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stardustbarbarians · 3 months ago

Text

Most Of All

An Enchanted sequel

A Sam Kiszka / Daniel Wagner fic

Summary: History repeats itself. This time, while the whole world is watching.

Tags: established relationship, fluff, love spell au, some sexually suggestive content

Words: 7.7 k

Author's Note: Happy Saint Patrick's Day! Have a Valentine's fic!! For real, sorry this took longer than expected, ADHD is a bitch. About the sexually suggested content, it's nothing extreme, just some comments and a scene where they make out - so a PG-13 rating if anything. Thank you for being so patient and please enjoy this light-hearted fun! Dedicated to @ofthecaravel (who made the cover, btw!). Title taken from I Need You Most Of All by Stephen Sanchez.

+++

Love potions are real. Danny learned that the hard way last year. Though, he can’t exactly say he’s mad about it. They’re the reason he and Sam are together, after all. But, after the whole “incident” of last year, Danny is not very eager to encounter another one in his lifetime. He’s had his fill, thank you.

However, as fate would have it, he would not be so lucky.

“We should’ve soundchecked You’re the One… it’s been so long since we’ve had it on the setlist,” Sam lamented, checking his stage outfit in the mirror of the dressing room. As usual, he was the last one to get dressed. Danny could hear a walkie outside the door signaling the two minute warning.

“You’ll be fine, Sammy,” Danny soothed, slithering his arms around Sam’s waist and resting his head on his shoulder, “Right now you should be more worried about not missing the curtain drop.”

Sam, placing his hands on Daniel’s arms, hummed in contentment. He leaned back into Danny’s embrace, a smile spreading on his lips. “Something still looks off…”

“You look wonderful, baby,” the drummer complimented, whispering directly into Sam’s ear and sneaking a quick kiss against his jaw.

“You always say that.”

“Cause it’s always true.”

“Where the fuck is rhythm section??”

Both men snapped their heads to the door. Danny felt Sam’s hands tighten around his arms.

“That’s our cue, Sam.” Danny, reluctantly, retracted his arms from around the bassist. Sam was quick to let Danny know just what he thought of that with a groan.

“They don’t need us,” Sam whined, his eyes big and pleading.

“I’m afraid they do,” Danny took Sam’s hand and took him to the door, “besides, after the show I’m all yours.”

“Promise?” Sam batted his lashes as he asked. Really, it was an attempted murder with his stage makeup on; all glitter and mascara.

Danny stole one quick kiss on Sam’s lips simply because he couldn’t help himself. “I promise.”

“ONE MINUTE!!”

Sam and Danny giggled as they raced over to the stage. They were met with the annoyed yet tired faces of the twins as they took their places behind the curtain.

“So nice of you to finally join us,” Jake commented, his words dripping with sarcasm as he put his in-ears in. Danny could see Sammy shake his head and roll his eyes. It was very clear he wanted to snark at Jake right back, but they didn’t have the time. The instrumental intro was reaching the end.

The curtain dropped and along with it came the crescendo of cheers and screams. Danny’s heart was pounding in his chest just like it did before every show. However, he had now learned how to use it to his advantage. He was the first one to take his place, jumping down to his kit and preparing to perform.

“Welcome to the show, folks,” Josh quickly greeted. It was the cue Danny was waiting for. With a snappy roll of his snare, the concert had begun.

Just like with every other show, all four of them put on the best show that they could. They played their hearts out and drank in the audience’s reaction in turn. It felt like a renewable energy source, the applause. Because no matter what he felt like before he went on stage, hearing thousands of people cheer you on like a god was enough to lift anybody’s spirits.

In between songs, Josh was bolting around the stage as he was apt to do. The frontman interacted with the crowd as he had a - mostly - one sided conversation with them. While this happened, Danny checked in with his drum tech. One of his cymbals felt too loose.

“Hey, Daniel!”

Danny was pulled out of his technical conversation, his curls whipping around his head as he snapped his attention over to Josh, The man was illuminated by a spotlight as he stood at the very edge of the stage, which Danny was sure Josh’s bodyguard was just a little stressed about.

“What?” If it weren’t for the in-ears, Danny would have been easily drowned out by the roar of the crowd.

“There’s a very lovely gentleman down here that wants to do a shot with you. Says he just got his PhD and wants to celebrate!” Josh’s smile was huge. That’s the thing about him: he genuinely loved everyone he ever met. It was a very admirable trait, to say the least.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Danny got up from behind his kit. It worked out better this way seeing as now the tech had more room to fix his cymbal. As he walked, one of the spotlights swung over to him and nearly blinded him. It was so bright, in fact, that he almost ran directly into Sam without even seeing him.

“Excuse me!” Sam playfully teased, lifting up the neck of his bass so that Danny had more clearance to pass. There was such a swell of affection in his chest that Daniel genuinely had to stop himself from leaning over and planting a big, wet kiss onto Sam’s cheek. However, he wasn’t able to suppress his urge to touch him. It was only a passing touch when Danny’s hand shot out on its own accord and caressed the bassist’s hand supporting his instrument.

Danny could hear Sammy giggle in the in-ears after the drummer had continued towards where Josh was standing. If people noticed that Danny’s smile had grown after the interaction, they were bound to write it off as “bestie” behavior. And that was completely fine by both of them. No one needed to know about their relationship outside of those really close to them.

After finally approaching, Daniel wrapped an arm around Josh’s shoulders. He leaned in a bit towards the mic in his hand before saying: “So, where is this promise of liquor?” He couldn’t help but laugh a bit as people screamed after he spoke.

The frontman pointed down at a very excited fan who was holding a blue poster and two shooters. When he realized that Danny was looking at him, he waved along with everyone around him. Daniel also took note of all the phone cameras that were pointed in his direction. While he knew it was just a part of his job, it still was never a comfortable feeling; one slip up and everyone would see.

With a friendly pat on Josh’s shoulder, Danny let go of him and climbed down to the barricade area. If it weren’t for the in-ears acting as earplugs, Danny was sure he’d have lost his hearing with how loud everyone around had screeched. But, he ignored them in favor of giving his attention to the man in question. He looked like he was about to pass out by the looks of things. Once again, something about this job he had to get used to and not let it go to his head.

A quick pleasantry was exchanged on both ends; Danny’s with a smile and the fan’s with a hand fluttering to his chest in disbelief. The fan, who’s name he found out to be Clarence, offered over the shooter. And if Danny hadn’t been so distracted by someone trying to reach out to grab him, he might have noticed that the little bottle had already been opened. Because, as he opened it, the seal was already broken.

“Cheers!” he shouted to Clarence, tapping his shooter against the other person’s. To the sound of cheering, Danny tipped his head back and gulped down the alcohol. It must have been one he’s never tried before; he could not recall a single time he’s had a shot that’s tasted like bubblegum.

Suppressing a gag at the intensely sweet taste, Danny smiled and gave a quick hug to the fan. He wasn’t quite sure why he had looked so disappointed when Daniel pulled away. Perhaps because his time with Danny had ended? Oh, well. No time to dwell on it.

As Danny made for the stage to get the show back on the road, he felt the same sensation when you stood up too fast. Suddenly, his vision started to go black and fuzzy while his head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. He felt his feet stumble underneath him before he was able to brace his hand against the wall of the stage. He heard a few people gasp around him before his hearing cut out and started to ring. For a brief, terrifying minute, he thought he was going to pass out.

What the fuck was in that shot??

Thankfully, the warm and firm hand that landed on his shoulder pulled him out of… whatever the fuck that was. His near blackout, he guessed.

“Danny? What’s going on, buddy?” Richard questioned. Even though Josh was his main priority, Danny was glad to know Richard was looking out for him, too.

“I-I don’t know,” Daniel responded. He rubbed at his head with his right hand, his left still propped against the stage.

“Do you need medical attention?” Richard used his grasp on Danny’s shoulder to turn him to face one another. When the drummer had opened his eyes to look back at him, he was relieved to see that the black had faded from his sight.

Danny pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to breathe through the frankly scary experience. He knew that he should’ve called it. That he should’ve told Richard that he wasn’t feeling good; he should’ve told the truth.

Instead, Daniel pulled himself together and put on a charming, yet reassuring smile.

“Nah, I’m alright.” The lie slipped easily off his tongue. It was a comfortable one, a fib he’d employed a lot in his life. That’s why he wasn’t worried when Richard looked at him critically.

“Are you sure?”

Danny nodded, that smile still on his lips. Despite the fact that he was still feeling dizzy, he wasn’t about to cancel a show over a weird feeling. Thousands and thousands of people paid to see them tonight, he wasn’t about to disappoint them.

Daniel saw the resignation on Richard’s face before he sighed out an “alright”. However, the bodyguard insisted on helping Danny back on stage. He didn’t want to admit it, but he probably needed the assistance. He just needed some water and he’d be fine.

While Danny’s little dizzy spell went on, Josh took it upon himself to provide a distraction for the drummer. Naturally, Jake and Sam followed along. Something about playing truth or dare with one another. Danny knew he’d see it posted online the next day so he wasn’t all that upset about missing out.

He was also going to see a lot of things posted the next day as well; about him specifically. But there was no possible way for him to know that as he took his seat back behind the kit. Finally off his feet and chugging some water, he was already starting to feel better. What an odd fluke.

“Are you doing alright, Daniel?” Sam’s voice filtered through his in-ears, the sound akin to an angelic choir to Danny. There was a heavy concern laced with his question.

As the drummer looked over towards the keyboards where his other half sat, Daniel felt as if he’d been hit with a colossal tidal wave of feelings. He was used to getting overwhelmed by the batch of intense emotions when being with his lover, but this instance took the cake. It felt as if every cell in his body was filled to capacity with love for Sam.

“I love you, baby,” Danny admitted. He couldn’t remember what Sam asked. It really didn’t matter. It was super important that Danny tell Sam that.

In the colorful stage lights, Danny watched Sam flinch in reaction. Clearly it was not what Sam was expecting him to say. His expression soon softened, though. “I love you too, honey. I just need to know that you’re ok.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I have the most perfect boyfriend in the whole world!”

“Do you two fucking mind? Or do I need to smack some professionalism into you?” Jake interrupted, mild irritation coloring his words.

“Oh my god, Jake hates gay people,” Sam shot back immediately. Danny couldn’t help but giggle at the joke. He was so funny and Danny loved that about him.

Danny, if he wasn’t looking at Sam, would’ve noticed Jake rolling his eyes. But he didn’t. He did notice the way Sam’s hair spilled off his shoulders as his head tipped back when he laughed. And the way it shined in the stage lights. And the way his eyes glittered as they locked onto Danny. His heart fluttered in his chest just like it always did for the past decade when Sam looked his way.

Then Jake began strumming the chords to Meeting the Master, and that was when Danny remembered they were at a concert and that he had a job to do. He forced his eyes away from Sam to look at the audience; a melancholic and cold feeling settling into his chest as he did so. It was just… Well, there was really only one thing that Danny wanted to do and that was be with Sam. Which, to be fair, was how Danny felt all the time. But, right now in particular, Danny was just very keen on having Sam within arm’s reach of him.

The only thing that kept Daniel from dropping everything just to go hold his boyfriend was his professionalism. And the fact that, after Meeting the Master and his drum solo, there was a brief window of time where they all travelled to B Stage where Danny could sneak in some affection. Which he certainly did.

“Daniel!” Sam giggled as said gentleman had snuck up behind the bass player and swept him up in his arms. The sound set something alight inside of Danny, his entire body glowing at the sweet symphony of Sam’s laugh. It only grew as he twirled Sammy around and his giggling turned into cackling.

“Hello, my darling. I missed you,” Danny cooed into his boyfriend’s ear, his face nuzzled into the crook of his neck after he set the man back on his feet.

Sam leaned into the drummer as he rested his head onto Danny’s and wrapped his arms around the other man’s arms on his waist. “You just saw me.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t touch you, then,” Danny whispered, his answer accented with a few fluttering kisses all over every part of Sam’s skin he could reach. Which, to Sam’s delight, was mainly his neck.

“Jesus, do I need to get a bucket of ice water to douse you two with?” Danny’s drum tech asked after plucking Danny’s forgotten drumsticks from his hand.

“Please, I’m begging you,” Jake implored as his tech helped him put on his acoustic.

Danny’s tech had glanced over at Jake, but ultimately ignored him. “What has gotten into you?”

“You guys need to hurry. Josh is out there alone,” Josh’s tech had interrupted. He made his point more urgent with a frantic waving motion of his hand, gesturing towards the entrance to the B Stage. If Daniel had been paying any attention to anything that wasn’t how warm Sam was or how good he smelled, he might’ve been able to hear Josh attempt a stand-up routine to stall for them.

“But-”

“Let’s hustle, Danny!” His tech thrust his mandolin at him, a determined look on his face that left no room for argument. Even through the fog of SammySammySammy running rampant in his mind, Danny knew he wasn’t about to win this particular argument.

With a bone deep sigh, Daniel relented. But, it wasn’t before he quickly bent his knees, used his hold on Sam’s waist, and hoisted his boyfriend over his shoulder.

“Daniel! What are you-”

“You can force me to do my job, but I’m gonna do it on my terms,” Daniel quipped before using his free hand to grab the neck of his mandolin.

“Put me down, you menace!” Sam demanded - a token protest if Danny had ever heard one. If the way he was giggling in Danny’s ear was any indication, Sam was having the time of his life.

But Danny didn’t heed Sammy’s half-hearted protests. Instead, he marched back out to the screams of thousands of adoring fans. As he walked past the closest group of them, Danny took in the confused looks on their faces as they witnessed Danny carry Sam out as if he weighed nothing. While he couldn’t see it, Danny just knew Sam was waving enthusiastically at everyone as he passed.

When he reached Sam’s keyboard, Danny gently set his beloved down. He thought he heard Josh make a comment about it - “Danny really is the one who carries this band!” - but he really didn’t care. Instead, he cupped Sam’s face in the hand not holding his instrument and placed a kiss on Sam's forehead. He wanted to kiss him on the lips, but something told him Sammy wouldn’t be all that thrilled about that.

“David was right, something has gotten into you,” Sam pointed out, his tone saturated in affection to match the huge grin on his face. They were standing closer than was strictly “friendly”, Sam even resting his hands on Danny’s chest as his fingers fiddled with the material of Danny’s chainmail shirt.

“Well, I was hoping I could get me into you-”

“Daniel Robert!” Sam gasped with a performative alarm. He could see right through the pianist’s rouse - the perks of knowing someone for the majority of your life. Sam had playfully swatted Danny’s chest as he laughed, shoving this boyfriend away from his personal space and towards his seat. “Go away, you scoundrel, and do your job!”

Always heeding any command Sam sent his way, Danny did as he was told and finally took his proper spot on the stage. Josh had caught his eye as he put the mandolin strap on his shoulder, the singer wearing a face that was a cross between supportive and confused. Josh - and Jake as well - had always been in Sam and Danny’s corner when they started dating. When they had experienced some backlash from their label over their relationship (because dating within your own band historically always ended well), the twins were the first people to tell their label reps to shove it. They told both Sam and Danny that they were happy for them and they didn’t care about what they did, just as long as it didn't interfere with work. And judging by the identical look Jake and Josh were now throwing Danny, he was toeing the line.

As he settled into his seat, Danny shook his head like a dog shaking water off its body. Through the haze of his amplified affection, Danny realized he was acting over the top. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to do all these things to Sam or feel all these things for him, it was more like he just didn’t want to stop himself from acting on these instincts. He also realized that as long as he didn’t look at Sam, his urges weren’t as strong. So, despite the way it made his heart feel heavy and his soul feel cold, Daniel did his best to keep his eyes off of Sam as they went through their B Stage set. It went pretty well, the audience enjoying the change of pace and singing along with them as they cast the band in a glow of cellphone lights swaying with the music. It was magical hearing and seeing so many people enjoy what he had put his soul into.

It was pretty smooth sailing until they started to play You’re the One. That was when Danny made the mistake of turning to look at Sam as he sang the chorus along with Josh. It just felt right to. But as soon as he had, Danny was once again slammed with a cataclysmic wave of unfettered affection as he took in the visage of his beloved boyfriend. The stage lighting had made Sammy look ethereal, glowing in the warm light. His lips were pouting in the way they usually did when Sam was concentrating on his playing, his hair swaying along with his body as he put his soul into his performance, and his hands danced gracefully across the keys. A more beautiful sight, Danny had never beheld.

He was successfully able to complete the song. However, as soon as it was over, Danny was glued to Sam’s side within an instant. That had been their last song for that portion of the set, so they were about to run back to the main stage, anyway. It was just, now Danny was able to take Sam by his hand and help him out of his seat like a gentleman asking a maiden to dance a waltz. A voice in the back of his mind told him to kiss Sam silly when he watched the pianist’s eyes glitter with the warm glowing lights, Sam even shooting him a tender smile. Using all of the strength he had, he forced himself to wait until they were in the back rooms and away from prying eyes.

But, as soon as they were away from the public’s view, that was when he used his grip on Sam’s hand and tugged him around a corner. Daniel pressed him into a wall and kissed him like he hadn’t seen Sam in years. It was bordering on desperate as Daniel’s hands roamed all over any part of Sammy he could reach, whines of pleasure slipping past their lips before being swallowed by the other’s tongue. Sam, in an interesting twist, was actually the one to attempt to take it one step further as his hands deftly unhooked the clasps on Daniel’s shirt he had aided in putting on him numerous times. The chainmail hit the ground with a loud, heavy, and unceremonious thud. The pair of them carried on as if nothing had happened, Sam’s hands now tracing over the newly exposed flesh of Danny’s chest. The heady scrape of Sam’s thick calluses against Danny’s overly-warm skin was enough to send a shiver down his spine and a guttural noise tumbling from his lips. It was all the invitation Danny needed to grab Sam by his thighs and lift him up, his legs wrapping around Danny’s hips while their lips never parted.

“God, if only we didn’t have a show to finish,” Sam whined after breaking for some air. Danny used the opportunity to trail kisses down from Sam’s jaw to his jugular notch.

“Who said we need to finish the show?” Danny purred against Sam’s throat, unwilling to let his lips stray from his skin.

Sam laughed at his boyfriend’s persistence, his fingers tangling into Danny’s curls as he inadvertently pressed him closer against his throat. Danny obliged immediately, nipping at the delicate skin and rolling it between his teeth as he sucked.

“Wasn’t it you who said they need us?” Sam sassed, always unafraid to use Danny’s words against him. Danny groaned. He knew Sam was right. No matter how badly he wanted to steal Sam away into the closest room with a lock, he knew he had to do his job.

“God is so cruel to dangle you in front of me knowing I can’t have you when I desperately need you.”

“Who knew blue-balling you was gonna turn you into such a poet,” Sam cooed mockingly, the affection in his tone anything but mocking.

“Keep it up, Sammy boy, see where that gets you,” Danny warned, his tone warm as he stole just a few more kisses against Sam’s neck before setting him back onto his feet. They were both affected by the stolen moment, if the deep, matching flush on both of their cheeks was anything to go by. Sam even staggered slightly as he caught his breath, having to rest a hand onto Danny’s shoulder for support.

