#too bad its broken y'know

[so11aris]

But what looks back at you in the mirror?

[hotxcheeto]

im begging for a fic with ellie about tribbing i don't even care about the plot at this point i just an ellie fic with scissoring

━ 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀, 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ?

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, ex gf!ellie, angst here and there, SMUT, tribbing, kissing/make out session, lowkey toxic behavior, mentions and situations with alcohol, both ellie and reader are tipsy, party environment in the first 1/2, top!ellie, bottom!reader

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - ehhehehehehe i love olivia rodrigo so i had to bruh REQUESTS ARE OPEN NOW!

REBLOG MY WORK! I WORK HARD & IT'S APPRECIATED!!

Music bumped in the room on the other side of the wall that supported the upper cabinet that held your head. The smell of sweat, alcohol and cigarettes filled up the small kitchen to the brim while a few people laughed and chugged the concoction in the punch bowl that sat on the corner countertop.

Other than the patrons drinking themselves into a very horrible morning that was soon to come, there was a couple making out against the fridge. Bothering anyone that wanted to drink something other than what the party host called, 'the ultimate punch to the gut' that the college boys were frothing over.

You decided on something else that you'd scavenged from the liquor cabinet that had been broken into earlier in the night. The liquid a pink color, bubbling from the continued sloshing in your red solo cup that was lazily hanging from your hand.

Your head felt dizzy at all the uproar in the room, the only thing keeping your two feet flat on the ground was the girl in front of you. Chasing your gaze with her head that way with each direction you looked, her eyes weren't far behind to follow.

"I told you I'm done, Ellie. I'm sick of your shit." You slurred slightly, having swayed your hips on far too many people and had too many drinks to care about how you currently sounded.

Or looked for that matter, lipstick smudged across your lips and even had made its way off your mouth. Eye makeup mirroring the appearance of the lower half of your face and all the while your dress was halfway up your thighs from her prying and your continuous attempts to stop yourself from making a decision you'd regret.

"You're a fakeass bitch, y'know that?" You pointed at her, the manicure that she had in fact paid for practically mocking her as she grabbed your hand and pushed it down, holding it in her own.

"Don't be like that, babe." You rolled your eyes at just the sound of her voice, suddenly hearing it and comparing it to the biggest annoyance in the world. "You were like that first, or did you already discard the lap warmer you were entertaining when I walked in?"

Right, the bottle blonde with the bad roots.

"Y/n..." She dragged out your name with that excruciating tone that made you feel like you'd done something bad. "Answer me Ellie."

She opened and closed her mouth for a second, not meeting your eyes before shrugging her shoulders. The black fabric of her long sleeve button up going with, pissing you off even more as the realization set in that she'd worn your favorite of her nice shirts and even undone the top few buttons you always undid for her.

"She's one of Abby's friends, fuck Y/n, I don't even know her name I promise." You scoffed, leaning your head back on the cupboard, looking over at the drunk guys challenging each other to drink a full cup of the punch once again.

"You piss me off." You rubbed your eyes, not caring of the slight burn that your lashes caused on your irises. "I know. C'mon, I said sorry." She said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You sent me fifty-eight text messages, I don't remember there being a 'sorry' in there though." "Babe-" Ellie stopped when she realized you were in fact not paying any attention to her now, looking out the kitchen window, but it was too dark to actually see anything past the glass.

"C'mon... let's just go home, I'll give you the best apology fucking ever." The alcohol really boosted her confidence as she said this, Ellie moving to kiss up your neck as you thought, her thumb coming to wipe the smeared lipstick away.

"I promise, babe." You wanted to fall against her and give in, just how you wanted when you seen her earlier eye-fucking you from across the room. Fucking hell you were such a gullible mess.

"Ellie..." "Can't tell me you don't miss my fingers..." "Shh!"

You tried covering her mouth but it was no use as she just laughed, looking down at your pretty eyes while you tried to shut her up.

"I don't, mine work just fine, actually." Such fakeness followed those syllables, even you cringed slightly on the inside as you spoke them.

"Huh, so you're lying to me now too?"

"No..." Yes.

"You're a bad liar." She then whispered, impossible to hear her if you had not been so close to her mouth. "You're a dickhead." You then replied, giving her a smile while pulling back.

That was nothing to her, leaning forward despite your unwillingness just earlier, but something about the way you met her lips wondered if you changed your mind.

She tasted like the shitty alcohol mix those dudes were chugging along with soaked in Chapstick and the two combined creating a rush of memories that came trickling back. Those pictures soon invading your mind all the same, fingers wrapping around her belt loops before you got a chance to stop them.

And in the haze of the smoky kitchen you broke your promise to each of your friends promising you wouldn't go back. Tugging her closer and allowing her to rest her hands beneath your ass, holding the backs of your thighs to get impossibly closer.

She was your everything and nothing, the mess stuck between your floorboards that you could never fully get rid of. Ellie knew she wasn't going anywhere, she couldn't and wouldn't be replaced and it was comforting, smirking as she began pushing herself against you and hitting your hips against the counter.

"M'not-" A kiss. "-gonna fuck you-" Another kiss. "-here." You finished, her tongue invading your mouth as soon as the final breath passed your lips. "Why not?" "Seriously?" Ellie rested her forehead against your own, huffing like a child until you tapped her phone that was in her back pocket.

"You can start your apology by buying the ride home, 'kay?"

God, the things she did to see you as you were now, laid back on the bed with your dress pulled up and your head resting against her pillows. Thighs spread all for her while you stared up and watched her unbuckle her belt and unzip her jeans. Wanting nothing more than to have her between your thighs

You just looked so gorgeous in the lamplight, the yellow glow kissing your skin and she moved to kiss it as well. Wanting just as much as the inanimate object had gotten in the past few moments.

"M'gonna be so mad at myself in the morning." You grumbled playfully, Ellie watching you grin at your own prediction, returning the smile while throwing her shirt away and exposing her torso for you to run your eyes over. "But I don't even care." You concluded.

Your nail ran along the light bulge her muscles created on her arms, eyes fluttering shut while her lips made their home on your neck. Jaw becoming her favorite place to hover, smirking against your flesh when you giggled that it had tickled. Looking at the way her boxers met her lower back, little dimples just barely shadowed.

"Ellie?" She pulled back to look at you, cradling your face in her hands.

"Yeah?"

"Unzip me, I wanna feel you."

She didn't have to be told twice, helping you from your dress before tossing it to find the next morning. Your undergarments going with, swept away like they were stolen by the ocean. Your body running against hers as if you were the waves and she were the rocks, though less jagged then you'd like to admit out loud.

Her curves were softer than you remembered despite feeling them just days ago, along with her freckled skin.

"I want you." She whispered, mouth brushing against the shell of your ear.

Your friends were so gonna put you in time out.

Her boxers fell down her legs and yours wrapped around her hips, waiting for the agonizing thumping of your arousal to be put at ease. The discomfort growing while her fingers ran along your nipple, warm breath fanning your face as you both watched her hand run along your boob.

It was like the air paused along with your movements, sucking in a gasp as she played with your breast. Hand trickling down between your legs just to barely tease you.

"You wanna feel me?" You nodded at her question, moving your head up and down again and again while she lined herself up with you. Fingers lightly, just barely, brushing against your little, yet swollen, clit.

"Need to hear you say it again, Y/n."

"I wanna feel you, Ellie."

And before you knew it she was humping herself against you, not even attempting to muffle your sounds which you'd given up caring about. Grabbing at her back and holding her as close to you as possible while her clit bumped and rubbed against your own.

It felt like fireworks, despite having done this just over a million times. Burying your face in her neck while she fucked into you over and over, promising her love silently while whispering things that would make a catholic mother weep.

"Missed you so much..." You turned your head, meeting her eyes as your lips did the same. "Me or this?" You asked, a choked whimper following when she became rougher at the sound of your falsely innocent question. Her hand trapping your leg on the bed as she spread you apart.

"Both, but mainly you." She played off, her other hand softly wrapping around your neck. "I would hope." You giggled, mouth dropping agape as her pace picked up. The whole bed rocking back and forth while simultaneous creaks that were sure to piss off her neighbors for the next however long she spent on top of you.

"Oh fuck, El... fuck please..." You squeezed and clawed at her, sure to leave red marks on her pale skin for her to be teased about when she went to the gym. Cunts grinding back and forth creating a heavenly feeling you just couldn't describe, choking out noise after noise.

"El... m'gonna- fuck I- fuck..." She kissed along the column of your throat, squeezing just the slightest. "I know." From your hole to your bundle of nerves, in your slightly inebriated state it felt like too much.

Sounds you weren't aware you could make falling from your mouth, and you were sure you heard her lightly grunt. Hips stuttering as you'd begun to jerk against her pussy, letting out a yelp while you trickled into your orgasm.

A mix of both you and her dripping down your ass, but it didn't stop you from trying to meet her thrusts. Crying a bit when she slammed you back down, kissing you and then down your chest.

"Leah's gonna be so pissed at me." You huffed, staring up at the ceiling as she peeled herself off of you and fell to the side. Giving you the option of moving to lay with her or finding your way the hell out of here.

"Who cares? Come ride me." She said, sitting up against her pillows that laid against her headboard. "Seriously?' You tilted your head up to glance at her, giving her your best unimpressed expression.

"What? Can't take it back anyway."

This was a bad idea, right?

"Will you eat me out after?" You asked, tilting your head and then rolling over to make your way up to her. "If you do a good job." She said, setting her hands on your hips.

Fuck it, it's fine.

a/n: YES I KNOW THAT SHE'S MY EX BUT CAN'T TWO PEOPLE RECONNECT I ONLY SEE HER AS A FRIEND! BIGGEST LIE I EVER SAID.

REQUESTS OPEN

[2smolbeans]

Imagine being the ex of a yandere who managed to get over you after assuming you had died.

Imagine how devasted you felt when you heard that they managed to find a victim girlfriend after you had cut them off from your life.

How desperate you were to protect that woman from your "ex" so that they wouldn't end up in the situation you once were.

How quick you were to find their contact, warning them about the yandere. Begging for them to cut them out of their lives before its too late.

The paranoia that followed you every day, praying that your second identity would keep you safe forever.

How you would compare your old self to your current look and new "you" in chances of reassuring yourself that they will never find you.

The feeling of dread you felt that day when you went to the public market, speaking to a vendor while you felt someone stalking you from afar.

That worst fear finally coming true.

How quick you were to pack up your belongings and run out of the place you were staying in out of fear that they were chasing you.

When you finally ran into that alleyway, hiding inside the trash for hours until realising that they didn't have the intention of finding you..Yet.

Picking up your belongings as you walk back to your apartment, crying as you realised they were going to find you - that all those efforts escaping them would go to waste.

