola, eyes fixed on the reporter in front of him. “They may not even be on the grid next year.”

The reporter’s eyes widened, and several other members of the press turned to look at the Dutchman. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, they’ve not won the championship since 2018 and that performance in Australia?” Max grimaced a little. “I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes, that's for sure...”

Max hated saying these things about you, knowing they weren't true - but Sebastian sounded so confident in his plan and he trusted him, trusted you. The way you’d sat so quietly whilst your former teammate had explained what he wanted from the Redbull driver, only lifting your head to look at Max when he questioned you. You simply smiled and nodded. “It’ll force Ferrari’s hand… I know it’s risky but I’ll try anything at this point.”

So there he was, standing in the media pen in Imola, talking shit about you. Even at your lowest points fighting each other - he had never done something like this. Sure, he’d made a comment here and there but implying your seat may be gone was crazy. He just had to hope it made it back to the right people, that maybe just one team - hopefully more - would take the bait. And it made the most sense to come from Max because, to the media, Thirty was one of his biggest rivals so they would never suspect it was one of you who had told him to say it.

All you had to do was show the other teams that you were worth the risk. And that meant getting your first win of the season, easier said than done but you just had to show them you weren’t washed up. You were determined to prove that you still had that fighting champion spirit but you wanted to earn it and that meant making your boyfriend promise he wouldn’t throw the race to let you win if it came to it.

“Amour, you know I wouldn’t.” He said, but you could see right through him.

You rolled your eyes before circling your arms around his middle. “Promise me.”

“I promise, cherie.” He tutted softly, before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, the two of you were currently in his driver’s room. “Do you know what I’m a little surprised by?”

“What’s that?” A soft hum left your lips as you stepped away from him to gather up some of your things.

“Max… I mean, Carlos’ contract runs out this year. He’s putting his own teammate at risk by doing this and he didn’t even hesitate.”

You frowned a little, turning back to face him. “Carlos will be fine, Charles. I’m not going to take his seat and he’s a fantastic driver, Redbull would be daft not to keep him.”

Charles sighed a little. “I know that, I just… What if they offer you a really good deal.”

It wouldn’t be fair to lie to him, but you didn’t know how you felt about another team actually offering you a worthwhile deal, despite all the shit they were putting you through - you loved Ferrari, you always had - even as a kid you wanted to drive for the prancing horses. But Redbull’s car was special, and you’d always been curious how it drove. So, instead of speaking you just shrugged your shoulders at first. “At this current moment in time, I have no intention of leaving Ferrari. I may not even get an offer, let alone something better than what I get here.”

The Monegasque laughed. “How very media trained of you, cherie. Right, get yourself ready before that sac de merde Ferrari calls your handler, has my head. See you soon.”

You shared one more kiss before you slipped into your own room to get into your kit and get ready to go down to the track. You took a deep breath as you held your helmet in your hands, the large 30 staring you back in the face.

“It’s show time.”

***

***

“Beautiful day today, Crofty. Tifosi are out in their thousands - a good weekend so far for their team, Thirty and Charles qualifying 1st and 3rd. Hopefully they’ll put on a good show.”

“Despite the sun beating down on us, there’s a bit of a frosty atmosphere down on that track today, Martin, could you feel it when you were down there?”

“I wouldn’t want to be on that front row, that’s for sure. Verstappen versus Thirty with Charles, Lando and Carlos following close behind.”

“And with our mystery driver having everything to prove, this is definitely going to be an interesting race.”

***

For the briefest of moments you forgot what was to come as you climbed on top of your car, feet braced against the carbon fibre beneath your feet as you pumped your fist in the air. You had done exactly what you’d set out to do and won the race by over 10 seconds - you turned to the crowds and pressed your hands to your helmet before bellowing air kisses to the Tifosi who were screaming for you.

Almost as soon as your feet touched the ground, your handler and another member of Team Thirty ushered you away from the track - bringing you swiftly back to earth and their stupid body double plan. You recognised the girl as she held a copy of your helmet in her hands - nodding at the team before pulling it over her head. Your handler stepped away from you to join her as the other staffer ushered you into a small bathroom to change back into your kit.

You pulled your cap over your head to hide your messy hair and splashed your face with water before being told to hurry up. This was stupid. Your first win of the season and you weren’t even going to be the first to lift the trophy. Your trophy. Instead you had to go out and play the part of the good girlfriend.

The team parted to let you up to the barricade just as Charles finished up his interview, thanking and waving to the Tifosi - his trademark smile on his face. “Grazie Tifosi!”

As much as Charles was happy to see you after the race, he could see it in your eyes that you wanted nothing more than to be up on the podium with him. Celebrating your win. So, he did all he could, wrapping you up in his arms and squeezing you tight - your arms looping around his neck as you buried your face into his neck. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m so proud of you, Cherie.”

He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips as he pulled back and you gave him a loving smile, letting your hand cup his cheek for a moment. You giggled a little “So proud of you, amour.”

You watched fondly as he hugged the rest of the team before leaving to head up to the podium to join your double and Max. It stung a little watching her step out onto the podium, and you had to hold back from recoiling as she celebrated - it should’ve just felt like an out of body experience as you listened to your national anthem over the speakers but it was just wrong. Charles winked at you from atop the podium, spraying champagne in your direction with a cheeky smile on his face. God, you were fond of that man.

You had no doubt that it wouldn’t just be you who noticed how Charles and even Max seemed different around Thirty, the way they seemingly focused much more on each other than the other person up there with them. To you it seemed so obvious that it wasn’t you up there from the way Charles seemed too awkward to touch Thirty for the podium photo, a hand hovering awkwardly around her middle instead of hauling his teammate into his side like he usually would. You had to use your hand to cover the almost smug smile on your face watching the interaction above you. Surely, someone would notice… right?

***

***

You tilted your head a little at the collection of brown envelopes that had landed on your desk at the headquarters that week, each one stamped with the logo of a rival team. Some not quite as interesting, Haas, Williams… but right at the top of the pile… Redbull, Aston Martin, Alpine, Mclaren… more than half the teams on the grid had approached with offers. What those offers were, you weren't sure yet exactly but the fact that Seb’s plan seemed to have worked so flawlessly. You were expecting one, maybe two offers but even teams with seemingly no available seat next year had approached you. Well, not you, but your lawyer.

Part of you knew that you shouldn’t even open them, just take them straight to Team Thirty and throw them on the desk but you just had to see what they had to offer. You pushed Redbull’s to the side and slid your finger under the opening of the Alpine envelope, you knew Fernando’s contract expired at the end of the season but you were either expecting him to stay on or Oscar to take the seat so you were interested in what they had to offer. Your wage was no secret so when you saw the number you simply nodded your head, it was only a little more than what you were on but you weren’t sure if they knew about your other offers because you had a gut feeling that whatever was in the Redbull proposal would knock your socks off. But you were wary about looking, you liked Carlos and he deserved to keep his seat so for now you put it at the back of your mind as you grabbed the Mclaren proposal.

This one was a surprise to you because as far as you knew, both boys were contracted until at least the end of 2023 so as you opened the document your eyes flickered across the page. Daniel. You didn’t even consider it, shoving the paper back into its envelope. It was then it really hit you - you shouldn’t look through these, other people’s seats were at risk. Carlos, Daniel, Yuki… Seb. Instead you bundled up the envelopes in your arms and held them to your chest.

You had finally convinced Team Thirty to at least talk about your reveal after you’d won the race in Imola, but they had no idea what was coming as Charles rounded the corner with Sebastian - who had insisted on coming as your GPDA rep. “That’s an awfully big pile.”

“...seven teams.”

“Who didn’t bite?” Charles asked, as your mentor took a couple envelopes from you to help ease the weight.

“Mercedes, Alfa Romeo and of course Ferrari.”

Seb frowned. “Mclaren did? But both of them are in contract until at least ‘23, right?”

You sighed. “Daniel. They’d buy him out of his contract…”

Both of them shook their heads disappointedly before following you towards the boardroom - your handler’s eyes widening as you stepped into the room with your current and former teammate in tow. Sebastian didn’t even spare the man a glance as he tried to greet him, instead placing the envelopes on the table. Mattia frowned as he noticed the opposing teams logos printed on the brown paper you laid down in front of you as you sat.

“What… What is this? Did you go to other teams?” You could hear the panic in his voice, the rest of Team Thirty just staring the three of you down. Your lawyer stepped into the room and sat beside Sebastian, she’d instantly been more than happy to join your side in this after you told her about your handler’s threat. They’d had one too many meetings without her present and that was going to stop.

“She didn’t have to” Isabella spoke up, her jaw clenching a little. “After Max’s comment in the media and a couple of loose-lipped staffers… I was practically chased through the paddock by the other teams.”

Isabella was one of those people you didn’t want to be on the wrong side of - she was loyal to the bone but if you crossed her she wouldn’t go quietly. “And honestly? Some of these deals look pretty good.”

You knew she was aware of the content of each offer, you wanted to make sure that the offers were at least enticing enough to scare Ferrari. She narrowed her eyes when a random member of the team tried to take the Alpine offer from her. “Sorry, only important eyes.”

“What do you want, y/n?” Your handler finally spoke up, eyes narrowing his dark eyes at you a little as Isabella handed stripped down versions of the copies of the offers to him and Mattia. “Are you saying you’re leaving us?”

“I think you know what I want… I just won a race despite you saying I didn't deserve my seat and now I have 7 other teams interested in me. I want my reveal. Simple. And if you continue to say no, that Redbull offer looks pretty interesting to me.” You hadn’t even read the offer, you weren’t even considering it right now, but they had to think you were.

Mattia sighed. “May we have the room?”

Charles and Sebastian each took a handful of your proposals and the four of you left the room and crossed the hallway into the small room opposite. Isabella turned to you and smiled. “I think we’ve got this, y/n…especially with that Redbull and Aston proposal.”

You frowned a little, not meeting Seb’s eyes. “I really hope we do, I… I don’t like the idea of someone losing their seat because of me.”

“Kid.” Sebastian put his hand on your shoulder, and you finally lifted your gaze from your feet to meet his eyes - he gave you a gentle smile. “I’ve not really told anyone yet but, you wouldn’t be the reason I didn’t have a seat anymore… I’m planning on retiring at the end of the year.”

“Sebastian.” You gasped. “Wh-what?”

He put his other hand on your other shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze. “So if you need to get out, please consider my seat. I know Aston isn’t performing this year but it's something new.”

You threw your arms around him and hid your face in his neck, your voice cracking as you spoke. “You can’t leave… I…”

The German man rubbed your back. “I’m always going to have your back, y/n. Regardless if I’m on the grid. Besides, you’ve got a pretty good teammate these days.”

Charles blushed a little as Seb winked at him. “I also have a feeling why Alfa Romeo didn’t offer you anything.”

You pulled back from your mentor to turn to look at your boyfriend, a curious look on your face. “I just thought they were happy with their line up.”

The Monegasque hummed. “I mean, they are, but I’m pretty sure Fred would kick himself if he let you move to another team when he wants you to stay here.”

The curious look on your face morphed into a frown, why would Fred want you here? But before you could ask him anything - there was a gentle knock on the door, and the four of you looked up to see none other than Mattia opened the door. There was a look in his eyes you didn’t recognise, something new. “We’re ready for you.”

Isabella gave you a nod and the four of you followed Mattia back into the conference room, your handler no longer present. You decided not to speak on the matter, sitting back down in your original seat opposite the team principal, trying your best to keep your cool. Charles placed his hand on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“For too long we’ve kept your talent under wraps and, aside from a certain someone who has now been let go, we believe you’re right. It’s time for you to reveal yourself.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you could’ve sworn your heart skipped a beat - you placed a hand over your chest. “R-really?”

He smiled a little. “Really. You’re right… you’ve been right for a while. I know you and Charles are happy together but trying to use a fake relationship to cover this whole mess up was never going to work. A lot of people were very confused by the body double… And, we’d actually like to match Redbull’s offer. We want you to stay with us, y/n.”