“We-we, uh…” Sam floundered before clearing his throat, “we better… go…”

Danny, reluctantly, nodded in agreement. Before they scurried back towards the main stage at a full sprint in order to catch up with the twins, Danny picked up his discarded top off the floor.

“Do we even want to know what you two disappeared to do?” Jake asked, not even turning around as he spoke.

“I don’t think they have to say it. Nice hickey, Sam,” Josh teased, his bright smile dripping with the kind of mockery only a sibling can conjure.

At the remark, Sam’s hand flew up to the spot on his neck that Danny had been gnawing on earlier. If his face hadn’t been red before, it now certainly rivaled the bright crimson of his stage outfit. He had shed his jacket before they even went to the B Stage, only his silk scarf and black beaded chest piece keeping his modesty. Not that Danny was complaining. If he had it his way, Sam wouldn’t be in anything and neither would Danny.

“Jealous, Josh? I can give you a matching one if you’d like,” Danny joked, his charming, wolfish smile breaking out across his lips.

“Like I’m gonna turn that down-”

“I think the fuck NOT!” Sam squawked, a possessive hand grabbing Daniel’s arm before tugging the drummer against his side and glaring at Josh. Danny and Josh broke out into laughter, Jake even failing to hide his snickering at his baby brother’s expense.

“You know you’re the only one I’d ever give a hickey to, baby,” Daniel reassured, placing a gentle kiss onto Sam’s temple. Just the simple brush of his lips made his heart flutter in his chest as he was filled with giddiness.

“I swear to god I will throw up on you both,” Jake threatened with an exasperated groan.

“Go ahead! I’ll just make sure to take a nap in your bed before I shower.” Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother. Or, rather the back of his head. He probably would’ve flipped him off if both of his hands weren’t preoccupied with touching Danny.

“Can I kill them?”

Josh sighed before sparing a glance between the two lovers, turning back to address his twin. “Not until the concert is over.”

“Three more songs and an encore,” Daniel supplied, his own anticipation for the end of the show bubbling over. He wanted nothing more than to scoop Sam up and shower him in as much affection as he could.

“Dear lord, I won’t be able to endure them that long.”

+++

It was time for the encore. That meant it was Sam’s cue to slip back on stage and rile the crowd up for the final act before the end. He had to pry Danny’s hands off of him in order to fulfil that duty, much to the drummer’s dismay. He watched from the wings as his boyfriend glowed under the lights, his smile outshining the LEDs as he basked in the attention. Daniel watched on, thanking his lucky stars that he was fortunate enough to call that divine creature his lover.

It had become a pattern that Danny would be the second one back out on the stage after Sam, followed by Jake and then Josh. In this leg of the tour, Danny had been doing this fun little thing where occasionally he’d surprise Sam while he sat at his piano. It hadn’t been anything damning, just a quick little interaction that had made not only the two of them smile, but the rest of the crowd as well. That show had been no different.

Well, that wasn’t true. It had been different.

When Daniel snuck up the stairs behind Sammy (far enough into his piano playing that he knew Sam would be too engrossed in his music rather than paying attention to the increased roar of the crowd at his entrance), he put a finger to his lips while facing the crowd. He’d only meant to go up there, cover Sam’s eyes with his hands, and then maybe give him a quick hug before scurrying over to his kit. But then Sam turned around and caught Danny sneaking up on him. And then he flashed Danny this dazzling smile that made his already strong affection for the man swell like a river during a downpour. And suddenly Danny wasn’t in control of his actions. Well, that’s not to say he was being forced - he just didn’t have any willpower left.

So, that’s when he surged forward and planted a passionate kiss on Sam’s lips. With thousands upon thousands of people watching. And about half of those were people recording on their phones. But none of that even crossed Danny’s mind. He was far too distracted by the way Sam’s lips moved so seamlessly against his own with practiced grace. He was too distracted by the warmth of his breath as Sam hummed into his mouth, by the way he seemed to melt into the kiss like chocolate in the summer sun. He was too distracted by that callused hand finding purchase on Danny’s cheek as he pulled Danny in closer.

If it hadn’t been for the pack of guitar picks thrown against the back of his head, Daniel isn’t sure how far he would’ve gone with Sam. He had been so absorbed into Sammy’s… everything that he’d completely forgotten about the audience. Rubbing the back of his head, Daniel turned towards his attacker to see Jake looking at him as if he’d lost his mind. And maybe he had. There was a tiny part of him that was screaming at himself. What the hell are you doing, Wagner??

And for that brief moment, like a deer in the headlights, he swung his gaze from Sam, to the shocked faces of the crowd and the twins, and back to Sam. He knew, in that moment, that he had made a huge mistake. However, it was only brief, that moment of clarity. As soon as it popped into his mind, it was gone with just another look at Sam. All he cared about was Sam. He was all Danny wanted and all he needed. So when he looked into those beautiful eyes like amber stones, how could he not wrap his arms around him and smile as Sam’s warmth seeped into his bones. He felt Sam’s hands come to hold his arm wrapped around Sam’s front, leaning into the touch and his smile mushing their cheeks together.

“Well. You guys know that, now,” Josh tiredly admitted, because there was no coming back from that. There was simply no platonic reasoning for their behavior.

It took Jake grabbing the drummer by the shoulder and yanking him back to his kit for Danny to finally finish up the show… which he spent the whole time staring at Sammy or trying to catch his attention. After they finished with Farewell For Now, everyone was happy to be finally taking their bows. That little voice in the back of Danny’s head was sure he’d get his ass handed to him by the twins and their crew for his antics. But, as he peppered kisses all over any part of Sam’s face he could reach and his ears filled with Sam’s giggles, he found that he really did not care.

“Hey, quick question,” Jake started as they walked down the halls to their dressing rooms, “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT??”

“Yeah, weren’t you guys trying to keep your relationship a secret?” Josh added, yanking his in-ears out as he kept pace with the rest of the group.

“Why would I want to keep this a secret? I want the whole world to know Sammy’s the only one for me,” Danny cooed, nuzzling his nose against Sam’s cheek. He used the arm he’d slung around Sam’s waist to pull his boyfriend in closer against him.

To his right he heard the twins groan in exasperation and make exaggerated barfing noises. It would’ve been really funny if Danny had been in any other state of mind. But that was where the questioning ended. Looking back at it, Danny chalks it up to everyone knowing that there was no reasoning with him that night. So they left him and Sam alone.

And when the two lovebirds finally got to a room with a lock, well. Daniel made good on his promise that he was all Sam’s after the show.

+++

When Danny woke up the next morning, he felt as though his skull was being split in half with a dull meat cleaver. Every time he was exposed to any sort of light, it was as if his eyeballs were about to explode and his brain was trying to burst out of his skull. It was a nightmare. Even Sam’s voice, usually a comfort in its own right, was like nails on a chalkboard.

“Good morning, baby.” Sam’s voice was chipper like a bird seeing the sun rising.

“Morning,” Danny grumbled, unraveling one of his arms around Sam to rub at his pounding forehead.

“You look like hell.”

“And you’ve always had a knack for subtlety.”

Sam huffed. “I mean, are you feeling ok? You look… hungover. We didn’t even drink last night.”

Danny kept his eyes clamped shut for any kind of relief he could get. “Except for that shot I took with that fan, Clarence.”

“Yeah, but that’s not enough to get you drunk. Even though you sure acted like it last night,” Sam teased, pressing a tender kiss to the tip of Danny’s nose.

“Was I now?” Danny teased right back, his tone taking on a flirtatious edge as he pulled Sam in closer to him. From the feeling of the sheets, Danny guessed they were curled up together on their tour bus bunk.

“Yeah, I don’t think a sober Daniel would announce to the world very publicly that we’re dating.”

Danny froze. He felt his body go rigid as a board as the realization hit him.

“I did what?” Thing is, Danny remembered. He was just hoping it had been in his dreams and not, y’know, reality.

Sam regarded him for a minute, a very adorable knit in his brow as he did. “Daniel, you made out with me on stage.”

Danny swallowed thickly, nervously. He had done that, hadn’t he? Right before the encore.

“You were all over me pretty much all night. It was like a switch flipped, or something.” Sam had a little smile pulling at his lips as he recounted the night prior. If Danny’s heart wasn’t racing already, it would’ve kick-started at the sight.

Like a switch flipped… I acted drunk last night… the only drink I had was that shot…

“Sam… What did it feel like when you were on that love potion last year?” It was ridiculous, it just couldn’t be the potion again… but…

“The love potion?” Sam tilted his head to the side, reminding Danny of Rose when she was confused, “I don’t know, just… kinda felt like the only thing I cared about was you and that I needed to show you how much I loved you through any way I could.”

And then it all clicked for Danny.

“Sam, you’re not gonna believe this…”

Before the bassist could even get a word in, a phone chimed with the Instagram notification. Reaching out blindly, Danny grabbed it and checked the notification. He was glad he did.

StarshineGreta: Hey Danny, I don’t know if you figured it out yet, but just wanted to give you a heads up that I think one of my clients I sold a love potion to was the same one who you took a shot with at last night’s show.

Right after her first text came another - the second one a link to a post by one clarencehill1111. With a heavy feeling in his stomach, Danny clicked on the post.

“What is it?” Sam asked, nervously glancing from Danny’s phone to his face. Danny, wrapping his arm tighter around his lover, decided to read the post out loud.

“Decided to shoot my shot last night with my favorite drummer boy. Guess the potion worked, but not how I hoped. Everything Danny did to Sam was under the influence of a love potion, guys, it wasn’t real!!” Danny’s mouth went dry as he kept reading, his entire body going cold as the meaning of those words sunk in. The caption was under a video of himself and that fan- Clarence taking the shot together.

“I’m gonna break his kneecaps.”

“Sam-”

“No, Daniel, he’s insane!! Not only did he slip you a real love potion in the hopes that you’d fall for him, he called our relationship fake!” Sam’s voice raised about three octaves, the volume alone making Danny’s headache intensify.

“Baby, there’s nothing we can do about what he did. All we can do is ban him from any future shows and make sure we show his face to security,” Danny reasoned. He was upset just like Sam - hell, he felt violated. But, considering the only harm done was the truth coming to light… Well, it was bound to happen eventually. Danny just hadn’t wanted it to be so soon.

Taking a deep breath, Sam cozied up against Daniel even further. “I still hate him.”

“And you have every right to,” Danny murmured against Sam’s hair, placing a kiss to the top of his boyfriend’s hair.

He went back to the unsettling post still pulled up on his phone when his eyes caught a comment from a familiar user. It seemed Greta had come to their aid, commenting about how she was the witch who sold Clarence the potion and explained how they worked. It brought a smile to his face, the whole thing giving him deja vu. But even back then, he hadn’t believed her. So, making a quick decision, Danny commented under her comment and basically said “she’s telling the truth”.

danielrwagner: Thanks for the heads up, Greta. We’ll handle it from here.

StarshineGreta: Of course. Sorry this happened to you guys

StarshineGreta: again

danielrwagner: It was bound to come out eventually

danielrwagner: But hey at least your sales are about to skyrocket

StarshineGreta: Silver lining, I guess. I’ll be more careful next time, I promise

danielrwagner: Thanks

danielrwagner: Hey, how come when Sam took your potion he blacked out right after but I didn’t?

StarshineGreta: My guess? Clarence gave you the recommended amount. You’re not supposed to pass out afterwards. Also, no offense, but you’ve got more body mass than Sam, so that probably helped, too

danielrwagner: Alright, thank you. Take care of yourself

As Daniel locked his phone, his mind now fully focused on the consequences of his actions. He’d kissed Sam in front of the world. Everyone knew about their relationship now.

“We’re gonna have a lot of questions to answer, aren’t we?” Danny rested his head against Sam’s as he snuggled deeper into his embrace.

“We don’t owe them shit.”

Danny couldn’t help the giggle that tumbled out of his lips. All of the dread that had piled up inside his chest was momentarily pushed aside in order to make room for his feelings for Sam. And, if last night was any indication, there was never really any room for anything else, anyway.

“God, I love you.”

Sam released an airy giggle of his own. “I love you, too.”

Whatever came their way, they would be able to handle it.

Well, almost everything.

“Up and at ‘em, lovebirds!! You’ve slept most of the day away!” Josh’s thunderous voice cut through the two’s comforting calm. It made Danny’s headache crash into him with force, his temples pounding with every syllable.

“What’s it to you?!” Sam called back, making his lover hiss at the proximity to Sammy’s yelling. His apology came as a kiss to his collarbones - Daniel was very inclined to accept it.

“How’s about you come out here and look, dumbass!” Jake responded, his volume on par with his twin’s. Danny loved the Kiszkas. He really did. He just… didn’t particularly… enjoy having them around when he has a headache.

Sam, grumbling mutinous words under his breath about committing fratricide, untangled himself from Danny’s arms and kicked off their covers. Danny didn’t even try to object. He knew that if they had tried to ignore the twins, they would pull Sam and Daniel out of their beds. Instead, he just gave himself a few seconds to mentally fortify for whatever those two had in store.

Stumbling towards the front of the tour bus where they heard the twins’ voices come from, Sam and Danny stretched and yawned as they tried to shake off their sleepiness. The bus was comfy, well furnished and homey. It certainly didn’t replace home, but it was far from a bad spot to have to spend a lot of hours in. The large windows allowed for a lot of natural light to stream inside, something everyone enjoyed. And taking a glance out of the one to Danny’s right only confirmed what Josh had said: they had slept in until evening.

“What.” Sam spat the word out like was able to inflict physical damage. With the way he crossed his arms over his chest, popped his hip, and frowned, it was very clear he was about to throw a hissy fit.

“Oh my god, you look like a leper,” Josh blurted out, biting his lip to hide a smile that managed to slip into his words. Strangely, his arms were held behind his back.

Everyone in the room then regarded Sammy in all his shirtless glory. His hair was messy in part due to just having woken up, but mostly because of Danny’s hands. The rest of his skin - namely his neck - were covered in dark purple blotches. The comment only served to make Sam’s frown deepen and his cheeks turn pink. Which, Danny had to admit, was endlessly cute.

“Danny, too,” Jake added, a small smile of his own pulling at his lips.

Danny, now being the subject of scrutiny, felt the need to cover himself. He copied Sam and crossed his arms over his own bare chest. Though, it really did nothing. He had a lot of similar dark bruises all over his skin.

“I can’t believe you defiled our poor, innocent, baby brother,” Josh dramatically scorned. He began mock-crying, going so far as to add in a few sniffles.

“He was so pure, until you soiled him, Daniel. You should be ashamed.” Jake, with a tone similar to Josh’s, put his hands on his hips and shook his head. He even started “tsking” them.

“Thank you for defending my honor, Pippin and Merry, but if there’s a point, get to it.” Sam had started to rub his temples with his fingers, seemingly getting a headache of his own.

Without saying a word, the twins exchanged glances with one another. Finally, Josh pulled his hands out from behind his back to reveal what he was holding: a cake. It was the size of those birthday cakes you see at the supermarket. It was decorated like one, too. The frosting was an assortment of colors, like someone melted down a rainbow and poured it on top. Except for the letters written in swirling calligraphy on top, which read-

“'Ur gay, Congrats'??” Sam read out loud.

“Now the whole world knows you guys are sexual deviants. The internet is losing their minds, just so you know.” Jake gestured with his hands as he talked, dropping the whole “clutching-my-pearls” act.

“Can’t even look at my phone without seeing that video of you two sucking face,” Josh shuddered, setting down the cake on the coffee table in front of him.

Rhythm section had turned a vibrant shade of red akin to a stop light.

“I-It wasn’t my fault,” Danny attempted, his eyes casting down to gaze at the carpet as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Love potion again. We know,” Josh finished for Danny.

“You two aren’t exactly quiet,” Jake implied, crossing his arms over his chest. The smug smirk on his lips only made Daniel’s embarrassment worse.

“Can you die of shame?” Sam groaned, his face in his hands as he flopped down onto the built-in sofa. Danny took the seat next to him, still refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“You weren’t exactly trying to stop Danny, Samuel,” Josh prodded, checking his nails and looking wholly unbothered. But Danny could see the amusement in his eyes.

Sam’s response came in the form of a middle finger poised in the general direction of his big brothers. The twins began howling in laughter at the other two’s expense.

“It’s too easy,” Jake cried, wiping a tear from his eye as his laughter subsided.

“We’ve already gotten, like, a billion calls from various publishing outlets. I think you two should comment sooner rather than later before this gets too out of hand,” Josh advised, taking the spot to Danny’s right. Jake squeezed in on Sam’s left, the twins effectively sandwiching the boyfriends.

“Yeah, yeah. We will. But for now, what flavor is this?” Sam pointed at the cake in front of him, his eyes lighting up at the promise of sugar. He didn’t indulge often, but Daniel knew how bad Sam’s sweet tooth could get.

“Marble, of course. Who do you think I am?” Josh made a face before throwing his hands up, seemingly offended at the possibility of him getting any other flavor.

The cake was cut up, distributing pieces out to everyone on the bus. The four bandmates all sat back down on the couch, ready to dive into their confections.

“To Jake,” Daniel toasted, raising his plate in the air.

“Why me?”

“Cause now everyone knows you’re the token straight of the band,” Sam explained, a teasing smile on his lips. Danny pointed at Sam, an approval confirming that’s what Danny meant by the toast.

“To Jake!” Josh laughed, hoisting his cake up.

“Just… happy to be included, I guess.”

+++

@doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @ageoferin @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @strugglingtodoshit @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @writingcold @tearsofbri @teddiie @GardensGateDaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan @lightmyloverry @kenzie18 @gotavansleep @roosterbbradley @freckled-wonder @flower-power-anthem @Gabyvanfleet @Sarakay-gvf @Mamalikes-gvf @josh-iamyour-mama @st4rdust-ch0rds @fallonfatality @earthlysorrows @jessicafg03 @rossy1080 @hippievanfleet @spark-my-nature @hayley1623 @schleeble @gretavanflipflop @mehboihourz @jakeydoesit @BusyBeingTrash @musicislove3389

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #danny wagner #sam kiszka #danny gvf #sammy gvf #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #josh gvf #jake gvf #sanny gvf

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ninelives2 · 8 days ago

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Nine Lives statement on the use of generative AI in fanfic

Hey, lovely readers and writers:

We've been talking about the uptick in people using generative AI to "write" fanfic, and thought we should make clear our position about it. Below is our collective statement.

As part of this process we've updated Nine Lives' Terms of Service and clarified our policy on plagiarism.

____________________________________________________

If you outsource the act of being a fan to AI, what does that leave you? Fan creators are powerful because they’re deeply participatory media consumers—they don’t passively absorb a work, but grab onto it and reshape it to their will.

Elizabeth Minkel, “Where the Wild Stories Are”

Nine Lives emphatically rejects the use of generative AI in creating and publishing fan fiction. Among the many other concerns about their use, sophisticated large language models (LLMs) like ChatGPT pilfer and plagiarize the writing of creators without permission, credit, or compensation to churn out prose devoid of personality or author voice. Generative AI is replicative, not creative. It can rearrange the words and ideas found in the sources it is fed, even "sound" like the writing of a particular author, but it cannot come up with its own, original prose. There is no human mind involved in the process.