How you swore, cursing to yourself for having those thoughts. Why did you feel relieved knowing they hadn't gotten over you? Why did you miss them? Did you really feel that insignificant to the point that a murderer brings you some sense of comfort?

How little it took for them to find you. Backing you up against the wall as they roamed their hands frantically all over you. Touching you, grabbing you, as if to reassure themselves that you were indeed alive before scolding you.

How they gave you that damned sweet smile that made you almost miss them.

Eyeing you up and down, smirking at your new appearance. Quickly grabbing you by the throat as they manhandled you out of the exit, leading you to their car as they lovingly spoke to you.

Whisking you away as you looked at your last night of freedom.

"Well, that wasn't a fun game of hide'N seek. I'm glad it's over now! Now come on, let's go home, okay? No more running away. You're not five, y'know?"

"I thought you were gone forever.. I was so broken. I tried so hard to fill..To find someone else-"

"But when I heard it from Jessica of how you randomly approached her, "warning her" about those silly lies you made up about me- I knew it was you!"

"If it weren't for her, I would've never known.. I kind of feel bad for breaking things off with her now..But you know I could never replace you right?"

"You..You lied to me. You..Ugh."

"I'll make us some dinner when we're back at the house. Also, is that a piercing? I can't believe it, haha! With the way you were dressed, I thought I had mistaken you for someone else!

"Now get in the fucking car."

"I can't wait for us to be home together again"

.

.

.

__________________

[powdermelonkeg]

just saw ur gale/mystra analysis post. im new to the game and dnd lore and honestly… ur take on their relationship feels like the most natural/compelling one??? esp since its all too easy to simplify topics that have many facets and nuance….

thanks for sharing i love analysis and reading people’s takes on narratives : D

My pleasure! (Bee from the future here: congrats, you spawned another meta!)

I love complicated characters, WAY more than I like a clear cut-and-dry case. Flaws, to me, are what make a character compelling and lead to interesting stories about them with choices that can get them into situations. I'm both writing a fanfic and running a campaign where I'm playing as Gale, and in the interest of portraying him properly and in-character, I've gone into SUCH a deep dive into all the decisions and facts that make him him.

It helps to, y'know, also be in love with the fictional wizard, but I digress

The thing about Baldur's Gate 3 is that no character in there is perfect. I've seen a couple analyses about the theme of continuing cycles of abuse vs breaking out of them, but in my mind, in terms of the characters themselves, it goes like this:

The origin characters have just come out of the lowest situation of their lives (Lae'zel being the exception; being tadpoled is a gith's worst nightmare. You're seeing that lowest situation in real time).

Not the lowest point, mind. Gale's lowest was probably the day after he got the Orb. Wyll's was probably the day his father cast him out. Karlach's was the day she lost her heart. But the lowest, accepted normal for them is what they've just left.

They're then thrown out of their depth and forced to rely on you to live. That's #1 priority: living. We get the extremes of these characters before we get their nuances, because they're quite literally at their breaking points.

Then once we get to know them, we see their wants, their hopes, their fears, as they open up to us. Every companion's story is at their own pace, but they all have a moment where they ping-pong between despondency and desire. Sometimes that desire is what we know isn't good for them, like Shadowheart wanting to be a Dark Justiciar. Sometimes that despondency is only for a flicker, like Astarion's realization that he's condemned 7000 people to a half-life of tortured spawnhood for as long as he's been a vampire.

Romance lets us crack all that open more, because if you pursue a romantic partner, they see you as their closest confidant. They WANT to trust you, so they're more willing to explain how they see the world and what decisions they want to chase.

And then their endings. Those often get simplified as good/bad, continuing the cycle vs breaking away from it. But how is Duke Wyll on the same platform as Ascended Astarion? He's not evil, he's not even entirely unhappy. He might even have broken out of his abusive cycle with Mizora, if you played your cards right. And Ascended Astarion is overjoyed, even if he is remarkably more cold.

I think that the endings are less a dichotomy of "this is good for them" vs "this is bad for them," and more one of "bringing out their best traits" vs "bringing out their worst."

Wyll's worst trait is being willing to sacrifice his own wants for whatever people desire of him. His best is standing for what he believes in and ensuring people are safe. Duke Wyll leans into that necessity to turn the other cheek in the name of people who count on him, while the Blade of Avernus has seized that moral compass of his and forged it out of mithral.

Shadowheart's worst trait is blind obedience at the cost of her individuality, while her best is her desire to be kind to things that don't deserve to be hurt. Mother Superior Shadowheart's whole life is defined by Shar. Selûnite Shadowheart's life is defined by her hospitality, especially towards animals.

Karlach's worst trait is how willing she is to accept that things are (to quote her) fucked, letting despair override hope. Her best is her durability in the face of horror. Exploded Karlach would rather die than try to work out a solution in the Hells, because she's terrified of facing Zariel alone. Mindflayer Karlach has accepted her fate and decides to give up her heart and soul to go out a hero, losing who she is. Fury of Avernus Karlach is willing to keep fighting for a solution, and by the time the epilogue happens, she's got her sights set on one.

Astarion's worst trait is his desire for power over people. His best trait is using the tools he has to his advantage. Ascended Astarion has let his powerhungry nature and paranoia lead all of his decisions, with his sights set on dominating mankind. Spawn Astarion has embraced what he is, and carved out a life for himself where he can do as he pleases.

Lae'zel's worst trait is her blind fanaticism, while her best trait is her individual dedication, making her loyalty a marriage of the two. Ascended Lae'zel is a meal for the lich queen, turning a blind eye to all Vlaakith's tried to do to her and literally being consumed by her fervor. Champion of Orpheus Lae'zel has turned her loyalty into something productive for diplomacy. Faerûnian Lae'zel has seized her individuality by the throat and decided her own future.

And then Gale. Gale's worst traits are his hubris and, paradoxically, his low self worth. His best traits are his creativity and wonder for the world. God Gale is the embodiment of ambition, having burned away all but that in pursuit of perfection. Exploded Gale has let his remorse blot out all hope for a redemption in which he does not die, because he thinks he's earned it. Professor Gale leads his life by embracing the school of Illusion and letting his creativity thrive, teaching others to do the same. House Husband Gale has multiple creative projects he's working on, and Adventurer Gale is always finding new sights to see and wanting to share them with you.

There are arguments to be made on which ending the origins are happiest in, certainly, or which one benefits them the most, but each ending represents the extreme of a facet they possess.

So with all that, there's a sort of malleable method to figuring out the ins and outs of a character.

You take their endings—all of them, all variables they can have—and reverse-engineer the flaws and details they carry. Then you start to notice how those work into their approvals for minor things: Astarion approving of your taking of the Blood of Lathander, or Shadowheart approving of standing up for Arabella. Getting a list of approvals and disapprovals is helpful, but having those endings on hand tells you why they react like that to a majority of their decisions.

You take their romance-route explanations of how they act, and apply those to earlier decisions. Astarion's confession to manipulating you and Araj-prompted admittance to using himself as a tool brings to light how he reacts to your decisions, regardless of his actual opinions on them. Wyll's fairytale romance and love of poetic adages speaks to his idealistic nature, and why he takes a sometimes-blinded approach to decisions in which the "right" answer isn't always the smart one.

You take their beginning reactions to stress and use that to measure how future decisions impact them. Lae'zel locks down and gets snappy when she's scared, while Gale immediately turns to diplomacy. Shadowheart has gallows humor, while Wyll turns to quiet acceptance. If they break from these and seem even worse, you know the situation is more dire in their minds than having seven days to live.

And then you factor in all their fun facts and dialogue choices and backstories.

A wizard falls in love with a goddess and her magic, attempts to retrieve a piece of her power for her, is scorned for his attempt and is cursed to die.

Give that backstory to a Tav. Look at how it changes.

A chaotic good wizard fell in love with a goddess, thought retrieving a piece of power for her would be a showy bouquet of love, and was punished for not thinking things through.

A lawful evil wizard fell in love with a goddess's power, snatched the most precious thing she owned, tried to use it to barter his way through to the secrets she kept, and was given a swift retribution.

Same backstory. Same class, same act, same goddess. Wildly different connotations. Wildly different conclusions as to who is in the wrong.

If you take all there is to Gale, all that the game shows us makes up his character, and apply it to this backstory, you get what really happened:

A wizard, enamored with magic, fell in love with a goddess. His desires led him to want more than she was willing to give. In his well-buried fear of inadequacy, he concluded that the reason she wouldn't indulge his ambitions was because he just hadn't proven himself worthy enough. So he tried to prove himself, but he lacked the context for what he was proving himself with. And the goddess, seeing a weapon that had killed her predecessor, saw this ambitious wizard as losing his way and coming for her just like the weapon's creator had. She was angry, she withdrew his link to her, and he didn't know why. So he drew the conclusion that she took his powers to punish him, and let that encompass his fall from grace.

Was he wrong to reach for what was out there?

If you knew that the answers to everything you cared about were not only known, but kept by someone you loved—someone who adored you—what would you do to ask to see them? What if your curiosities were if there were other planets with life out there, or how dark matter worked, or whether or not we could one day travel in the stars? What if it was the potential cure to an illness that's little-understood, or the way to make a program you dreamt up, or the scope of the true limits of your artistic talents? Would your answer change?

Was she wrong to cut him off?

If you were once hurt, and the person you loved—the person who adored you—brought the thing that caused it to your door, believing you'd want it, how would you react to seeing it? What if that thing was someone you thought you'd broken contact with, like a friend or family member you'd been trying to avoid? Would your answer change?

That's the sort of scope that needs to be applied to this, on both sides. You have to take the perspectives of each party, and apply two analogies instead of one.

Gale saw the vastness of the universe, untold wonders, the solution to every question he could ever dream up, and saw Mystra as withholding this from him because she thought he just wasn't worthy enough. To claim Mystra knew his perspective does her a disservice.

Mystra saw a cruel weapon she thought long gone, in the hands of someone who could use it, brought right to her, and thought Gale was willingly following the path of Karsus. To claim Gale knew her perspective does him a disservice.

Should Gale have researched his prize more, so he knew just what he was obtaining? Should he have kept his hands off a cursed book that would devour him? Of course he should have.

Should he have given up on chasing his dreams?

Should Mystra have understood that Gale's pursuit of power was nothing like Karsus'? Should she have communicated when she was angry instead of giving the cold shoulder? Of course she should have.

Should she have given him the benefit of the doubt?

That's the root of their falling out. That's what leads to hurt being inflicted. Understandable, human reactions to the situations they perceive. Unhealthy, unwise choices made afterwards.

You work backwards from this to figure out their dynamic as Chosen and goddess. You work forward from this to understand more of where Gale and Mystra are during the events of Baldur's Gate 3. Gale reached too high, and understands this. His goddess hates him, and he regrets this. Mystra isolated Gale, and understands this. Her Chosen wants redemption, and she wants to make it happen.

