#turns out I’m not very good at drawing arrows

[pickledpaw]

Dodge

[haveihitanerve]

Oliver Queen was quite certain he was going to die. He had been holding in a laugh for the past ten minutes, which was dangerous under any circumstances, and downright fatal if it was an explosive, loud and hearty laugh, which this one was. Especially considering that no one else seemed to be as tickled as he was, and if he did laugh, he would be laughing at the Batman. The thing was, that Batman had brought his own coffee mug and thermos to the Watchtower (because apparently their coffee wasn't good enough, or something, as batman hadn't exactly offered an explanation) and both had phrases on them that would be amusing belonging to anyone, and were downright hilarious due to the fact that they belonged to Batman. The thermos said “I’m not saying I’m Batman, I’m just saying you’ll never see me and Batman in the same room together” which, sadly, no one else seemed to have even looked twice at, and his mug, which had a large black bat on it, which said “We’re a Batty little family”. Both items were very much not helping Oliver to win his fight with his mirth, when Batman caught his eye. “Oh shit.” he muttered when the Bat began to move towards him. Well, he was bound to die anyway. “Nice mug.” Oliver greeted the second Batman got close. To his surprise, Batmans lips twitched upward. “Thank you. My children got it for me. I’m surprised you're the first to mention it.” Oliver looked at him in surprise. “Oh my freaking gods.” Batman, the Batman, wanted people to comment on his mug. He was proud of it. Oliver finally released his cackle, and Batmans smile grew marginally in delight. “Oh man that is priceless.” Oliver chuckled when he had finally gotten himself under control. “But hey, kids are like that. I mean, mine got me a shirt with two arrows pointing up, with a bow that was sideways beneath it to make a simile face.” Oliver sketched on his own shirt with his finger to display the image. Batman chuckled lightly. “Thats… quite funny.” “Yeah.” Oliver agreed, thinking back with a smile how often he wore it, and Roy’s delight every time. “My kids,” Batman added, drawing Oliver out of his thoughts. “Got me a tie that says, uh, “Worlds Best Dad In Gotham. Which… o-k i guess..” Oliver stared at him agape before absolutely losing it at the tone with which Batman had quoted his tie. “That is… brilliant.” Oliver wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Wow. Wow wow wow wow wow.” Oliver smiled with relish. “I love that.” Batman smiled back. “I do too.” “Uh, green arrow? Whats so funny?” Green Lantern called over. “Oh nothing, nothing.” Oliver called back. “Just some uh.. Dad jokes.” Hal made a noise of confusion, but Batman chuckled lightly. “Dad jokes?” Green Lantern asked, utterly befuddled. Batman and Green Arrow grinned at each other.  

Oliver Queen was quite certain he was going to die. He had a meeting in Gotham today, which was always long and boring, especially since he usually only dealt with the lower members of Wayne Enterprises. Not that he had anything against status, not really, it was only that they were always such a drag, and it was clear they wanted a higher lifestyle. But, to his surprise, when Oliver walked into the meeting room, the CEO of WE was actually present, sitting at the head of the table in deep discussion with a man Oliver vaguely remembered was named something Fox. Lucy? “Ah, Ollie, so good of you to meet with us!” Boomed a voice and Oliver turned in surprise to see Bruce Wayne. “Bruce? Hey man! I didn't know you’d be here!” Oliver grinned in surprised delight, offering the other man a quick hug. Bruce shrugged, sipping some coffee. “I’m just here as a chauffeur. I’m taking Timmy out after this, but I’ll be a part of the meeting if you want some decent conversation.” He winked and Oliver laughed. “Not that my son isn't a good conversationalist.” He added. Oliver waved a hand, moving to his seat and offering the kid a quick smile. Tim glanced over, offering a wave before returning to his heated debate. “Naw I know he is. Wasn't expecting you guys to be here. Glad you are though.” Oliver sighed in relief. Bruce hummed in acknowledgement, taking a seat next to him. “Well I’m glad to see you too Ollie, theres, actually something I want to tell you.” At that, his son finally looked over for more than a second, something gleaming in his eyes. “Oh?” Oliver asked intrigued, leaning forward. That was when he saw it. Tucked just barely beneath the lapel of Bruces suit jacket…. A tie. A tie that said “Worlds Best Dad in Gotham. Which… O-k I guess..” Oliver sat back like electrocuted. Bruce and Tim watched him carefully, and Fox gave a very good impression of looking out the window. “You- uh- you're.” Oliver cleared his throat and Bruce leaned in intently. “Yes?” “Your tie.” Oliver blurted. “Its… nice. My friend has one too.” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Does he?” He lifted his mug, which had a large black bat on it, and sipped. Oliver swallowed. “W-why me? Why now?” Bruce shrugged, glancing over at his son who was now also doing a very good job of admiring the ceiling tiles. “Because I trust you. And because I need a good friend.” Oliver smiled weakly. “Well, you already had that in Brucie.” Bruce smiled softly. “I know. But friendship requires trust. And Batman needs all the friends he can get.” Oliver chuckle lightly. “So… Dad jokes was the way to go huh?” Bruce smiled, pleased, leaning back. “Yep. Dad jokes.” Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen grinned at each other. 