You laughed a little, wiping away a tear that threatened to escape. “And he’s really gone?”

Mattia nodded. “Yes. I should’ve spoken up the other day, how he treated you was unacceptable… But, we’d like to do this the right way. A way where both parties come out as unscathed as possible.”

“You do remember in her contract that you are liable for any damages to her character, correct?” Isabella spoke up. “So if it comes to it, you will need to defend her or we can file a lawsuit.”

“Understood.” His smile at her was forced. “But, I’ve got a contact at GQ who I think would be perfect for this. We’ve worked with her before and she’s very professional and we can tailor the questions that she asks. And, as your contract states, we’ll be keeping the fact you threw your F2 championship secret… we’ll defend you, you defend us.”

“Everything okay?” Sebastian had noticed you’d gone eerily quiet, he placed his hand on your shoulder - giving it a gentle squeeze. “This is your moment, y/n, if you want to do this in a different way you should speak up.”

You took a deep breath. “No, I think the article makes sense… I always pictured it being more of a spectacle but I think doing it this way gives us more time to gauge the public response y’know?”

“That’s what we were thinking” your PR manager spoke up. “I know we’ve messed this up but we do want to do the best by you and we think having the upper hand will work here.”

“...I hope so. Uhm, I know we’ve had our disagreements recently but thanks. I need this more than you know.”

Mattia chuckled, nodding towards the German man sitting beside you. “The fact you brought Sebastian for back up made me know as soon as you walked in that you meant business. I hope that being unmasked frees you up enough so you can start winning some more races for us, hmm? We haven’t won a championship since you and we’d like that to change. Whether that’s going to be you or Charles, I don’t know yet but hopefully this will give us a fighting chance.”

“Thank you, sir.” You smiled and stood up, shaking his hand. “I look forward to working with you going forward.”

He shook your hand. “You can be honest with me now, were you ever considering taking any of those offers? I mean, I’m not even a driver and they were tempting.”

“Was fully dependent on how this meeting went to be honest… I hadn’t even read them in full but some of them were very generous.” You admitted.

Isabella stepped forward. “I’d like to get that raise you mentioned in writing as soon as possible, please. Shall we schedule a meeting for before or after the US?”

“We can do it before.” The curly-haired man hummed, nodding towards the two lawyers on Team Thirty before turning back to face you and your company. “Enjoy your weekend off. Nice to see you Sebastian, Charles… Isabella.”

The four of you walked in silence back to your office, but as soon as the door closed behind you - you threw your arms around Charles’ neck. “Oh my god. It’s happening Charles… It’s really happening.”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around your middle, squeezing you tight. “I’m so proud of you. I don’t have the words to describe how much I think you deserve this, cherie.”

You sunk into his hold, taking a deep shaky breath, fisting the fabric of his shirt up in your hands as you sobbed quietly. Isabella excused herself from the room, allowing you to have a private moment with your boyfriend and mentor, the latter lent against your desk with a smile on his face - a stray tear had escaped and he reached up to wipe it away. Charles pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your lips before resting his forehead against yours, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

Your years of fighting had finally paid off.

You were going to be free.

***

gqsports added to their story

***

Next part >>>

And here it is! Sorry for the lil delay! So happy with this chapter so I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it ❤️

Want to be notified when I post? Join our discord, head to reaction-rolls and click the sunflower 🌻

[amarmoria]

Sempiternal 111

Yao x Reader

Synopsis: 10 days in some spa center with your family wouldn't be too bad right...?

Notes: to the person who gave me an idea for the 3rd part, i luv u sm, i didn't reply to your ask since i didn't want to spoil it, ill probs answer it after I post this🤭

Previous | Next

Ugh fuck.

Fuck you and your imagination. This is why you stopped watching documentaries. You can't face him like this, no way, you should just jump off the balcony and run away, you ran your mouth over something so, so childish— you sound like one, now he probably thinks you're weird, if he heard you that is, no.. he def did, he def did..

You groaned and clenched your fists as your family neared the circular, brown hut. The staff had reminded the guests earlier when they arrived to rendezvous to the meeting place to officially start this experience, and familiarize yourselves with the other occupants which your mom didn't appreciate very much.

Though on the other hand, you yourself were really happy to commune with other people aside from your family, it felt suffocating around your parents, they're always bickering, blaming, the tension was always there even if you didn't hear it, so the mention of other people makes your tummy flutter in a good way.

Meeting new people was good, your family's therapist says, it's another way to cope with everything lately. You trudged your way as you hear chatter from inside, your eyes immediately centering on a curly haired woman, she shoots you a smile in which you return, the chatter kinda died down when you went in, now the atmosphere was awkward because everyone was looking at you, the walk to your family's circles felt like ages, you were thankful to the lady who resumed talking to the person beside her, you remember her from earlier when you guys went in, the first guest you met, you wonder if you've seen her somewhere, she looked so familiar.

You didn't pay attention to the adult's conversation, talking about how long this was going to start, or if this was reverse psychology in making the guests commune with each other to familiarize themselves with their fellow patients, you heard your mom complain once again although you didn't care enough to answer, the sun was already starting to die down, light orange hues traverse the hut when the blonde haired woman entered. Everyone was already quiet, your eyes landed on the person you thought you could escape.

"Welcome to Tranquillum House." She pauses, scanning the faces of her new subjects. "Right now, you're at the foot of a mountain."

Her voice blurs in your ears when your focus centers on Yao, gosh, I wonder what would happen if he were to catch you looking. You gulp a big fat saliva and accidentally let out a cough, fuck, you let your eyes wander to the floor when the hut stills, out of anywhere you really had to cough in here, are they looking at you? No maybe it's something else, no, they are, they're looking at you.

You clear your throat, adjusting your crooked top that you kept fiddling with earlier.

"— as I was saying.."

You let out a deep breath, quietly this time, one more event and you're out of here, this place has brought out everything within you than ever in all the years you've been living.

Your eyes fluttered forward once again, regaining the little bit of confidence you tried to muster, that's when you realized Yao was already looking at you.

You stilled, your breath stuck in your throat.

Why is he smirking..

He tilted his head slightly, seemingly teasing you, your eyebrows furrowed as you reciprocated, you mouth a small 'what', although you didn't get to see his response when Masha suddenly blocked your vision from him.

"Isn't that right, my little bee?"

You shook your head and focused on Masha, she was right in front of you, you can see your mom on your far left trying to move close to you but your dad quickly stops her.

"Huh, wha, I," and your back to fiddling with your top, you heard Masha chuckle, gently placing her hand on your shoulder. "W-what, what was the question..?"

"Silly bee, I didn't ask a question"

"Then what is, I mean, you—"

"You're a nervous little thing are you?"

"I-I'm not, it's.."

"Don't worry, I'm not here to lecture you," her laugh is warm, honey, like the place, she looks like the place, maybe you're biased because she does own it.

"I was a little girl,"

"And I was riding my bicycle"

"Reconnecting with joy," she finally lets go of you after staring into your soul, your eyes flicker back to the man, but his eyes were somewhere else, good, you hope you won't ever talk or be near him after this. "and innocence—"

"Excuse me!" Your mom takes a step forward. "This is not appropriate"

"I decide what is appropriate"

"You know our story"

"Mom—" you try and stop her, but she raises a finger at you, immediately shutting you up. "Death will not be your story"

You felt your sister freeze beside you, you looked back at her worriedly, her eyes were full, brimming of tears.

"Zo.."

"I'm sorry."

You watch her bump your shoulder as she runs outside the tent, you were about to run after her when the woman your mother had an argument during your arrival gently held your shoulder and nodded at you, you let her, maybe it's better for her to take a break from your god forsaken family for once.

The dispute behind you was deaf to your ears, it hasn't even been a day and your mom had already fucked up the first impressions, so great for wanting to heal then.

You feel your throat closing in, ugh not again. You bit your tongue and hurriedly left the tent, your ears were alarmingly ringing too loud than before, you wonder what caused it to react like this, you hastily try to fish for something in your pockets, please please please, you search your body, even tapping your butt if it was there.

Fuck, where did you put it?

The longer you try to find it, the more blurred your eyes were, the ringing was already more than deafening, ear-splitting is the right word, you took a big left earlier to avoid Zoe seeing you like this, you didn't want her to worry, she just has to think about herself, so your surrounded by tall bamboo trees in the middle of nowhere, great, but you don't know that, because you're hear tryna breath, see, hear, everything, tryna make everything normal again.

That's when you hear a crunch of leaves behind you.

"Miss Marconi..?"

Ugh, not him..

"Y-you left this.."

You don't turn around, only hiding your face, he holds out a white container you knew too well. Your eyes widen and quickly grab it, he stays behind as you try to pry the annoying cap off, why was this twice as harder to open than it is?!

One of your nails accidentally breaks from the pressure, though it didn't hurt because it was the long one, you didn't pay attention to it, just busy trying to open the goddamn medicine.

A hand suddenly shoots out to grab the container. "Let me."

It wasn't a question, the words in your mouth die on your tongue as he easily broke off the lid, handing you a couple, you wonder how he knew how many pills you took, you didn't add them to your registration in fear of your parents, but that was the least of your concerns, your threw them in your mouth like your life depended on it, it did.

A few seconds pass and you let out a deep breath, and inhaled a bigger one too, the ringing of your ears stopped, and your eyesight was back to normal, you would've sported a little smile after that, patting yourself on the back like a crazy person if not for the warm body still next to you.

That's when you realize he's still there, Yao, had he not been there, your parents would have gotten two reasons for coming here.

You gulp and fix your hair, your face heats up at the thought of him seeing you run around like a mental patient, but you assume he's already seen this many times, maybe that's why he knew how much to give you.

"I—"

"Are you—"

You pause, biting your lip, gosh how many more embarrassing things should you check off your list?

No one spoke for the next few seconds, but you could feel him staring you down. Oh so now you're branded as crazy, weirdo who just had an episode in the middle of nowhere during a retreat, you scratch your head at the thought.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm, it's.. I'm sorry," you pinch your arm, your eyes focusing on the dirt than looking at him.

"Don't be sorry, Bee" you frown at the nickname, why do they even call you that. "It's, you didn't have to, to see that I—"

"If i wasn't there would you have even opened this? Or even find it in the first place?"

You shut your mouth, he's right, you owe him your life, but you don't tell him, he might use it as leverage somewhere.

"I'm sorry," he quickly mumbled, fiddling with the container, the cap was now abandoned on the floor, the half empty pills exposed to the world.

"Will.." you pause, biting the inside of your cheek. "Will you tell my family? About, about what happened?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, maybe trying to read you.

"Do you want me to?"

You thought for a moment, you didn't want to burden him, but you also didn't want this as blackmail, anything can happen, but when you look up, eyes catching his, it's not filled with malice, or anything.. of sorts.

"No, don't, don't tell them.. please"

You don't see the twitch on the corners of his eyes.

"Yes," You frown at the lack of noise, then you see him reaching over to his small beige cloth bag, he pulls out a smaller drawstring pouch, color beige obvi, he dumps your pills in it, throwing the hospital colored container and handing you the new one.

"Here, an apology for breaking the old one"

"You didn't have to—"

"We do, we have to take care of our guests like family, so you don't have to worry about it."

You held onto the pouch and looked up at him, and like before, he was already looking at you. "Thank you, Yao"

"Anything for the guest"

The more chapters i make, the longer every chapter gets. ANYWAYS, two chapters posted this weeknd?! Miracle😧

[poisonousquinzel]

It's not surprising that Batman: Gotham Adventures #43 is one of the BTAS comics that I really appreciate, I will always love a good Working With Bats plot, but I wanna talk about the background they gave for the "Villain" that includes Harleen. I've found that while Harley definitely gets mischaracterized a lot ((looking at you Amanda Conner and Jimmy Palmiotti))

Harleen is rarely written well and in character.