Just like we took Gale's character into account, we also have to take Mystra's.

A goddess is faced with a problem. She uses someone who's desperate for approval to solve it, by telling him to kill himself.

An evil goddess is faced with a threat to her reign. She sees someone who's unfailingly loyal and hates himself, and elects to have him tear himself apart rather than do anything about it.

A good goddess is terrified of the future. She sees someone who tried to hurt her, who's going to die anyways, and tells him to use it to save the world.

Same story. Same act, same power, same pawn. Different character. Different perspective. Different outlook on whether or not this is the right thing to do.

Mystra has died, multiple times, to people trying to stake claim to her domain. Someone appears with the very thing that could do it again, right as she's regained her stability.

She does not see mortals the way mortals do. She is timeless. She is eternal. She has a duty to protect billions of people, and one person lost to protect that number is more than worth the sacrifice.

People like to bring up the Seven Sisters as proof of Mystra's cruelty. For those unaware, Mystra asked permission to, then possessed, a woman, used her to court a man (with dubious consent from the woman), and bore seven children, all of whom were capable of bearing Mystra's power as Chosen without dying. The woman she possessed was killed in the process (reduced to no more than a husk, then slain by her now-husband, hoping to end her suffering), and the husband was horrified by the whole story.

Mystra needed Chosen in order to restore herself in the event that she was killed again, to prevent magic as a whole from collapsing and wreaking havoc on the mortal realm, like it had in the few seconds Mystryl had been dead. Elminster, Khelben Blackstaff, and the Seven Sisters contributed to this. The more Chosen she has, the better; what happens if Elminster dies? She can't afford to have all her eggs in one basket.

Mystra has Volo (yeah, that Volo) as a Weave Anchor, imparted with a portion of her power to prevent the Weave from shredding itself to pieces in her absence. All Chosen of Mystra are Weave Anchors by nature. The creation of Weave Anchors was mandated by Ao, the Overgod, and Chosen are the best way to make sure those anchors aren't drained by ambitious people hoping for godlike power. Chosen can, and will, defend themselves, unlike static locations (which Mystra also has). The anchors are why the Weave wasn't completely obliterated during Mystra's last death, when the Spellplague rose up, because they stabilized the Weave around them.

Everything Mystra does is in the name of the big picture, to prevent a catastrophe like the fall of Netheril from happening again. Her restriction of magic, her numerous Chosen, her creation of Weave Anchors, her destruction of those who would claim her power, it's all in the name of the stability she's been charged with. Dornal Silverhand's grief and Elué Silverhand's death, while regrettable, were worth it to bring seven more anchors into existence to save all of the Material.

So someone appears with the Crown of Karsus, potentially powerful enough to try to kill the other gods in the name of the Dead Three. She can't risk being a target of them. She can't risk the destruction of magic again.

Gale is going to die. He lives in fear. He begs for forgiveness.

In Mystra's eyes, she's offering him the best outcome. She'll let him die in service to her, to save Faerûn, and she'll forgive him. He's going to die anyways, and if he does this, she'll give him everything (she thinks) he could ever want in her realm. She's asking him to do what (she thinks) is the right thing.

"She would consider what she considers to be forgiveness."

Notably, she leaves the decision in his hands. She doesn't have Elminster lead him to the Nether Brain. She doesn't activate him as soon as he's there. When he lives yet, she doesn't revoke the charm that keeps him stable. And when he declines, when he lets it go and starts pursuing Karsus' path, she doesn't smite him on the spot.

She is (she thinks) being incredibly patient. If Gale is going to try to be Karsus II, she's ready for him. If he decides to walk off and keep the Orb, he's dug his own grave in the Fugue Plane (those who don't have a god to claim them roam endlessly as husks and form a wall of bodies around the City of Judgement).

From her perspective, she's not being unreasonable. But from the perspective of a mortal, she absolutely is.

"Now, I have a question for thee: what is the worth of a single mortal's life?"

This is a question she cannot answer properly.

I think a lot of characterization is lost whenever someone paints one of them as being totally in the right. But I also think you have to be invested in them as characters to want to see that characterization. If you want to write about Mystra, you have to try to get into her head, analyze the decisions she made, figure out why she thinks she was right, and follow the pattern.

Gale's sacrifice is a very predictable thing for her to ask for.

[astralnymphh]

patterned palmistry ⋆ | ellie williams headcanons

༺ ellie x witch!reader headcanons/scenarios ༻ ☽𖤐☾

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

an: being the witchy little gremlin i am i just had to throw some hcs together for myself but ofc i'd share them here🙄ive been practicing witchcraft since i was 15 so it felt fitting to incorporate it whenever i brace my delusions at the bootycrack of midnight that r all abt ellie 💀 regardless this def isnt gonna be my only witchy hcs post i just didnt wanna spoil all my ideas right away <3 tags: MDNI, slight nsfw (no detailed smut), boob jokes, witchcraft (obv), tarot, palm reading, mostly convos, flirting, not mentioned in the writing but u 2 r alrdy dating, playful bickering, more natural casual writing with some bigger words, no specific religion tied to the practice, generally a fluff piece, lowk cute moments. °________________________⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆__________________________°

I. ☆ ellie definitely had a peak in curiosity the first time you mentioned you immerse yourself in the world of the craft, her ears perked figuratively and were tuned in to learn what that entails. she may not forfeit a nip of skepticism right away but she's more than happy to engross herself in the idea of it. you'd stay up till first light rambling on about the 'rituals', 'divination', the history tied to it and why you practice it. you'd be lying in bed adjacent to her, heavenward to the ceiling, but interwoven in a warm and loving cuddle with her palm residing on your lap whilst you chatted.

"mmmmh-" ellie's hum churns 'round your bedroom, "so that's why you collect rocks."

"crystals."

"same thing," she drones an inwardly giggle, "which crystal will give me superpowers?" a witty remark springs from her tongue.

"babe.." you pout, acting offended yet none is taken.

"didn't mean it like that, y'know I believe you, it's all just new to me." ellie tapes an assuring kiss to your temple, "tell me about your favorite crystals, hmm?" 

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

II. ☆ now because of this, anytime you're out on patrol and delight the opportunity of scavenging, she always keeps in mind to find you flowers, rocks, unused candles and other oddities of nature.

"hey babe! I found a black candle for'ya." ellie bolstered a long glass cylinder filled with an opaque charcoal wax, wick still intact, "and- ..some wild lavender." her other arm swings from behind her back, twines of dusty purple lavender upheld in a pinch.

"fuck yeah, needed this stuff.." you graciously tweak the lavender from her, whiffing up its poignant scent.

"always on the lookout.." her voice resembles her proud countenance outwards, essentially, a dorky smirk.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

III. ☆ obviously, the second you mentioned the art of tarot to her, she begged for a reading. whenever a card flew from your shuffling motions, she'd patiently wait for you to place it before her and then she'd swipe it up and admire the art piece detailing the cardstock.

"whew! look at the boobs on this one!" 

"oh- my god, of course you'd point that out." you snatch the card from her, shamelessly ogling the nude depiction that had her attention.

"you're looking at them too!"

"cuz' you said something 'bout it!" you flick the card towards her face, noting, "those are some nice boobs though." 

"why thank you~" 

"wasn't talking about you, idiot!" 

"eh, but.. urs' are the best." her hoarse tone binds a nonchalant flirtiness in its rumble.

"oh really? should we compare the.. four?"

that really stole her attention.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

IV. ☆ the first time you entertained her with a palm reading, it had her all dappy and touched to the essence at the paltry contact you made with her hand. your fingerprints drafting her calloused palms with such a gentle focus on every river lining her hand. she just wanted to smother you with kisses.

"and… this is your heart line." your finger hovers the crevice of her palm-pads stretching from index to pinkie, "ah.. it's a broken one.."

"is that.. bad?" her juniper eyes study your expression meticulously.

"it just means u're closed off, stubborn, have some emotional trauma.. stuff like that." you mindlessly fiddle with her fingers, "lines can change though, so.."

she nods, taking in the insight. she licks her slightly chapped lips clean, "am I stubborn?" her voice rises partially an octave, bending playfulness in her question.

"mm.. no."

"why'd you hesitate?"

"well- the only times ur' stubborn is refusing to let go whenever you hug me- ur' a life-size sloth!" 

"I like huggin' you though." a puppy pout frowns on her lips, "you're like a pillow!"

and oh, how your heart capers a beat, "is that all I am, williams?"

her swift speech conjuncts, "whaddid' I say about that name?!"

"I don't know, I think you like it." 

"nuh-uh I don't!"

you pepper a haste kiss to her knuckles still forcepped in your clasp, totally deterring the crime you've just committed when a half impish half taken aback smile creaks her lips.

"c'mere." vaults from her tongue before she lunges her body forward and tackles you in a saucy position riddled with love bites. guess you'll be reading her palms in a different way tonight.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ V. ☆ an bonus hc, you'd totally mention out of the void about her tattoo n the mystic meanings surrounding moths, like, its for sure one of the topics you'll ramble about one night cause you just feel so wise for knowing. "y'know, moths play a pretty large role in the metaphysical world." "really? i mean, i knew they had some kind of.. 'symbolism' to them-" ellie's hand rolls over the knoll of her forearm, reading the bumps glamoured in that beautiful inking. "yeah, like- luna moths represent transformation, renewal.. oh! and death-head moths are an omen of death.. an- and black witch moths mean either good luck, or bad-" ellie is amused at your prattle shown by her raspy giggles, legitimately having to conceal her scrunched face. "what?" "nothin' you- you're just so cute." "stop.." the embarrassment catches up to you, now having to hide your face to the shadows beneath your hands. her finger cranes out to hook and uncover your nerdy grin, assuring, "never stop tellin' me bout this stuff, ok babe?" a wide delighted beam syncs on her cheeks. goddess above, her dimples and nasal lines are to die for. ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

𖤐

in general; she's a curious dork n will ask you oh so many questions, i mean, she loves space and a futuristic sci-fi comic for crying out loud, she's alrdy so imaginative so ofc she'd be open to a realistic amount. she'd also be so respectful and helpful n defend ur practice with so much love. maybe she'd pick up some little traditions and customs like folding letters a specific amount of times, drawing little pentacles, mixing liquid in specific directions, just the simple things that grow on her.

[grlpartdoll]

Ok so the first post I made about famous!reader and bodyguard!Simon made me think about something interesting. How would Simon react to his lamb actually getting sick or being in a bad place? I am sick, so this is incredibly self indulgent, lol.

afab!reader, mdni with any of my work pls.

You sip quietly, watching through your lashes as Simon types something on his phone. It's late at night — one am. Way past the bedtime established by the man himself.

There's only one light on, and it's the one in the hallway. It illuminates only half of his face, highlighting a sharp jaw, a scarred brow and lip, a once (or twice) broken nose.