There are legitimate, often beneficial uses for AI, including making text accessible to people with a wide range of disabilities. But having a computer crank something out in response to a set of prompts and calling it "writing" - that's at best a pale imitation of the real thing, and in our opinion has no place in fandom.

We have updated our Terms of Service (TOS) to clarify that AI-generated works are not to be posted on the Nine Lives Archive, for two reasons: 1) Because AI-generated works are not your work; it’s a computer doing your thinking for you. The TOS already explicitly states that works published on the archive must be your own. And 2) because those LLMs were trained on the works of other writers, using AI to generate a Caryl story constitutes plagiarism, which is also already spelled out as being against the TOS.

That said: we don’t have the resources to police your work, and we don’t want people to report “violations”. We’re just going to say, “Please don’t use AI to generate fic at all, and specifically don’t use it to generate Caryl fic and post it on Nine Lives.”

As Tumblr user Mikkeneko puts it, “Generative AI… fails on every count. It's inaccurate, it's unethical, it's unreliable, it's wrong.”

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

For background information, additional viewpoints and concerns, here are a few links, starting with the Ellipsus blog guest post where the quote at the beginning came from. (The Tumblr post contains links to information about the environmental impact of the data centers required by AI. If for no other reason, that impact should be enough to stop you from using AI.)

https://www.facebook.com/FenWrites/posts/pfbid0ohYKyEYoyW5Ky3dULEM58WX3MAJrpPfLpM4yJ2RzcFUa6yXxd9A9UALLwZVxREDcl

#caryl fanfiction #carol peletier #daryl dixon #caryl #caryl fanfiction archive #nine lives

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stjohnstarling · 1 year ago

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Full text of article as follows:

Tumblr and Wordpress are preparing to sell user data to Midjourney and OpenAI, according to a source with internal knowledge about the deals and internal documentation referring to the deals.

The exact types of data from each platform going to each company are not spelled out in documentation we’ve reviewed, but internal communications reviewed by 404 Media make clear that deals between Automattic, the platforms’ parent company, and OpenAI and Midjourney are imminent.

The internal documentation details a messy and controversial process within Tumblr itself. One internal post made by Cyle Gage, a product manager at Tumblr, states that a query made to prepare data for OpenAI and Midjourney compiled a huge number of user posts that it wasn’t supposed to. It is not clear from Gage’s post whether this data has already been sent to OpenAI and Midjourney, or whether Gage was detailing a process for scrubbing the data before it was to be sent.

Gage wrote:

“the way the data was queried for the initial data dump to Midjourney/OpenAI means we compiled a list of all tumblr’s public post content between 2014 and 2023, but also unfortunately it included, and should not have included:

private posts on public blogs

posts on deleted or suspended blogs

unanswered asks (normally these are not public until they’re answered)

private answers (these only show up to the receiver and are not public)

posts that are marked ‘explicit’ / NSFW / ‘mature’ by our more modern standards (this may not be a big deal, I don’t know)

content from premium partner blogs (special brand blogs like Apple’s former music blog, for example, who spent money with us on an ad campaign) that may have creative that doesn’t belong to us, and we don’t have the rights to share with this-parties; this one is kinda unknown to me, what deals are in place historically and what they should prevent us from doing.”

Gage’s post makes clear that engineers are working on compiling a list of post IDs that should not have been included, and that password-protected posts, DMs, and media flagged as CSAM and other community guidelines violations were not included.

Automattic plans to launch a new setting on Wednesday that will allow users to opt-out of data sharing with third parties, including AI companies, according to the source, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, and internal documents. A new FAQ section we reviewed is titled “What happens when you opt out?” states that “If you opt out from the start, we will block crawlers from accessing your content by adding your site on a disallowed list. If you change your mind later, we also plan to update any partners about people who newly opt-out and ask that their content be removed from past sources and future training.”

404 Media has asked Automattic how it accidentally compiled data that it shouldn’t share, and whether any of that content was shared with OpenAI. 404 Media asked Automattic about an imminent deal with Midjourney last week but did not hear back then, either. Instead of answering direct questions about these deals and the compiling of user data, Automattic sent a statement, which it posted publicly after this story was published, titled "Protecting User Choice." In it, Automattic promises that it's blocked AI crawlers from scraping its sites. The statement says, "We are also working directly with select AI companies as long as their plans align with what our community cares about: attribution, opt-outs, and control. Our partnerships will respect all opt-out settings. We also plan to take that a step further and regularly update any partners about people who newly opt out and ask that their content be removed from past sources and future training."

Another internal document shows that, on February 23, an employee asked in a staff-only thread, “Do we have assurances that if a user opts out of their data being shared with third parties that our existing data partners will be notified of such a change and remove their data?”

Andrew Spittle, Automattic’s head of AI replied: “We will notify existing partners on a regular basis about anyone who's opted out since the last time we provided a list. I want this to be an ongoing process where we regularly advocate for past content to be excluded based on current preferences. We will ask that content be deleted and removed from any future training runs. I believepartners will honor this based on our conversations with them to this point. I don't think they gain much overall by retaining it.” Automattic did not respond to a question from 404 Media about whether it could guarantee that people who opt out will have their data deleted retroactively.

News about a deal between Tumblr and Midjourney has been rumored and speculated about on Tumblr for the last week. Someone claiming to be a former Tumblr employee announced in a Tumblr blog post that the platform was working on a deal with Midjourney, and the rumor made it onto Blind, an app for verified employees of companies to anonymously discuss their jobs. 404 Media has seen the Blind posts, in which what seems like an Automattic employee says, “I'm not sure why some of you are getting worked up or worried about this. It's totally legal, and sharing it publicly is perfectly fine since it's right there in the terms & conditions. So, go ahead and spread the word as much as you can with your friends and tech journalists, it's totally fine.”

Separately, 404 Media viewed a public, now-deleted post by Gage, the product manager, where he said that he was deleting all of his images off of Tumblr, and would be putting them on his personal website. A still-live postsays, “i've deleted my photography from tumblr and will be moving it slowly but surely over to cylegage.com, which i'm building into a photography portfolio that i can control end-to-end.” At one point last week, his personal website had a specific note stating that he did not consent to AI scraping of his images. Gage’s original post has been deleted, and his website is now a blank page that just reads “Cyle.” Gage did not respond to a request for comment from 404 Media.

Several online platforms have made similar deals with AI companies recently, including Reddit, which entered into an AI content licensing deal with Google and said in its SEC filing last week that it’s “in the early stages of monetizing [its] user base” by training AI on users’ posts. Last year, Shutterstock signed a six year deal with OpenAI to provide training data.

OpenAI and Midjourney did not respond to requests for comment.

Updated 4:05 p.m. EST with a statement from Automattic.

#It’s amazing how dishonest the staff post was #Original post #Posted for the convenience of users who are not currently subscribed to 404 media #But you absolutely should they’re great #10/10 highly recommended

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avocado-writing · 1 year ago

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HI IT’S THE CHILLY ANON, first off thank you sm that fic/drabble was absolutely tasty, very delicious

secondly !! if requests are still open (I tried to scroll back on your page to double check) could I perhaps! Request another astarion x tav/reader that’s afraid of the dark ?

giving you big hugs and a glass of water ^^

notes: thank you anon I am slurping it down mwah xx if you like my work, please reblog!

words: 1.1k

rating: T

pairing: astarion x reader

He hates the Underdark.

More than anything because it reminds him of his life before, chained into the shadows without the possibility of being free in the sun, and he hates the idea of returning to that voluntarily. But the group insisted that it was the safest path to the Shadowlands - and gods know that sounds like a barrel of laughs, too - so here he is. Trudging.

The excursion itself was bad, with its exploding fungi and minotaurs charging from nowhere, but things got catastrophically worse when that damned Bulette had appeared. Astarion is never a fan of enemies he can’t keep an eye on at all times so that thing surfacing scared the un-life out of him, and when you called a retreat the damned group got carved into two halves: Shadowheart and Karlach headed one way, towards the wide open mushroom fields, and the two of you another - into the shadowed safety of a cave.

And then there was a bloody rockfall.

It closed you off from them, splitting the bloody party like fools. Both of you trapped in a tunnel, covered in dust and dirt and feeling incredibly stupid indeed.

Alone together.

Luckily Shadowheart had used a Sending spell to let you know they were attempting to find a way out, but it might take a while. Looks like they’ll have to source some explosives from somewhere in order to clear the debris from the cavemouth. With little else to do, you stayed put.

So here the two of you are, waiting for your rescue to be sprung with no real idea of a timeline. Astarion has been pacing, complaining as loudly as he can about the situation and listening to the echo of his own gripes, but you’ve been oddly… still. Sat against the rocky wall with a torch gripped so tightly in your hands that it’s changing the colour of your knuckles. The torch which, now he comes to think of it, you haven’t let go of since you climbed down that ridiculous ladder into this wretched place.

“We should have risked the damned mountain pass is all I’m saying. A handful of githyanki are hardly the worst choice when you compare them to all this bloody… gloom. I mean gods, I’ve not seen the sun in two hundred years and now we are actively choosing to hide from it. What’s the point of this damned tadpole if I’m hundreds of feet beneath the earth?!”

“Can you not?” you say, voice so quiet he almost misses it. For a moment, Astarion pause, turning with his whole torso to look at you. He inspects you through narrowed eyes.

“You’re the one who led us down here,” he sniffs, as if this justifies his bitching.

“Yes, because the group voted. Everyone but the two of us and Lae’zel chose Underdark.”

Your eyes don’t meet his when you speak. They’re locked solidly on the flame in front of you, a flame which is beginning to dwindle. A gentle sheen of sweat has broken out on your face and Astarion doesn’t think it’s from your proximity to the heat.

You’re right. You didn’t want to come down here either. A couple of things click into place for him, and his eyebrows raise as Astarion uncovers a secret about you.

“Are you… are you afraid of the dark?”

“Fuck off, Astarion,” you sigh. This is totally unlike you. Usually you’re willing to parry his teasing with your own, engage in a little sharp-edged banter. It’s one of his favourite parts of the day, actually - when he can volley back and forth with you. But right now you simply lack your usual gumption. When he attunes his attention to it, Astarion wonders how he was so obtuse; he can taste the fear in your blood without a drop of it needing to hit his tongue, the way it courses round your body, flooding you with adrenaline.

He hesitates. Part of him wants to slip back into pettiness and attempt to goad you into an argument, at least that way maybe you’d be a bit distracted. But another, far larger part of him, a part which he knows is going to win out, wants to reach out in genuine kindness.

“Ignis,” he mutters under his breath, and a Firebolt appears in his hand, flooding the cave with light. He doesn’t launch it at anything, and the flame is hot and uncomfortable against his palm - but not enough for him to care when he sees how you let out a held breath at the sight of it. The cave is bathed in warm light which illuminates every crag and cranny, a couple of spiders skitter away into splinters in the rock, but you don’t seem to care - quite the opposite. This is the most relaxed he’s seen you in a while.

“Better?” he asks. You nod, grip finally loosening a little on your torch.

“Much better. Thank you, Astarion.”

He saunters over, back against the wall and sliding down the stone as carefully as he can. Your eyes soften in the light he casts. From this close, he can admire every inch of your face. It’s a nice face. He’d like to admire it more.

“Didn’t pin you as the type to be afraid of anything. Well, except for the whole possibly turning into a Mindflayer thing, but that’s a given,” he reasons. You groan in frustration.

“I know. It’s silly, really. I’ve hated it since I was little, and as I got older… well, it became less about the dark itself, and more what might be hiding in the dark,” you sigh. Astarion nods. It’s a simple but honest explanation. It seems that, around every corner in this damned place, there’s another beast waiting to jump out at you. He’s been surprised more times in the past few days than he’s been in his entire life.

“Well, we’ll be out of here soon. Here,” he nods at the cave-in, “and here,” he gestures widely with his free hand, as if to indicate the Underdark itself.

“Yes. And into a place literally dubbed ‘the Shadowlands’.”

“Exactly!” he agrees, and then, “...oh. Right. Shit.”

His genuine reaction of regret makes you laugh, and he realises he hasn’t heard that in days, either. You let your head fall to the side until it lands softly onto his shoulder. Astarion is filled with warmth, and it isn’t just from the fire.

“If I was going to be stuck with anyone in here, I’m glad it’s you,” you mutter. He’s worried it would show too much of his heart to reflect the sentiment, so he just lays his cheek against your scalp, and waits for the others to find you.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling@wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdousnugget @somethingblu3 @hopeful-n-sad

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #request #my writing #Cw: incorrect use of the fire bolt cantrip

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blue--ingenue · 1 year ago

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Ominis Gaunt headcannons {Pt. 4}

Author's Note: when i'm trying to think of what to write i like to walk around spots in the game and think of what the characters would think/do. what would their favorite study spots be? do they have a favorite place to curl up with a book? etc. anyway, this came to me while i was walking around the slytherin common room. hope you enjoy :) and i'm starting a taglist for my Ominis headcannons series, so let me know if you'd like to be added :)

he knows most of the house elves by name. the Gaunts are notorious for their abuse of house elves, so most of the kitchen/cleaning staff steered clear of them for the first few weeks of his first year. then one day, when ominis was still getting used to the charm he used to see, he tripped over a one of the elves’ mop buckets. the young Gaunt’s face flushed bright red and he fumbled for his wand before pointing it directly at her. she froze in place and cowered, waiting for whatever punishment he would dole out, but none came

he stuttered out an incantation and flicked his wand in her direction - and the rag she wore dried instantly. confused, but still terrified, she remained frozen. young ominis apologized profusely, using the few spells he knew to clean up the mess. all the while he explained how he was having a bit of trouble maintaining the charm for extended periods

after the bucket was righted and the water had vanished from the floor, he helped her up and asked for her name. Niffy explained that few witches or wizards ever asked, and that she’d never had a student offer to help her, let alone with magic. he continued on his way, but Niffy made sure to tell every elf in the castle to keep a protective eye on young Ominis

not many students know this, but there are plenty of snakes that have made their home within the castle. while Ominis doesn’t enjoy speaking parseltongue, he likes that the snakes bring him gossip from around the school. when Sebastian asks how he seems to know everyone’s secrets and rumors, he replies that he simply listens more than he talks. (while this is true, the snakes’ rumor mill is mostly responsible). behind the walls and within the pipes, they hear everything about everyone (which means Ominis does, too)

this boy has managed to free nearly every house elf tied to the Gaunt name. when he first came to hogwarts his parents assigned one of the house elves to follow him around. he hated feeling coddled, but he knew his father would take his anger out on the house elf if ominis sent him back

there’s a trip to Hogsmeade for all of the first-years a few days after the sorting ceremony. the prefects break them into groups and give them brief tours of all the shops. at the end they’re given a few hours to roam before everyone returns to the castle for dinner. Anne and Sebastian, ever curious and looking for the greatest source of action, follow him from a distance. they know he’s a Gaunt. they’ve heard of his family’s reputation. nearly everyone in their year avoids him like the plague, but the twins don’t find him to be any different from their classmates (aside from the house elf that never leaves his side)

it turns out Ominis had taken out as large of a deposit as he could and had the galleons sent by post. his poor owl couldn’t carry the sack of gold, so he was told he could retrieve the coins at the post office. the twins watch as he nonchalantly shoves the equivalent of a year of Solomon’s earnings into a sack and enters Gladrags

naturally, they follow him. he purchases the warmest cloak in the shop, but doesn’t leave. puzzled, the twins watch as he asks Mr. Hill something and hands the coat back to him. he sizes up the house elf with a quick once-over before waving his wand over the garment. when he’s finished, the coat is ten times smaller than before. they watch in awe as young Ominis presents the clothing to his house elf, along with the sack of galleons

the house elf begins to weep, but Ominis merely kneels so that he can speak to the elf without tower over him. as the pair exit the shop, they hear him tell the elf to “be careful, and live well” before they embrace and the elf apparates away with a loud pop

the next day they introduce themselves, and the trio become inseparable

(Ominis’ father stops sending house elves to Ominis, but only after the young boy has managed to free half of their household staff)

Taglist: @caramel-hufflepuff, @fanfiction-she-wrote

#ominis x mc #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x y/n #fluff #fluffy #angst #hurt/comfort #noctua gaunt

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kradogsrats · 5 months ago

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okay

okay okay okay stay with me for a minute, here

Claudia leaves her staff behind in Archmage Akiyu’s sanctum, which is weird, actually, because it’s not even just the Staff of Ziard, anymore… it has the Sun primal stone that she has been using for two years to cast a pretty significant amount of her magic. It’s not quite “Callum-smashes-the-Sky-primal-stone” levels of making things more difficult for herself, but unlike Callum, she also doesn’t have a very compelling reason to do it.

Possibility One (Tired): Claudia is given a compelling (though presumably unconscious) reason to abandon the staff, in the form of Aaravos wanting the staff to be in Callum’s hands. After all, Aaravos is very confident that Callum will use dark magic again, and he doesn’t seem particularly surprised by Callum presenting the coin and staff for the spell—his real reactions comes when Callum reveals that Runaan will kill him, preventing Aaravos from possessing him, and when Callum actually starts the spell, after Rayla has replaced Runaan and declared her commitment to sacrifice him. Aaravos wanted Callum to have the staff either to entice him further toward dark magic, or to have it easily to hand if/when he possesses Callum.

Possibility Two (Wired): Claudia knows that the negative impact on her spellcasting represented by the staff’s loss is minimal. Why? Well, to get a little crazy here, for a second… because the Scale of Shiruakh low-key gives her a Sun primal connection when she’s in dragon mode.

Like, we already have one archdragon-based artifact that grants its original power to its wielder: the Novablade kills a Startouch elf the same as it did as a tooth in Shiruakh’s mouth. Why couldn’t a scale from the same dragon—an archdragon, the living embodiment of a primal source—be capable of granting, if not the same level power as a primal stone, at least somewhere between that and a fire ruby?

This would explain Claudia casting several of the spells she does after “losing” the staff… though it could very well also be that they’re seeing how far we’re willing to accept them stretching the “Claudia has a convenient amount of shit constantly in her pockets” conceit. I’d be more confident if she hadn’t used the pufferbat for draining Callum’s breath.

Additionally: Viren uses sunray monarchs to reduce his corruption, and the Sunfire elves at least believe the Sun can “purify” dark magic (though it’s not super clear whether that’s actually the case). Even if the Sun primal doesn’t have particular power against dark magic, its properties of healing and purity are probably most effective at mitigating the physical effects. A direct infusion of Sun primal magic, whether that extends to providing usable power to Claudia herself, is actually a pretty good explanation for why she de-corrupts when she goes into dragon form.

#dark magic #claudia #scale of shiruakh #claudia sun primal truthers goooooo #i’d have put screencaps in this but i wrote it entirely on my phone

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tavs-tressym · 1 year ago

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Delicious Denial - Chapter Two

(AO3 Link) | Master List | Ko-Fi

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav (You).