The actual "Harleen" comic is an outlier and I appreciate how it handles their sessions, Joker's manipulation and her fall is shown outright. There is no doubt that this is not a Love Story, and the followup bits that the creator has posted over the years lays out the relationship and Harley's mindset. It's a good read before "Harleen: Red" [Harley Quinn: Black + White + Red #1]

So, I wanted to talk about the issue with how she's written in this specific plot line.

"Wha..."

"Hello, Doctor Quinzel. Remember me?"

"How could I forget? Heh...So...Whatcha been up to?"

"Studying you. Plotting, planning...All those times we were locked up in Arkham together. You, of course, going in and out while I stayed...and stayed...and stayed...

You never even glanced in my direction. And you never stopped talking. It was so easy to find out all your plans, your secret hideouts. I've thought about nothing but getting revenge on you."

"Hey, give a girl a break, willya! It was my first day on the job!"

"It wasn't just your first day! You saw me every day for weeks! I kept saying I was innocent! But you didn't listen to a word I said--All you wanted to talk about was The Joker!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing! Who wouldn't want to talk about him all day long? He's dreamy! Besides, everyone in there says they're innocent. Heh...I should know..."

"That's exactly what I mean! You ignored me, kept me locked up in there...All because you had a crush on some sick lunatic!"

Harley hasn't appeared more than maybe 10 times in comics at this point, her origin is an episode itself. Having part of her background so egregiously mistold is absolutely beyond me.

It feels as if the creators were forbidden from reading previous material I stg 😭

Truly, it's not that hard, it's one comic. Why would you include something tied to Harleen and then not bother to read the origin comic where we see her.

It wouldn't even be that hard to keep it aligned with what we'd already been shown.

Have it so Miss Smith was in there during her first few weeks of having him as a patient, when she started her sessions with Joker.

While at first she had hope that Dr. Quinzel was going to help her and get the situation sorted out, and at first it did seem that way, but... something...changed in the doctor during the weeks that followed.

then in the days right before Harleen was to finish the paperwork that'd sign off on her release, Joker escaped and he got recaptured by Batman after a couple days. He got brought back like this.

And it caused something to crack in Dr. Quinzel.

The paperwork went onto sit unfinished and unsubmitted on the former desk of a now wanted criminal accomplice. When she gets reassigned, she hopes things will be able to go quickly since Dr. Quinzel had been seeing her and logged her info, but goes on to find that a lot of her latter entries were incomplete. The hand copies of her notes had been confiscated as evidence or destroyed during the events of her break in.

Hell, even just have it so when Harleen was frantic in her rush back to her office after they took Joker to the hospital ward

in her haste to get her car keys, she knocked over the now cold cup of coffee from that morning and didn't care that it spilled over her desk & papers because Dr. Quinzel was never going to step foot inside these walls again.

Because this plot line taking place during her first few weeks at Arkham is plainly just impossible. With the way Harleen is written, it's apparent she's already falling.

But it took 3 months until she was able to have a session with Joker. Am I supposed to believe that Harleen, from the very start, was a lovesick fan and was so open about it that it would have became common knowledge within Arkham? Something she talks to patients about??

"It took nearly three months of pleading before Dr. Leland finally gave in and let me do a session with The Joker.

She told me he was an animal, plain and simple. A fiend who enjoyed twisting the minds of those stupid enough to trust him.

I was determined not to be taken unaware, and studied up on all his jokes, tricks and gimmicks."

That's three months of her reputation, her first impression, being formed into "Kinda Real Lovesick For The Joker".

That would get back to Dr. Leland. There's no way in hell she'd ever have approved of sessions between them if she didn't have faith in Harleen's abilities as a psychiatrist and her passion for helping the patients.

I doubt Harleen would have kept her job longer than a few weeks, frankly, if she was like she's written here. Because that's a liability??? It would be beyond careless for Dr. Leland to have not fired her immediately upon finding out she was so enamored and in love with one of the most dangerous people in there.

Cause there's a chance she'll break him out,,,,, like she did.

-

Also, as a bit of a side note:

"All those times we were locked up in Arkham together. You, of course, going in and out while I stayed...and stayed...and stayed..."

This comic is after this & this, Harley has broken out certainly, but she has also been released.

If someone with a record like her can be rehabilitated, then why the fuck was this poor woman still in there?

It's mistaken identity with a ridiculously common first & last name. It's a criminal who is going "back" to Arkham.

So why in the years she "I stayed...and stayed...and stayed..." not include basic patient identification? Like finger prints? a headshot picture? a description of what the woman they're looking for looks like?

It's been years, why would this woman be ignored and left to rot in there? This comic isn't even trying to make Arkham out to be horrendously incompetent.

But that's how it is???

What possible crime could the woman they're looking for have committed to justify this? To justify them, seemingly, overlooking her solely because the original psychiatrist [who left in an outlandish way] did not sign off that she needed to be released?

It says that she was stopped for speeding and taken back to Arkham for that. Why on earth would someone be taken to Arkham Asylum for a fucking speeding ticket?

If the Criminal Jenny Smith is a bad enough dangerous criminal that it warrants an immediate arrest and incarceration, then it's outright neglectful for there to be such a lack of fucking documentation about her!??? Like a basic description? Or photo? Or finger prints at least??

Its said she's released because they caught the real Jenny Smith, so they had to have had something to go on besides the damned name?? To prove that this was the real one they'd actually previously had in Arkham and that it was a mix-up.

-

uhhhhh so anyway <333 just an example of the inconsistency with Harleen's characterization that I noticed and wanted to make a post about<33

this is my energy trying to read her appearances sometimes ✌️

Comics: Batman: Gotham Adventures #43, The Batman Adventures: Mad Love

[flower-sunflower-blog]

How did s!Dappleduo came to the Shelter ?

Ok, so, I wanted to get on s!Dappleduo theories and questions. 

Quick note : through this post I’ll stick with “s!Dapper” and “s!Pomme'' to make it easier. But just so you know, in general, I use Shade and Dapper, and Lumi and Pomme interchangeably, and still refer to the same characters. 

First of all some basics : 

It is confirmed Shelter is a place where people were all brought by the tree, besides of a few possible exceptions, and came from different minecraft universes. The kind of the universes can be really diverse going from one character to another : other dimensions ? made up minecraft universes ? Or even, already existing minecraft universes. 

I’ve been getting into figuring out where everyone came from, why and how they came to the Shelter. A lot of hints made me think some characters could have died before being resurrected by the tree, thus reincarnated. And surely there is something that all of them must have in common to be chosen by the tree, but we can't confirm yet the process is the same for everyone. So for now I think the "death and reincarnated" scenario is only "one way” possible among others. 

Going onto s!Dappleduo’s case. My first and biggest interrogation was whether or not s!Dapper and s!Pomme, and q!Dapper and q!Pomme, were the same characters.

I know in /meta, they rp and act the same, but the real question was to know if lorewise, the 2 versions of their characters have a shared backstory, thus meaning s!Dapper and s!Pomme were actually the continuation of q!Pomme and q!Dapper ?

A quick /meta note on this : I wanted to get into s!Dappleduo’s lore for a while. But I had a lot of hesitation because I was debating whether or not everything was just /meta references, and if there was even a lore talk to have to begin with. But then we had more lore, thus more hints to make up my mind.  

Now, I think the answer is yes. 

Recently, s!Pomme heavily hinted she came from the QSMP’s universe, and that she misses people from there, during her dialogue with s!Mine.

And both s!Pomme and s!Dapper referenced the events they went through in QSMP during Shelter's /rp moments, meaning it actually happened to their current characters and they remember it :

s!Dapper referencing the punch card and the free cookie jar xD

Their character seems to be basically the same, altho a bit different. s!Pomme hinted a lot this idea of a new chapter, of a “rebirth”. 

And I think the same goes for s!Dapper, as I consider s!Dappleduo siblings to have shared lore in general.

I see all of this as hinting they went through reincarnation, after all didn’t they have a parent who used to reincarnate over and over again ?

They still seem to have memories of their "previous life", altho it's not sure yet they fully remember everything. They’re still the same, but not completely. And they both came from the tree. 

Thing is, they’re not the only one hinted to be “reincarnated” from the tree. s!Ryan, s!Luh and s!Heiwa's hints mostly, made me think their characters were reincarnated from the tree after “dying”. Did s!Dapper and s!Pomme died aswell and were reincarnated in Shelter ? 

That's where having the confirmation that q!Dappleduo and s!Dappleduo are the same makes a whole difference : Dappleduo had 2 lives before.

q!Dappleduo came up to life with the constant threat of perma death upon them, making it an essential part of how they grew and evolved as characters. Especially for q!Pomme ! Her being the only one with 2 lives, growing up stronger to fight for her life and those she cares about, is one of the most fundamental element of her character. 

But now, both of them ended up in Shelter, and are now immortal. But still, their character backstory is still based on them having only 2 lives and struggling to stay alive. My point being, if they canonically had 2 lives, why not anymore ?

And as much as there is an obvious /meta reason why it's this way, lorewise, I think we can still ask ourselves how come they did get rid of the 2 lives limitations ? In general, how did they came from one state to another ?

Could q!Pomme and q!Dapper have died, and been reincarnated by the tree ? But if so, how did they die ? Last thing we know, they both still had 2 lives, what could have killed them both twice ? And was the reincarnation itself enough to get them rid of the 2 lives limitation, or is there even more to it ?

There's still an unknown timeline gap between q!Pomme and q!Dapper having both of their life and still no official death/reason for their death, and current s!Dapper and s!Pomme being immortal. And as much as I think reincarnation occured here, I’m still not 100% sure they had to die for it. Well, let’s say something is still strange about this. 

Another element I had, but was kinda cautious to use since I wasn’t sure how much "in character" it was (but that I’m now using, you’ll see why) : it is said that s!Dapper one of the first residents along with s!Jean and s!Ana. Meaning that s!Pomme came after ? And if so, why did they come separately ?

That’s all we had for s!Dappleduo for a while. But recently, more came to it.

During the conversation between s!Mine and s!Pomme, s!Pomme said she didn't know how she came here (surely no memory loss has ever happened to her before) but was glad s!Dapper "found" her.

And when s!Mine asked if they both came from the same tree, or just ended up finding each other (the exact same interrogation I had about them), s!Pomme answer was that s!Dapper has "his own ways" of doing stuff, that he is a creative fella and has a lot of tricks.

That’s all, she didn’t explain more after.

What "trick" from s!Dapper is she referring to right there ? Is that "trick" the whole reason why they found each other ? Could it imply they were not supposed to be together at first if it wasn't for s!Dapper ? And if so, why ?

The fact that it is implied they went through seperate ways before coming here is really intriguing. Why was s!Dapper the first one (apparently) and what did he do, both to get there at first and then to "find" Pomme ? That’s the reason why I’m not entirely sure they died. As much as it is possible, it looks like there is even more to it, especially about s!Dapper whole involvment in this process. After all, the Halo family is known to have this habit of playing with life and death’s rules, right ? 

.

.

.

And I kinda covered everything I wanted to say. Again, not so much happened, and we're still in the dark. It's still just some questions and comments here and there.

I mainly wanted to bring your attention into those hints and mysteries about them, and how it seems like we’re missing a part of the timeline of event that explain s!Dappleduo whole presence here. And I can’t wait to see what they’re cooking :D

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

Pairing: Karlach x durge reader, Gortash x durge reader

Prompt: Some thoughts I had when I brought my dark urge and romanced Karlach to face Gortash.

Description: Having just survived a divine revelation from daddy dearest Bhaal and making your way to Wyrm's Rock, you're a little shaken but ready to face whatever Gortash may throw at you. You wanted to see Karlach have her revenge as sure as it was your own. Yet... something familiar and strange stirs within your blackened heart when you look at Gortash. And most frighteningly, he looks to you the same.