When you shift uncomfortably, he peers down at you again, his eyes immediately brought to you when you sputter a little, water refusing to go down.

"Doc's beeper is off." He announces, turning off his phone and bending his knees a little to lower himself to your height. As you slowly move your cup of warm water down on-top of your thighs, you cup your throat, a desolate frown on your face.

He motions for you to open your mouth, raising a hand to pinch your chin gently between his fingers. He looks at the state of your throat, at the cough drop you're using sitting idly behind your teeth.

He shakes his head. "Still inflamed."

You pout. Quietly, you try to speak, but he shoots you a look you know too well.

"Y'know the procedure, Bambi."

You give a glance at the camera crew stuck at the door. The rule that Simon had firmly introduced and stuck to ever since the documentary had begun filming between the walls of your home — no cameras in your room, and none at the door if it was closed. The only reason its open now is because your manager had scolded him about the documentary not containing enough raw footage of what it was like to live in your skin. All of its current footage was made up of carefully nitpicked moments Simon allowed people to witness and nothing else.

Even this, you know, is eating away at him.

And at you, too.

It's shameful, to pull out your rusty signing skills when there are cameras there. When it's just you and Simon, it's.. different. You know he doesn't judge.

His hand tightens around your jaw a little. Nothing painful. But it jostles you back to reality, bringing your gaze back to him.

"Focus o'me. Just you and me." He whispers. You hope the cameras don't pick it up. Maybe, if you're lucky, they won't have. Afterall, you don't have mics strapped on — the whole crew had been sitting in your kitchen eating when Simon called your name, noticing (or hearing?) you tiptoeing to the bathroom for a drink, and none of them had had time to get mics on anyone because of how quickly it had all happened. Or, well, it could also be because he slammed the bathroom door closed and then proceeded to corner you in the bathroom until you admitted you couldn't sleep because your throat was hurting. He only let the cameras film you after you'd confirmed ten times over that you were okay with them filming you.

You start to go through the words in your head, translating them into jerky movements of your hands. He nods as you sign "it doesn't hurt anymore"

"That's the cough drops," he whispers, and his voice sounds so intimate that you want to melt into it. He tucks your blankets around you, and takes the hot pack from your bedside table, silently applying it to your throat.

With your performance just tomorrow where you're supposed to sing live, this is really not something you want. You get the flu too easily, you have a shit immune system, had always been like that since you were a kid, but today, it feels even more disappointing because it's ruining something important you'd been practicing for a very, very long time.

You hum. It feels tight in your throat, and you cough again, trying to alleviate the pressure.

"Alright, alright, get it out," he moves the two of you around until you're on your side, and he's sitting right beside you. You're curled around him, and he's patting your back, rubbing it soothingly. The flue meds would kick in soon enough — knock you out. But for now, you worry, and you're angry.

You stick your hands up at him. You sign too quickly — clumsily ; "told you we shouldn't have went to the award show. Someone there was sick as hell and we all know it was—."

As he glares at the cameras trying to catch what you're signing, he also expertly catches your hands and lowers them to his lap before you can do or say something stupid, warming them in his impossibly warm ones.

"Stop fussing," he grumbles quietly, probably meaning for it to sound reprimanding, but it comes out more like a plea. "Go to sleep. We'll deal with this in the morning."

You sigh, burrying your face in your blankets. He keeps rubbing your back.

You eventually dig yourself out of the blankets, fever making your body run hotter. He helps you move on top of them until you're laying on your back, your upper body raised by a shit ton of pillows. He sits next to you like you're on your death bed. Something about the situation makes you want to laugh, even though you're a bit upset.

He still holds your hands.

When his hold on them finally loosens, though, when he probably thinks you're finally succumbing to the medication, you move your hands up again and sign, calmly this time ; "sorry for waking you up."

He fixes some strands of hair that fall in your face, sticking to the beading sweat on your temples. He shakes his head, his face severe and strangely.. comforting. Every harsh slope, every cruel swipe of scars, every movement. It all feels like home to you. His hand lingers on your temple. Calloused and scarred too, but he touches you with so much gentleness you only feel the soft edges of his fingers.

"Sleep, kid." He finally murmurs. You know the cameras and the crew don't catch that. "Please. You'll feel better in the morning."

You doubt it, but you close your eyes, and let his presence sway you into sleep anyway.

[lancermylove]

Chapter 1

➣ Pairing: Demon brothers, Royals, Solomon with fem!Reader. ➣ Warning: None ➣ A/N: Hi hi, or should I say ho ho? Bad joke lol. 🙈 This is my first attempt at an OM chaptered fic, so hopefully, all of you like it. In this fic, you will romance the man of your choice, so similar to the actual game. There will be a romantic and platonic route, or you can romance everyone. 😉 I may or may not include N.SFW content in some chapters. If I do, I will post an SFW and N.SFW chapter for that character so audiences of all ages can read the story. Any support for this fic will be appreciated! 💖 ➣ Word Count:  1,430

➣ Chapters [SFW]: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12] ➣ Chapters [N.SFW]: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12] Completed!

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"I know I am asking a lot, but would you please help?"

"If the brothers find out...they will be very upset..."

"I understand, (y/n). But this is the only way to help them. I have arranged everything, so all you have to do is say yes."

Would everything go according to plan? The thought of mishaps ate away at your mind as you stood in the Student Council room with the demon brothers, Diavolo and Barbatos. Clearing his throat, the prince warmly smiled at everyone and sat on his throne at the top of the student council pyramid.

"Good afternoon, everyone. My apologies for calling all of you at such short notice." Diavolo's voice boomed with excitement as he addressed you and the brothers. "But I have exciting news to share. (Y/n) has extended an invitation to the seven of you to celebrate Christmas in her world!"

"Woooah! A Christmas with (y/n) alone!" Levi grinned widely.

"Y'know we're comin' too, so it ain't alone," Mammon shrugged and shook his head.

"Oh, it feels like a dream come true," Asmo exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

"A holiday with (y/n)...this I look forward to." Satan calmly stated, but his smile gave away his hidden excitement.

"This will be fun." Belphie chuckled, and Beel nodded in agreement as he ruffled your hair.

Though you gave a small smile, your body remained tense, and your eyes darted nervously between the brothers. Despite knowing that you had done nothing wrong, your guilty conscience weighed heavily on your heart. Then, you noticed Lucifer's expression. His usual calm demeanor was replaced with a fierce intensity; his eyes were narrowed, and his brows were furrowed. His jaw was tense, and his arms folded tightly across his chest. It was evident that he was not pleased with the situation, and you wondered if he suspected something.

The first brother's crimson orbs stared straight into Diavolo's soul, making the prince uncomfortably shift in his seat. Meanwhile, Barbatos silently observed the situation but kept his eyes on you. You couldn't help but question yourself if you did the right thing. Would it have been better if you had spoken to Lucifer first?

The vast area was draped in a deep and calming silence, broken only by the occasional sounds of the wind howling through the trees and snow crunching under your feet. As the sun slowly sank below the horizon, it cast long, ribbon-like shadows on the pristine, snow-covered ground, painting the surroundings in a warm orange hue. The cold and crisp air allowed you to see puffs of your breath as you exhaled at the breathtaking sight. The view was so mesmerizing that even the brothers were left speechless as they stood there, transfixed by the beauty of the winter wonderland that the human realm had to offer.

"Our cabin is a short distance from here," Satan said as he studied a map that Barbatos had given him. After a short while of walking through the wooded area, a structure came into view.

A winding cobblestone pathway led to a grand winter cabin covered in a thin layer of snow. The exterior was made of mocha-colored pine wood and was adorned with indicate carvings that added to its charm. The ebony-colored shingles on the roof contrasted beautifully with the light-colored wood, highlighting the structure's unique character. A large chimney protruded from the roof, spewing out thin plumes of white smoke. The second floor had an extensive all-around balcony connecting all the bedrooms from outside. Warm light poured out from the ceiling-height windows on every side of the cabin.

"This is..." Asmo started to say but his voice trailed off.

"Pretty? Amazin'? Incredible?" Mammon finished his younger brother's sentence as he removed his sunglasses and looked around.

"Can we go inside? It's cold." Belphie mumbled through chattering teeth. He liked the view, but the low temperatures were too much for him. Without wasting time, the brothers rushed inside, competing to see who could get to the door first, but Lucifer remained motionless. His eyes were fixed on the ground, and he appeared to be deep in contemplation. Even as you approached him, the Avatar of Pride didn't move or respond to you calling his name.

Why was there a stack of letters on Diavolo's desk? Every letter that came to Diavolo for official matters passed through Lucifer, so why wasn't he aware of these letters? He didn't have permission to go through the letter and viewing them without the prince's permission went against Lucifer's principles. But a nagging feeling in his mind forced him to reach for an open envelope.

"Lucifer?" You called his name out, concerned, and gently shook his arm to bring him back to the present. Snapping out of his thoughts, the tall demon looked at you but remained silent. His crimson eyes bore into your own as if trying to draw a conclusion to his theory. Were you also involved in this?

"What? Do I have something on my face?" You innocently asked, trying to break the tension in the air, but didn't wait for his answer and began pulling his arm toward the cabin. "It's freezing! We need to get inside."

He didn't withdraw his arm from your grasp, but you felt his muscles tighten under your touch. The warmth of the cabin enveloped both of you as you stepped inside. A sweet aroma of cinnamon and vanilla tickled your nose, and the sound of fire crackling filled your ears. The interior of the cabin was a modern, luxurious space with high-tech appliances and contemporary furnishings. The fully stocked kitchen was a chef's dream, equipped with everything you could possibly need to whip up a feast, while the living space had plush sofas and soft blankets to snuggle up in. Your lips curled up as the cozy atmosphere momentarily melted away any stress or worries.

Asmo strolled around the living room, admiring the tasteful décor of the cabin, while Satan investigated the second floor. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon made Beel hungrier than he was, so he eagerly searched the refrigerator for something to munch on. Belphie curled up on the sofa, hugging a faux fur pillow to his chest, gazing at the dancing flames in the large stone fireplace. Levi and Mammon stood by the windows, mesmerized by the view of the mountains in the distance, slowly fading into the darkness as the sun was setting beyond the horizon.

"So, there are only six rooms in the cabin...two downstairs and four upstairs," Satan announced while walking down the spiral wood staircase. Instantly, the volume inside the cozy cabin increased tenfold as the brothers argued about who would get to stay alone or with you. Your gaze immediately moved to Lucifer to find him lost in thoughts again. What was he thinking about? Did something happen?

"Lucifer, you want to say something before they start destroying the cabin?" You whispered, shaking his arm. The demon sighed heavily and glanced at his brothers but remained silent for a while as one thought repeated on a loop in his mind. His brothers acted like normal demons, so what was the problem?