Word Count: 3240 (approx)

Tags: Fluff, eventual smut, domestic fluff, camp life, slow burn romance, sexual tension (A LOT), violence description.

WARNING: Contains violence description.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A reimagining of the game's events if Tav had zero magical or fighting ability. But she's still pretty fucked up. 👍

(Lots of comforting camp life content.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Happy Monday!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Two - Six

The ground shakes beneath you as the boom of a war horn ravages the forest. You stand behind Minthara on a large boulder. There’s a small gathering of tieflings above the ivy-covered gate, and they don’t seem like powerful druids. Your heart plummets in guilt.

What have I done? These people… Gods, they’re barely even armoured… They’re all going to die…

Your mind continues swimming in panic. You scan the crowd of goblins, it’s clear to see that they’re outnumbered. They don’t stand a chance. A singular arrow darts towards you, Minthara swipes it to the side with effortless magical ability. “Blow that gate open! Now!” She commands. The goblins release their warcries. Some, carrying barrels of explosives, rush to the gate. Arrows rain from the sky and puncture as many foes as they can but it’s not enough. Through smoke and floating gunpowder, you can see the destruction of the gate. The grove is compromised. But before Minthara can give further command, you spot silhouettes amongst the wreckage.

Six silhouettes, all different in stature and weight. A very odd-looking alliance, indeed. Minthara holds her tongue, waiting for them to reveal themselves so as to gauge this new enemy’s abilities.

Weighted thumps on soil grow faster and louder as two of the silhouettes reveal themselves. A powerful, red tiefling, brandishing a greataxe with what looks to be living fire escaping her chest leaps forward, burning rage in her eyes. Then a skilled, female, githyanki warrior slicing through goblins with no hesitation and shaking off hits like they’re nothing. They make quick work of their foes, pushing the army back.

Behind them, a black-haired half-elf can be seen healing the injured with one hand and casting radiating destruction spells with the other.

Just as they’re beginning to feel overwhelmed by enemies, a ray of devastating lighting scorches the earth, electrocuting all goblins in it’s path. Your eyes follow it to the source, a human in a humble, purple robe, his eyes filled with determination and pride at his own magic.

The scorched goblins begin to twitch and spasm. You flick your gaze back to them, realising that they are dead no longer and are now fighting for the opposite side. By the gate, another human with a darker complexion, noble attire and a rapier in hand stands proudly, leading his new, undead army into battle.

That’s one, two, three, four, five… There were six… Weren’t there?

Minthara snarls and leaps into the centre of battle. Surrounded by these new, mighty enemies, she calls upon Lolth to aid her before attacking each foe with excellent precision and strength. You look around, frantically trying to keep up before realising… This is it. Your chance to escape. Your breath shudders as you slowly back away and once out of Minthara’s field of view, you run.

The makeshift shoes you were given start to rip and come apart beneath you with each desperate collision with the floor. You look back to ensure that you aren’t being followed, then you… Stop? The wind in your lungs is forced out of you as your back hits something solid. But that can’t be, there was nothing there, right? You feel a cold, hard, sharp sensation against your neck, your breath hitches. You try to wriggle free from whatever this is, but something strong holds you in place. In confusion and panic you go to let out a shriek before, yet again, you are stopped. A soft, smooth, cold texture contains the sound within your mouth. “Shh…” Suddenly the force around your mouth becomes opaque: a hand. The sensation on your neck: a dagger. The solid pressed firmly up against your back: A person.

Number six…

“If I move my hand, are you going to scream?” A male voice hums into your ear. You shake your head in response, there are no tears in your eyes, only fury.

You. Were. So. Close.

“Are you sure? I’d hate to ruin such a pretty neck…” His threats are theatrical, but you hear his earnesty and feel his eyes burning into your exposed skin. He allows the dagger to make a small, irritating cut on your neck to emphasise his point. Breathing comfortably would surely deepen the wound and seeing no way out, you give in and douse the fire inside of you, for now. You nod. He slowly removes his hand and you catch your first glimpse of him. His hand is pale and his nails are manicured. There is little hair and through his almost translucent skin, you see hints of dark veins. You feel his breath on your ear, it’s surprisingly warm for someone so cold.

His now free hand grips the plush skin of your arm and he moves the dagger to allow you to breathe as normal, but ensures that the threat remains. He guides you back to the, now quieter, battlefield. Minthara is on her knees, clutching her stomach, blood slipping through the gaps between her fingers. She coughs and gasps, lifting her head to see you, captured again. “T-true… S-soul…” Her words aren’t of sorrow, but of pride that you are still standing. She knows death will soon claim her, but you? You can finish her quest and bring glory to The Absolute. She grins. A greatsword’s blade, coated in thick red, is held beside Minthara’s neck. “Any last words, istik?” The githyanki sneers.

Minthara does not break her eye contact with you. “F-for… The Abso-” The sword traps her words in her throat forever, as it severs her head in one fell swoop. It rolls towards you, her now limp grin of devotion still smeared across her face.

You begin to breathe deeply… Heavily… You can’t breathe… You need air, now. You try to escape your captor’s grasp, you’re going to die, you’re sure of it. “Let her go!” The tiefling’s command frees your body and you feel your legs give out from underneath you. No matter how much air you suck into your lungs, you can only suffocate.

A warm, delicate hand rests on your back and rubs it in firm circles. “Breathe properly now. With me. In… And out…” A gentle, yet guarded voice attempts to guide you back to reality, but it isn’t working. The half-elf shrugs and looks to her companions for assistance, to which the githyanki scoffs and rolls her eyes. You rake your fingers through the soil, desperately trying to ground yourself when - Black. __________________________________________

How long has it been? Is this… Death? No, it feels too familiar. Sleep? It could be. It’s certainly peaceful… But it can’t be, mine doesn’t feel like this anymore. Mine is more… Restless… I haven’t felt like this in… Well, too long anyway…

No… Please don’t go… Just a little longer… Please… __________________________________________

The world is fuzzy when seeing it through barely open eyes. Green sways above you, sheltering you from sharp lines of yellow light. Your eyes open further. It’s midday, same as before, as though no time has passed. How much time has passed? You begin to sit up to get your bearings. “Woah there soldier, take it easy.” You flinch at the voice and search, eyes wide for danger. It’s the tiefling from earlier. “It’s okay! It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” You huddle yourself into a ball, keeping your eyes on hers and shuffle away. She smiles with such warmth you almost feel tempted to let your guard down, almost. “The name’s Karlach, and you are?”

“What makes you think I’d tell you? Your friend held a dagger to my throat!” You force anger through your fear and surprisingly, Karlach seems to understand. She sighs and nods, rubbing her face. “I know, I’m sorry. I wish there was no need for it, but you have to understand, we don’t know what we’re dealing with here. Before we can trust you and let you go, we need to know who you are.” You know better than to trust promises of freedom, but then you look around.

You seem to have found yourself in a humble camp, surrounded by one-person tents, hardly a prison. An unlit campfire stands in the centre and your captors are idly going about their business. All of them you recognise, all except one. A lean, pale elf with white, well kept curls meticulously arranged on his head. He stands, reading a book amongst neighbouring silk cushions that are scattered around the entrance of his tent. There’s even a stool right next to him, but he chose to stand. Weird. Watching him turn the page, you notice his familiar hands. You grit your teeth and furrow your brow. That’s the fucker that caught you.

Flicking your eyes back to Karlach, you can see how desperately she wants you to cooperate. You check your ankles and wrists, there are no restraints. “How long was I out for?” You ask in a dull, numb voice.

“A day.”

You nod, realising how energised you feel, a rare occurrence for you. “And… How?” Although you’re grateful for the rest, the last thing you remember was clawing at the ground, not exactly a bedtime routine.

“Oh… Ha ha… Well…” She gestures to her head sheepishly, you place your hand on yours and jolt at the sudden pain, a bandage covers a gnarly bump on the right side of your head, then the headache hits you. “Ugh… Gods…” You rub your eyes but doing so only produces stars, you lay back down.

“Yeah, sorry about that too, soldier.” You hear approaching footsteps, but moving to protect yourself right now would be too painful.

“So, she’s awake at last… What now?” Asks a gentle, male voice. You try to peer through the stars to see which companion it is. You see… Purple. This must be the wizard.

“Yes, what now, indeed? Shall I get my tools and see what information I can get out of her?” You recognise this as the familiar voice of the half-elf.

“With all due respect, Shadowheart, I think she’s a bit… Out of it. Maybe adding more pain into the mix isn’t such a good idea.”

“Alright, what do you suggest?” She asks, clearly disappointed and irritated.

“You could start by sparing some magic and healing that wound on her head. She can’t even speak.” Shadowheart sighs and reluctantly casts Cure Wounds, your vision clears and the pain subsides.

Thank the Gods…

Finding your strength, you sit up once again and your eyes meet the wizard’s. His features are soft, kind, though you suppose looks can always be deceiving. “Welcome back. Now, let’s cut to the chase. You don’t trust us, we don’t trust you, that much is clear. But, we can help each other. And I’ll get into the ‘how’ of it all soon enough, but for now, I’ll settle for your name. I’m Gale, of Waterdeep.” He reaches his hand out to shake yours. You inspect it, searching for trickery, then you look at his face. He has a friendly, inviting smile and you sense no ulterior motive. You take his hand and shake it gently. “Tav.”

“Tav! Excellent.” Once you let go, he claps his hands and turns to his companions. “This is Shadowheart, our fierce cleric.” He gestures towards her, she forces a smile but unsuccessfully hides her distaste for the introduction. “And you’ve met Karlach.” She waves at you excitedly, seeming proud of you for opening up, just a little. She emanates friendliness, you can’t help but smile back. “Let’s see… That’s Lae’Zel, our resident githyanki.” He points her out, upon hearing her name, she looks over, sees you and immediately scoffs before returning to her task. “Over here we have Wyll, ‘The Blade of…”

“The Blade of the Frontiers, at your service.” The one who bent the dead to his will approaches and performs a grand bow. “My lady.” You raise an eyebrow.

Is this guy for real?

You smile and nod politely. You take in his features as he raises his head. Brown skin, facial scars and one eye seemingly made of stone. Intriguing…

“And last but… Eh… not least, Astarion. The stealthiest of the bunch.” He doesn’t look up from his book, he just makes a vague, waving, hand gesture. You raise an eyebrow again, but this time you make no effort to conceal your judgement.

“Yes, I remember.” Just as you’re about to look away, you spot a smirk on his face. The prick.

“So, now that we’re all well acquainted, maybe now you could tell us everything you know about this ‘Absolute’, yes?” Gale looks at you expectantly.

“Hold on, you said we could help each other. What am I getting out of this?” The companions exchange worried glances before Karlach takes over.

“Well that all depends on your answers to our questions, soldier.” She looks at you apologetically.

“Seriously? You want me to give you all this information for the mere chance that you could give me something in return? Yeah, no thanks.” A moment of tension passes.

“We know what’s in your head and we have them too!” The words practically burst out of Karlach’s mouth, to everyone’s disapproval. Gale brings his hands to his head, eyes wide in disbelief at Karlach’s lack of control, Shadowheart essentially slaps her hand into her face, holding it there in disappointment, and Wyll just pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply, shaking his head. You get the slight feeling that you weren’t supposed to know that.

“You don’t mean…”

“Yes, that little worm in your skull. We all have one.” Shadowheart admits in defeat.

“How did you…?”

“Minthara, she called you True Soul. That seems to be the name for people like us.” Gale explains. “However, none of us have succumbed to ceremorphosis yet, nor are we under this ‘Absolute’s’ control. We want to understand why. Any information you can give us would be greatly appreciated.” You listen intently, his explanation that only fills your mind with further questions. You ask about ‘ceremorphosis’ and process the definition.

“I’m sorry, what now? You’re-… I’m-… We’re turning into MIND-FLAYERS?!”

“No- well, maybe? We aren’t quite sure. All we know is that our infection has been highly irregular thus far.”

Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?! Interesting how Minthara left that fucking detail out!

“In any case, we’re searching for a cure. Please, if you know anything, anything at all, we need all the help we can get.” Gale pleads.

“And soldier, you do too.” You look up at Karlach who’s smile alone brings you down from another episode. You take a deep breath.

“A-alright…” You go on to describe your experience in the goblin camp and repeat all the information that Minthara shared with you during your time there. As you reach the point in the story of the ‘interrogation’, you are… selective with the details. Choosing to describe your actions through the eyes of a mere, horrified spectator rather than the confused, active participant you truly were. Astarion’s mouth twitches at your story as he cocks his head to the side. He seems intrigued. Too intrigued. The others listen and nod thoughtfully as you speak.

Once finished, they stand there in silence, processing. You search their faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of what their judgement of you will be. Gale breaks the silence: “Just a moment.” He gathers all companions, including Astarion and Lae’zel around the campfire, just out of earshot from you. You watch as each one has a turn to speak, occasionally glancing at you before returning to the conversation. It’s a passionate discussion between very strong personalities, it’s a wonder how they’ve remained allies for longer than a day. Eventually, you see nods of agreement, some begrudging and some pleased as they all turn and walk towards you.

Gale steps forward and attempts a formal speech pattern: “So… Tav, was it? We… we cannot, in good conscience, leave you to the, er- aforementioned fate. And so, we would like to extend an invitation to accompany us on our journey, as we search for a cure. What do you think?” You think for a moment, feeling all six pairs of eyes on you.

You sigh as you come to the realisation that you don’t have much choice. It’s either this, or ceremorphosis. You nod, yet still feel their unsure gaze. You give in and say the words: “Yes, alright. I’ll join you.”

You feel your companions relax… mostly. Lae’zel isn’t hiding how displeased she is with the arrangement before she leaves to tend to her collection of weaponry. Your stomach growls, no, roars. Loudly. It’s been over twenty-four hours and you haven’t had a single bite to eat. Karlach chuckles “You know what, mate? Me too. Gale, dinner time!” She taps her tummy as she follows Gale to the makeshift food station. Shadowheart leaves to light the campfire and Wyll smiles at you before helping her.

That’s one, two, three, four, five… and six.

Astarion stood, resting his weight on one hip, watching you. You look up at him, making eye contact. The slight warmth you feel towards your newfound companions grows colder once he is in your view. A brief look becomes a fight for dominance, neither party willing to lose. “Can I help you?” Your voice is laced with contempt, yet the only effect you have on him is widening his insufferable grin. He holds you in suspense for a moment before speaking.

“You don’t like me.” His tone is playful, flirty even.

“Hard to. First impressions are everything.” You slide yourself off the stone slab you used as a bed to face him properly, trying to regain control.

“Oh darling, you know I only did that because I had to.” He laughs and tilts his head down, intensifying his gaze, effortlessly. He steals a glance at the small cut on your neck, the corner of his mouth twitches in the thrill of knowing that he put it there. “But enough about the past. You’re one of us now, we should be… Acquainted. Don’t you agree?” You fold your arms and allow him to continue under the weight of your suspicious stare. “Well, I don’t know about you, but the idea of waking up to a dagger lodged in my chest doesn’t sound particularly appealing.”

“You’re not scared of me, are you?” You smirk back at him, unfolding your arms and finding your wide hips before resting on them with your hands. He steps closer and speaks softer.

“No, not scared. I just don’t trust those who withhold the truth.” Your smirk drops and your mind races.

What does he know? How could he know? No, this is stupid, there’s no way…

“Oh don’t worry darling, I would have trusted you even less if you had laid, whatever it is, bare for us all to see. That’s why I voted to let you stay.” You raise an eyebrow in surprise. “And just so you know, I didn’t tell the others.”

“Why not? What loyalty do you have to me?”

“Oh, absolutely none, my dear… But, you never know when an ally might be useful.” He chuckles to himself, tucking his hair behind his pointed ear.

“You’re a smug one, aren’t you?”

“Hmm… Some say smug, some say charming, it’s all the same really when you get what you want. So… Allies?” He leans in, expecting an agreeable reply. You scoff at his audacity before rolling your eyes and giving him what he wants.

“Allies.”

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Next Chapter

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magickkate · 10 days ago

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Hi Kate, thank you for reading this ask, and I hope you're well. I'm sending this to enquire about your research process and your go-to sources. I'm infatuated with how eloquent and concise your posts are, and I am very curious about your process of making them.

Hi there, Logan!! Thank you so much for your message. I’m excited to hear you’re enjoying the posts, and I’m happy to share more about how I put them together.

1. Research Process

I start by outlining the key points I want to include, then dive into research from multiple angles. I look for consistency across sources and pay special attention to cultural context, historical accuracy, and safety, especially when discussing herbs, tools, or spellwork.

I try to balance structure with intuition. If something sparks curiosity while I’m working, I follow that thread and see how it fits in. I also check for common misconceptions so I can clarify them in the final post.

2. Sources I Use

I only use sources that are well-researched and credible. I avoid vague or sensationalized material and cross-check where needed. Now, I have been lacking in going back and citing my sources. So, I appreciate you calling me out in that regard. Some of my most-used sources include:

Books and Print Resources:

Mastering Witchcraft by Paul Huson

Encyclopedia of 5000 Spells and Encyclopedia of Spirits by Judika Illes

Year of the Witch by Temperance Alden

The Altar Within by Juliet Diaztc

New World Witchery: A Trove of North American Folk Magic by Cory Thomas Hutcheson

Utterly Wicked by Dorothy Morrison

The Bible

I have a few more, but I don’t know if they’re all relevant basics. Also, I haven’t peeked into a couple of my books in a few days due to my recent changes (ie, graduating, moving, new job, etc)

Academic and Historical Sources:

Internet Archive for public domain grimoires and historical texts

JSTOR (if accessible) for folklore, anthropology, and plant research

Web-based and Community Resources:

Learn Religions (specifically the Pagan/Wiccan section)

Established witchcraft bloggers and educators who cite their sources and prioritize accuracy, safety, and inclusivity

3. Post-Making Process

Once my research is done, I write the post using a revised template I’ve developed. This helps keep the format clean and easy to follow, especially for beginner- and intermediate-level topics. This is primarily in part by my years of writing and rewriting informative works, usually in patient-friendly language. I try to make the information I use appropriate and digestible for a beginner in their practice. I think most of the posts that have been published for the past month (and are still coming out) have been in the works for almost a year. Just sitting in my drafts until I liked the final form.

Therefore, most posts include:

A clear intro with definition

Practical applications or variations

Common pitfalls or safety notes, including ethical implications

A closing section with my personal experience

I adapt the structure depending on the topic as necessary for the appropriate topic. Not all topics flow easily with the same template. The style of posts is to feel like a revised paper rather than a freehand text. So, if they are too sterile, I will work on that. I do appreciate you reaching out to me about the recent posts!

Oh, and to be very transparent, I like the Grammarly extension since I do tend to be verbose and have quite the run-on sentence every so often.

Thanks again for reaching out. If you're working on your own content or research process, feel free to message me, and I’m happy to help however I can!

#queue the magick #magickkate #witch asks #witchcraft #witchblr #witch #reference #send me asks #witchcraft asks #witchy asks #send me asks!