Rating: sfw

Word Count: 2678 3037

Notes: Happy 4:30 am I got off work and like a man possessed wrote this. It's not edited (yet) but if I don't post this and get validation I may just fucking die so. Have this terrible little brain baby! I just think it would be so tastey. No one wins here btw!

oh this is huge spoilers for dark urge/act 3 btw! I took some liberties but it's my fanfiction and I can if I want to

Edited: 10/1/23 (read it and there was a lot of mistakes lol)

Curiosity has guided you far, in this adventure. It’s helped you find the pieces of your past life, both those that proved to be a boon and that which you would have rather left buried. You’ve repressed your dark urges, fought them, proved to yourself and your allies, and especially your lover, that you’re better than that. Better than the person you once were. Better than what your father would have you be.

And it’s never been more clear than when you stand before Gortash now. You can feel Karlach before you, bristling at seeing his face. The way Wyll panics at seeing his father, obviously not himself. Gale, too, is is all wound up-- the emotions held in this room are fit to burst, and you and Gortash are the center of it.

You felt a flicker of it before, when seeing his face in the Ilithid colony beneath Moonrise. There was familiarity there; not the burning hatred that seized your heart when you looked at Orin, nor the cool indifference you felt upon taking Kethric’s life but something far different. The closet thing to normal you felt from your previous life. It scared you more than the murder, than the blood on your hands and the bile burning the back of your tongue.

He felt like home. A feeling you thought only Karlach could bring about you, of calm and happiness acceptance and all things nice and lovely that father would surely disapprove of. And when he speaks, when his disgusting honeyed voice and hardened gazes softens upon landing to you, when “My favorite assassin,” leaves his silvered tongue, you can see whispers of the past before you.

A part of it, mind, you might have preferred to keep lost. It comes in flashes and fuzzy moments, in warm feelings and beating heart. Your hand, held in his; your lips lost together. Bodies tangled and thoughts lost... You linger in those memories a moment, remembering how right it all felt. And thinking, how funny, even back then you were pulling away from father's puppet strings.

As you come back to the present, you're left stunned silent a moment, as his words flow in one ear and out of the other. This is Gortash-- the man who sold Karlach to the Arch Devil Zariel, who abducted Wyll’s father and whose manipulating the cult of the absolute and all the people of Baldur’s gate all at once-- and he’s the man who helped you learn what love is.

It's also so sickeningly familiar, the way your heartbeat picks up upon meeting his gaze. How he reserves an easy smile just for you, even if you’ve seen it hundreds of times. You have to close your eyes, to reach out and take Karlach’s hand despite how hot she’s grown. It's almost too much for you, to remember how happy you were with Gortash when you've been fighting for so long to find a way to keep being happy with Karlach.

“Solider?” Even through her own anger, her own disgust and sorrow and rage and madness, Karlach pauses, (your whole party does, in fact) in seeing the familiarity between the two of you. Seeing the effect Gortash has on you, their dauntless leader, their dear friend. If only they knew who they were calling their ally now...

“Holy shit,” Is all you can manage out in the moment. So many thoughts, little forgotten memories blink past your eyes. Karlach squeezes your hand, and you squeeze back just to let her know you’re still there.

“I didn’t think I’d have quite that strong of an effect on you,” he chuckles and you hate how you can tell it’s from genuine affection, and not twisted glee. He truly is glad to see you-- and why shouldn’t he be? It can't have been that long ago that the two of you were lovers.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” You have to steel yourself in front of him, in front of your friends. But how can you deny it? Things have always been this way between the two of you. Delicate and strange and so wrong as to feel right.

“It’s nice to see you haven’t changed.” That charming smile, turned business as he turns to face your party whole. “I was worried, after Orin did you in. But I should have known you would return, find your way back to me.” He’s all confidence as he speaks, and you notice its mostly to you. It’s almost as if the room isn’t filled with courtesans, as if your party isn’t there to back you up. Like you aren’t clutching to Karlach like a lifeline.

“You’ll… have to fill in the finer details.” You admit softly, frown fitting your face. “I’ve reclaimed bits and pieces of my former memory but I’m afraid much of my former…” You hesitate as you consider who you were before all this “...life is beyond me.” You decide to remain as passe as possible. But perhaps he already knows you remember. Actually, your certain he does-- there’s a look of mischief twinkling in his eyes that surely only you can see. But cruelty is in his nature, as begets the chosen of Bane. You’re lucky, then, that for you, and only you, his urge can be diminished into something a little more charming.

“Why, without you this cult would be nothing! Well, without us.” He laughs again and you can feel your companions eyes upon you. “You and I came up with this whole plan-- to steal the crown of Karsus, overpower the elder brain, and use its powers to create a loyal army of cultists… if Orin hadn’t overthrown you, things wouldn’t be near a mess as they are now.” He rolls his eyes dramatically, a sigh fitting past his lips. “That sister of yours is quite the handful, and far less careful about controlling her urges. Why, with you back, and with Kethric’s nether stone no less, I dare say we have a chance to get things back in line again.”

“_____, what is he talking about? Why is he talking like he knows you?” Karlach’s voice tears through your thoughts, just as you feel her warm hand leave yours, and your party's gaze all land on you.

“Oh Karlach, dear sweet Karlach…” Gortash speaks again. “Are you certain you want to hear that?” Your breath hitches as he speaks. You were hoping Gortash would have more decorum than to admit what the two of you once hand. Perhaps its obvious to him how you feel about Karlach now. Maybe you looked at him the same way, once; maybe you are now.

Perhaps then, it's jealously that causes him to speak. You can't imagine how he must feel, seeing someone he got rid of so long ago stroll up with the person he thought was taken from him. Yes, now that you think about it, that would make him quite mad...

“You shut the fuck up, Gortash!” Karlach raises her voice before you even think to speak; Gortash merely smirks, speaks again with mockery lacing his tone.

“Indeed, _____, why don’t you enlighten your friends, your lover, about your past self?” Your name spoken from his lips was so, so nice. It made you ache in a sickeningly familiar way. And so too, was the venom in his when he spoke of your lover. Of Karlach…

“They know,” You manage to croak out. “With the tadpole they saw… saw the vision my father sent to me.” One that you had gotten hardly an hour before coming here, even. That you were a Bhaalspawn, of your dearest fathers own flesh. That you were his chosen before Orin struck you down. You knew that wasn't what he met. You were desperate to hide this-- like when your urge first overcame you, when that poor girl Alfira's blood stained your hands and camp...

“Then surely, you remember, about us?” Daring as ever, Gortash moves forward, to cup your chin tenderly with his gauntlet that held his nether stone.

How easy it would be, to twist the arm that dared hold you, to rip that precious nether stone from the sorry hand that dared touch your hallowed flesh.

“Us? What is he talking about?” You could hear the desperation in Karlach’s tone, even if you couldn’t see her. Your eyes were locked with Gortash’s, lost in them really. “_____, why are you letting him touch you?” Even from here, you could feel her heat. She was angry, so angry that he dare touch you. But scared, too. Scared that you weren't even trying to stop him.

You tear away from Gortash’s intense gaze, gently remove his hand from your person and ignore your urge. And so to, ignore the urge to reach out for Gortash in return. So many parts of yourself you have to deny, it was getting hard to know what’s really you…

“Fine. Fine!” You raise your own voice, uncaring of the puppets in the room. You turn to Karlach, to the only reason you’ve gotten this far. “You deserve to know anyways.” Still, you heave a sigh, for what is a heavier burden than the truth? “Yes, before Orin betrayed me, I was the chosen of Bhaal. But beyond that…” Even still, as the truth lingers on your lips, tingles on the tip of your tongue, you hesitate as you meet Karlach’s gaze-- as you filter to Gale and Wyll as well.

Your breath dies a moment as you see how worried they are for you. You’re scarcely worth such kindness, moreso from such good people as them. “Gortash and I were… close. Far closer than any plan may have merited. One might have even called it love, if you believe such evil capable of it.” You admit, looking to the floor. You wouldn’t be able to take the look of betrayal in their faces, nor the grin Gortash surely wore.

“I…” You can feel the way the anger leaves Karlach. Even if she didn’t want to show it you can feel through that dammed tadpole how numb she suddenly feels. “Right. You guys finish” She gestures vaguely to you, to Gortash “whatever the hell this is. I gotta go.” You don’t even have the heart to stop her. Don’t have the courage to watch her retreating form.

“Karlach, hold on!” Gale is quick to follow. You’d have to thank him for that. For doing what you should be doing. You can feel Wyll’s hesitation. But he stays. You’d have to thank him too. You don’t want to be alone (as much as the word means in a room fool of likely tadpoled individuals like yourself) with Gortash right now. Even if Wyll is just staying for his own father.

“There she goes.” Gortash is brazen now, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in to his chest. You don’t know if it’s right to be this close to him, to hug him like you so desperately want to. “I do miss our time together. We could be still be together, work together. It would be my honor to restore you to your former glory-- to help you regain your title as Bhaal’s chosen once more.” The idea fills you with twisted glee. You recall, with errie smile, how Gortash was once wrapped around your little finger. How easy it could be to twist him to your designs, and kill him when it suited you most. How it would please father, how it would only make you stronger, to get such a distraction out of your life.

“That’s not who I am anymore.” You say with much force, creating some distance between you and Gortash. You're not sure if its about the two of you being together, or you being Bhaal's chosen. Still, he does not falter. He gets down on one knee before you, looking up at you with adoration. You hate it. You love it. It’s disgusting and beautiful and you know this isn’t the first time he’s been on his knees for you. Play your cards right, it may not even be his last.

“Even so, I can see how much your heart cries out for revenge. You mean to kill Orin, and as it happens I want her dead as well.” Again, beautiful hands, coveted nether stone, circle around your own. “We could rule together. Even your little… friends.” This was your plan, after all. Your genius that got this terrible cult going.

“Just what are you proposing?” You can’t help but squeeze his hands. Can’t deny the beat of your heart-- for the evil within must hear this promise of power. Coming from a man you may even still hold dear a part so strong it can't look away.

“We reforge our alliance. Bring our empire to fruition. My steel watch won’t harm you, so long as you kill Orin and bring her nether stone back.”

“_____…” Wyll’s voice surprises you. For a moment, it really was you and Gortash, and the empire you stood to create. “I know this must be a hard decision for you. Gortash seems to know you better than you do yourself this moment. But we need to consider all our options.” He reminds you. Pushing you towards neither extremes at this moment. A level head when yours was, as always, a shambling mess. "Remember how far we've come. How far you've come."

“That’s not a decision I can make right now.” You admit, hastily pulling away from Gortash. His face falters a little as he rises to his feet. “There’s a lot I need to consider.” When he stands tall again, looking to you, that familiar cocky grin is again in place.

“I understand. You always make the right choice in the end. But, just to prove my loyalty,” That word stings just a little. You hadn’t proved loyal to most anyone who trusted you, at least in this particular moment. “I’ll share this with you; an impostor is at your camp, right now.” You frown again as you look to him.

“Orin…” You grit your teeth as you consider your sister, how any one of the people you had come to trust with your life could be the backstabber herself.

“So if I were you, I’d act quick.” He smiles at you but you see how it doesn’t meet his eyes. “So, my dear, why don’t you stay for my coronation?” He laughs softly as he turns towards Duke Ravengard, who seems more statue than man at this moment.

You do just that, watch with wary gaze and heavy heart as Enver Gortash is ordained ‘Archduke Gortash’. Many tough decisions lie ahead of you and you couldn’t will yourself to think on a single one of them as you watched Gortash rise with a new fervor. He seeks your gaze, your approval, as the room erupts with applause. But it’s high time you left, to figure out what to do next.

You climb down the barren halls of Wyrm’s Rock with Wyll, unsure what to say or do next. You feel like you’ve had enough adventure and learning of your old life for once day, but of course Gortash gave you fear to return to your own camp as well…

“Are you alright?” Wyll stops you as you slowly walk towards the south span of Wyrm’s rock, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You jump at his touch, only to sigh and relax when you realize it's just him.