"Beel and Belphie, I assume you wish to stay together," Lucifer broke his silence and spoke sternly. "(Y/n) and I shall stay individually, which leaves three rooms. Mammon, you shall stay alone due to your habit of borrowing items. Satan, I assume you wish to stay alone, leaving Levi and Asmo to share a room."

Without waiting for his brother's reaction, Lucifer briskly made his way up the stairs, his shoes thudding against the wooden steps. A knot formed in your stomach at the thought of Lucifer knowing what you did and being upset with you. Should you talk to him or wait? You sighed quietly and began to ascend the stairs, taking in the grandeur of the staircase and the ornate details along the walls. Your mind was still preoccupied with Lucifer's behavior, but you tried to push those thoughts aside and focus on choosing a bedroom that suited your taste.

"What's with Lucifer and (y/n)? Did somethin' happen between 'em?" Mammon asked in a low voice, not wanting his older brother to hear they were talking about him.

"Maybe they got into an argument," Asmo said, sitting next to Belphie and gently stroking his younger brother's head. Satan turned his back to his brothers and stared out the window overlooking the forest. This vacation was too conveniently placed, and the Avatar of Wrath knew there was more to this than meets the eye.

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➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi?

[fromabasementonthehilll]

My Girlfriend Is a Witch (pt.1)

͙⁺･༓☾ - Summary: after finding the cabin, lottie ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎had begun acting weirder than usual.

Pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

Warnings: ...

Pt.2

a/n: thinking of making this into 2 or 3 parts?? this is more of a build up so I'm sorry if it's a bit slow!

∘₊✧────────────────────✧₊∘

It had been a week, maybe more, after the crash. You counted the days - believing it wasn't long until you would all be found and saved. Everyone followed the same belief, but it slowly began to lose its appeal as the days got longer and there was no promise of rescue, and you had lost track anyway.

Misty had treated you alongside everyone else, she wrapped your gashed shoulder up with a bandage out of some emergency aid kit in the planes cabinet, which you had been unwrapping everyday to keep clean. It was fine at first, but the shortages of antibiotics and extra bandages had it healing much slower than it should've, it hurt like a bitch and you were putting up the best 'tough' act you could to avoid adding anymore stress to the situation.

You sat outside of the cabin on a broken log, setting up fire to cook dinner, faintly smelling the herbs in the air that Mari managed to find whilst the others were either doing laundry or getting water from the nearby lake. Lottie hadn't been doing much, though. Her mind was in a different place ever since the crash, you noticed as she began to act differently recently, but you thought nothing of it - everyone else had been stressed, unorganised and tired, so why would it be out of the ordinary for Lottie to feel the same?

You and Lottie began dating a month before the flight, she had confessed to you one day after practice - you watched panic on her face as she barely managed to get her words out, before you laughed in reassurance and told her you felt the same way. Neither of you had told anyone about your relationship and wanted to keep it that way - it wouldn't benefit you or her.

"Hey, you okay?" she came up to you, sitting on the log opposite of the one you sat on, her expression ardent each time she saw you.

"Yeah, is Shauna done with the meat yet?" You asked, feeling hunger eat away at your stomach. "No I don't think so, she's trying to get Jackie to do something," she explained, "I'm sure she'll be done by the time you set up the fire, though." you nodded, giving up on rubbing sticks for the time being. "You look real good for someone who's stranded in the wilderness, y'know" she laughed, watching you trying to rub off the ash from last nights fire, "Shut up, Lottie" you teased with the same toothy smile she loved.

It took you a while to get used to the new situation, though more often than not you were helping around with things. In around 5th grade your parents thought it was a good idea to get you into girl scouts, you partially hated them for it - the uniform sucked and you'd always be covered in dirt. You had been mentally reciting the folklore stories told by the counsellors; as the wilderness caved in some of your old memories, often wondering if they had any truth to them. You stayed there until you turned 14, learning a bunch of survival skills that you brushed off as stupid, it was ironic how useful they were now.

"Lot, how are you?" You hadn't asked that in ages, too preoccupied with surviving, just as everyone else had been. Lottie's breath hitched, knowing she wasn't fine at all, considering her meds ran out. "I'm fine, I just missed you (y/n)." She smiled sheepishly, suppressing the doubt she had in her own words. She truly did miss you, the distance that brewed between you two wasn't as bad as it could've been, but she needed you the most right now.

You could sense her unease, standing up to sit next to her, "You can talk to me, you know that right?" You moved your hand towards hers, smiling warmly as you looked at each other. her eyes were filled with anguish, her jaw clenching before she spoke,

"Promise you won't think I'm weird?"

"I promise."

You leaned towards her, watching as she tucked her hair behind her ear before letting loose of her worry, "I've had these strange visions," Her gaze was diverted to the floor, "and I've been hearing things." she shook her head in disbelief, almost shocked; confused. "What kind of visions?" You kept your eyes on her, not thinking any less of her. "I don't know, it's like I can see what happens before it happens." She gave you a sorry look, you opened your mouth to speak before being interrupted by Shauna, "Here." Jackie stood behind her as Shauna handed you the meat, looking at it in complete disgust.

Lottie wasn't given the opportunity to offer you an explanation, but it made sense to you, considering her strange act for the past week.

-

The night grew colder than the last, you had been sleeping in the attic with lottie for the past few days to prove it wasn't haunted, and you struggled to keep heat upstairs. "Just sleep here, near the fire." Shauna stated after you had tried to haggle for more blankets, you refused, though, wanting to spend more time with Lottie and keep an eye on her after she had opened up to you. "well feel free to come downstairs, there's always room." she finished, laying down the pillows.

You climbed the ladder to see lottie already there, facing the window - illuminated by the moon and stars. sitting behind her, you spoke, "Another vision?" It was a couple days after she had spoken to you about them, and she told you what she could. They weren't too frequent, but when they happened you'd stay close to her.

"I heard a baby crying this time, it went on and off for a while, but I cant figure it out." Her words were cold and hurt. You were the only one who knew about her newfound state, since you swore not to tell anybody to avoid Lottie seeming crazy to the others, and that's why you tried your best to understand, to help her. but often your help was useless, you figured it might've just been a trauma response to the crash, and you stuck around. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, hugging her from behind, bringing your body close to hers and resting your head on the back of her neck.

"Things'll gonna be okay, Lottie." Your voice was warming, bringing slight comfort to her discomfort.

You two sat there for a while, your eyes resting as she gazed at the night sky, before she turned to face you. "What if they won't be?" She bit her lip, making constant eye contact with you. She'd wear your jewellery often, you assumed it just got lost in the crash until you noticed, but she just wanted you close to her when you weren't around, and talking to each other for more than a minute was rare lately, so she had resorted to constant distress and longing.

She couldn't risk hurting you as a result of her own disturbance, just like she had before, and she subconsciously needed your reassurance that things wouldn't go that way.

"Why would you think that?" You shook your head, seeing Lottie avert her gaze to your shoulder, "Because things haven't been in our favour for a while." Her feelings were daunting to figure out, you looked up at her with sad yet hopeful eyes. "Stressing about it isn't gonna make it any better, Lot." You chuckled lightly, sensing tension brewing and wanting to avoid her mind going back into the dark place it would often wander to. She smiled in return, her eyes softening at your remark. "Hey do you remember when we would go on those road trips? you'd be so tired driving, I'd have to remind you not to crash into a tree" Lottie spoke, you saw her jaw soften and heard her laugh filling the wooden room, "And you would play shitty music just to rile me up," You added, "What?? I played it because I liked those songs (y/n), don't judge me,"

You two would often drive to seattle in your old beaten up sedan to visit your family, though you'd always make sure to turn it into a full blown camping roadtrip each time - since Washington was on the complete opposite side of New Jersey.

"You think we can go again after we're back home?" It didn't even cross your mind that Lottie thought there was chance of rescue, you were taken aback for a moment. When Lottie was with you something would alter inside of her, as if everything negative she ever believed had dissipated, you gave her hope.

"We'll go wherever you want."

She smiled a moment before her eyes looked up to yours and then down to your lips - then back to your eyes again, she kissed you and you could've sworn you felt religion in her lips; how they caressed yours with trails of grace.

-

"Are you fucking kidding me lottie?? what's gotten into you?" A riled up voice spat under lottie who had just stood there. "Nat, calm down." Shauna intervened, you walked out of the cabin, rubbing your puffy eyes as they adjusted to the light, woken by the voices after the best sleep you'd had in a while. "What's going on?" You looked towards Nat and Lottie.

"Lottie's acting like she's in The Craft or something, sort her out before she casts a spell on one of us." Natalie faced you with annoyance, your bottom lip slightly hung out - still half asleep. Everyone knew something was up with Lottie after she bashed her head into the window, it wasn't that much of a secret after all. Most were worried and you could tell, and so Natalie's reaction had you confused, you looked around to see everyone waiting for your response.

"She's been through a lot, like the rest of us. just leave her alone, Nat." You sighed, everyone went back inside - Natalie flailing her arms as you gestured for Lottie to follow you somewhere deeper into the forest. "What happened? are you okay?" You stopped amongst the woods, "Yeah, fine." she looked distressed and distant, crossing her arms, "Just ignore her, she didn't mean it," Lottie cut you off as her rushing thoughts came out,

"But what if she's right? what if I really am going crazy?"

"You're not crazy Lottie, you're just as fucked as the rest of us, nothing more." Your reassurance seemed to get through to her, your words meant the world to her and you knew it.

"You don't think there's something wrong with me?" Her face was almost pale, skin rough and almost loving eyes.

"Oh my god, of course not," you faltered into a feathery smile, "You're perfect, Lottie." You watched as her face began to regain her warm colour, softening at your words. Sometimes it felt like the world stopped around you when you were near her, you would've done anything - just to see her okay again, and she would've done anything to see you carefree and happy, just like you used to be.

She looked to the ground, laughing in relief while small tears left her eyes. "And I'm the sappy one?"

"Yeah okay, I'm not the one who wrote a love letter as an apology," She slapped your shoulder and you kept giggling like a maniac, before you were stopped dead in your tracks by Misty carrying an empty water bucket, "Are you two planning on helping?" One hand on her hip and the other holding out the bucket, "It's unfair to think you're exempt from helping when we should all be-"

"Jeez okay we'll fill it up." Lottie suppressed her laughter the best she could, running to take the bucket from an impatient Misty.

After getting back to the cabin, you settled on the living room floor with a blanket and a book. You never read books much before, however somehow it had become a routine by now.

"What're you reading?" Lottie asked, sliding down next to you.

"To the Lighthouse, Virgina Woolf. I found it in one of the drawers in the attic."

"Any good?" You never took Lottie as a reader, her interests only really came to surface when you would talk about yours, "I'll finish it and let you know." You looked at her with a smile, closing the book and resting it to the side for the time being.