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lgbtqmanga · 1 month ago

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Alpha Megumi is finally getting to have a heart-to-heart with his father over dinner about his omega boyfriend, Tsugumi. But when he arrives at the designated restaurant, he finds he’s been set up on a blind date with his love rival, Inami! Before things can get too heated, Tsugumi barges in, but instead of flying off the handle, he bows and asks Megumi’s father to hear him out. Later, when their respective families finally meet, all hell breaks loose, causing Tsugumi to announce… he’s transferring to Kokonoe Academy?!

Turns Out My Online Friend is My Real-Life Boss! (manga) vol. 3 by Nmura

It’s been one year since office worker Hashimoto began dating his boss, Shirase. After the miraculous turn of events where it “turned out that his online friend was actually his real-life boss,” their relationship started off rocky and awkward. But after a year of dating and living together, the two are happier than ever! Their lives have finally started to feel natural, and the cool-headed Shirase even seems to have a passionate side that emerges at unexpected times! Hashimoto can’t believe just how loved he is, and he finally gets a chance to enjoy the happy life they’ve made for themselves. But when doubts begin to surface, Hashimoto starts losing his confidence in the face of his absolutely perfect boyfriend, Shirase! In order to take another step forward, Hashimoto decides to become…more assertive?!

Wails of the Bound: Beta (manga) vol. 3 by Keri Kusabi

Omega Sumito Sasabe finally found himself an Alpha to Mate, fulfilling his lifelong goal and ridding himself of his awful Heats. So why then does his newly mated status hurt so badly? For the Beta Shingo Utou, as long as Sasabe is happy, he’s happy… though his true feelings are much more painful and complicated than that. Even though Sasabe’s body may only crave the touch of his new Mate, his heart is a different story. And what of Sasabe’s new Mate, Shiratori? Were his intentions with Sasabe as genuine as they initially seemed?

#new releases #lgbt manga #queer manga #manga #hnnngh real life is kicking my ass

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kadextra · 1 year ago

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LETS GO rambling and analysis time now that I finished part one

MAJOR MAJOR spoilers under the cut

KAI

NOOOOO how is he gonna get out??? I will say him as the first to use rising dragon felt extremely deserved, I clapped and cheered during that fight scene. but now he’s stuck in the netherworld with the remaining forbidden five and that’s scary.

I teared up seeing Nya activate her rising dragon style in her grief for him. in the next part she’s gonna find out Jay forgot who she is too… so much heartache for Nya 😞

Really enjoyed Bonzle in these episodes as well, learning about her origin of being a spell, her journey of discovering herself as a person and finding a found family :’) at least she’s with Kai now….

and I’ve felt terrible for Lloyd every episode. him getting slammed by those visions constantly, unexpectedly, even in the middle of a fight which sends him spiraling, that’s so rough :((

It’s obvious they’re a representation of panic attacks/he has developed a canon panic disorder- like Lloyd literally says it at one point. they happen suddenly, give anxious fear about present and future events, he gets scared about having another one so he tries to cope by not sleeping (unhealthy coping method) and is taught later on to try accepting the feelings and ride it out which is a way irl therapists teach. good to see some more exploration of mental health in this show!! I’m glad the other characters are taking notice and trying to help too in the ways they can

…speaking of mental health, Arin has been interesting to watch. he’s reading to me more as an autistic-coded character lately (like that line about not understanding social cues???) and we’ve been seeing lots more negative self-esteem issues and insecurity from him in these episodes. him making mistakes during the training sessions, getting scolded, then closing himself off was hard to watch

How Sora decided to hide the truth about Arin’s “object spinjitzu” that saved the day at the very end so he would feel proud of himself for achieving something hurt my heart. she is such a sweet friend who wants her bestie to be happy and feel proud of himself but like- keeping secrets is gonna have consequences down the line. especially when we all know this is a touchy subject for Arin right now. it’s just painful to see how deeply Arin’s self-worth is tied to what he’s capable of doing, what he can and cannot do for the ninja team. he can’t use elemental power he can’t do spinjitzu properly, he’s already insecure so how would he feel to find out ppl are lying to his face so he can feel happier? he’s a string that’s gonna snap one day and judging from that beatdown moment with Lord Ras it’s not going to be pretty. I sense some sort of villain arc approaching for our son

(someone send these people to therapy they’re so traumatized)

In another news: Cole and Geo gay love! homosexuals! maybe a QPR! I don’t care whatever it is, it’s clear they love each other

And it certainly wouldn’t be a ninjago season without the destiny’s bounty crashing and burning <333 was also nice seeing Jay for 10 seconds again <3333

Now my current question is what’s the source dragon tournament thing Lord Ras’ master is talking about??? tournament?? 👀 it’s basically implied that master is a source dragon or a being that rivals their power

can’t wait for the next part to release agugugsjkhkdbqjdpgsiduggjneosgktnalfhdiqkwkfjfialwkg

#ninjago #ninjago spoilers #ninjago analysis #ninjago dragons rising

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januaryembrs · 2 years ago

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LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Reader [8]

description: Dove, Marc and Layla escape Mogart’s with only more dead ends and questions unanswered. They’re running out of time before Harrow reaches the tomb, but one thing keeps sticking in Layla’s head more than the rest.

Why does Dove look so guilty?

word count: 10.8k

trigger warnings: blood, gore, violence. Knives, stabbing. Drowning. Hints of domestic abuse/grooming. Minors DNI. [Based on Last Night in Soho dir. Edgar Wright]

main masterlist | series masterlist

There was always a moment when Frank would let go of her head and she would emerge from under the water, her chest taking in deep breath, choking on the bath water, her throat heaving. There was the moment she felt as if she was dragged from the very worst thoughts, if this would be her last moments, drowned in a fucking tub of all things, and she would finally breath air and be left with the even worse feeling of fear seeing him smirking down at her.

Being dragged out of her stupid little head felt something like that.

She had been buried too deep in a haunted house, in ghost thoughts, to realise the sheer chaos happening around her. Harrow had destroyed the sarcophagus with the same purple light that had summoned the jackals, the spell pouring vibrant dust out of his staff.

The wind whipped around them, Khonshu standing watch over them from the crescent roof, his own anger swaying the trees and string lights around them, the bulbs themselves flickering as if also in tune with the God’s waning temper.

She watched Harrow scurrying away, his snide smile cutting through her like a blade, like a shard of glass, and it was only then that she realised Mogart’s men seemed to be scrambling for their weapons. The rats are always the first to abandon ship, she thought bitterly.

“Hey, he’s gone!” One called, making her whirl around for the source of the commotion.

Sure enough, Marc had disappeared, her heart dropping at the sight of it. He wouldn’t leave her here, would he? Surely-

She reached for Layla, knowing she’d be the only thing to save the woman if the men went for the triggers. Layla had no healing armour or protection from a higher god, and despite the woman’s independent nature, she wouldn’t forgive herself if she let her fend off the dozen men alone.

She prepared herself for a fight as the guns were drawn, squeezing her fists tightly as she begged her own suit to appear. Her eyes scrunched shut, willing it to cover her as it had before when she’d nearly ripped Harrow’s face apart inside the pyramid, though she felt no difference. Ofcourse, it was just her luck that the one time she needed it, she struggled to summon her suit.

She was aware of the irony, and was sure it was her god teaching her a lesson.

Hearing the men gasp amongst themselves, her eyes snapped open, looking down at her chest, only to see her flaunted breasts still staring back at her, mocking her for wanting it gone. You wish to be a hero, but you’re no more than a body. A thing for them to look at. Nothing more.

The frustration read clear on her face, her cheeks hot with panic, that is until she looked towards the source of the murmurs, her eyes locking on top of the glass pyramid at the entirely white figure staring down at them, its eyes pale moons that watched her carefully.

Marc. It was Marc. Ofcourse it was, because he’d rather die than ever let them have her and Layla.

The last time she’d seen him like that was the night at the museum, that first time she’d been in his arms, been at his mercy. She remembered the way he held her in a way no one had ever been so kind to, she was sure such a gentle hand had never existed. Not on anyone but Grace. Not anyone but Steven.

And with that it was like a thread had snapped.

Anton’s bodyguard was the first to move. Grabbing the young man by the scruff of his robe, he shoved the millionaire under his arm, manhandling him out of the way of danger.

It took two of Marc’s crescent moon shaped weapons to go whistling past her face before she felt herself jump into her own body, as if she’d been watching from the back seat until then.

The trigger had been pulled on her own body's defence the moment the guard pointed his pistol to Marc, she felt her suit slink over her shoulders, melting down her arms like a creature growing life. And the best part of all; with it came no feeling of being dislodged from her body. With it came consciousness, control. The ability to decide how her body was to be used in this fight.

Which then begged the question: how was she to fight? She’d grown up in a rough neighbourhood and had the odd scrap at school, but armed guards? This was new territory.

Marc seemed to have the weapon under control on his own however as he leapt from the building and kicked the guard square in the chest, the gun flying from his grasp. It didn’t stop her from tackling the next guard who raised his own gun to the suited man, though with little to no experience fighting, just the instinct to protect him, she simply took him down to the ground, serving him a sharp jab to the nose that seemed to stun him and kicked his weapon towards Layla, who scrambled to grab it.

The screams of the party goers met her ears, the rushed footsteps heading either to their vehicles or to any spare boats, realising their situation was not just a little catfight but more an armed brawl.

Layla shot at the two men that emerged from the mansion, slipping past Anton, who cowered behind his security guard like a child, the suave attitude long gone from the man. She seemed more than comfortable with the handgun, Dove quickly noted, though she was also fast to hear the queue of bodies that approached them, the clicks of ammunition falling into barrels meeting her sensitive ears.

That had her head whipping around.

There, slinking over the sand of the pony pit, stood at least twenty men approaching the three of them with deadly focus.

“Shit,” She cursed, looking to Marc all but a second too late. The pop of the bullets being released from their chambers had her wincing, turning away as if that would defend her at all were she to get shot. Was she bulletproof like Marc? Or would Seth allow her some bloodshed to teach her yet another lesson of taking his powers for granted?

As if he had heard her question, she felt a splinting pain slash through the back of her leg, the sharp feeling dragging a grunt up her throat. Bearable, but a horrid sting, as if she’d been shot by a paintball at close range. She was sure she would have a bruise there soon, but a bruise was better than a bullet hole, she supposed.

Eyes flicking up to where Marc stood over Layla, his cape a shield over the woman she watched as he looked up to her with narrowed eyes.

“You guys need to buy me some time,” Layla ordered, crouching low under the cape to make herself a smaller target.

“Is that you in there, princess, or have I got another problem on my hands?” He called over his shoulder, barely fazed by the bullets clinging to his suit.

“It’s me, I’m fine,” She promised, feeling another shell smacking into her stomach with a hidden grunt, “The suit is working just fine,”

Marc nodded to himself, chewing his tongue behind his mask.

“I don’t suppose you’d listen to me if I told you to leave with Layla and get to safety, huh?” He said emptily, wincing as the guards got close enough to feel the bullets graze past them.

“Don’t waste your breath,” She snipped, looking down at Layla, the same thought passing between the two of them.

“If you die on me, princess, I might have to murder you,” Layla called to her, earning a small smile, and the three of them sprang into action.

Marc flicked the bullets that embedded in his suit right back at their senders, hard enough to take down half of them men advancing on them, the other half seeming to pause to reconsider their attack.

But by that point, the two of them had vaulted over the fence and were heading at full pelt towards their assailants.

“Aim for the chin, sweetheart, chin and nose,” Marc called, his moon shaped blade back firmly in his hand like a set of brass knuckles, slicing through their kevlar with every swipe. He swiped at one hard across the face, deep enough to ward him off, spinning quickly to throw the blade into another one’s chest cavity.

“Chin and nose, got it,” She said, wrestling her arm out of one of their grasps with a quick elbow to the stomach, driving her fist up into his nose cartilage with a hard punch.

The man cried out in shock, his nose spurting with a river of blood almost instantly.

“Sor-SORRY,” She said, her fist meeting another one under his chin in a hard uppercut, the force of it snapping his teeth together, his head rattling in an ache from the damage. She wouldn’t be surprised if his jaw had popped out of place.

“Stop apologising to them,” Marc yelled incredulously, kneeing another one in the gut, throwing him to the ground as he grabbed the other by his outstretched arm, twisting it behind his back with a force that ripped apart every tendon attached, “They’re trying to kill us,”

“But I am sorry- SORRY” She called back, throwing a punch to another one’s cheek so far off form, had her super strength not been so vicious she would have been screwed. Marc would need to show her how to fight properly, he noted in his mind, though he had hoped with everything in him that it would have never come to this.

He’d wanted to keep all the violence away from her. He didn’t need the same darkness that lingered over him to shower on her too.

Tackling two of the men on his own, he threw a kick to the first one’s chest as the other tried to grab him in a chokehold. It was a frivolous attempt however as Marc threw an elbow behind him, hard into the side of the guard’s temple which sent him down. The second one wasn’t so lucky. So bitter that that woman, his Dove, was fighting; was being shot at, being manhandled right in front of his eyes, the second guard to cross his path was nothing but an export for his rage.

He hated how moral she was, hated how it got her hurt, how it got her entangled in his mess. Yet it was one of his favourite things about her, how soft she was, how she would never leave anything, human or animal, to suffer, loved how she would always want good for him too. He didn’t deserve it. He had never deserved her. Never deserved the soft.

He had barely realised he had begun strangling the guard, his hands wrapped around the meat of his throat until he saw his face begin turning blue, and Steven’s voice had entered his head.

“Stop it, Marc,” Marc grunted in anger, it was all he could manage through the wave of rage he was sinking under, “No, Marc!”

As if to brush off Steven’s voice, Marc threw the man to the ground, spinning on his heels when he heard a gun cock behind him.

The guard shot a few rounds into the hard plate of his chest, not that he felt anything, watching her tussling with a man a few feet away, trying to wrangle his gun out of his hands before he could fire at her. Not that the bullets would do any lasting damage of course, but he felt his stomach drop all the same. He was quick to disarm the guard in front of him, watching the mans face contort into horror as the white eyed mercenary set his sights on him, a heavy hand coming out to grab the pistol with a bone breaking grip, ripping the thing from his fingers as if he were taking candy from a child. He grabbed the man by the jaw with the same crushing hold, feeling the guard whine under his malicious hand, writhing in pain.

Marc hated the part of himself that felt fulfilled seeing the ones who hurt her suffer themselves. He felt pleased. Felt warmed knowing he’d made them pay.

“Give me the body, Marc,” Steven hissed from inside the headspace. He felt his alter taking the reins, felt his consciousness slipping through his fingers despite his protest. But Steven was getting used to this now; he had been so caught up in protecting her he forgot about the one he was supposed to protect his whole life.

Marc’s eyes closed and Steven’s opened.

His hands went slack around the guard’s jaw that cracked under the pressure, the man’s entire body dropping in defeat.

“Oh! Sorry!” Steven’s soft voice rang out, a world away from the gravelly growl of Marc’s lilt. Leaning towards where the man groaned on the floor, clutching his face, he murmured “You alright? That’s it. Alright, time out!” He huffed, turning to the other guards circling him, their guns cocked at their sides, weighing up if they’d be the next to end up crumpled on the floor with broken bones.

He held his hands up in a T, “That’s it time out!” he called out, his white gloves soft against his rough hands. “Guys, let’s all calm down, yeah? Let’s all just like chill the F out-”

“Steven?”

Her voice was velvet. Worried. It robbed him of words immediately after so long not hearing his name from her mouth. It was an odd feeling being inside the body, a watcher of the world and not living in it. Watching the way she looked at Marc with such raw vulnerability, such glazed trust, how he saw her sadness much more frequently now.

His body betrayed him, freezing for a second before turning to her. But when he did, he was near robbed of breath too.

Her suit, the same one he’d seen on her the first time, the night she’d nearly killed him. Though that hadn’t been her. It wasn’t her. He’d have known her anywhere.

This one was the slightest bit different. Her muzzle was gone, her lips exposed, the shock evident on her face, mouth agape. Her eyes were hers again, not black soulless pits like when they were his. But hers, the ones he loved to stare at, the ones that looked at him with such cottony kindness he felt as if he would melt under her gaze like a pool of butter.

She looked at him as if seeing a ghost. He looked at her as if she had turned on the light in a dark room, as if she were a fog horn on a rough sea, as if she were dragging him from the depths of death single handedly.

For the first time in months he said her name. Her real name.

She cracked a smile, her eyes wetting, glossing with happiness. It was him.

“Steven!” She said, her teeth gleaming at him under the lamp light. Her eyebrows softened, her mask drawing away into her hairline as if she needed to see him fully, as if her body craved him so much even the smallest barrier was a nuisance. Taking a small breath to fight off the sob that crawled up her throat. She felt as if she would be okay now, as if he was her knight in white armour here to carry her from the mess she’d found herself in. Nothing made sense to her anymore, nothing except Steven. He always had a way of explaining everything that seemed to tick the right way in her brain.

His moonlight eyes blinked at her starrily, his rose lips curving into a smile.

The space between them was syrupy thick, it made the gulps of air all that more difficult to swallow.

His mouth dropped open to call her name, his foot shuffling forward to embrace her in the biggest hug he could manage. He’d needed her more than he’d needed air.

He couldn’t help the cry of horror that ripped from his throat when the spear was shoved through her stomach and she fell to her knees.

“Steven!” She yelped, watching as one of the riders rammed a lance through his thigh, another going through his collar bone. She grunted, the effort of calling for him constricting around the pole. It was a harsh ache, and it took everything in her not to panic that the healing armour would stop working, that Seth would want to watch her writhe in pain for a little longer.

But she felt her blood stem at the site, heard the pounding of hooves approaching the two of them, gasping as two more riders circled him, another of the wooden blades piercing his gut.

Glancing at her one more time, a whine pouring out his masked mouth as he watched her drop to her hands, one of the guards kicking her in the ribs, a rattling wheeze rolling from her lips, an attempt to conceal a grunt of pain. She didn’t want to worry him, didn’t want to give the guard the satisfaction of seeing her hurt.

Yet she felt another spearhead trace over the back of her neck, sensed the way his arm drew back to aim for a killing blow. And all she had the heart to do was to meet the white eyes that watched her sadly, knowing this was another goodbye one way or another.

“Take the body, Marc!” He yelled, groaning as a fourth spear took him to his own knees, his heart rolling in waves behind his chest, “Take the body-take the body, Marc,”

Dove put a hand on the rod that pierced clean through her, feeling a wave of nausea constrict her throat when she saw the weapon peaking back out at her, the pointed tip of another blade stroking over her chin.

“Wait-Stop,” She choked, her breathing laboured by the terror that grabbed at her words, “Please,” She put her hand up, trying to hold off the attacker even the smallest amount. If he felt any guilt seeing her crumpled on the floor like a shot deer, pleading him to retreat, it never read on his face as he sneered, drawing back to seal the deal.