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I'd copy-and-pasted this request into my doc to write it, but now I can't find it in my inbox! I don't think it was anonymous, so if this is your request and it somehow got deleted, I'm very sorry! Thank you for requesting, apologies for the wait, and hope you like it <3

hi love!!! Congratulations on 1,000 followers!!! I absolutely adore your writing and if your requests are open I’d love it if you could right something about poly marauders with a reader who’s non-binary or gender fluid. Maybe they just got together and the reader hasn’t came out to them yet or something. Idk you get all the writing freedom, of course if you don’t want to write it’s totally fine!!! Thanks anyway 🫶💗🫶💗 xoxo

cw: marauders unknowingly misrepresent reader's pronouns+gender

poly!marauders x nb!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“Sirius, no.” Remus rubs at his temples. “I will not mar you with a tattoo gun you bought from some bloke on the street.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a wuss,” Sirius complains, sitting spread out on his bed. “It'll be fun, you can all do it!”

“I’m on board,” James says from his own bed. He’s levitating his shoes about the room idly. “Hey Pads, can we draw anything we want?” 

Sirius ponders this for a moment. “If you do a dick, it has to be small, and I’m putting an arrow with your name next to it.” 

James’ smile fades, and he lets the shoes drop. “You’re no fun.” 

“I don’t know,” you say to Remus, looking up at him from your chosen spot on the floor of their dorm. “It’s his body, I say let him cover it in shitty tattoos if that’s what he wants.” 

“Yes!” Sirius hops down from his bed to throw an arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your cheek. “That’s what I’m talking about, that’s my girl!” 

You’d begun to glow at his over-the-top praise, but you dim at the last bit. Sirius must feel it; he looks over at you quizzically as Remus says for the fifth time, “That’s fine, but I won’t have anything to do with it.” 

“Well, it’ll…” Sirius’ eyebrows furrow as he continues to watch you. You try to bury your discontent where he can’t see it, but once he catches a whiff of melancholy he becomes a dog with a bone. The levity slowly leeches from his voice. “It’ll be more fun if you all do it…Sorry, sweetheart, is everything alright?” 

You don’t want the attention, but you can’t bring yourself to lie. “I didn’t mean to distract you,” you say softly, shoulders hunching forward. “Keep going.” 

“No, that’s alright.” His slender fingers squeeze at your shoulder like he can tell you need the comfort. “It’s not actually important. What’s on your mind?” 

You want to tell him. You want to tell all of them, you have for weeks, but is there ever a right time? When the boys had first asked you out, it felt too abrupt to say anything, like you were making a big deal out of nothing because they didn’t even know you all that well. But now you’ve turned serious faster than you could’ve seen coming, and they feel like they do know you that well. And the longer you go without telling them, the more like you feel like you’re keeping some dirty secret. 