-

Your mouth was filled with sickening sweetness as you chewed on the last of your food, which just happened to be the gummies your mom packed you 'for the road'.

There was no food left, and your hunger began to yearn for something else - someone else.

And her winter was cursed with your bewitchment,

the loving haze which she had caused upon you herself.

[fandomfuntimem]

Mom said its my turn with the writing.

(Did i use that right??)

Alex had gone missing. All Clyde could remember was running from the cops, sirens blaring, light flashing, and when it all calmed down they were just gone. Weeelllll, too bad. Clyde can just... y'know... move.... on..... uuuugh it can't do that! Besides! Ehm... Alex is more useful to it Alive than dead!

So. It retraced it's steps. Searching the area for any sign of it's lost sandwich person. Sniffing and shuffling through the autumn leaves was a chore, but eventually it caught onto a trail. Following it Clyde soon found.... nothing. There was nothing. The trail was cold.

It sat down and heaved a heavy sigh. It's human was gone. They could be hurt! Or worse... no! Nope. Alex must be smarter than that! They couldn't have been caught by the ERPD. Those idiots couldn't catch a rolling ball if they tried! Still... Clyde found itself worried. Not for Alex of course! Only that maybe it had lost a very important person to it's plans. Yeah...

Just as it was brainstorming ways to find it's missing comrade it glanced up. A broken branch, barely handing on by a thread. It was split upword, meaning some sort of weight was put on it to make it snap like that. Clyde looked further up, a few more broken or stressed branches. But at the top of the trail of splinters, barely visible between the green and orange leaves, was a huddled lump of fabric. It was Alex's blanket...

Ah. Thats where they whent. Clyde was a little embarrassed. How did it not think to look up!? Hell! It taught Alex the hiding in trees trick!

Well... no better time to get some well deserved payback. Clyde began to silently climb. An evil and excited grin stretched across it's face. Alex won't even see it coming.

[dragon-teaparty]

Safe and Sound - Leon Kennedy x reader

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

hai pretty people! am back but with a leon story :3

i will try to write as much as i can here

also this story is kinda long sorry XD

cws: mention of ptsd, a bit of gore

other tags: gn reader, re2 leon cuz he's a cutie<3 based on the song safe & sound from taylor swift

summary: leon wakes up from a nightmare and you are there to comfort him

———

based off of this cover :3

"No!"

His throat felt stripped of its tissue as he screamed out but there was barely a sound.

Leon stood in the ruined police department. He couldn't move no matter how hard he tried, he was stuck in place.

He watched as his coworker was torn apart and eaten alive. He wanted to run over and help his coworker, he wanted to pull out his gun and blow that zombies brains across the tile floor.

But he couldn't. He could only watch, tears streaming down his face. Leon was angry, he was desperate as he tried to move even an inch but it was as if every bone in his body was broken, crippling him.

The rookie cops screams turned into sobs, coming out at as short heaves. It was all he could do.

The undead crouched at the other officer's body slowly stood up and turned to Leon. Its skin was grey and rotting off of the bone, the eyes a milky blue color. It held a chunk of flesh in its mouth before choking it down like some sort of bird. It began to limp towards him.

Leon began to panic. He felt like he couldn't breathe as his heartbeat thumped hard against his chest.

"Move! Move! Move!" The thought rattled in his head as the zombie approached, but any effort was futile.

Before Leon could even blink, the rotting reanimated corpse lunged at him.

—

Leon jolted up in bed in a cold sweat. He took a moment to look around and take a few deep breaths.

He was safe, he was in his apartment. He tried to control his breathing as he wiped sweat and tears from his face.

He then sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He wasn't sure how much more of these nightmares he could take... They seemed to get worse each night.

It suddenly hit him that his close friend was downstairs on the couch. They were drinking and his friend got a little too drunk to drive home safely so he allowed them to stay here.

Leon stood up and quietly crept downstairs. He spotted your sleeping form on the couch, slowly moving up and down as you breathed.

"Don't be afraid to wake me up if you have another nightmare." Y/n's voice echoed in his head. It wasn't the first time y/n had comforted Leon through nightmares or panic attacks. Leon always felt bad about it but you were more than happy to help him and calm him down.

The young man stopped and contemplated for a moment. He didn't want to wake you up but, at the same time, he really needed you right now.

With a deep breath, Leon walked over to the couch and gently shook your shoulder. "Y/n..."

Slowly but surely, you stirred awake and your sleepiness faded as you saw Leon before you.

"Hey, Lee," you said, your voice a little raspy from sleep. "Another nightmare?"

Leon nodded and sighed. "I'm sorry, I really don't want to be alone right now."

You shook your head and opened your arms. Leon immediately crawled on the couch and buried his face into your chest.

"I told you to never apologize." you said as you wrapped your arms around your friend. "You've done absolutely nothing wrong."

Leon relaxed in your arms. He already felt so much better being here with you.

You were used to Leon coming to you about his nightmares and flashbacks but it wasn't very often that you actually spent the night at his apartment. Usually, if you weren't with him, he would call you and vent to you about his bad dreams.

"Y/n?" Leon spoke up, his voice slightly muffled as his head rested on your chest.

"Mhm?" You hummed in response.

Leon hugged you just a little tighter. "Can you sing that song? Y'know, the one you sing to me when I call you?"

You smiled sweetly. "Of course." You replied.

You and Leon laid down on the couch. Leon's face nuzzled into your neck and your hand found its way to his hair.

After you knew that you both were comfortable, you began to sing softly.

"I remember tears running down your face when I said I'll never let you go..."

Your fingertips gently grazed Leon's scalp as you ran his hand through his hair.

"When all those shadows almost killed your light..."

This song was very special for both you and Leon. You had chosen this song because it perfectly described the way you felt about Leon and how much you cared about him.

"I remember you said, don't leave me here alone..."

Leon's muscles relaxed and he closed his eyes, admiring your soft voice.

"But all that's dead and gone tonight..."

Memories flashed through your mind as you sang. The song brought back memories of you and Leon. The way he'd melt in your embrace and the way he stopped crying when you sang to him.

"Just close your eyes, the sun is going down..."

The comfort you gave Leon was unbelievable to him. You were his person, his light. If it weren't for you, he'd be drowning himself in alcohol. Your touch alone was enough to help him calm down. He had to admit that he loves you, he really loves you but he didn't want to admit his more romantic feelings for you.

"You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now..."

You two weren't even dating but you might as well have been. It was normal for you two to hug and cuddle up next to each other. To tell the truth, you loved Leon, maybe more than you should've. Feeling the way he buries his face into the crook of your neck makes your heart flutter. You didn't admit your feelings in fear of ruining your friendship if he didn't feel the same.

"Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound..."

Leon was drifting off, all worries and fears from his nightmares slipping out of his mind. You smiled at this. It was usually at this point in the song that he'd begin to fall asleep. Your hand gently ran through his soft hair, lulling the young man even further into sleep.

"I love you." Leon mumbled quietly before he finally fell asleep in your arms.

You were surprised but it was a welcome one. You smiled and held Leon closer as a light blush crept onto your cheeks.

"I love you too."

[morgana-artt]

A Broken Promise (P x GN!Reader)

Note: would you guys believe me If I said I thought about this and wrote it up just now because I did.

Warnings: Major Spoiler for the 'Bad' Ending and Angst baby!!!!

_________________________________________

Broken and tired, you slowly made your way back to the hotel with tears running down your cheeks. You hated this, you hate what's become of your home and losing the people within in it. You were a stalker and by god was it taking a toll on you, you tried to save a few people but all the effort turned out to be fruitless, most had the disease and you knew you had to do something but without a cure...well, you know. You glared at your blade that you dragged across the ground, the sound of it scraping across the ground with red blood dripping off it.

You eventually got back and closed the gate, it was late so you assumed most in the hotel were asleep. You let go of your sword as it banged with a clang, this caught the attention of a certain puppet who was mulling about near the front desk, his head looking up at the sudden noise. You quietly walked in but not before wiping your eyes dry and taking a deep breath before approaching the puppet. "Everyone went to bed, P?" You asked as you got a nod in reaponse, "right...well, I'll go to bed too. Try not to stay up too late..." You said before turning away, you felt a tug on your sleeve and turned to face P, "hm?" You hummed as he pointed to your eyes, probably still red from crying, you gave a weak smile "it's nothing, buddy... Good night" you said once more before making your way to your room.

20 minutes past and you were on the edge of your bed, in your PJ's, crying as large tear drops hit your pants leg. You tried to breath but it was hard, sometimes you wish the frenzy would have got to you too or the disease- anything to stop feeling like this. You jumped as you heard a soft knock before the door opened a little, P peaked his head in and gave you a look while tilting his head. You tried to clean up your face the best you could but it was pointless.

P walked in and quietly sat next you, the bed dipping as he did so. He looked at you in silence thinking of what to do, you spoke up with a crackling voice, "d-don't worry about me, o-okay?" you hiccuped, "its just...stress, y'know?" You let out a dry laugh but P didn't laugh with you instead he pulled you close and wrapped his arms around your waist. This caught you off guard as more tears began to well up and fall down your cheeks, you gripped the back of his coat and sobbed into the crane of his neck while P softly rubbed your back.

He began to hum a tune you had said you liked, it was the song 'Feel' from the record P had gotten earlier. This made you sob more, words couldn't form out your mouth but they didn't need to, P knew for a while how much you were struggling and could only hug you and try his best to be there for you. "Pino..?" "Hm?" he replied back, "...please don't leave me..." was all you could whimper before feeling your hair being stroked. "I promise." He said immediately, as if waiting for the right time to say that. You nodded into his neck as he allowed you to feel as much as you need. He promised. He promised to be there for you and you believe him.

Oh, how much of a lie that was.

You stared at the now lifeless body of someone you truly loved, all because of one mans selfish actions. "P...?" Your timid voice spoke as you dropped to your knees next to the person you loved. You shook his shoulder, "P...wake up...please? C-come on...let's go back..." Your voice cracked as tears began to fall. No. NO. NOT again. HE PROMISED. So why was he met with this fate? Your hand gently went over the hole that was where his heart would be, you felt something wet and moved your hand to look at your fingers. Oil and blood. You gripped your hand into a fist, rage seething through your body. You were going to go after him. The one who did this: Geppetto.

You leaned down and softly pressed your lips against your lovers and stroked his cheek. "I'll come back for you...I'll try to fix you, my love. I promise." You grabbed your blade and stood up before turning around and walked out, your heels hitting the ground as you felt nothing but pain and anger course through you. You were going to get payback. You were going to retrieve back what was rightfully his. His heart. You had to.

For him.