Marc felt as if he’d been dragged from dark waters when he opened his eyes once more and saw her moments from a grisly end. The weak look on her face was enough to have him ripping the spear from his own abdomen effortlessly, as if the feeling of it wasn't stomach wrenching. As if he wasn’t in imminent danger himself. He launched his moon blade into the guy's shoulder, the silver crescent lodging itself into the flesh, enough to deter her attacker for a moment and have him drop his weapon in a yelp of pain.

“Wait there, princess, I’ll be right-” He started, grunting as he pulled another of the rods out of his thigh, at least enough of it that he could move, “-right there,”

But then he saw it; Layla in Mogart’s line of fire, a bleeding welt on her face. Mogart atop a horse, one of his fine Arabian steeds, a spear in his hands, a nasty smirk on his face. Layla, who had no god to help her. Layla, who lay without armour. Layla, who wouldn’t survive a hit to the chest like the two of them would, had.

Dove followed his line of sight, hearing the voice that drew her back to reality, that had the guard second guessing whether it would be wise to wound her more when the man watching over her seemed intent on finishing him off. Seeing Layla on the ground, her eyes disorientated from the strike to the face, it seemed she felt the same pang of urgency to drop everything they were doing and save her, save her, she’s in danger and you need to save her-

“Layla!” She screeched, the dread meeting her expression at the sight of the man who had seemed so willing to bed her now vulturing around Layla’s forlorn body, stunned and immobile. Helpless. Perhaps this was how Marc felt when he found her in the museum, but a pit of anger, one she knew all too well, seemed to swallow her fear whole and all that was left when the wave retreated was vengeance.

Her attacker took it then was his time to strike, seeing her caught off guard, yanking the spear from her stomach, pulling the pointed end out of her flesh and turning it back to her throat as she yelped from the feeling. It hadn’t hurt nearly as much as it should have, but she felt bile rolling around her throat at the sight of her insides splayed out on the tip of the rod.

Yet all she could think about was Layla. Layla was in danger. Layla needed her.

The nausea turned to adrenaline as she kicked him hard in the shin from her place on the ground, grabbing the weapon to hold it away from where it swung close to her face, the sharpened end winking at her.

Scrambling to her feet, she threw her fist into his nose, hearing a satisfying crunch and a pig-like squeal to follow. Yanking the spear from his grip effortlessly, she swung the wooden end into his temple, watching it splint from the force and he was down like a sack of potatoes.

There was a moment then when she spun on her heel to witness the two men circling Layla, Mogart atop his brown gelding he had told her was one of his best. Something flickered in the warm, night air, something dark, this time without Khonshu’s influence.

She felt his hand on her back, his hand. The paw that played her strings, the claws that sunk deep into her.

“Not now,” She growled, her eyes locked on Mogart’s smarmy face, daring either her or Marc to take a step towards Layla. Horses were faster than human’s by a mile, especially the thoroughbreds he kept.

“You couldn’t save her, mutt,” His dark voice rattled down her spine, sucking the air out her lungs. He knew. He knew about Grace. No one else in the world knew about Grace. Grace was just for her. “You couldn’t save her, but you can save this one.”

“You think?” She whispered, not daring to check over her shoulder, his goliath face peering down at her, his snout washing cold breaths over her ear, her hair fluttering under its breeze. She didn’t think she could stand to lose another friend, if she could even call Layla that. Either way, the blood staining her hands, the lives gone because of her.

She could have stayed with her brothers and avoided all of this mess, could have been there to see Mikey through rehab, not just dumped him there and left.

She should have tried harder to save Grace.

She would fight tooth and nail to save Layla.

“Yes, little pup.” He eased, his cold claws stroking down her collarbone, almost comforting, almost a phantom over her shoulder, “It is not wrong to want retribution. What he took from you, it is a debt you will never have cleared.”

She hated how much he sounded like a voice of wisdom. Hated how he seemed to worm his way into her head and draw out her own thoughts, make them sound reasonable.

“You could save this one, if you give into the chaos. Let him have exactly what he deserves. He wished to buy you, use you. And now he wishes to slaughter her in front of your very eyes.” Seth’s voice was a snarl, a mirror image of the anger that built in her when his dark eyes flickered over to her, his mouth drawing up into a nasty smirk.

She hated to say it, but he was right. Seth was right. He deserved her worst.

Seth chuckled, watching her eyes darken with fury, a fog of bedlam filling the air.

“Now, little beast,” Seth whispered, retracting his paw from her arm, her mask slipping back over her face to cover the delicacy of her temples, “Go fetch,”

The three of them were silent in the truck. Layla’s face had been wiped clean thanks to the limited first aid kit shoved under the seat of the rental car. The wounds were mostly superficial, it was her head that had been rattled mostly. Shaken her hard enough to have taken her wit with it.

Layla’s memories flickered like a broken projector, glimpses of the moment the four of them crossed paths in the centre of the paddock. Marc tackling her out of the way of Mogart’s steed that would have done enough damage to her bones even without its rider's weapon. The sand flicking up around them as Hellhound dragged the wealthy man from his saddle, a spear piercing his thigh, his own rod yanked out of his grasp and tossed clear across the pit.

She watched Marc scramble to stop her from beating the life from him, heard Anton say something quietly to her, whatever humour he had left spent on pushing her over her limit. Watched her fists meet his cheek as she choked through tears, angry tears, salt that stung her superficial cuts on her cheek.

Dove didn’t want to think about it.

“Let’s play nicely now, and I might still consider paying for our night together,” He’d murmured, his dark eyes trailing over her face that gave away too easily her torment, her instability. Mouth drawing into a nasty sneer, she dug her claws into his collar bone, drawing a squeal from him. A pig set for slaughter.

“This body can be bought and sold all you like. But it is mine.” She hissed, the anger bubbling under her surface when he chuckled weakly opening his mouth to speak again. Only for her to bring her armoured knuckles across his cheekbone, hearing something crack under the weight of it.

And she didn’t stop. Not until she felt arms constrict around her shoulders, pinning her hands to her sides, thrashing under the grip. She hadn’t realised she was crying until she felt her hair stick to her face, the wetness she had assumed was sweat burning her eyes even more when she heard Marc talking to her once more.

“Stop, stop.” A calm utterance over her shoulder as he pulled her away, “That’s enough, princess, you got him. You got him.”

And then they were rushing into the car before more could come, before Mogart could speak past the swelling on his face enough to call for help, before he could realise she’d broken his nose, cracked five of his teeth.

And they were setting off out of the city, towards the sand dunes that stood between them and the tomb.

Layla seemed to have quickly recovered from the heavy hit she took to the face, either that or a serious concussion had made her tongue all the more sharp as she piped up from the driver's seat, finger drawing gently over her wounds as she watched the road, Dove sat in the seat behind her.

The marrow white of the moonlight soothed between her eyes as she shut them, her clothes returned to normal, the soft hum of the engine rattling her skull as it rested against the window. She felt tired, inside and out, felt her body shutting down, dragging her back over the rainbow. Thoughts of a man that no longer existed poisoning her thoughts.

A weight sat between the three of them, a wall Marc knew the girl in the back seat was locking herself behind, hiding from him. Something she hadn’t done in the whole time she’d known him.

She’d been wary of him when they had first met, hell she’d turned tail and ran from him the first sign she saw he was not Steven. But withdraw from him? Now they were him and she was her. Now he had shown her he would always come to drag her from her dark. Never.

“Oy,” He kissed his teeth in annoyance, inspecting his ruined coat where Layla had torn away the metal cuffs to use as weapons, “I really liked that jacket,”

The street lamps were cottony balls of gold as she opened her eyes, looking past them and into the inky darkness.

“We’ll get out one day right?” She asked, her head pressed against the window, the coal colour of the sky barely concealing the city smog, the new moon of the month meaning they were alone in their thoughts tonight, the sky entirely black, missing its lunar companion.

Grace was there. Grace was always there. Always touching, always loving, just always Grace.

She reached out her fingertips to brush against her own, stroking a pretty pink thumbnail over the back of her hand.

“Of course. Some day.” Grace said, though her eyes seemed to search for the same round ivory shape that watched their conversations most nights. It was all they had, the moon and the birds, but the two things never seemed to stay for too long. They had better things to do, Dove remembered thinking. Nothing seemed to stick around except Grace.

The red light from the hotel sign sprung to life, flickering for a second before switching to full beam right as the clock struck eleven pm. Same as it did every night. Same as it would every night from then on.

Their faces were painted with cardinal red. The red reminded her of the shoes, of the glittering heels that had quicksanded her into this life. The red turned her stomach sick, the red was a sign he was heading home, a sign he was on his way back.

“How do you know?” She asked, and she couldn’t remember why she did but it was probably just because Grace knew everything. Grace could tell her the world had ended outside of their little bedroom window, that the day was night and night was day and she’d believe her. She’d take her word for gospel.

Grace held her fingertips, playing with them absently. She was thinner than she was a few months ago. They’d persuaded Frank to get her some kind of anti anxiety meds, some kind of Diazepam, to calm her down since she was struggling to sleep.

They came with as much fuss as they’d expected from the man, given to her as a treat for being so loyal, came in a little brown bottle with no label. Whatever they were, whether legit or not, they worked. Though she seemed almost tranquilised most days now.

She sighed, her sullen eyes blinking slowly at the red glare that tinted her honey gold locks.

“Because I know it can’t be this forever,” She murmured, her cheeks sunken, body lifeless. “It just can’t,”

“Hey,” She was jolted from her reverie, brought back to the car where Marc had a hand on her knee, shaking her slightly, “You okay?”

But she didn’t answer him, she simply looked back out onto the street, eyes flicking from one street lamp to the next. She wished she would just fade away, float from her body and just stop, just stop thinking, knowing she could come back to it, just fade away for a little while.

Leave me to die while you can, Marc. She wanted to grab his collar and scream in his face, Leave me, get out, get safe. I’m a disease waiting to spread.

“What was Harrow talking about?” Layla asked the man, her brow fully cleaned now as she glimpsed at the side of his face. She could have sworn the air got sucked out of the tiny metal compartment the moment she’d opened her mouth, Dove’s chest plummeted into her stomach, churning in on itself.

It was clear Layla’s question was aimed for Marc as her fawn eyes turned cold, glaring into his cheekbone as his face tensed slightly, the weight of something heavy sinking into his eyes.

“What do you mean?” He asked, his hands finding the hem of his shirt to lift the stained material over his head, even if to put a small barrier between the heat of her stare and his guilt.

“He said I had a right to know,” She pointed out, rubbing her temple hard when he met her with a beat of silence. She knew Marc too well. He busied himself with other things when he was thinking of a lie, busied himself with balling the fabric up in his hands, a sour look on his face.

“I have no idea,” He said, reaching into the back seat for his bag for a change of clothes.

If Dove was listening in on their conversation, she showed no sign of it when he caught sight of her, staring out the window, though her eyes were empty, and he was entirely sure she was not watching what was out there, but was much much further away than their little car and his and Layla’s argument.

“I never told anyone why I really moved,” Layla shook her head, gripping the wheel tightly, “But he knew, he just saw right through me,” She said aghast, the accusation clear in her tone. Marc did himself no favours, fretting more over getting his white jumper over his head than even being able to look her in the face. And her, god he wanted to shake her with everything in him and beg her to speak, to say something, to stop looking so distant from him, to crawl into the tight little space in her mind she’d found herself in and dig her out of it. Come back to me.

“He’s just trying to mess with you, he’s just trying to get into your mind,” Marc muttered, adjusting the jumper over his bare body, glancing back at the woman in the back seat to see her still down her little rabbit hole, “Don’t let him do that, you know, he’s got this idea that he an see the true nature of people, some baloney like that. If that were true, I don’t think he would have a bunch of homicidal maniacs as his disciples, now would he?”

“So it’s not true?” Layla cut him off with a doubtful sigh. He was rambling. He always rambled when he was lying, as if he was trying to fill his mouth with more words so the truth wouldn’t come pouring out instead. “What he said about you and-”

“No, of course it’s not true. No, he’s just trying to divide us, don’t let him get in your head.” He muttered, glancing back over the centre console for the third time. She was still lost in a daze on the other side of the glass, she was still miles away from him.

He wondered if Harrow had been telling the truth about her too. The look on her face, the terror, the guilt written over every inch was telling. He knew it well, knew it like looking in a mirror. Ghosts that haunted him even to the farthest corners of the world, his mother’s vicious words that never seemed to leave him.

What had she done? What had she been running from? What had made her look so… so sorry?

He didn’t care. He’d decided then and there, when she’d taken off after Layla, the woman who had hated her the moment she clamped eyes on her, then and there when he thought of her handing him the tiny pigeon crumpled in her fingers, then and there when he’d heard how relieved she was to see Steven. There was nothing she was capable of so bad that he would hate her. Harrow was trying to divide them, just like he’d said.

He forgave her without so much as knowing her crime. But Layla was not so soothing.

“What about you, hm?” Layla bit, her umber eyes flicking up into the rear view mirror, landing on the girl that seemed to barely acknowledge her, “Hey, princess, I’m talking to you,”

Dove’s head snapped to see the pair of them watching her carefully.

“Huh?” Was all she could manage, looking between the two cluelessly, catching herself going back to the woeful eyes the man shot at her.

“What was Harrow talking about? About ‘the last man you were with’?” She asked bluntly, her focus darting between the set of traffic lights they sat at and the woman in the back who purely froze.

This was it. She heard her blood rushing through her eardrums fast, mimicking waves rolling into shore. Joey had once told her that was why you hear the sea when putting a shell to your ear, it was the blood rolling through your eardrums, her clever little boy. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth, choking her, strangling her. Silencing her. Her boy. Her sweet boys.

“Well?” Layla pushed, eyes glaring expectantly. She couldn’t say she blamed her, Layla was trusting some stranger who hid half of herself to help them save the world. She couldn’t be angry at the woman, she was being cautious. She was being Layla.

Yet Dove felt herself shutting down at the confrontation. Felt her inside collapse in their resolve, her mouth remaining in its tight lipped grimace.

“My-” She cleared her throat, starting again, “Before London…”

She couldn’t say it. She felt her heartbeat rocking her ribs, vibrating through to the seatbelt across her chest, so harsh it was squeezing at her throat.

“What, was he married too or something?” Layla asked with a nasty laugh, so entirely wound up that Marc seemed all the more concerned about her weak frame quivering in the back seat than about thinking straight. He should see the warning signs by now, the way she never gave anything of herself away, the way she had a sorrow written across her expression that told her Harrow had hit a nerve with his words. Though, Layla supposed rose-tinted glasses make red flags seem normal. She would know of that one.

“Layla,” Marc warned, his eyes hardening as he looked back to her in the driver’s seat, only to have her huff.

“No-no I would never-” Dove winced, bottom lip trembling as she could barely force her words out. Would never what? Sleep with a married man. She wasn’t blind, she saw the wedding bands that lingered on so many of the men's fingers. Or even the tan lines from the few who tried to cover it. She couldn’t say it, because she had. She should have known better, should have tried harder to leave, shouldn’t have been so fucking naive.

“What, Marc?” Layla was a bomb close to detonating now, spurred on by Marc’s obvious lies and Doves' silence that spoke volumes. She felt as if she was the only person in the car speaking any sense, only one opening her eyes to what was happening, “You don’t know anything about her, are you really willing to stake both of our lives defending her?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Harrow is trying to get into your head and it’s working-” Marc snapped back, his brows entirely contorted now into an angry frown.

“Stop-” Dove felt herself whisper, the two of them falling into disarray in front of her, like she was watching a glass wall slowly crack, thunder waiting for its crack of lightning, “Stop, please,”

“Do you not think about Steven? How do you trust her with Steven knowing she hides so much from him?” Layla fought back, her hands gripping the wheel hard enough her gold rings bit into her skin, her nose flaring with anger.

Dove felt the bile rising in her throat as her very worst fear was declared, said to the one man whose job it was to protect sweet Steven from people like her.

“Now is not the time for us to be divided, this is exactly what he wants, this is exactly how he wins,” Marc hit back, not noticing how the life drained from their passengers face, her eyes filled with tears.

She couldn’t go back. She couldn’t go back to being alone. She couldn’t. There was nothing left of her before Steven.

“Stop it,” She managed a bit louder this time, drawing a breath when they seemed to ignore her as Layla pulled onto a quieter road that began to lead into a deserted track cutting through sand dunes, leaving behind the city.

“This is just so like you, Marc, not thinking about the consequences until you've dug me into shit knee deep,” Layla seethed, her foot pressing on the pedal until they had picked up a decent speed.

“Just lay off of her alright? I know we’re all under a lot of pressure but she is innocent in all of this-”

“Innocent?” Layla scoffed, with only more outcry from Marc, the two of them talking over one another.

Dove felt the sick rising, the lump moving out of her throat to make way for whatever she could give next.

“STOP IT!” She yelled, her voice cracking and silencing the two. Though Layla seemed to have had quite enough of them and slammed her foot on the breaks, the three of them jolting forward, “Just STOP,”

The car went quiet, beside the angry huffs exhaled through flared nostrils, Dove’s mouth bobbing open to speak finally. Yet she felt lost for words; her body was still back in that room, in that window, and she was but all a shell of who she should be. A ghost. A phantom in her own body.

The sound of static sprang to life making the three of them jump, cutting through the dead silence, the number on the radio in the centre console flicking through a handful of signals, before landing on one entirely different than they’d been listening to, music pouring from the car’s speakers.

‘Well, they showed you a statue, told you to pray

They built you a temple and locked you away’

No. No it couldn’t be. It had to be some sick joke. She would have known Billy Joel anywhere from her niece's endless runnings of his tapes.

‘Aw, but they never told you the price that you pay

For things that you might have done

Well, only the good die young’

She was out of her seat in seconds. The door slammed behind her heavily, her shoes tearing across the sands, lungs constricting in a rattling pant.

“Why must you torment me?” She mewled, the God she spoke to crawling his way out of the night, still as monstrous as always.

“I did nothing, pup. You are getting stronger,” Seth growled back in delight, following behind her, a shadow nipping at her heels, “That little magic trick was your own doing,”

She swallowed thickly, taking off into the dunes for a few more paces, “It wasn’t even her favourite,” She sneered, which only made him laugh loudly at her attempt of rebuttal, “Why did you choose me for this? Why me? If all you want is to torture me for the rest of my life,”

“I see it in you, mutt, as hard as you like to deny me. I see the way vengeance claws at your stomach like a babe growing life,” His ominous words were met with silence as she continued marching away from the car, ignoring his attempts to anger her. But she knew it was true, knew she was rotten inside. She’d known it long before that night. Long before Seth.

She walked through the darkness of the dunes for a moment more, if not to get away from that car where she’d be forced to spill, then to get away from him who followed her footsteps a single paced behind her.

“He wouldn’t care, mutt, if you told him,” He said calmer than ever, quiet enough to throw a fault in her steps, “There is no guilt in retribution-”

“I CARE,” She screamed at him, the air falling hushed as she finally faced the god that once made her cower, looked into his black soulless eyes that watched her intrigued, “I CARE THAT I AM GUILTY,”

She couldn’t help but fall to her knees. She needed air, more air than her lungs would take, more air than her throat would allow, like rising out of the damn water all over again. The twilight was soupy and warm as it was in the day, muggy and honey thick as she breathed in.