You should have just corrected them the first time they’d gotten your pronouns wrong. Each time feels like someone’s chipping away at your heart with a toothpick, the pain lessened by your surety in their good intentions but still very much there. It’s almost worse, now, to be on the precipice of falling in love with people who you don’t feel really know you, and it’s all your own fault.

This isn’t how you’d imagined the conversation coming about, but it might be the best chance you get for a while. 

“I, uh.” You clear your throat, unsure if you should move out from under Sirius’ arm for this conversation but really not wanting to. “I don’t…listen, it’s not your fault, but I don’t really like it when you call me your girl.” 

Sirius lets his arm drop to look at you properly, hurt flashing across his features. You take his hand, selfish thing that you are. “I mean it, it’s really not your fault.” It’s more plea than promise. “It’s just that I don’t—I don’t really see myself as a girl. I’m sorry.” 

You watch confusion take hold in Sirius’ expression before letting your eyes flit to the other boys. James looks tentatively like he’s beginning to understand, and Remus’ face is carefully controlled. He leans his elbows on his knees, looking down at you. 

“What do you mean by that, honey?” 

You know the endearment is meant to soften the question, but you get all tense around the middle anyway. 

“Just that…” You swallow, and James offers you a small smile of encouragement. “I don’t really see myself as any gender. It’s…it’s called nonbinary, I don’t know if you might’ve heard of it before? I’m really sorry I didn’t say something sooner.” 

“Hey, that’s alright.” James kicks a foot out from his bed, nudging your leg gently. “I’m really glad you told us, angel. Thank you.” 

You try to return his smile, chewing your lip. 

“Merlin, I thought you meant you didn’t want to be our girl,” Sirius sighs, bumping your shoulder with his. “That would have been unacceptable. You can be our something-else, though, if you like.” 

This is going well, you tell yourself. They’re being as kind as you’d always expected. Still, you don’t feel like they fully understand what you’re so clumsily trying to tell them.

“I get it if this changes things for you,” you say, and when you lean away from Sirius’ touch, he doesn’t chase you. “I know this is…you signed on for a girlfriend, not this.” 

The gentle smile drops from James’ face. His eyebrows twitch together uncertainly. “We…what? No, we didn’t…we didn’t ‘sign on’ for anything like that. We signed on for you.” 

“Darling,” Remus says, in that careful, measured voice that you can’t decide if you should be nervous about, “I don’t know a lot about this, so correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the point that you’re still you? You’re just telling us how you’d like to be treated and understood, right?”

You take a second to run over his words in your head before nodding. 

Everything about Remus has gone soft, from his eyes to the gentle uptilt of his mouth. “Then James is right. Nothing has changed. I mean, we can make any changes to our relationship that make you more comfortable, but nothing about how much we care for you is any different.” 

“And look around you, sweetheart.” Laughter livens Sirius’ tone. “It’s not like any of us are only dating girls.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. “That’s a good point,” you mumble, and he laughs, arm reclaiming its spot around your shoulders. 

“Yeah, I actually do make those sometimes,” he teases. “Listen, gorgeous, I don’t think anyone here has a problem with you being whoever you are. Just tell us what you like to be called, and we will. And if there’s anything we do that you don’t like,” he adds, giving your shoulder a little squeeze, “you can tell us those things too.” 

James nods, emphatic. “Exactly. We want to support you, angel. Thanks for telling us, but just keep talking to us when you can, okay?” 

You have to bite down on your lip to contain the full scope of your smile. “Okay,” you promise him, overflowing with a gratitude that feels a lot like love. “Thanks. You guys are too sweet to me.” 

Remus makes a pfft sound. “Dove, I cannot believe that is your standard for sweetness. You’ve set the bar far too low.” 

[michellemisfit]

✨Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨

Thanks for creating the game and for the tag @jrooc thanks for the tag @vintagelacerosette

Today we’re talking fandom. Come play!