[mlmxreader]

Blue Sand | Max Rockatansky x gn!reader

anonymous asked: Max Rockatansky: Hi!! I hope everything's going alright with you. May I please ask for a little something using the following prompts for Max Rockatansky X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader: "Hey, hey, look at me, c'mon" + "What's got you in such a bad mood?" Thank you so much 🖤! 🐍anon

summary: Max knows you better than anyone else, but maybe he knows you too well.

tws: mentions of blood and violence, swearing

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Max sighed heavily as he glared over at you, wondering what he could have possibly done wrong to make you hate him so much; you were in such a bad mood recently, always getting huffy with him when he so much as asked a simple question.

Rolling your eyes when he made a small comment; you were getting on his nerves if he was honest, and he couldn't see any point in sticking by your side if you were just going to keep being in such a strop with him.

Your mood seemed to sour when he was nearby, and although he tried to keep his distance, it was extremely difficult; Max knew that he only had one choice to make, and although it made him a little bit nervous, he knew that he didn't have any other option in the matter.

So he sighed as he approached you as you sat on the cool sand and watched the sunset, clearing his throat as he bent over and put his hand on your shoulder; you didn't react, even though he wished that you would have.

He frowned, shaking his head as he dropped to his knees at your side, his hand still on your shoulder.

You and Max had been through so much together, he knew that even the smallest of gestures meant almost everything to you, he knew that they meant just the same for him, too. After all, when he was without kindness and companionship, when he was without loyalty and support, he could always run to you and expect to find it in its most unconditional of forms.

A shaky sigh left Max's lips, and he glared at you for a moment before turning his gaze to the setting sun; the sand appeared a dark blue, almost navy really, as the sky slowly turned from grey to black. He wanted to smile when he felt your hand on his.

He leaned in slightly, letting you hold onto his fingers as he sat so close that his thigh was against your knee.

"What's got you in such a bad mood?"

You shrugged, staring out into nothing as you gave his fingers a gentle squeeze, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. "Just thinking too much, is all. Really."

Max knew you too well to believe it. "No. That's not it."

You glared at him for a moment, then smiled. "I've been an ass, ain't I?"

He nodded.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, shaking your head. "I don't mean to take it out on you…"

"I know," Max mumbled. "What is it?"

"A lot of things," you admitted softly. "I think about how things used to be a lot. Before, y'know, everything turned to shit… wonder if maybe we might've had a chance."

Max grumbled incoherently, one of the few ways he told you to keep going.

"You know what I mean," you huffed. "Date nights. Cuddling in bed. Marriage. That sorta thing, but… but that ain't the world we live in anymore, and I… I know that… there won't ever be a chance for us, Max."

"Maybe not. If you can't fix what's broken, you'll kill your mind."

You nodded slowly. "I'm at the point now where it feels like I'm holding the knife."

"Give it to me," Max muttered. "Give me the knife."

"I can't do that," you whispered, shaking your head. "I can't let you burden yourself with this shit."

He withdrew his hand from yours, and moved so that he could nudge your legs apart; kneeling between them, he caught your chin with his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him. Forcing you to show him the handle of the blade. He nodded slowly.

"Hey, hey, look at me, c'mon."

You couldn't look away, clearing your throat as you stared at him. "I'm not giving you the knife."

"Let me put my hand on the edge."

You didn't want to, but if there was anyone in the world you trusted to have their hand near the knife, it was Max; so you nodded, and you dared to crack a broken smile as you quickly stole a kiss. His hand firmly planted on the blade's edge the second your lips met his.

"That okay?"

Max nodded, thanking you quietly before he gently pushed you down, his arms either side of your head and digging into the navy blue sands as he sighed; if you were going to give him the edge of your knife, it was only right that he would give you the edge of his own.

He remembered being told not to run with knives, but this was different. If you cut him, he would cut you, and you would bleed in perfect harmony; you would both bleed knowing that it was not the world that had gotten to you, it was not the shit that the planet had become - but it was loyalty, companionship, and dedication. You would both bleed for something human. Something that society began to punish a long time ago.

Staring into Max's eyes, you never felt more at peace; knowing that you had put your mind in his hands just as he had put his in yours. You worried your hands would shake, that you would drop it. You didn't know he worried about the same.

You swallowed thickly, licking your lips as you closed your eyes for a moment, thinking of the right thing to say without making it seem so fucking silly.

"Max… in another life, I would have been happy with you. In another world, we could have had a home in a village somewhere, a dog or two, and we could have… we could have been happy. I would have killed to have spent my days paying bills with you. I would have killed to have lounged in the sun with you, to have woken up in a bed with you. I would have killed to argue with you over where we'd go on date nights."

Max could only nod slowly as he pressed his face to the side of your neck, his bottom lip quivering as he let out a shaking sigh; he couldn't say it, but he felt the same.

[goldensunset]

i don't really know how to word this but like i feel like i'm gonna forever have to deal with the pain and heartache of one of my very first pokémon games- the first 'normal' pokémon game i've ever played, that i will have lasting nostalgia and love for as a result of it being formative to my introduction into the series- being the one that will forever be looked down upon for bad graphics and technical issues as a result of the game having been rushed

like i honest to goodness want to scream and yell and cry into the void about how this means everything to me and will always be one of my fave games just in general. but how am i gonna do that without someone being like 'the broken overpriced mess? the one that's missing all this stuff from the older games that was great? the thing with all the cringe? that one?' or whatever. and the thing is they aren't wrong for their criticisms either like i know the fact that they rushed this wonderful game hardcore is a massive stain on its reputation and it hurts me too but like i cannot turn off the brain full of love in me and be a mean critic. or even an impartial one. i mean i criticize everything i love don't get me wrong i am constantly running my mouth about what i like and don't like. but at the end of the day i approach all media with an unusually optimistic mindset. if you see me talk a ton about something no matter what i'm saying you can bet it means i love it.

just. aaagh. it's always tough being a new fan of an old series. i'm like too embarrassed to express my opinions bc i feel like they're invalid y'know? i feel so exhausted every time i see something to the effect of like 'oh those poor kids these days having to deal with such bad quality everything what a bad time to be a fan of pokémon wow y'all make me feel so old' well see the thing is i actually am thriving and i love it here. and i'm also an adult myself so i have more critical thinking skills than people who played red when they were like five years old did. and even with the power of critical thinking i manage to be in love with this. join me in marvelling at the beauty of life

[pebblestar]

Raphael x injured! Reader

【 We're okay. 】

「 ok I did not expect this to be so lengthy- but uh y'know the drill. blood n all that jazz. 」

Every bone in your body aches.

Despite the torture you've endured for the past five hours, You know a part of it is your fault.

But you also don't regret it either.

You saved Raphael from getting shot at it, And who knows if he would've survived.

Hell, you were suprised to even be alive yourself.

The sound of shuffling footsteps reaches your ears, And the second triceraton grunts out.

"We should report back to the prime leader."

You barely register the rest of the conversation shared between them, But with the door sliding to a close, they finally leave you alone. For now.

For a time, you can only lay in the small puddle of your own blood, Attempting to somehow regain your strength back.

After five minutes, you attempt to sit upright only for your vision to blur and with a thud your cheek is pressing back agasint the cool floor.

Maybe a nap wouldn't be so bad.

You could always kick there asses later.

Then just maybe by that time Raphael would show up. Then see how you escaped by yourself... How you took down a triceraton yourself.

With that fantasy in your mind, You allowed sleep to pull you under.

• • • •

You're awoken by the sound of some sort of alarm blaring and for a moment your confused.

Your eyes dart around the white room, Then not only realize that you slept for longer then you'd have liked, but remember where you were.

Your body however is starting to feel a lot worse- Everything feels too suffocating.

Too hot.

But also to cold at the same time.

With a shiver, you try moving in hopes that whatever this feeling is will go away.

When you try sitting yourself up, A yelp of pain escapes you.

Oh no.

No no no.

With wide eyes, you glance down at your left leg as the realization dawns on you.

It's definitely broken.

There was no way you'd be moving anytime soon.

Before you can have a full blown panic attack over the situation,

The sound of beeping from the door startles you from your internal panic.

They were going to kill you.

You didn't want to die like this.

You wanted to show off to Raphael one more time- Show him how much your fighting skills had improved in just a couple of months of him training you.

Your breathing picks up, The panic begining to sink its fangs in you as the door finally slides open.

You go still.

Then a familiar voice is calling out to you.

"Y/n? Hey. It's me."

Raphael crouches down in front of you, Reaching out to undo the handcuffs around your wrists.

When you don't respond, Two hands carefully cup your cheeks and carefully tilt your chin up to look at him.

"Hey. C'mon, You gotta stay with me, Yeah?"

It takes a moment for the panic to subside.

Then your blinking slowly before your hand is reaching up to rest along his wrist.

"There you are. Let's blow this joint."

He's grinning at you.

But you shake your head.

"No no. I... My legs, Raph. Somethings wrong."

At your words, His grin immediately vanishes.

The turtle carefully moves you so that your sitting up, But even Raph can tell from your lack of movement just how much pain you were in.

Not to mention just how warm to the touch you are.

Wordlessly, He's lifting up your pants leg to investigate the wound.

Raphael can swear he feels vomit rising in his throat-

On your thigh, A red circle wrapped around your entire leg. It was hard to tell whether or not it was internal bleeding or a outer wound.

Either way, Your leg was incredibly bruised.

Raphael reached out a finger to try and figure out whether the circle that wrapped around your leg was a internal wound or not, but at your sudden whimper of pain he immediately pulls his hand away.

"Shit okay."

Raphael drew in a deep breath, Now placing both hands on your shoulders in order to ground you back to the current situation.

"You gotta stay awake. I need you to wrap your arms around my neck, And I'm gonna lift ya."

You shake your head.

"No no. Just leave me. I'm going to slow you down-"

"Stop. I ain't fucking leaving you. No way in hell."

Raphael refused to hear you give up your life so easily. You'd be going back home with him no matter what.

You meant so much to him.

Maybe more then you'd ever know.

His hands begin to carefully lift up your arms, And finally you cooperate as you slowly wrap your arms around his neck.

"This is gonna hurt-"

Raphael lifts you up by your legs, And it takes everything in you not to full on break down sobbing in front of him.

"Hurts. Hurts. Raph-"

"I know. I know. Just hold on a little longer."

His voice drops to a much softer tone as he cradles your body closer to his chest.

He wants to give you a moment to compose yourself, but the sound of a gun blasting somewhere down the hall startles you, And you can already guess that the way back home would be even more painful.

If you even made it that far, that is.

ꕥ ꕥ ꕥ

It's two days after your rescue.

Two days of not being able to see you.

And Raphael's patience is already running thin.

The turtle understood that you were incredibly fragile right now, And needed all the help you could possibly get.

But waiting around didn't make it any easier.

Mikey and Leo tried getting Raph to do other things, Mainly training which did work- But halfway through training Raphael would up and leave.