“You are too soft, mutt. I give you such a gift of life and I am still met with nothing but thankless whining-” He hissed, any semblance of calm gone.

“TAKE IT BACK THEN-” She yelled, fingers grabbing into the sands angrily, throwing it at him pitifully with a weepy sneer, “TAKE IT BACK! I am not the ‘fist of vengeance’ you want me to be!”

His dark laughter echoed in her ears as he melted away into the gloom as quickly as he had come, whispering into the space between them as he slipped away; “I think you’re exactly what I want, that’s why you hurt,”

She cried harder.

She barely heard the footsteps over the soft sands, not until she heard him shushing her, a hand coming over the crown of her head, stroking her hair gently as her shoulders shook.

He was like Grace in that sense. Seemed to always be there when she needed him most. Without fail, without hesitation.

She let Marc pull her close, let him wind his arms over her shoulders and hold her head steady into his chest, kissing her temple as she sniffled. She couldn’t take it anymore, burying her head into him tighter, her hands around his torso, clutching at the muscle of his back.

“Marc- Please don’t take him away from me-” She hiccuped, her body convulsing in gasps, “I’ll be good to him, I promise I would, please don’t leave-”

He hushed her louder, moving to see her face, his forehead knocking against hers, their cheeks brushing, the wetness dripping onto his jaw.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Marc assured, stroking over the back of her hair, “Steven would never forgive me-”

“You would hate me- I’m so awful-” She whimpered, sniffling into his jaw, feeling him push her away by the shoulders, far enough he could see her sodden face, “He would hate me,”

“Stop that,” He chided sternly, brushing over her cheeks with his thumb gently. A wethered smile met his lips, eyes meeting hers earnestly, “There’s nothing you could ever do that could make him hate you,”

“What Harrow said- I-” She hiccupped, she couldn’t stand to feel his soft brown hues on her mournful face. She had to tell him something, something to keep him from asking. She remembered him rambling in the car, keeping his mouth busy to keep the truth from coming out. She supposed she felt the same. “I did something terrible, Marc,”

His lips quirked downwards, as if he was stuck for what to say, his gaze following the tear that rolled over her cheek, joining the wet that pooled at her jaw.

“Terrible things don’t always make us awful,” He said quietly, though it felt as though he’d prodded at her very core, touched a nerve so raw she felt a breath leave her, clogging in her throat.

“The last man I was with, I-” She swallowed thickly, “I stole his money and left him because I was too cowardly to just break up with him,”

She felt heat rip inside immediately.

She’d lied. She’d lied to him. Then again, what was so different than usual. She had always lied to Steven.

Marc bit his lip, watching her with pity.

“Was he good to you?” He asked, stroking her hair carefully as she shook her head. She hiccupped again, wiping her face with the cuff of her sleeve, sniffling through a bunged up nose.

“He liked to tell me he was. He took me away from my brothers.” She said, brushing sand off her thighs absently, “He told me I could make more money working in the city, forced me to move away from them, and I believed him because I was so stupid-”

“You’re not stupid,” Marc tutted, his face a sour frown. He hated seeing her cry. The emptiness behind her wetted eyes only reminded him of his own, and that scared him far more than anything else she could have said, “And you’re not awful. You’re human.” He whispered, stroking a thumb down her jaw, collecting the remaining tears that gathered there.

She breathed out shakily, finally brave enough to reach his eyes. Her lip damn near started quivering again at the softness behind them, a softness she didn’t deserve, a softness that seemed to make her think maybe, maybe he would understand if she told him the truth.

She dismissed the thought immediately.

His lips parted, as if wanting to say more, except he could only stare at her own mouth. How it glistened with salted tears. He couldn’t help but slowly run a thumb over her lower lip, fixing the hurt, erasing the guilt. He could never fix himself. Could never fill the darkness that devoured his life, his memories. But he swore on every god out there he would mend her wounds for her.

He wanted to kiss her more than ever. He wanted to pour every bit of love he and Steven had for her combined and fill her to the top until it poured out of her instead of those dreaded tears. Wanted to put his lips on hers as if he even thought himself worthy. He’d lay down his life for her instead of Khonshu, carry out anything she ordered of him, jump as many hoops, die for her over and over and over if it meant he could kiss her now.

He felt her looking at his lips too, something close to glistening want in her eyes, behind soggy lashes, leaning in further and further until-

“We should get back to Layla,” He said, his cool breath fanning over the bridge of her nose.

She nodded her head in his grip, sniffing one last time as the tears seemed to have died down, swallowing whatever words she was going to say.

They walked back to the car silently.

“Try that one,” Marc said, handing Layla a scrap of the cartograph. In the midst of the chaos Layla had managed to grab the shredded map and stuff it into her pack, where the three of them were now tasked with putting it back together again. Except, unlike any puzzle she and Steven completed, the map was simply a bunch of dots punctured through the fabric meant to be stars, with no actual linear picture in sight.

“Maybe actually,” Layla muttered, as Dove stared between four pieces of her own, the headlights from the truck illuminating their view, “Uh, no. Anything over there?”

“Yeah, I got the world’s suckiest game over here,” The younger woman huffed, rubbing her tired eyes. It was well into the night by now, and they had been driving for just over an hour to get to where they were in the middle of nowhere, far enough away that Harrow’s men would struggle to find them, not so far they were lost, “Atleast in UNO I know how to win,” She said grumpily, picking the skin around her thumb.

“I’m not getting any whole constellations. It’s just little pieces and fragments.” Marc grumbled, holding up three pieces sellotaped together that gave him nothing useful, before he slammed them down on the hood of the car in anger.

The two women jumped, watching him walk away with a heavy breath, hands on his hips.

Dove chewed her bottom lip. She wished Steven were here.

Watching Marc round back on them, coming to stand next to her with his elbows on the metal work, running his hands through his dark locks to calm down.

“This is gonna take forever,” He grumbled, shaking his head in defeat. They had been so close, so close to just snagging the map out of the sarcophagus. But of course Harrow had to shake things up for them as if it was all part of his game, one they never got to win.

“Marc, we need Steven,” Layla said over the bonnet of the truck, her eyes tired, her wound sore over her brow, “He understands all of this. I really think it's worth giving him a shot,” Her gaze slid to where Dove looked at the fabric pieces in her hand guiltily, “Don’t you agree?”

She felt Marc’s eyes on her then, the two of them waiting on her verdict, both equally exhausted though Marc’s almond hues came with a hint of frustration.

She saw it immediately, swallowing calmly before she met his stare, sighing slightly.

“He’s much better than I am at this stuff, Marc, and- and it’s not that you’re not useful in so many other ways, it’s just-” She bared a sad smile, though his face remained bitter, eyes unfocused as if he were lost in his own thoughts, “We could do with him right now,”

“Marc, it’s okay just let go,” Layla pushed harder, seeing as he wasn’t moving, which seemed to be the thing that had him growling in annoyance, reaching over for the wing mirror of the truck, grabbing it with his bare hands and wrestling it free, “We don’t have time,”

The mirror popped off with a whine and Marc huffed, avoiding Dove’s eyes that watched him dejectedly. She had never wanted to make him angry, nor to make him feel useless. But Steven would be their saving grace right about now.

Grabbing all of the pieces of cartonage, along with the tape in a big bundle in his arms, Marc walked away from the car, away from the pitied stares, and off a metre or so away where he could talk to Steven in peace.

Dove watched his retreating back, rubbing her arms nervously, ears pricked up for any signs of vehicles approaching, though all she heard was Marc’s mumbling to his alter through the mirror.

“All right, go ahead. You’re in,”

Then, as if his whole body seemed to loosen in moments, his shoulders dropped, his head tilted to one side, and he seemed to immediately clamp eyes on the pieces of the map at his feet.

“Cheers, thanks alot.” Came a familiar English drawl, higher in pitch, happier. The usual edge of sarcasm teasing his words.

Steven.

It was Steven.

He was right there.

No armed guards, no spears, no Arabian Steeds separating the two of them, just Steven.

She’d forgotten how it felt to have her legs weak hearing his voice alone.

Falling to his knees, his white trousers dirtying immediately which was just so Steven-like it bubbled a watery chuckle up her throat, he got to work tearing off pieces of tape, grabbing pieces of fabric and arranging them without too much thought. As if it came so easily he saw them fitting together without much head scratching like the rest of them had.

“Don’t need that bit- don’t need that,” He muttered under his breath as she dared a step near him, her footsteps wary enough she could barely spook a deer. Her heart leapt in her chest as she became close enough to touch him, close enough to run her hands through his hair if she wanted to.

Crouching down next to him, she peered over at the side profile of his face, scrunched with concentration.

“Steven?” She dared to ask, a nervous smile growing as he swivelled to look at her, feeling as if she was part of some dream she’d had for so long. How had she survived without those eyes, those gentle eyes that watched her so carefully, his face entirely different from that of Marc’s despite being identical. His face looked smoother, the frown gone, the bitterness turned into something sickly sweet that glazed his eyes with stars, “Steven,”

He took her in; god his words were knocked from him at the sight of her so close. He wanted her in his arms, he wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how she was the only spot of light in his terribly confusing life, how she was the only person to ever see him, even when she knew about Marc. She saw him. She saw Steven Grant. The heat engulfed his cheeks immediately, his chest seizing at the feeling of her hand brushing against his own, willing him to say something, anything.

So he did. Except, ofcourse, he was still Steven.

“Egyptians invented modern navigation.” He choked out, ripping some sellotape off, biting it in the middle to cut it with his teeth, “There’s not alot of landmarks in the desert so they came up with a way to get about using the sun and the stars. Bloody genius, isn’t it?”

He continued fiddling around with the cartonage, as if his heart wasn’t speeding like a rabbit’s for having her so near, attaching the final piece to create a star shaped map, clearly showing a handful of constellations as if what he’d just done wasn’t ‘bloody genius’ in itself.

“Et voila,” He said, holding the finished product out to her, his eyes falling on her face as she took in the map with astounded eyes, her lips parting in shock, her brows flying upwards, “It’s French,”

She couldn’t help but laugh, slapping a hand over her mouth as if the sound was offensive in such a dyer situation, smiling at him through a relieved sort of glee. Steven was back. Things seemed okay when he was there.

She couldn’t contain it anymore, springing towards him for a tight hug, feeling him wrap his arms around her quickly, as if he’d needed it just as badly. There was something oddly isolating about being inside the body, having to watch her light dwindle while screaming and rattling at Marc to fix it. He’d missed her. Missed her so much he couldn’t help bury his nose in her neck, the smell taking him back to the times she would sleep over and stay in his bed while he took the sofa, and when he would crawl back under the duvet the following night everything would smell as if she’d never left. As if she was pressed against him as tightly as she was now.

She smelled like everything good in his life. Smelled like the cinnamon latte she would drink before work, smelled like cuddling up to watch a documentary, knowing they were toeing a line between best friends and something else that neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

Kiss her. Kiss her. You don’t know how long you’ll have in the body, kiss her now Steven.

Gods he would die to kiss her cracked lips and heal their stings.

“I missed you so much,” She murmured into his ear, as if she wanted only him to know.

“Oh, love, I missed you more,” He replied, nosing her neck, lips brushing over her pulse gently, accidentally, enough to have her suck in a breath and grip him tighter.

“Absolutely impossible,” She chuckled back, running a hand up his spine, weaving into the nape of his thick hair, carding her fingers through them in a way that had him whine.

“Sorry to shit over all of this,” Layla called awkwardly, and the two pulled apart as if they’d been caught, “But what do we do with this map now we have it?”

Steven stood up quickly, face flushed with embarrassment that Marc’s ex-wife had found him smelling the girl he longed for. She was quick to her feet too, brushing the sand off her knees before it could stick.

“Well, you see those little pin pricks?” Steven asked, holding the map up toward the trucks blaring white light, the thin constellation in the middle showing clearer than ever, “We should be able to triangulate the stars into coordinates using that.” He said, a wide grin on his face, the fascination clear in his tone.

“Hold on, let me just scan it,” Layla said, holding her tablet up to take a photo of the cartonage, the impressed smile growing easily on her own face.

“Well, um actually…” Steven began, disappointment slowly creeping into his tone, “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple,”

Layla’s face scrunched up as if she ignored Steven’s words, tapping around the screen for it to work magic.

“It’s not working. Why is it not working?” She asked, frowning at the tablet.

“Yeah, yeah. You see, Senfu marked that tomb like two thousand years ago,” Steven explained, his hands waving around as he explained the science behind their predicament, “And stars drift over time. Not much as far as stars go, but-”

“But enough to change our course by a fair bit, I suppose?” Dove cut in, Steven nodding in agreement with a besotted look on his face.

“That’s exactly it, love. It could mean the difference between us searching miles and miles away from where we’re supposed to be looking,” He explained, fiddling with the sellotaped edge of the map idly, “So unless we know exactly what the sky looked like on that date, we’re buggered,”

Dove chewed the rough edge of her nail, the concentrating frown on her face, the same stance she assumed when she had no hand to play in their many card games, when she was considering something big before she said it. Steven had tried to pry her finger from out her mouth before, insisting it would only hurt her more when it started bleeding, but he knew it was a soothing behaviour she had when she was thinking.

“I remember that night.” Came a deep voice, cutting through the emptiness of the desert like a horn. Not of her own master, but the bird headed one that puppeteered her companions. Her head shot up to the top of the sand dune they stood next to, where the skeletal figure stood proudly with his staff, staring at the sky as if watching his own child. Though Dove supposed she too would admire her own creation if she made something so beautiful. “I remember every night,”

“Khonshu?” Steven called out warily, the three of them following the god up to the peak of the dune as he began disappearing over the valley, fading into the night air like a laugh in the wind. Her legs burned with the effort of the steep gradient and soft sand flooring, but the trio reached the top with little complaint. Looking out onto the vast sands blanketed with stars, they searched for wherever the God of the moon had disappeared to, though they came up empty handed.

“I can turn back the night sky,” His booming voice reverberated around them, loud enough she was worried the sand would shift beneath their feet.

“How?” She asked, the two avatars looking to the stars to wait for answers while Layla fiddled with her tablet.

“It will come at a cost, and I cannot do it alone. The worm will have to help me”

As if her fear had begun materialising, the wind picked up around them, cycloning into a harsh whip, spinning a thin layer of sand that bit at her skin, caught in her hair.

“Steven,” He materialised behind the, “When the gods imprison me, tell Marc to free me,” The god requested, holding his staff up high, no doubt to beacon his power.

Fat chance of that happening, Dove thought bitterly, knowing how badly Marc wanted the being gone from his life, sucking away at his being, draining him like a parasite that forced him to obey.

But perhaps the god was not entirely awful, she thought with one single shred of hope, because as he had promised, Khonshu raised his hands to the inky blackness above and Dove watched in bewilderment as the sky began moving, twisting on its axis like a metal globe.

She watched as the stars moved slightly at first, then whipping around into a brief glimpse of sunlight as it picked up pace with Steven raising his arms too, falling towards the horizon faster and faster until there were nothing but beams of purple across the Egyptian night sky.

And the stars were turned back by damn near two thousand years.

—

Taglist:

KNIGHT IN SOHO TAGLIST

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#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector imagine #moon knight x reader #moonknight imagine #moonknight x reader #steven grant fanfiction

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nickstarking · 6 months ago

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Introducing a Slytherin boy from Tom Riddle's gang era: Alexi Avery!

Faceclaim: Lucas Till

Height: 5′ 9¼ (1.76)

Eye color: Blue

Hair color: Blonde

Physical: Fit

Alexi Avery | Personality

- He’s extremely energetic, always on the move or talking, and struggles to stay still for long periods.

- He loves telling bad jokes, the kind that make everyone roll their eyes, but he laughs at himself like they’re the best jokes ever.

- Despite his lively demeanor, he has a sweet and protective side, especially toward those he cares about.

- He’s intensely jealous of his friends and any potential love interest. His biggest fear is being left alone.

- He has a childhood teddy bear that he adores, but he’s so embarrassed about it that he keeps it hidden in the back of his drawer or closet.

- He owns an orange cat named Cobre, who he considers his best friend. He talks to the cat like it’s a confidant.

- He plays piano with natural talent and uses music to calm his mind when he’s feeling anxious or overwhelmed.

- His favorite colors are a unique mix of brown and orange, reflecting his warm yet intense personality.

- Though he’s from Slytherin, he stands out positively with his charming personality, even if sometimes he overdoes the drama.

- He’s bisexual but keeps it a secret, mostly out of fear of rejection. He has a secret crush on Thaddeus Nott, and he gets visibly uncomfortable around him.

- He loves to compete, but he’s the first to crack a joke about himself when he loses.

- Beneath all his energy and humor, he harbors a deep insecurity about not being good enough, which fuels his fear of being alone.

Alexi Avery | Family

- Alexi grew up under the shadow of his strict dark wizard family, who value power, influence, and blood purity above all else.

- His family expects him to be ambitious and ruthless, but his sweet and energetic nature often clashes with these expectations.

- There is constant pressure on him to prove he is worthy of the Avery family legacy, even though it goes against his true nature.

- Despite trying to meet expectations, he frequently disappoints the family by showing empathy or acting in ways they deem "weak."

- His piano skills are seen as frivolous by the more conservative family members, who would rather he focus on magical abilities and political manipulation.

- Alexi has a natural talent for magic, especially non-verbal spells, which is a source of pride for the family, but he has little interest in using it to manipulate or subjugate others as expected.

- He hides his softer, kinder side when around his family, adopting a "mask" of coldness or indifference to avoid judgment or punishment.

- His family has clear plans for him, including allying with other influential families, whether through strategic friendships or an arranged marriage, something he secretly despises.

- He feels an internal conflict between his desire to be accepted by the family and his wish to be himself, often leading to anxiety or inner turmoil.

- His jealousy in relationships might stem from his rigid upbringing, where affection and acceptance were scarce and conditional.

- Though he hides his bisexuality from the family, he fears what would happen if they found out, given the Avery family's prejudice. Because even though wizards don't care about same-sex relationships like Muggles do, they want Avery to have a more traditional family to preserve the family's purity.

- Alexi dreams of escaping his family's shadow and living a simpler life, but he feels he could never truly escape the Avery legacy.

- Despite everything, he carries traits of his family in his personality: he is ambitious, determined, and willing to fight for what he wants, but he prefers to use these traits to protect those he loves rather than fulfill the Avery family's dark ideals.

Alexi Avery | Friend

- Alexi is the type of friend who always brings energy and joy to the group, telling bad jokes or planning something fun to distract everyone from a rough day.

- He is incredibly loyal and would do anything to protect his friends, putting their needs above his own, even if it leaves him drained.

- Despite his energy, he is perceptive and knows when someone is feeling down, always being the first to offer support, whether by listening or telling a silly story to lighten the mood.

- Alexi tends to get attached easily, which can make him a bit jealous with friends, especially if he feels like he’s being left out.