“No not really, that was a lot for me.” You admit with a shaky laugh.

“I… were you truly involved with Gortash before… well, before?” He frowns, the look on his face hard to read.

“I… yes. I was.” It would be no use to lie.

“And now?” He asks, unexpectedly. “What now?”

“What now indeed.” You sigh and lean into him. Wyll supports your weight with a good natured hug. “I love Karlach, Wyll. I love her so much. But… old feelings linger in my twisted mind. Gortash was…” You shake your head. How can you explain that who you were, who you use to be… Gortash was the only person that you respected? That seemed to understand you, to meet you at your level? Even now as you thought of it, more cursed thoughts of your time together came back to you. It hurt, mentally and physically.

“I can’t say I understand, friend, but I know yours is a troubled past.” He pulls back from you, smile fitting his handsome face. “I think it would be best for us to head back to camp for the day.” He guides you that way, and you decide to follow his judgment.

“I just… hope that Karlach is okay. Had I known, I…” You shake your head. How could you have known? In a past life, you were lovers with the very man that ruined her life. The man that made it difficult for you two to even start a relationship to begin with.

“Rest, friend. You can’t of helped that.” You nod. He was right. But that still left you in the middle of some ridiculous love triangle…

You just have to decide, dearest, darkest urge, who is most important to you; Enver Gortash, Bane’s Chosen, tyrant of Baldur’s Gate and the matching mind to your own criminal plot to rule it all… or Karlach Cliffgate, the woman he ruined in the pursuit of his own power, and the one you promised to help end him.

Either way, there would be betrayal. Heartbreak. And fighting, for sure.

You could, of course, kill them both. That would solve so many problems for you! Feed your urge, please your father, and remove any obstacle that would distract from your goal. Wouldn’t it be delicious, to drink in their desire, thinking they’ve won your favor-- only for you to break that precious trust as their bodies twist under your blade…

This all of course assuming you could fight off your dark urge still... Rest would not come easy tonight, if at all. But it wouldn't be the first time. Come what may, you would forge your path forward.

[linkspooky]

Hey. Long time follower here. Your metas, your discussions of "bad victims", your nuanced view of heroes and victims, your favoritism towards "losers"...not only did you heavily influence my own writing and my own favorites in different medias (I'm entirely blaming you for me being a Makima stan) but you helped through an extremely dark time in my life. I don't think that you just made me a better writer, you also sort of saved my life. I'll always be grateful for that.

There's something I want to ask. You answered to another ask that you don't regret reading MHA because focusing on what doesn't work about it made your writing stronger. Do you feel the same about Homestuck? Or about the more disappointing parts of Tokyo Ghoul (and, while we're being candid here, Avatar?).

Thank you for your compliments they're very encouraging to read.

At this point this blog is becoming the bad victim lovers support group where we all hug each other and cry over how MHA is treating all of its bad victims.

HOMESTUCK: Honestly, my main problem with Homestuck is that ACT 6 was so long and uneventful full of characters not doing anything that by the end of it the only character I was invested in was Vriska. ACT 6 also did go out of it's way to kill my enthusiasm for everything I liked in ACT 5, especially John Vriska. I've never seen a comic throw out all of its previous development that the audience was invested in and like everything that was foreshadowed - oh wait My Hero Academia. Unfortunately Vriska is an all-time-fave so I still write Homestuck Fanfic about her to this day. I used to like think the finale of Homestuck was one big "meh" but after years to reflect upon it, I do like Vriska's arc ending on a final note of Terezi searching for her in the void, possibly forever, and the ambiguity of whether they'll reunite.

TOKYO GHOUL: I remember being mad about Kaneki getting a happy ending that he didn't earn. Kaneki was a character that really frustrated me for a long time, but I came to realize that if you like remove Kaneki from his group of codependent enablers he's actually a really interesting character when he's alone. So he's a character I love to explore in fic, even if I disliked what they did with him in canon. Also, Tokyo Ghoul killed off its biggest victims Furuta and Rize in a really cruel way, but it didn't kill off every single victim so it just disappoints me instead of making me sick to my stomach like MHA does.

ATLA: I actually think the Avatar the Last Airbender ending is fine. Which like, isn't saying much because I think the Season 1 finale and Season 2 finales are some of the best things ever put to television. The worst sin that the ending does is number one lack of foreshadowing in earlier in the season and number two rushed plot points. Aang not wanting to kill the Fire Lord makes sense. I think the reason a lot of people criticize this and call it an ass pull is that it's not even BROUGHT UP until the finale. Vash the Stampede is pacifist and one of my favorite characters, but it's established from episode 1 that Vash is constantly up against people who want to kill him and he either has to run away or find a way to fight back nonlethally. Azula's insanity and mental instability could have been a thing, but it's not foreshadowed at all so all it ends up doing is conveniently nerf Azula for Zuko, and also being ableist. The worst problem is while there are epic fights it doesn't feel like an ending, because everyone's character arcs are 3/4ths of the way through. ESPECIALLY ZUKO's. Like people say Zuko is acting out of character in the comics, but I think Zuko is the only person in character in the comics because that's how Zuko without a proper end to his character arc would act. It really feels like they had plans for a fourth season that they didn't get, and their solution was to cram an entire season worth of development in everything post the eclipse on season 3. The fact that Azula is left as such a hanging thread is like proof of that, and the fact that Azula's last shot in the series is just her crying and screaming with like no follow up afterwards is something I've been bitter about for fourteen years.

I could write an entire post about how Zuko's redemption arc is unfinished though. It's like the same problem as Catra. I like both characters and I'm glad they got redeemed but they crammed in the entire redemption arc into 1/2 of the last season and that simply wasn't enough time.

[aureum-lepus]

Severus Snape x fem! OC Araminta Tobbat

by aureum-lepus

Warnings: none

Word count: 2065

Note: Hello and welcome! This is the start of my Severus Snape x OC fanfic and I am so excited to share this! Please forgive me any mistakes regarding writing or spelling or anything. English is not my first language and have no beta reader (if anyone is interested to help or to talk about anything regarding writing, don't hesitate on messaging me!)

But long story short, please have fun reading and please give me your honest feedback 💖

Ao3 - Masterlist - Playlist

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Dear Headmaster Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,

I hope you are in the best of health. I am pleased to inform you that I am. Breeding rabbits this year is a bit...troublesome. My little darlings are afraid of all the dogs and snakes that have been hanging around the neighborhood lately.

I heard that the famous Harry Potter will be spending his third year at Hogwarts this year. That sounds very exciting. How is the boy doing? I can still remember my time at Hogwarts very well. How I wish I could roam through those magnificent halls again.

But let's get to the point of why I'm sending you an owl. My work at one of the local Muggle hospitals around here is going well, but it is not the true fulfillment. I'm sure you've already filled all the professors' positions with some exquisite people. The circumstances mentioned above do not allow me to spend my life here any longer and I would be very happy if I could come back to Hogwarts. Could you possibly have a vacancy for me in the Hospital Wing or do any of the professors need an assistant?

I am very pleased to hear from you, Professor Dumbledore. 

With the very best and kindest regards,

Minty Delaney

The hand of the man holding the letter was bony and old. Older than it should be. Nevertheless, he read the letter with his lips curled and almost pulled into a smile. The paper on which the message was written looked worn and was slightly yellowish in color. It gave the impression that the owl that brought him these lines had flown an almost infinitely long distance. 

Professor Albus Dumbledore rolled the old piece of paper back up into a scroll and tied it back with the ribbon with which the letter had previously been sealed. The old wizard adjusted his crescent-shaped spectacles and cleared his throat briefly. He then sat down on his wooden chair and rested his hands on the solid desk in front of him. "Please." he said in a very friendly and welcoming tone as he pointed to a chair in front of him. A witch of the still young age of twenty nine years slid into his view, her hands restrained in her lap. She took a seat on the creaky chair. Her posture was very tense and her eyes looked anxious. 

"Lovley letter. I was very pleased to receive it." Dumbledore said as he tapped on the paper. "Even if I was a little surprised."

"Forgive me for this sudden outburst. The circumstances..." the woman began in a calm voice, but the headmaster interrupted her by placing his hand on his lips.

"You wanted a post in the hospital wing. You would fit in perfectly there, but I'm afraid Madame Pomfrey is already doing an excellent job there."

"I understand. But Professor, you didn't have to let me come here to tell me that. Why don't you write me this cancellation in a letter?" 

"I didn't say I didn't have a position for you. Hogwarts has always kept its doors open to those who have sought help and asked for it." the old man smiled. "In your letter, you mentioned that you would also work as an assistant to the professors?"

The woman with gray hair, which she wore in a loose braid, nodded. Her eyes had a pink, almost red glow and as it slowly dawned on her what Dumbledore wanted to tell her, they lit up with joy. The old wizard stood up and walked over to her. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "You will be working as a nurse in the hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey. I have a feeling that we will need someone like you at times like this. However, you will also help the professors with smaller tasks if they need it."

The young witch placed her hand gratefully on the headmaster's. A faint smile crossed her lips and a feeling of security and warmth rose up inside her, something she hadn't felt for a long time. "Thank you, Professor," she almost whispered.

"Use your time with the professors wisely, Minty. Someday I'll hire you as a professor for transfiguration." 

Minty Delaney giggled. "You don't really think I'm competition for Professor McGonagall, do you?"

Dumbledore patted her shoulder and took a step back. "Not at all, you are both important and valuable to Hogwarts in your own way." The old man placed his hands on his lower back and his gaze swiveled around the room. He suddenly seemed a little distant and absent. "You must be tired, Minty. I've already had your luggage taken away. You'll find your bedchamber near the Ravenclaw common room. I thought a little proximity to your old house couldn't hurt. I'll introduce you to the professors tomorrow. Luckily, we still have some time before the new school year starts." 

Minty stood up hastily. She didn't want to waste any more of Dumbledore's time, as he obviously had other plans for tonight. She tilted her head forwards slightly. "Thank you very much, Professor." 

She hurriedly made her way to the spiral staircase that led out of the Headmaster's office. A large eagle guarded the entrance and as soon as she got closer to the statue, it opened the exit. Her foot was just taking the first steps into the long corridor in front of her when she banged her nose against something black. She pulled her hands up quickly when she felt the impact. She felt a rough material under her hands. It seemed to be a mage's robe. 'The object' was not an object, but a man's chest rising and falling as he breathed in a little annoyed.

Unsure, Minty moved her head upwards so that her chin was now digging into the ribbed, thin chest. Her eyes became a little watery. 'What an awkward and embarrassing situation...' she thought.

Her eyes met a very tense, pale face. Dark, tired eyes looked down at her. The man was several heads taller than the small woman. Minty could barely get a whimper out of her throat. The man with black, somewhat stringy hair raised his equally black eyebrow. His already cold face didn't move an inch.

Minty was paralyzed with fear and panic. 'Move...' She felt her jaw tighten and her body tremble. Every muscle was tense. It felt almost impossible to break away from the man, who was probably one of the professors. Minty's eyes ran over the features of his face. Over the dark eyes, to the slightly gaunt cheeks, back to his thinly curled lips and finally to the large, crooked nose in the centre of his face. 

She wanted to say something, whisper some kind of apology for her clumsy behavior, but no matter how hard she tried to calm herself, the spasmodic panic spread through her stomach. She opened her mouth, took a deep breath, and the man grabbed her by the wrist. 

"And you are..?" the man cut her off before one single word cut escape her throat. His voice was cold and there was a hint of bitterness in it.

"I'm sorry..." Minty stuttered. She feared that the man was about to break her arm. 

The wizard quickly pushed Minty against the wall next to them and moved a little further away. He still had a firm grip on her wrist, while he had drawn his wand with the other and was now holding it to her chin. "Your name."