At first Mikey thought it was Raphael admitting defeat, But later found out that it was Raph going to interrogate Donnie whenever he left the lab on your current condition.

Needless to say, Nothing could keep the turtle in red distracted for too long because his focus was always on you.

On the third day, Raphael's patience finally snaps and he finds himself in the lab despite Leonardo trying to stop him for Donnie's sake.

It doesn't take too long to find you.

It's a spare room Donnie had set up, A makeshift infirmary.

You lay asleep but still look sickly.

He doesn't realize that he's practically wide eyed and staring until a voice breaks Raphael out of his trance.

"Is this what you wanted to see?"

Donnie comes up from behind Raphael, Arms crossed with a frown.

"How are they?"

"Not good."

At that, There's a flash of fear on Raphael's face.

Donnie sighs at his brothers reaction.

"Raph, it's only been three days. You have to give them time."

Raphael clenches his fist before asking.

"What about there leg?"

At the question, Donnie pales slightly.

Raph notices and glances back at your sleeping form, feeling frustration starting to bubble up inside of him at the lack of answers.

Donnie's phone chimes from somewhere in the lab and Donnie almost looks relieved to get away.

"I... I have to meet up with April for there medicine. Please be careful with them."

Before Raph can even blink or even demand answers, Donnie is gone, leaving the turtle completely alone with you.

Drawing in a breath, He brings up a chair to your bedside.

He doesn't want to invade your privacy, But with the blanket pulled up slightly he notices the bandages wrapped around your leg.

Or rather what was now a stub.

"It doesn't hurt."

At the sound of your voice, Raphael nearly jumps out of his own shell.

"Donnie can just make me a new one. Hey, maybe I can even be part cyborg now. Mikey will be sooo jealous."

Raphael doesn't understand how your smiling like it's nothing. You'd quite literally lost a part of your own body.

"Not funny."

Raph's voice is serious.

Then for a moment nothing is said between the two of you, until

he's speaking up again, clear frustration building up inside of him.

"If you hadn't got in the way-"

"But if I didn't you could've died."

You interrupt him almost immediately.

"That's real funny coming from you."

Raph grunts out.

Your hand finds his, and with a shaky breath you try to reassure him.

"Really, I'm okay.

We're okay. You got to me in time, You big ol' teddybear."

Raphael huffs his amusement at the dumb little nickname, But he doesn't feel like arguing with you.

He'd talk more about what went down when you were feeling better.

"Told ya to stop callin me that."

He huffs out.

"I think it's fitting."

There's a small moment of silence again, before you carefully turn on your side to look up at the turtle.

His hand reaches out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

He hated how cute you were sometimes.

It meant you got away with most things, And any frustration he may have had toward you slowly fizzled itself out.

"Are you sure your okay... With y'know?"

Raph asks awkwardly.

It earns a small chuckle from you, before slowly nodding your head.

"Yeah. My leg wasn't saveable. It had to be severed before it infected anything else..."

You trail off with a small yawn.

"Your such a idiot. Y'know that? Always getting yourself into trouble..."

Raph mumbles out, but it's clear he isn't angry with you.

If anything he's more worried about your current condition.

You ignore his words, Reaching out for his hand as you trace slow shapes into his palm.

"You should take me on a date once I'm better. I could really go for some Chinese takeout again or maybe that new buffet place...

Your words trail off into nothing, As sleep is beginning to pull you back under.

"Y/n?"

Raph calls out quietly, Before checking that your still breathing.

He watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, and the tension in his shoulders loosens.

Now that he was in here with you, He wouldn't be leaving your side anytime soon.

He only wished you were awake for longer so that he could tell all the embarrassing details of what the both of you could do on the date.

Hold hands... Sit ontop the rooftop talking about nothing too important... Maybe even ask you to officially be his-

Raphael shakes his head, A blush creeping onto his cheeks.

He'd think about those things later.

But silently, He promises himself to help you through this difficult change. And make sure the date was even more perfect too.

After what had went down these past four days, What you had lost, you deserved that much.

[scaryscarecrows]

Can we have some stories of times that Frank, beloved Squad Dad, had to give each of them a hug? Thanks!

"Christ, where are they?"

"I don't know, I'm looking. You're sure you weren't followed?"

"Positive." Frank shuffles closer to the monitors and dodges the angry swat. "Relax, son, I'm just lookin', not touchin'."

"You're a menace. Fingers to yourself."

"Christ, you hit one touchscreen--"

"No touching!"

Frank had hit it. He'd hit it pulling Jimmy into a tight hug because oh, thank God, somebody's still alive with that cyclops bastard on the warpath. Jimmy'd fixed it fast enough, it's fine. They're both fine. For now.

The front door opens and closes and Antoine's voice, exhausted and wrung out, reaches them before he does.

"Tell me I'm not walking into a room of corpses."

"Nope." Jimmy switches screens. "Frank's here. Everybody else has gone dark. He follow you?"

"I lost him."

"You hear from the boss?"

"No. Was hoping you had."

"Uh-uh." He comes over, next to Frank, and slumps forward. "You got nothing?"

"Zilch. I can kinda track Deathstroke--chatter, y'know--but it's a ballpark."

"Great."

Frank pulls him into a one-armed hug and promptly rips his hand back when he hits blood.

"What the hell?"

"Armor took the brunt."

"For fuck's sake--c'mon, lemme take a look at it. Next time, lead with the gunshot wound, okay? And gimme your cigarettes."

*

Trent narrowly avoids taking the door off its hinges half an hour later. Antoine's collapsed in Jimmy's spare rolly chair, insisting that he's fine, and Frank has largely given up fighting him on it.

"I swear to God," Trent pants, "when we find the boss, I'm giving him the biggest fucking I Told You So."

"You're not hurt?"

"Nah. I got him to back off with the mini gun and lost him on the back streets." Trent grins and plunks said mini gun on the ground. "Shit, man, you didn't try to fight him, did you?"

"Fuck off," Antoine mutters. "No."

Trent looks fine. Out of breath, a bit, and his hands are badly burned from the confrontation with the Bat, but otherwise he's okay. Well, apart from the bruise on his head, also courtesy of Batman. When Frank pulls him in for a quick hug, there's no broken bones or questionable bloody spots, either.

"I'm okay. Just. You know. Pissed."

"I don't think this was part of the contingency plan."

"Yeah, well, I'm still getting in my I Told You So," Trent gripes. "Because I did. I said that one-eyed bastard was trouble. And now look."

"We all said it. He said it, too, remember?"

"Still. How do we know he didn't double-cross us?"

"We don't, but it's not his style." Jimmy pauses. "Everyone shut up. I got activity at one of the safehouses in Drescher, just lemme work."

*

Mark gets there before Riley does, but there's no time for anything because they've found the Knight, all right, but everything's gone tits-up. They're all gathered around the screen--Mark's only half paying attention, with Antoine's shoulder an' all--watching in anticipatory horror. Well, not Trent. He left to meet them, to offer any help possible. But they're keeping him updated. Frank would love to do the same, but Batman destroyed most of the drones, the remainder are hacked, and Batman also fucked up his leg earlier tonight. So he has to sit here and stew and curse whatever deity did this to them.

Riley made it. He must have. Frank doesn't know anybody else who has a snowball's chance in hell at shooting Deathstroke. A cheer goes up when the assassin staggers back, and yeah, all right, when he's not their problem, the Bat's an impressive fighter. More importantly, he stands a chance at dealing with this asshole.

"Trent's comin' to you," Antoine says tiredly. Mark tries to take the mic away and gets swatted at. "We looking at a pickup or a...a retrieval?"

Silence. Then rapid taps: pickup.

Oh, thank God. Something goes right tonight.

"Okay. He's about...Jimmy, get me--thanks--five minutes out. How bad is it?"

"Not as bad as it'll be when I'm done," Mark grumbles. "Fucking idiot. What the hell got into him? That was never gonna go well."

"Could'a been fear toxin," Frank reminds him. "Could'a been anything."

"Goddamn moron."

"Yeah, well. That's nothing new."

"Humph."

Frank just laughs at him, gives him a friendly elbowing.

"Might wanna grab a Coke," he says. "Night ain't over yet."

*

Riley gets three steps inside before Frank grabs him. Mark's not here to lecture, but that's okay.

"The hell," he says, "was that?"

No answer, but a second later he realizes it's because Riley's arms are pinned. Whoops.

He lets him go and straightens up, hands on hips.

"Well?"

It worked.

"You were gonna try to kick his ass."

Yeah.

"For chrissakes, boy--"

He'd have done it for us.

Yeah. Yeah, he would have. For better or worse.

"Can't argue with that," he says softly. "C'mon, may as well comfy up."

Riley shrugs. He looks exhausted now, with the adrenaline worn off, and his hands are shaking a little. Frank claps him on the shoulder with a little more force than strictly necessary and steers him away from the computers.

"Get on, now."

[bonefall]

I actually really like what you’re doing with Crowfeather, he feels a bit like a foil to Bramblestar almost. They’re both prophesied Sundrown Patrol cats who end up being awful fathers and bad people. But, Crowfeather matures and changes his behavior. He can never fix what’s already broken, he’ll never be close to Breezepelt or his Grandkits, but Can still become a better person, and he’s still willing to put in the work to change.

Bramble is the opposite. He never matures, he changes for the worse. He looks at the broken shards of his relationships with Squirrel and The Three and instead of attempting to fix it he doubles down and drags the remains through the mud. He gets a second chance to be a good father, now to Spark and Alder, and without care or hesitation he tears opportunity apart. What’s already broken can never be fixed, but unlike Crowfeather he will never be willing to change just for the sake of being better.

Exactly, like... my intentions aren't to 'redeem' every bad parent or family member, or totally erase how they hurt their kids. I think it's especially important to show situations that can't be fixed, and people who never do get better.

But you don't have to be 'rewarded' with a person's time or attention to make that effort worth it. Being a better person has its rewards in the new bonds you can forge, and the meaning you can find in other things. You're never too far gone to be unworthy of happiness and fulfillment, even if there are things that will never be the same.

I think being like Bramble is a very lonely experience. It sucks to be like that. People end up drifting away from mistreatment, which just prompts the abuser to claw harder and hold on tighter to what they haven't already lost, in an endless loop. It's really sad AND infuriating, it's like watching someone try to fill a vertical hole with tears and blood.

It was really helpful to me in my own life to realize that, that a person can be hurting, and that still doesn't mean you personally need to give them the time of day. Real pain and trauma in the heart of someone who's hurting you does not entitle them. They can even be trying to make amends-- you don't need to be their salvation. Regret is just how wisdom turns a wound into a scar, y'know?

But anyway, glad to know that my Crowf changes are going over smoothly. I was a bit worried of the response, since I'm both trying to establish he has some serious differences from canon to establish he could be a competent leader AND still keep that he was an abusive father. I hope I'm hitting a good balance.