Name and A03 handle: Michelle, michellemisfit

Current Location: Living room, surrounded by feathers, as I’m currently fletching some arrows

Favourite picrew: This one is pretty fucking spot on. Or at least it was at the time. Hair is very different now. But then, hair is always different… lol

Also this one is spiritually VERY me

What's one thing you want in a picrew? Ability to add coloured streaks! And a wide selection of scars, or alternatively the ability to move them around the screen. Either is fine. But mostly the hair thing. My hair is generally 4 different colours. Don’t try and limit me to one!!

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom? Erm… 3 way tie between Mexico Gallacrafts, Fimo Gallavich, and Cookie Gallavich? Maybe? Argh. Turns out, looking back at my art tag… I’ve created some pretty cool stuff. Huh. Yay me.

Why is it your favourite? I don’t really do photography, and I’m really proud of the idea behind and the execution of that photo. And while I LOVE drawing more than anything, I don’t think I’m exceptional or anything. But I’m damn creative when it comes to silly 3D craft projects, so both Fimo Gallavich and Cookie Gallavich make me happy and feel like something not just anyone could do… I dunno.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? It was LONG to create. Both cookie and Fimo Gallavich took several days in total. And I think that’s the other thing I like about myself. I am willing to put in the work, and it usually pays off.

Last ao3 fic you commented on? Hah! You’ll be able to corroborate this, I’m not just sucking up!! LOL I’m currently reading Camp is a Battlefield by @blue-disco-lights, @jrooc, and @mybrainismelted, with artwork by @creepkinginc, so that’s the last one I commented on :)

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? I mean… every single WIP I have ever started reading, only to realise that maybe there won’t be any more of it… 😱 Every. Single. One. They’re all special, and they all hurt in their own special ways. And I will remain subscribed to all of them FOREVER, because you never know!!

Also? Comment on WIPs. Tell authors how much joy the story brought you, how much space it’s occupying in your brain, how much you would love to see it continue but how happy you are to have read as much of the story as there is because it’s changed your brain chemistry… do NOT comment saying ‘next chapter when?’, cause that makes you a dick bag.

Favourite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? I’m a sucker for fake dating, only one bed, and a soulmate AU 🤷🏽‍♂️

Least favourite? …not a huge fan of kid fic, but hey, all it takes is a great author to make it work.

Secret or surprising kink or trope? Again, do not kink shame, because you’re only ever one good fanfic away from discovering something about yourself you did NOT see coming…

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? Exhausted and antsy. Is it good enough? Are people gonna like it? Should I even bother anyone with this? Why don’t I just go and hide under a rock forever?? I felt okay about this when I finished it, why is it suddenly the worst thing to have ever been created??? …I wish there was a sense of calm and accomplishment. There is not. Brains suck!

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: @deedala - I so appreciate how we’re on a similar wave length when it comes to art as well as ‘everybody wants to hunt me for sport’ vibes. I know I can always count on you for kind but honest words, and that’s so important!!

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Read comfort fic. Probably Like Real People Do or None the Wiser.

Edit: Also? Go and read comments and tags on old art posts. That’s a sure fire way to cheer me up!

This was fun, and made the 15 minute wait between fletching each feather pass much faster. Thanks!!

If you are currently making your own arrows and need something to occupy your wait time with… how about completing a tag game? lol

@heymrspatel @loftec @creepkinginc @deedala @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @iandarling @iansw0rld @ian-galagher @mybrainismelted @palepinkgoat @crossmydna @mikhailoisbaby @sickness-health-all-that-shit @rereadanon @rutherinahobbit @energievie @junemermaid @francesrose3 @deathclassic @faejilly @rutherinahobbit @gallawitchxx @look-i-love-u @jessij1997 @callivich @celestialmickey @wehangout @doshiart @lynne-monstr @the-rat-wins @blue-disco-lights @suzy-queued @sleepyfacetoughguy @spookygingerr @burninface @gallapiech

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 15

Happy WIP Wednesday! (Ignores the fact that it's almost an hour into Thursday my time.)