A whimper was all the witch uttered when she touched the cold wall. She squinted her eyes now. What a terrible confrontation. Minty's knees went weak and she took a deep breath. She felt dizzy. "A-a-ara..." she began softly and weakly as a familiar voice beside her interrupted her. 

"Severus." Dumbledore's voice cut through her whimpering.

The dark eyes of the man, who was probably called Severus, left Minty and focussed on the headmaster. When he saw Dumbledore put on a friendly smile, Severus knew that there was no danger from this woman and let her go. 

"There was no time to mention that I was expecting a guest. Why don't you go to my office, Severus?"

The professor nodded, but gave Minty one last, suspicious look before he went upstairs to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore was now standing in front of Minty again, placing a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "Minty..." His voice seemed a little stern.

The young witch swallowed a heavy lump. She was painfully aware of the mistake she had almost made. She had almost told the professor her real name. "I...I'm sorry." Minty stroked her still watery eyes with her index finger. 

"No one should know. Do you understand that? You've kept it a secret for years, don't get careless now."

A nod. "I know, Professor."

Albus Dumbledore straightened up. "Now really go to sleep. Dark times are ahead of us. Use every minute you have to yourself." With these words, he left her alone and returned to his office.

Minty wasted no more time either and set off in the direction of the Ravenclaw tower. The way there was uneventful. Strangely enough, she knew exactly where to go without Dumbledore telling her which room was hers. 

She was just sure that the path was right and just before she arrived at the tower, she saw a room. A room with a marking. Minty was overcome with such incredible happiness. She felt safe and secure, despite the strange confrontation with Severus. She had felt at home after many years. She quickly opened the door and stepped into the room.  Her eyes lit up with joy, knowing full well that Dumbledore had this room set up for her. 

It wasn't a large room, but it was very cosy. Right on the other side was a wide window, through which the moonlight was currently shining. There was a large bed in the corner of the room below it. The bed linen was in pastel colours and, like everything else in the room, radiated a certain warmth and familiarity. The wall beside the bed was decorated with a number of dried flowers which where sorted around a mirror. To Minty's left were a pair of bookshelves filled with books on transformations, magical animals and potions. In the centre was a large white and very fluffy carpet. Minty's luggage was also there. A few candles were skilfully placed around the room to provide light. 

Minty pulled the scrunchie out of her hair and a broad grin lit up her face. She quickly closed the door behind her and stepped fully into her room. She turned around a few times, taking in every little detail that was hidden here. She finally plopped down on the bed and looked at the door again. The symbol she saw outside was also on the inside of the door. It was a rabbit, its ears hanging limply downwards. That was Minty's symbol. The rabbit with floppy ears. The animal she could transform herself into. 

She sighed with relief, stretched out her arms and let herself fall backwards. She bumped her wrist against the mattress a little too hard. A sharp pain shot through her and she hissed from the pain. A soft mattress shouldn't actually hurt. Minty looked at her wrist and saw a small bruise.

She immediately thought of the professor she had met earlier. She began to gently massage her wrist. There was something about this man's appearance that aroused her curiosity and interest. Still, he frightened her. Those dark eyes and that black hair...And then that nose...

He had been very slim, yet he was strong. 

Minty closed her eyes.

She visualised him a little more in her mind's eye. She now also remembered the man's scent. Old books, like a library. Candles that had just been blown out. There was more, but she couldn't remember it. As if the room had been tailored to her exact needs, all the candles went out at once. 

Minty Delaney's consciousness slowly slipped into a deep sleep. Her thoughts of the strange professor accompanied her into her dream world. There were some exciting days, weeks or even years ahead for her at Hogwarts.

[acearohippo]

I'm pretty sure Li Ling knows that Tang Yun has a very... Toxic... Thing on his brother. To me it reads heavily as inc*stuous but that's due to all the media I've consumed ruining so many sibling relationships that now I'm uber sensitive to that sort of thing.

Regardless, I think we all can agree that Tang Yun is not in a healthy mindset, especially with how he obsesses over Tang Xuan.

And I put forth this theory that Li Ling is aware of how Tang Yun feels and, as such, is protective of Tang Xuan, who does not- can not- see it.

First of all, it is clear that Tang Xuan and Li Ling talk to each other a lot. Not just in person but on the phone ("communicator") all the time. We have a few stories where, when one is mentioned the other is also brought up or where one is, the other is somewhere near.

For the purpose of this theory, we will focus on the communicator, as we see that Tang Xuan doesn't necessarily text often (probably too busy for it, lmfao) but does use the social app. Li Ling seems to be the first to notice that Tang Xuan is MIA, just by the fact that he doesn't answer his calls.

Look at the time stamps of Li Ling's messages.

There are huge gaps of time between his first three messages, before Tang Xuan replies to him when he gets his phone back. And, after Tang Xuan responds, Li Ling's message comes in 2 hours later, talking about some "weak ass miramon".

Fine. Sure.

But if you go over to the social media app, you see this post from Tang Yun:

Lemme preface by reminding y'all this is my personal theory on the order of events, as this app doesn't have any convenient time stamps (:/), but I think we can assume this message comes hours before Tang Xuan gets his phone back.

Two questions pop up:

1. How does he know Tang Xuan is "missing"?

2. Who is accusing him of abducting Tang Xuan?

Tang Xuan then responds to him- maybe after he makes his "I'm not dead!! :P" post, maybe before- and after that is when he gets this message from Tang Yun:

Again, take note of the time. This is well after Tang Xuan has replied to Li Ling, about 8 hours later. I believe that in between his reply to Li Ling and Tang Yun's text, he posts his "I'm still alive!! Cx" social media post,

which then alerts Tang Yun that his brother isn't missing which then prompts his text.

Ok, we all on the same timeline now? Good. THEORY TIME.

I propose that Li Ling (Who is accusing him of abducting Tang Xuan?), not receiving any response from Tang Xuan for near 24 hrs, sent him on a warpath to who he assumes is the most likely culprit of the impromptu dissapearance- Tang Yun.

Li Ling and Tang Xuan talk all. The. Time. Li Ling absolutely knows that, in his previous mission, Tang Xuan came face to face with his brother. And Li Ling probably knows about how Tang Yun admitted to how he would monopolise the one he loves' time and attention, keep them to himself. Tang Xuan probably spared no details going through the entire mission.

Li Ling probably picked up instantly that Tang Yun was referring to Tang Xuan as that "someone he loves" and, remember, this mission takes place not even a week after the Crow one, so it's still fresh in Li Ling's mind, the words Tang Yun said about keeping his loved one to himself. And now Tang Xuan is missing...?

Yeah, I think he went straight for Tang Yun, got pissed (and probably a bit relieved) when he realised Tang Yun did not kidnap Tang Xuan, and then went off to try find him himself, taking on hoards of miramon (enough that he would miss a respond from Tang Xuan by two hours) much to the worry of Lewis and their friends. Then Li Ling tried to play it off for a bit, acting like he was just doing normal union things except Lewis explicitly says that he was actively trying to calm "everyone" down.

Lewis?

Calming people down?

Dude gets fired up at the drop of a pin... Except when someone is in crisis mode, and from his like FIVE CAMEOS (freaking dislyte, give us more Lewis pleaaase) we only really see him act level headed when he's with Tang Xuan and Li Ling.

So, methinks Li Ling might've tried to rally the troops to find Tang Xuan, Leora- an obvious choice as she's a living bishoujo heroine- probably got caught up in the dramatics of it, David and Q too (simple minded David just always ready to be there or be square, Q sniffing a potential story) etc etc. So they're all just psyching each other up and/or out so now Lewis has his crisis that he can take charge in and de-escalate.

Meanwhile, Tang Yun now knows that his brother is missing (How does he know Tang Xuan is "missing"?) and I can only guess how pissed off he got, his mental stability taking a swan dive into the Marianas Trench of all the possibilities of where his brother could be and scenarios where he would keep him by his side, so that this could never occur again. Hence the very aggressive threat (promise?) that he would hogtie Tang Xuan for his own good if this were to occur again.

The fact that he uses the word hogtie is very disturbing and, for those that aren't sure what that looks like, here's an as SFW-as-tying-people-up-can-be demonstration I could find of it

We are going to ignore the NSFW implications, and just focus on the vulnerability this position puts a person into.

This is the kind of messages Tang Yun sends his brother.

This is the kind of imagery he wants to put his brother in.

And Li Ling knows. He freaking knows and is probably one of the few espers who caught on that something was off with Tang Yun.

And Tang Xuan is

So

Damn

Oblivious ヽ(`д´；)/

Like damn, boy, I understand, he's your brother- that's just NOT something a healthy sibling would ever imagine their sibling would do or think or act. But by golly, could you maybe just focus on what he's saying rather than picking out the most inconsequential, insignificant parts? 😭 Bro is ignoring every red flag and siren.

[bodybeyondstories]

Just ignore it - 5

The gang takes a field trip to the Marshlands to study the artifact that Blake brought in. As they get closer, David loses even more control over his reality warping imagination, and things get weird. Then they get weirder.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 (Previous) | 6 (Next)

MaleTF // Ass Growth // Dick Growth // Growth // Macro // Suggestion // nsfw

Author note: I was reflecting on how this series was originally supposed to end with part 2, but then @alias-miniature shared some words of encouragement and here we are. I think I wrote the climax of this chapter while I was still playing around with part 3, I've just been spending months finding excuses to wax poetic about some wobbly spacetime nonsense lol.

---

“Ooo are we taking the Mystery Machine?” I asked, voice echoing off the concrete pillars of the parking garage.

“We really don’t need to call it that,” said Armand. He pushed a utility cart laden with equipment as he led our group towards a row of old vehicles that the Center for Supernatural Sciences had acquired used, offhand, or through some nefarious means over the years, the most recent of which being a blue and green SUV well suited for group field trips off the beaten path. The obvious nickname being to me–and most everyone else in my opinion–the Mystery Machine.

“But we are taking it,” Lee confirmed.

Armand opened the hatchback, revealing a spacious interior already pre-prepped for our little adventure. The entire second row had been removed, as well as all but one seat in the back. Packs of what looked like hiking supplies, snacks, and a cooler were arranged on the floor toward the front, leaving an open space just large enough for our pallet full of magical gizmos. Without thinking, I squatted down and picked it up, sliding it neatly into place.

“What?” I asked, noticing Armand’s stare. “Does it not go there?” I quickly remembered that lifting the entire pallet of whimsical yet heavy duty tools and gadgets like a sack of potatoes was not a normal thing that someone was supposed to be able to do. Even someone with my physique. I’d been having some hiccups in getting used to my new strength, evidenced by the similarly incredulous stares that morning as I was casually outpacing rush hour traffic on my bike to work.

“We’ll fill you in,” said Lee, patting Armand on the shoulder as he strolled past us to lounge in the lone third row seat, elegantly stretching his legs across the extra space. 

Armand sighed in resignation, hopping into the driver's seat as I plopped down into the passenger. “We’re meeting Blake at the site in the Marshlands, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

—

The Mystery Machine headed east along the interstate through the dignified gray hinterlands patiently awaiting a snow fall. Handing Lee the aux cord wasn’t the best idea, but at least he was trying to match the mood of the early winter landscape in between bubble gum pop hits, a welcome respite from Armand’s request for a locally produced, surprisingly dull, occult news podcast that he kept up with for “research.” I fell into the flow of rolling hills and stands of denuded trees, unable to fully drift off due to the magnetic tug coming from the back of the car.

I hadn’t gotten solid details about the artifact that Blake had brought in, and that we were now transporting back to where it came from. Admittedly, I had still been in a haze of post-coital bliss when Lee filled me in on the situation, more interested in the sight of him maneuvering his girthy snake back into his pants than the words that had been coming out of his mouth. But I got the gist.

The artifact had come from the Marshlands, but not from the Marshlands, so to speak. According to Blake, it had been sitting in a perfectly circular clearing on a patch of higher ground, waiting there long enough to become half buried in humus and partially coated in a fuzzy moss.