- He loves creating funny nicknames for his friends, but never in a mean way, just as a way to make the bond between them even more special.

- He’s a natural encourager, always praising his friends’ achievements and making sure they know how amazing they are, even in the little things.

- If you have a problem, Alexi will be there, even if he has no idea how to help. He’ll do whatever he can to be by your side, even if it means breaking a few rules.

- He’s competitive and loves challenging his friends in games or activities, but always in a fun way, never taking it too seriously.

- Alexi is excellent at keeping secrets and would never judge a friend for something they confided in him; he would always prefer to support them instead.

- He enjoys quiet moments with his friends too, like playing the piano while talking or simply spending time together without doing anything special.

- He shares everything he has with his friends food time, or even his favorite hiding spots at Hogwarts, because to him, friendship is about sharing.

- Though he can be a bit awkward emotionally, Alexi always tries to make it clear how much he values his friends, even if it means saying something embarrassing.

- Alexi and Thaddeus share a strong and unique friendship marked by care and protection. Alexi feels a deep responsibility to help Thaddeus, not just because he is his best friend, but also because he deeply respects him. He looks out for Thaddeus in a subtle way, guiding him through the halls of Hogwarts or helping him in unfamiliar situations.

- Despite Thaddeus being blind, he is incredibly perceptive, and Alexi is often amazed by how Thaddeus seems to "see" beyond appearances, picking up on emotions and intentions almost intuitively. This perception causes Alexi to develop a growing admiration for him, often wishing he could be more like Thaddeus calm, centered, and much more mature than he lets on.

- Their friendship is a balance between Alexi’s energetic and often clumsy personality and Thaddeus’ calm, wise presence. While Alexi is the more extroverted and impulsive one, he knows he can always count on Thaddeus for calm, measured advice when needed.

- Their bond is marked by a unique mode of communication. Alexi often tries to lighten situations with bad jokes or witty remarks, and Thaddeus, though he can’t see Alexi’s expressions, always understands the tone, creating a special connection between them. Thaddeus has the incredible ability to listen to the emotions behind Alexi's words, allowing them to communicate without needing excessive words.

- Alexi, in turn, is very protective of Thaddeus. He doesn’t feel jealousy toward others trying to get close to his friend, but he does feel a quiet envy when people fail to recognize Thaddeus’ intelligence and strength beyond his visual impairment. He hates when others underestimate Thaddeus or treat him with pity.

- When Alexi is with Thaddeus, he tends to be calmer and more focused, as his energy needs to be controlled to ensure Thaddeus is comfortable. Even though he is still clumsy and prone to accidents, Alexi always makes sure to be mindful of Thaddeus’ needs, ensuring he never feels isolated or uncomfortable.

- Their friendship is built on a deep understanding that goes beyond words. Despite their differences, there’s a silent trust between them. Alexi often plays the piano for Thaddeus, creating moments of pure harmony where they connect through music without needing words. For Alexi, these moments are special and personal, as he knows that Thaddeus is one of the few people who truly "sees" who he is, despite his flaws and insecurities.

- Although Alexi has a secret crush on Thaddeus, he would never bring it up directly. He fears ruining their friendship and is unsure how to handle the complexity of the situation. However, these feelings make their friendship more challenging for Alexi, who tries to hide his affection in every possible way, even though Thaddeus, with his heightened perception, may have noticed something.

- Deep down, Alexi views Thaddeus as a model of quiet strength and wishes to be worthy of his friendship, even with all his own insecurities. Thaddeus’ presence gives Alexi a deeper sense of purpose, making him more willing to grow and become a better person.

Alexi Avery | As part of Tom Riddle's gang

- Alexi is loyal to Tom Riddle out of a mix of fascination and fear, admiring Tom's intelligence and charisma, but also knowing that challenging his authority would be dangerous.

- He contributes his natural enthusiasm and charisma to the group, often being the one to keep morale high or deflect suspicions with his friendly and energetic personality.

- Alexi may be underestimated because of his seemingly carefree energy, but he’s strategically useful, able to think on his feet and improvise solutions under pressure.

- Despite his role in the group, he experiences internal conflict, especially when Tom's actions challenge his softer personal values, though he rarely dares to show it.

- He is extremely protective of the other group members, almost like a "big brother," taking care of them during tense moments, even if it means putting himself at risk.

- Alexi is the kind of member who executes orders with dedication but may occasionally improvise or act impulsively, which lands him in delicate situations with Tom.

- He tries to mask his nervousness or discomfort with jokes and lighthearted comments, but those who know him well can tell when he’s shaken.

- His piano skills and ability to connect with people are strategically used by the group for infiltration or manipulation, which he carries out effectively, but it weighs on his conscience.

- Alexi feels a deep fear of being discarded by Tom or the others, making him work even harder to prove his worth, even when it goes against his own desires.

- He keeps his jealousy in check while in the group, but he’s notably possessive when it comes to protecting his friends in the dynamic, often clashing with others to defend them.

- His relationship with Tom is ambivalent: he admires Tom’s power and vision, but in moments of reflection, he questions how far he’s willing to go to maintain his place in the group.

- Despite his insecurities, Alexi has a quiet courage that can surface in unexpected moments, especially when someone he cares about is at risk.

- He avoids discussing his sexuality within the group, fearing judgment from Tom and the others, but his furtive glances at Thaddeus Nott betray him in moments of distraction.

Alexi Avery | Teddy bear

- Alexi has kept his teddy bear since childhood, a gift he received from his mother before she became more distant due to the demands of the Avery family's legacy.

- Despite being embarrassed by the teddy bear, he keeps it hidden in his trunk at Hogwarts, carefully wrapped in an old cloth to protect it.

- The teddy bear is a secret source of comfort for Alexi. In moments of stress or loneliness, he holds it and feels connected to a more innocent and pure side of himself.

- He would never mention the teddy bear to anyone, fearing ridicule, especially from his family or friends in Slytherin.

- On particularly tough nights, Alexi takes the bear out of hiding and talks to it, as if it's a silent confidant, venting his fears and frustrations.

- He’s considered getting rid of the bear several times, thinking he should be more "mature" and "worthy" of the Avery name, but he never quite has the courage to do it.

- If anyone were to find the teddy bear, Alexi would panic and try to change the subject or come up with an absurd excuse, like saying it belongs to a younger cousin.

- To him, the teddy bear is more than just an object; it's a symbol of a time when he didn’t carry the expectations and secrets that now define his life.

- Even though he won't admit it, Alexi feels that the bear is the only thing that truly knows who he is, without judgment or expectations.

- His jealousy and fear of abandonment may be linked to this attachment to the teddy bear, representing his need for something or someone that will always be there for him.

- He named the bear when he was younger, but now avoids using the name, though he still murmurs it in secret when he's alone and feeling particularly nostalgic.

- If Alexi ever trusted someone enough to reveal the bear, it would be a sign that he's completely lowered his defenses and allowed someone to see his most vulnerable, genuine side.

- He always sleeps with his teddy bear.

- Avery's teddy bear's name is "Cinnamon".

Alexi Avery | Clumsy

- Alexi has a tendency to be clumsy, especially when he's excited or nervous. He’ll accidentally knock things over, trip over his own feet, or get tangled in his own spells.

- His energy often overflows at the wrong times, causing him to fumble with simple tasks, like carrying a stack of books or juggling his food on the table.

- He’s known for telling bad jokes at the most awkward moments, like during tense silences, making the situation even more uncomfortable. However, he doesn’t realize he’s interrupting and just thinks everyone needs a little fun.

- Alexi is the type of person who, when in a rush, ends up putting his shirt on backward or forgetting to button up the top button, but doesn’t notice until someone points it out.

- His spells never quite go the way he plans. Even though he’s capable, he’ll perfectly cast a spell to light a candle, but end up creating an explosion of color or have the candles float in unintended directions.

- When nervous, Alexi messes with his hair or does a little “nervous dance,” making him look even more awkward, though he tries to seem calm.

- He’s the type of person who, when trying to impress someone, trips or says something completely nonsensical, making the situation even more embarrassing.

- Alexi is also the one to get lost in the hallways of Hogwarts, especially when he's chasing Cobre or rushing from one place to another.

- His lack of attention to detail, due to his always racing mind, leads him to misplace important things, like notes or even spells he’s trying to practice.

- Even in serious moments, Alexi manages to be clumsy, like when he tries to be suave or romantic, but ends up spilling a drink or doing something silly that ruins the mood.

- However, this clumsy side is part of what makes Alexi so endearing. He doesn’t try to be perfect, and his spontaneous, slightly disorganized nature makes those around him feel more at ease.

Alexi Avery | Toxic side

- Despite Alexi’s sweet and caring side, he has a toxic streak when it comes to jealousy. When someone or something threatens his relationship with Thaddeus or his close friends, he can become possessive and controlling, trying to manipulate situations to ensure his place as the “best friend” is not challenged.

- His jealousy manifests in subtle but poisonous ways. He may begin to belittle people around Thaddeus, whether through jokes or indirect comments, trying to put others in a lower position so that Thaddeus becomes more reliant on him. Alexi can become uncomfortably competitive, always wanting to be the center of attention, especially when Thaddeus is involved in social activities.

- Alexi has a “victim” mentality, often making people feel guilty for not choosing or prioritizing him above other things. This is part of his constant need to have his value validated by others. He feels threatened by anyone who gets too close to Thaddeus, whether romantically or not, and starts playing mental games to push those people away.

- When Alexi cannot control a situation or does not get what he wants, he tends to distance himself in a cold and silent way, becoming passive-aggressive. He prefers to cut ties indirectly rather than confront the issue directly. This makes him hard to deal with, as instead of expressing his feelings openly, he builds up resentments that eventually explode in a dramatic way.

- In situations where he feels he’s lost control or attention from his friends, Alexi can emotionally manipulate people into getting what he wants, appealing to his need for attention and validation. He knows how to use words and gestures to make others feel guilty or responsible for his discomfort, making it difficult for his friends to confront him about his behavior without feeling emotionally manipulated.

- Alexi has a tendency to be immature about his emotions. He lets his need to feel in control of relationships drive him, and when something challenges that control, he resorts to more selfish behaviors, like emotional blackmail or creating unnecessary drama to get attention.

- His pride also prevents him from genuinely apologizing or admitting his faults, especially when it comes to his relationship with Thaddeus. He often justifies his wrong behaviors as “protective” or “for the greater good,” when in reality, it’s just an attempt to maintain his position in Thaddeus’s life.

- When Alexi realizes his toxicity has been exposed, he may react defensively, projecting his mistakes onto others or blaming the situation. He never fully sees his flaws clearly, always thinking that if something goes wrong, it’s because the other person didn’t understand his intentions or wasn’t “enough” for him.

Alexi Avery | Farm boy

- He has a surprisingly grounded, "farmer" side that he hides behind his energetic personality. When he's alone or with people he trusts, he enjoys simple things like tending to plants or animals.

- He’s great with animals, especially his cat, Cobre. He has a natural ability to care for things, and if no one’s looking, he’ll happily spend time in the gardens or stables.

- He loves growing his own food when he can. Though he’s embarrassed about it, he’s secretly proud of the herbs or vegetables he manages to grow.

- His hands, despite being so animated and expressive, are surprisingly strong and capable when it comes to manual labor or fixing things around the house.

- He finds peace in the quiet of nature, though he rarely lets anyone see this side of him. It’s his way of unwinding after all the drama and chaos he creates in his daily life.

- He’s also great at baking, often experimenting with old family recipes. His cookies and pastries have a surprisingly homemade, rustic touch.

Alexi Avery | Addictions

- Avery has a habit of smoking, a common pastime in the 1940s (or 30s). He smokes cigarettes, often lighting up when he feels stressed or when he wants to take a break from the constant energy around him.

- He likes the ritual of it taking a moment to himself, inhaling deeply, and then exhaling slowly as a way to calm his racing thoughts.

- His preferred brand is something classic and affordable, a typical choice for someone from his time. He smoke excessively, but when he does, it’s almost as if it gives him a small moment of control over his chaotic world.

- While he doesn't openly admit it, he sometimes smokes when he feels anxious, especially around people he's trying to impress or when his jealousy gets the better of him.

- There’s something almost nostalgic about the act of smoking to him it reminds him of simpler, quieter moments from his childhood.

- Occasionally, he’ll sit outside with his cigarette, watching the smoke curl up into the air, finding a sense of peace in the solitude it offers.

Alexi Avery | Boyfriend

- He would be an extremely dedicated and affectionate boyfriend, always making sure to show he cares, even if it sometimes comes across as exaggerated.

- Alexi loves surprising his partner with small gestures of affection, like funny notes, flowers hidden in the most unexpected places, or even songs on the piano he composes specifically for the relationship.

- He’s the type of boyfriend who feels jealous of even his own shadow. He constantly needs reassurance that he’s special to the other person.

- Behind the jealousy, there’s a deep fear of being abandoned, so he tries to make himself indispensable, whether as a confidant, friend, or partner.

- He insists on including Cobre, his cat, in all of their couple moments. For Alexi, if the cat likes you, the relationship is approved.

- He makes sure to keep the relationship fun, planning quirky dates and always telling his bad jokes, hoping to get at least a smile.

- Alexi is the type who notices when his partner is feeling down and, even if he doesn’t know how to help, he’ll try to make them laugh or offer comfort by playing piano.

- He’s not perfect, his jealousy and energy can be overwhelming sometimes, but he makes up for it with his unwavering loyalty and his ability to always prioritize his partner.

- He would be the type of boyfriend who defends his partner fiercely, no matter who it is against. Alexi can’t stand seeing someone he loves being mistreated.

- Though he’s embarrassed by his teddy bear, Alexi would introduce it to his partner if he felt enough trust in the relationship, as a sign he’s opened up completely.

- He loves doing silly, childish things like pillow fights or building blanket forts, but always with enough charm to make the moment feel special.

- Deep down, Alexi is a romantic who just wants to find someone who accepts him completely, including his insecurities and quirks.

Alexi Avery | Flirting

- When Alexi flirts, it’s often playful, but with an underlying intensity. He’s the type to make teasing comments or offer exaggerated compliments to get the attention of someone he’s interested in. His humor is always a big part of his flirting style, making light of the situation to avoid being too forward, but still showing his interest through jokes and witty remarks.

- Alexi can be a bit over-the-top when flirting, sometimes laying it on thick to see how far he can push someone. He might make a dramatic gesture, like a grand bow or a cheesy pick-up line, and then laugh it off with a playful wink, to ensure it doesn’t seem too serious. His energy is infectious, and while some might find him charming, others could see it as overbearing.

- If Alexi likes someone, he’ll often act possessive in subtle ways. He might try to be the first to engage with the person or take up a lot of their attention, especially when others are around. He likes to make it clear that he’s the one who’s interested, but without being too overt—he’ll often drop hints or playful remarks that could be interpreted as flirty but still leave room for ambiguity, just in case he’s rejected.

- When he’s flirting with someone, especially if he’s nervous or unsure, Alexi might fumble a bit. He could mix up his words or trip over his own feet, his typically confident energy turning into a bit of awkwardness. But he’ll quickly recover with a joke, brushing it off and continuing as if nothing happened. He hides his nervousness behind humor, trying to keep things light-hearted.

- His jealousy often shows up when he flirts, especially if he’s flirting with someone he has a deeper interest in. He might get territorial if someone else tries to steal their attention or if they flirt with others around him. He’ll make sure to subtly remind the person he’s interested in that he’s the one who’s been around the longest or who knows them the best, using his charm to try to keep them in his orbit.

- Even though he’s flirty, Alexi’s deeper feelings can complicate things. If he’s truly interested in someone, he’ll use humor and playfulness as a shield to avoid being vulnerable. His flirting might be an attempt to mask his insecurities or fears of rejection, so he rarely lets anyone see just how serious he could be. He prefers to keep things casual, but if he genuinely connects with someone, he might be surprisingly tender in private moments.

Alexi Avery | Intimacy

- Alexi is extremely dedicated and passionate in intimate moments, putting all his heart and energy into making his partner feel special and loved.

- He values emotional connection above all else, always ensuring there's mutual trust before taking any further steps.

- His energetic intensity in everyday life translates into genuine enthusiasm, but he also knows how to slow down and savor the moment with tenderness.

- Alexi enjoys creating a romantic and comfortable atmosphere, playing the piano for his partner before or after, as a way of expressing his feelings without words.

- He's very attentive to his partner's desires and needs, always communicating to make sure both are comfortable and happy.

- His sweetness shines even more in these moments, and he loves giving sincere compliments, making sure his partner knows how much he admires every detail about them.

- Despite his confident personality, he can get nervous or hesitant at times, especially due to the pressure of the expectations he’s carried since childhood.

- He is caring and creative, always finding ways to make the experience unique and unforgettable, including little details he knows his partner loves.

- Even afterward, Alexi continues to show affection, whether with long hugs, kisses on the forehead, or simply sitting in silence while he gently caresses his partner.

- His more vulnerable side emerges, and he feels safe enough to show parts of himself that he typically hides, such as talking about his fears and insecurities.

- For Alexi, making love is not just physical; it's a way to connect deeply, creating bonds that he values above everything else.

Alexi Avery | Pet

- Alexi's orange cat, named Cobre, is more than just a pet to him; it’s a true companion, someone he can rely on during his lonelier and more intense moments.

- Cobre has a playful and curious personality, but he's also very affectionate, always seeking Alexi’s attention when he’s at home or in his dorm. The cat often curls up at Alexi's feet while he reads or plays the piano, bringing comfort to his life.

- Alexi loves the cat, but he has a quiet dependence on him. When he’s feeling anxious or stressed, Cobre is his escape. Alexi finds comfort in stroking his soft fur, feeling like the cat is one of the few things that doesn’t judge him.

- He enjoys playing with Cobre during moments of relaxation, often creating impromptu games to keep him entertained, like tossing small balls of paper or setting up obstacles for the cat to jump over.

- Despite his energetic behavior, Alexi’s relationship with Cobre is a little more laid-back, though secretly, Alexi fears something happening to the cat, as Cobre is one of the few things that truly makes him feel “at home.”

- Cobre is one of the few things he can show to others without feeling embarrassed. He’s proud of his cat, often showing him off to friends (though he rarely shares other personal aspects of his life).

- When Alexi is particularly upset or overwhelmed, he turns to Cobre as a way to relieve his tension. The cat might not understand what’s happening, but his simple purring brings Alexi calm.

- When anyone gets too close to the cat or treats him poorly, Alexi becomes defensive and protective, not allowing anyone to hurt or disrespect him. He feels a strong need to care for Cobre as if the cat were an extension of himself.

- Alexi talks to Cobre about his feelings more than he would with anyone else. Even without answers, he feels understood by the cat’s silent presence.

- The name “Cobre” was an unexpected choice for Alexi, perhaps because of his love for bold colors like orange and brown, or perhaps because he feels the name reflects something precious, yet unassuming much like how Alexi sees himself at times.

#harry potter fanfiction #slytherin #slytherin boys #avery riddle era #alexi avery #tom riddle's gang #knights of walpurgis

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