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.2k

-----

“Shit. Okay. I’ll fly us back. Bye Tim, everyone!” Danny picked up Tucker and flew away, turning invisible before he was more than a few yards away.

Tim sighed as he watched them. “Invisibility would be such a useful power. Paired with intangibility? Do you have any idea how much that’d help us out in Gotham?”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Cassie dismissively. “So what’re we doing for the next few hours?”

Wulf cocked his head and looked at them. Tim waved to him. “Let’s see what we can find out from our maybe-friend here.” Then, to Wulf, he asked, “Walker?”

Wulf’s bemused expression turned angry and he snarled.

Tim laughed and gave a thumbs up to show his agreement. “I’ve”—he pointed at himself—“heard”—this time his ears—“bad”—he scowled—“things about Walker.”

“Malbono,” said Wulf.

Tim grinned. “Very malbono,” he agreed.

Wulf bared his teeth, but this time, Tim thought it was more of a grin.

Cassie sat down on the ground. “So, Wulf and Danny are both targeted by this Walker ghost. How do we keep them safe?”

Tim shrugged. To Wulf, he said, “We”—pointing to him and his friends—“keep you”— pointing to Wulf—“safe. Secure. Protect.” Hopefully at least one of those words would be similar enough to the Esperanto word for the same concept.

“Protekti,” agreed Wulf.

Bart pointed at himself. “One.” Then to Conner, “Two.” Tim was called three and Cassie four. With a stick, he drew a crude figure of Danny’s ghost form, Sam, and Tucker, counting each one to seven. Then he pointed to Wulf. “Eight.” He drew the number in the dirt to reinforce the count. “Walker, how many?” He lifted his hands in an I-don’t-know gesture.

Wulf started with his hands close and slowly spread them wide. “Multaj.”

Tim’s stomach sank at the answer. They’d faced bad odds before, but it was never good.

“What does Walker want?” asked Conner.

But Wulf only looked at him in confusion and none of them could figure out how to ask that in charades.

Cassie grabbed another stick and began drawing. She started with a line and on one side, she had humanoid ghosts with tails instead of legs, on the other side she had stick figures. Then she drew arrows from the ghost side to the human side. Under the arrows, she drew question marks. Looking up, she asked, “How?”

Wulf bared his teeth again and pointed at himself. “Wulf.” He flexed his hand showing off his claws. Conner tensed at the action, but Wulf ignored him. Instead, he drew his hand down the air. Tim felt like he could hear tearing, but it was as if the sound originated in his brain, bypassing his ears entirely.

In the path of Wulf’s claws was a glowing green portal. Another gesture and it disappeared.

Tim stared in wonder. “So, if you’re here and with us, Walker can’t send any more ghosts to Amity. That makes things so much easier.”

Wulf only grinned at him.

Bart poked Tim’s side. “Think he needs to eat?”

Tim laughed. “You’re just hungry yourself. He’s already dead.”

Bart shrugged. “We haven’t had lunch yet.”

“I’m with Bart,” said Cassie. “I’m getting hungry. And it’d be rude to not offer anything to him. Bart, get us stuff from that burger place Danny took us to. And grab extra in case our new friend wants anything.”

Tim rummaged around in his bag and pulled out two hundred dollars cash. All three of his friends had metabolisms to match their powers. “Here, get as much as you want. Simple cheeseburger and fries for me.”

The others gave their orders and Bart was off.

The rest of the afternoon was spent mostly hanging out in the woods with Wulf. When Bart had offered him a burger, he’d sniffed it before pulling a face and giving it back. Bart just shrugged and ate it himself.

“Shouldn’t you be doing homework?” Conner asked Tim after a while. They’d run through most of the questions they could ask via pantomime and Bart and Cassie had taken to pointing at things and asking what they were called in Esperanto. “Bruce won’t be happy with you.”

Tim sighed. “No, you’re right. If we can’t research in the library, I should do something productive.”

Though it only took an hour and a half of going through his schoolwork for Tim to want to tear his own hair out. He slammed his book shut, making four pairs of eyes instantly fly to him.