“Waiting is the important word here,” said Lee. “That’s how Blake mentioned it multiple times. Like it was waiting to be found.”

“But it hadn’t been there long?” I asked, pulling a backup pair of leggings out of a desk drawer after having torn my original pair like tissue paper trying to get them to cooperate with my glutes.

“Relatively speaking, no. We can’t quite pinpoint when it appeared there, but we don’t think it was placed by human hands. The physical and metaphysical signatures point to somewhere other than the Marshlands. Somewhere else. It was causing disturbances in the cleanroom that we hadn’t seen before.”

“Like how the sigils changed color?”

“Yeah. They turned into a lightshow after you left, you should’ve seen it.”

The actual artifact appeared to be some sort of device. A copper colored sphere about the size of a soccer ball, that felt like unglazed clay to the touch and was much heavier than it had any right to be. Patterns of some inscrutable design were inlaid across its surface in flowing lines of gold, teal and lavender that seemed to glow with their own passive light. 

“We took a 3D scan and sent it over to archives to see if they had any reference to decode it,” said Lee. “But Logan said every time he opens the file it looks slightly different on his monitor. His tech can only figure it out partially, but never enough to crack the code. You remember Logan, right?”

“How could I forget,” I said with obvious sarcasm, looking forward to catching up with the archivist who inadvertently started all this mess. 

“He thinks the only way to figure it out is to conduct experiments with it on site. He’s supposed to be out there with Blake, preparing the area. ”

That can’t be good, I thought, but reminded myself that it wasn’t all Logan’s fault. It’s not like he was planning on becoming the conduit for some ancient horny trickster deity, or was even trained to effectively deal with that scenario. This sort of thing was part of my job and even I was slowly crumbling under the pressure of Synt’s unrelenting power. It’s a miracle Logan lasted as long as he did. Sometimes it felt like the boundaries of my corporeal form were becoming thinner and thinner, my perception of mundane reality slowly beginning to fade into Synt’s casually multidimensional experience.

—

As we approached the Marshlands, the barriers between worlds began to blur even further. My senses kept expanding in weird directions in physical space and other space, the passing landscape enlivened with echoes and resonances of nearby timelines bumping up against our own. I could feel the artifact in the back of the Mystery Machine more strongly, but the blunt magnetic tug was slowly resolving into something more nuanced. Like a complex rhythm underneath Lee’s playlist, overlapping patterns of subsonic vibes that manifested in my head as the shifting glow of the lines across the sphere. As the mental image came together in increasing sharpness, the ball opened–not mechanically, but through some sort of phase change, its solid surface shifting into–

The van shuddered to a halt, bringing me back to reality as Armand turned the engine off. We had come off the interstate onto some county road and stopped at a nondescript gas station with no other vehicles in sight. Without the flow of the rolling highway landscape to distract me, I could almost taste how fuzzy reality was out here. There were whorls and eddies of chaotic possibility that were almost as iridescent as the puddles on the ground. Maybe it was something about the geography, maybe I was spending too much time in close proximity to the artifact, maybe the outlines of my form that identified me as a discrete being in this world were being erased from the inside out. Maybe all of the above. Regardless, I tried to tamp down the flutter of worry that sprung up in my stomach, shifting into the conspicuous ‘just act normal’ affect of someone who’s just realized they’ve misjudged an edible.

Armand chatted briefly with the station attendant, who seemed unable to decide if it was less rude to gawk at the anaconda running around Armand’s left hip or the sight of Lee stretching his arms up and towering over the SUV. He relented, keeping his attention pointedly directed at the task of filling up the tank. Armand headed inside to scope out snacks, a slight wobble in his gait as he maneuvered his dick into a more comfortable position, while Lee wandered off a little to admire the scenery and stretch his legs.

Without the distraction of my companions, and unwilling to try and settle back into a nap, I twisted around to rummage through the snack cooler, tossing the dried fruit and trail mix aside to snatch up the family size bag of some obscure brand of cheese puffs. The complex notes coming from the artifact (that seemingly no one else could hear) had settled into background noise, piquing my attention as they became slightly discordant, building in what felt like anticipation. As I angled myself back up, I paused, catching the gaze of the station attendant through the open rear window. He looked awestruck, and with one leg splayed across the driver's seat and my amazonian ass perched in the air, I could figure out why.

“I, uh, sorry,” he said, looking distraught as he forced himself to tear his eyes away from the sight of my supernaturally round butt cheeks. He was adorable as he blushed, still biting into his lower lip.

“It’s cool,” I chuckled. “Cheese puffs?” I opened the bag of bright orange corn products, offering them in his direction.

“I’m good,” he said. “I’m trying to stop eating those. Pretty sure they’re going straight to my hips.”

He had this look on his face like he was surprised he even said that, which just added to how cute his visible embarrassment was. But as the words left his lips, the notes from the artifact began to crescendo ever so slightly, harmonizing with that all too familiar feeling of Synt’s power emerging into this realm, the anticipation building.

Oh, I thought. I see. It almost felt as if this scenario had been written for us, and with the wobbliness of my current perception of linear time, it was a little more clear that it kind of had. The notes had been laid out and all we had to do was hit them. So I already knew what to expect as I said my next line, “Then you must eat these all the time.”

And there it was. His stance shifted slightly as we settled into a timeline in which he had already had a bubble butt juicy enough to see from the front.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a problem,” he said with a nervous laugh, one hand resting on the shelf of his ass while the other moved the gas pump back into place. “Honestly, I was about to ask you for advice. Hard to find pants that fit my…shape, out here in the boonies.”

And it was obvious why. His khakis looked painted on, straining against the melons that ballooned from his lower back. I could practically hear the stitches screaming in terror from the dreaded cheese puffs that had been the downfall of so many of their predecessors, as if sheer proximity to the artificially flavored snack dust in the air risked pushing his bubble butt to a level of catastrophic stress, until–

I caught a glimpse of his cakes seeming to expand, not through the usual flipbook of timelines, but physically in ‘real’ time, growing bigger and rounder before my very eyes. He took notice too, turning his torso just in time to see the seat of his pants completely give way, falling apart as his ass cheeks expanded into open air, clad in only a pair of pink and white striped bikini briefs that barely covered the top of his shelf.

“Ah shit!” he exclaimed, trying and failing to pull the fabric back together over an ass that actually was bigger than it had been thirty seconds ago. “I think I’ve got some backups in my locker. Have a good one!”

“Oh, no problem,” I offered, watching the globes of his butt cheeks swish back and forth as he power walked back inside, mildly apologetic in the knowledge that whatever replacement pants he already had would bear the exact same fate.

That time, it had felt so familiar, yet slightly different. The nuances of Synt’s power were so much clearer out here, like I could taste the full complexity of the flavor profile, but with that, the barriers between their world and this one were much more porous. Or maybe I was just better at reading the cracks, tunnels, and pathways. Out here, it was more apparent that the mental, physical, and metaphysical coordination of vocal speech was just a way to channel short bursts of magic from one side of the divide to the other. And without the usual solidity of the barriers between worlds, maybe the unchecked power of imagination could slip through just as easily.

“That you?” asked Lee, who had apparently strolled back to the van just in time to see the attendant’s comically large ass split his pants wide open, letting his hand grab a handful of cheese puffs as he also indulged in the sight of the attendant’s purposeful stride back to the convenience store.

“Yup,” I muttered. “Be careful with those, I heard they go straight to your hips.” I had been joking, but was also genuinely concerned that I may have inadvertently cast a spell on this exact brand of junk food that was now creating bubble butted men across its distribution range. I made a mental note to look into that right after all the other magical calamities spawning off around me.

—

The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful, encouraged by the fact that Armand had somehow gained control of the aux cord and was dragging us through an audiobook about spectral informatics that he was already half way into. I was still crammed up front, dutifully pretending to be asleep but actually fighting every urge not to phase accidentally out of the car. I shuddered with metaphysical tension, the weight of my cosmic companion eroding away any solid grasp on reality.

Lee, with his boundless patience and grace, humored his lab partner, asking lazy yet helpful questions while he lounged in the back, dinner plate size hands still dwarfed by the firehose bulge that he stroked absentmindedly. He looked like he could stretch to fill the entire length of the Mystery Machine if we wanted to, like he could indulgently take up more space as easily as yawning. The harmonics of the artifact sitting resolutely next to him seemed to resonate with his lithe form, and in my partial consciousness I couldn’t help but imagine his body slipping into semi-liquidity with the notes, stretching slightly with the rhythm but each time not quite returning all the way to where it began. He could really become the embodiment of grace if he wanted. If I wanted. As county roads turned to back roads and we passed the vine covered “Marshlands State Park” sign, the trees in the landscape seemed to stretch up with similar ease, yawning in the breeze. I imagined Lee strolling through the forest, towering over us as he stretched with them.

I could no longer keep up a convincing facade of unconsciousness as the van turned off the small forest road onto a poorly maintained gravel path that led to a patch of dirt currently occupied by a shiny new park ranger truck. Armand pulled up next to it as Lee and I scanned the area for our collaborators, seeing only a path through the trees that led down to an expanse of shallow water.

As I stepped out of the van, the satisfying crack of my back and shoulders preceded an indulgent yawn, breath sparkling in the crisp air as I took in our surroundings. My moment of idyll was interrupted by a surprised grunt as Lee whacked his head against the top of the passenger door, stumbling with a brief moment of uncharacteristic clumsiness. I quickly realized why as he rose to his full height, which was itself a full foot taller than it had been just a few hours before. He looked down at himself in mild confusion, which transitioned to a painful wince as, with a staccato of popping sounds, the threads of his shoes failed and his feet burst through, toes and heels spilling out from both ends.

“C’mon man,” Lee said, realization dawning in my direction. “Those were size nineteen.” His look of annoyance melted into one of mild worry. “You sure you’re holding it together?” he asked, coming in to pat my shoulder but jerking back at a sharp bolt of static shock.

“Just barely,” I said.

“Looks like someone had a growth spurt!” exclaimed Blake, who seemed to emerge out of nowhere as he walked up toward us. 

“Speak for yourself,” Lee muttered, gazing down at him suspiciously. 

Blake, once again, looked noticeably bigger than we had last seen him. His ranger uniform was pushed to the limit, inflated biceps and quads straining his sleeves and shorts. I got the sense that having his shirt unbuttoned down to his nipples wasn’t just an aesthetic choice, but the result of a struggle lost against his massive pecs. His muscle butt ballooned behind him, cheeks bouncing back and forth as he unloaded gear from the truck bed.

“He is getting bigger,” came a voice way too suddenly in our vicinity.

Lee reared back with an overdramatic flourish before finally noticing Logan standing several feet away, practically swimming in a pair of oversized waders.

“How?” I asked. “Because it’s definitely not me,” and shot a defensive glance at Lee.

“I, well–” said Logan.

“Maybe he met super dick,” quipped Armand, looking overly busy organizing equipment, as if to emphasize the fact that the rest of us were just standing around.

“No, I don’t think so, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about–”

“Do you think they’re each other’s type?” Lee asked with a look of genuine interest.

“There have been some developments with–”

“Let’s not get lost in the imaginary meet cute,” I said. “We’re here on magical nonsense business. We’re in the field. We’re setting up equipment. We’re wearing field gear. Logan’s wearing…waders for some reason.”

“...with the…well they’re–”

“The only thing that fits?” offered Armand with uncharacteristic sincerity. I guess as the two local monster dick twinks, they’ve exchanged fashion tips here and there. They looked extremely roomy, yet somehow still distended from the pressure of his prodigious wang, which looked like it had gone through some aftershocks of growth after his fateful visit to my office.

“Well it’s just that we’re taking the–”

“Airboat!” I exclaimed, suddenly noticing the watercraft parked off a short pier just down the hill. “We’re taking an airboat? You drive an airboat?” I asked, with no hint of even trying to cover my surprise.

“I pilot an airboat,” Blake corrected with an upbeat smile, his tree trunk quads swelling with muscle as he walked up toward us. “The wet season keeps lasting longer and longer, so unless you wanna wade over there…”

“That why Logan’s dressed to catch a catfish by hand?” asked Lee.

“Well these are the only gear that fit,” said Logan, as if suddenly remembering he was there.

Ah ha, I thought. “So you’re driving us to that…island.”

“I’m piloting you to the island,” said Blake, not so much to me as to the stand of cypress trees in the distance, his gaze lingering for a few seconds as the rest of us relented and shifted to the task of hauling the gear down to the airboat.

As I unloaded the apparatus from the van, prepared to repeat my feat of strength from that morning, I noticed it was significantly lighter. Still heavy, I imagined, by normal human standards, but easy enough to lug down to the boat with minimal strain, earning me an appreciative whoop and generous slap on the butt from Blake. Did I somehow get stronger or was the artifact behaving in some new, strange way?

The airboat looked like one of the big tourist-carrying models that had apparently been repurposed for the parks service. The residue of the old logo of some defunct swamp tour company still visible around the parks logo and info placed on top. The name, Swamp Hag, remained the same, still legible amid the wear and rust. Most of the rows of seating along the flat bottom hull had been removed in favor of storage space, now filled with all of our stuff, leaving us cozied up in the two rows at the back.

The whine of the engine was quickly outmatched by the roar of the propeller, overbearing even through earplugs, as Blake started us up and began ferrying us to the island in the distance. We cruised over golden brown fields of late season wetland grasses, passing clumps of cattails bursting with fluffy seed heads. I glanced up to see Blake behind and above us in the pilot seat, eyes locked intently ahead towards our destination, left hand nimbly controlling the rudder stick. 

Seated in the middle, I was directly below him and positioned between his meaty quads. He always seemed to be on the verge of bursting out of his pants these days, which wasn’t helped by the massive pipe creeping slowly down his right leg, leaving dark spots of precum and even pulsing with an occasional lurch further and increase in girth. I couldn’t tell if that was just my imagination, but I wasn’t in any position to let my imagination wander, exemplified by the fact that the moon, visible in the daytime sky, seemed to keep switching between stationary object and figure-eight analemma. But with the neverending drone of the propeller, I needed a distraction, and couldn’t help but let Synt’s power slip out just a little, envisioning what might happen if that prodigious bulge–

A piercing, subsonic feedback ran through my skull as I had the distinct feeling of two of the same magnetic poles brought too close together. As the pain subsided, I glanced up again to see Blake smile down, give me a conspiratorial wink, and return to the task at hand. 

I decided to deal with that later as we pulled up to the island and began carrying things through the wall of cypress trees towards the interior. Vegetation was dense, but a winding footpath had been carved in previous visits, aided by the fact that much of the underbrush had died back. The trees seemed to whisper among themselves in some conversation that we weren’t a part of but were fine to listen in on, the low lying sounds of the forest becoming more complex until we stepped into the relative silence of a moss-covered clearing in the middle.

“This is where you found it?” asked Armand, eyes scanning the ground for any clues or disturbances. “It looks…untouched.”

“It’s where it found us,” Blake joked in a tone that wasn’t especially humorous. “And yeah, it just sort of appeared. Right there in the middle.”

Armand and Lee set to work setting up a makeshift cleanroom, moving around the perimeter of the circular clearing to lay down plexiglass panels featuring the familiar protective sigils from the lab. I opened the apparatus to remove the artifact, which practically sang in recognition, complex linework of lavender and gold forming and reforming across its surface. It felt as light as styrofoam as I lifted it and carried it across the space. As we reached the center, it simply stopped moving. In fact, as I let my hands slip away, it simply remained stationary. Just hovered in the air, rotating slowly.

“Now that’s cool,” said Blake, walking up to the artifact. “It wasn’t doing that before.” He lifted a finger and brought it up to the surface, hovering a few centimeters away. The curls, diagrams, and fractals covering the sphere seemed to converge around Blake’s fingertip in a multicolored spiral before sending a visible jolt of electricity across the short distance.

“Are you okay?” asked Logan, walking up behind him, responding to Blake’s quiet yelp.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “It felt…great, actually.” His eyes seemed lost in the patterns of the artifact as it seemed to dematerialize into a loose amalgamation of strings, a facsimile of a solid sphere, singing in complex harmonies, rising in a slow crescendo.

“Are y’all picking this up?” I asked Lee and Armand, who were just getting the monitoring equipment online.

“Picking what up?” asked Lee. 

Before we could answer, a pulse of iridescent energy shot out from the artifact, passing through us and stopping a few feet before the perimeter, forming a dome that resembled a giant soap bubble.

“Oh wow, it worked,” whispered Blake.

“What worked?” I asked, squinting my eyes at him. “What’s happening?”

“It’s a force field, they made a force field,” called Lee, motioning to the layer of shimmering air directly in front of him.

“I did not think that would work,” said Blake.

“Didn’t think what would work?” I asked with increasing suspicion.

“You gotta trust me,” said Blake, hands splayed apologetically yet his eyes showing a touch of overexcitement. “We’ve been talking about your situation and–”

“Situation? Who? You and Logan?”

“And…our cosmic deity mutual friend.”

“You’ve been talking to Synt,” I snapped. How? I thought. “Through Logan?”

“Well, they’re still connected in certain ways. I guess they were always connected or whatever?”

“Of course. Of course,” I drummed against the nook between my eyebrows.

“Synt didn’t tell you?” Blake asked.

“Didn’t tell me what?”

“About completing the ritual. We need to complete the ritual,” he said with growing intensity.

“What ritual?” My tone annoyed and mildly incredulous.

“The one we started with the artifact in your office,” offered Logan, as if explaining an email I ignored. “We opened the portal but we need to let it close behind them.”

“Oh is their presence weakening the fabric of spacetime in a localized area?” asked Armand, tapping nonchalantly on the force field like a thick pane of glass. “I guess that makes sense.”

“A little more concern would be nice. Blake’s getting pretty antsy in here,” I said.

“We’re getting you out, bud! We’re on it,” said Lee, turning to dig around in one of the totes full of equipment while Armand continued to inspect the perimeter.

“I don’t know what sweet nothings Synt has been whispering in your ears,” I said to Blake, “but I promise you they’re just fucking with all of us.”

“No, no, I think it’s about resonance,” said Blake. “We’ve only heard one chord in a cosmic symphony! We just have to let them finish.”

“Finish what–”

I was cut off as everything seemed to shift into some sort of non-space, Blake, Lee, Armand, and Logan no longer visible but the forcefield now hyperreal as a solid structure of what looked like glowing golden wires in hexagonal patterns. There was no longer the soft solidity of the mossy clearing, and the forcefield was revealed as not a dome but a sphere, surrounding me on all sides. I hovered stationary in space, rotating slowly around the smaller sphere of the artifact, which pulsed with harmonics and rhythms within and without the color spectrum, seeming to flow in tandem with the structure surrounding us. 

It absorbed my attention and I had the sinking sensation of falling perpetually towards it, plummeting through strata of timelines, tangling and untangling through interwoven threads of possibilities and fractal perception, catching small glimpses here and there of moments in space time, some that I could recall from memory and some that were wildly unfamiliar. I saw Synt talking with me at the bar and simultaneously with Logan in my class weeks before. I realized that for them, there was no linear time, and the best approximation for someone in my three-dimensional existence was cosmic terror and confusion as I fell through the complex dimensional framework of strings that they were delicately pulling. They had been building to something, I realized. Were always building to something. Are currently building to something that in this thread of spacetime is finally coming together.

I had the sensation of breathing in and zooming out, seeing a birds eye view in unnatural clarity of the wetland clearing, the artifact in the exact center spinning wildly and sending multicolored pulses of light, the surrounding trees murmuring amongst themselves, and beyond that the unseasonal expanse of placid water in a symmetrical ovoid shape that came to a point at both ends. It looked unmistakably like an eye.

With a resounding thud in my mind, I came back to this place in this timeline–or more accurately I had never left and was never there–and noticed Blake standing there wide eyed. I could taste the lust and excitement pouring off of him like a snake flicking the air. He had only gotten tastes here and there of what he could become and he was starving, unapologetically dreaming about ridiculous, indulgent size. Who was I to deny the full extent of what he could be? Why would I have ever held back this power?

I fell to my knees as another wave of Synt’s untapped chaos magic took over my being, reverberating through the space. I was dimly aware of rings of multicolored, iridescent mushrooms rising and falling in concentric waves around us. For a second I lost my physical senses, overwhelmed by Synt’s ability to see seamlessly across planes of existence and temporal strata. As my body struggled to make sense of this metaphysical tsunami, I could see the perspective of every cell ringing out simultaneously. I could see every possibility in every timeline. It was beautiful and terrible, threads waving, trailing, breaking, weaving into each other with chaos and grace. In this other sense, I felt the cleansing surge of a deluge following a dam break as my guard finally went down and Synt stepped fully into my being in this world. I had been holding them back for so long, letting go was a welcome relief.

I heard the strangely familiar sound of a string being plucked. 

Blake, ever the gentleman, snapped out of his enraptured fascination to try and help me up, jumping back as a visible bolt of electricity shot into his hand from my left bicep. I was an energetic livewire, and Blake’s eyes widened further in glee as he watched the muscles throughout his arm flex with a sickening pump, settling down as a wave of subtle growth spread throughout the rest of his body. Maybe this was due to my supercharged supernatural senses, but I noticed that his musculature was incredibly, unnaturally dense. He must’ve been somehow stronger than even the veritable wall of shredded muscle implied.

Still feeling his juicier pecs, he mused to the others, “that was just one touch. Imagine what you could do,” he added, turning to me.

“Yes,” I grunted through gritted teeth. “Imagine.” I grabbed his arm with lightning fast quickness. In fact, I don’t even remember moving my body at all. My hand was simply wrapped around his bicep because I willed it with a thought.

His head lolled back in euphoria as I poured into him. He was a willing participant, an enthusiastic receptacle of possibility powered by a vivid imagination of what his body could be and do. A deep, hungry wish that I happily granted. And then some. As he came back to his senses, his eyes took in a seemingly smaller space, his head inching farther from the ground as his massive feet took up more and more surface area. A look of worry replaced one of triumph as he realized how much he dwarfed even Lee’s eight and a half feet on the other side of the dome, with no signs of stopping. 

“Wait,” he groaned through waves of orgasmic pleasure. “Slow down. It’s…too much.” My hands had drifted to the slabs of his pecs, trailing onto his cobblestone abs as he continued to stretch and grow in all directions. He grabbed my hands with his massive paws, but the additional contact only sent a pulse of growth through his already gargantuan body, several feet of cock tearing through whatever fabric his quads and glutes hadn’t already shredded and thwacking onto the ground. 

“What’s…happening…won’t…stop,” he eked out, falling to all fours and breathing heavily as his mega dick spurted globs of precum that puddled below him. He was a larger than life behemoth of glistening, shredded muscle, except of course for the huge globes of his impossibly fat ass, which seemed to keep widening and ballooning as the rest of his growth slowed down.

I couldn’t keep my eyes off the overinflated glutes in front of me, caressing each, my otherwise huge hands dwarfed by the sheer size of them, falling into the heft of each pillowy cheek. Blake’s pride and joy, the unmissable bubble booty that could stop traffic and pull anyone at the bar, had blown up beyond comical proportions, each cheek large enough to crush the truck he drove here in. I felt my hands growing to monstrous proportions just to handle the boulders of blubber whose expansion was finally slowing to a stop as he panted in exhaustion, arching his back in insatiable need.

It all felt oddly reminiscent of the dream I had had of being eaten out by Synt while growing impossibly huge in the archives. Having just gotten a glimpse of Synt’s perception out of the bounds of linear time, I realized Of course. It was--for lack of a better concept, and from my meager three dimensional perspective--prophetic.

And we were hungry.