“I can’t do this anymore! I can’t wait until I don’t need to be in school anymore. Who wants to spar with me?”

Conner stepped forward. “I’ll take the first round.”

“Great. I’m going to use the staff Danny gave me. I want to practice with it more.”

Wulf watched them as they sparred. Tim held his own against Conner, though ultimately the half-Kryptonian won. Cassie beat him next.

Bart sat the spars out because he won every time if allowed to fight. But he made a very good referee.

Tim and Cassie were having their third match of the day when Danny, Sam, and Tucker rejoined them.

Tim was breathing hard as he blocked another blow from Cassie with his staff. “Hey, Danny,” he said. Then he did a twist he’d learned from Dick coupled with a move he’d learned from Lady Shiva and Cassie was flat on her back. Tim grinned as he offered her a hand to help her up. “Looks like I win the last match of the day.”

“Well I won our two previous ones,” retorted Cassie as she took his hand.

Sam let out a whistle. “Damn, that was impressive. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“B sent me to Europe for several months to train from a bunch of different masters when I forced him to take me on.”

“Must’ve been good teachers if you can hold your own as a regular human against metas.”

Tim nodded and moved so he could nudge Danny. “I’ve been trying to convince this one to join me for a few weekends so I could get him some training, but he’d rather rely on luck and his powers.”

Danny rolled his eyes and scoffed. “You know that’s not what it is. I’m just afraid that if I leave any more often than I have to, something will happen!”

“Sure, sure,” said Tim. “But now that your parents know me and I can see just how bad it is, I’ll be coming to you to train you. No getting out of it now!”

Danny just groaned.

Tucker grinned. “Let me know when you come, and I’ll fit your training sessions into Danny’s schedule.”

“Absolutely.”

Sam pointed her thumb at Wulf. “So, how’re we gonna sneak a giant ghost through town and into my house anyway?”

Danny shrugged. “I figured he and I could fly there invisibly. I’ll drop my invisibility and enter through the door so your parents or grandma see me enter, and Wulf will drop it once we’re in private.”

“Fine, fine. Come on, then.”

-----

Next

In the show, there was a time skip between when Danny caught up with Wulf during his school lunch period and the four (Danny, Sam, Tucker, Wulf) all cramming into Tucker's bedroom that night. So I have no idea if Danny returned to school or not. And if he did, what did Wulf do all afternoon and evening? How did they meet up again? Or am I right and Danny skipped?

Good thing we have other people here to help out this time and it doesn't matter!

I no longer do tag lists for this fic, but please checkout the Subscription Post if you want notifications when this updates.

[themisimagines]

i could sleep inside the cold of you

inspired by: the 'aimed at your heart' vyn ssr card content: heavily draws upon catherynne m. valente's deathless, 2.5k of seduction & smut so buckle up characters: vyn, fem!reader optional background music: house of cards by bts; take me to church by hozier; religion by lana del rey; the anna karenina (2012) soundtrack

“A marriage is a private thing. It has its own wild laws, and secret histories, and savage acts, and what passes between married people is incomprehensible to outsiders. We look terrible to you, and severe, and you see our blood flying, but what we carry between us is hard-won, and we made it just as we wished it to be, just the color, just the shape.” - Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless

The long table is laid with a feast fit for a king. Platters heaped high with glistening honeyed confits, crisp crackling meat, steaming vegetables delicately braised, deep tureens of stew rich in marrow, an excess of riches, accompanied by what you believe are entire truffles, a sharp knife laid beside them for you to shave your desired portion onto your meal, black salt glistening darkly under the chandelier, in addition to a dish of black sturgeon eggs, like so many pearls gathered in a heap for your amusement. 

Entering the dining room on Vyn’s arm, you are shocked by the abundance, the sheer extravagance of it all. You are dressed in a floor length black gown painstakingly embroidered with gold thread, produced seemingly out of thin air by one of the maids, saying that Vyn has requested that you wear it this evening. The material is silky against your skin, making you shiver with every move. The emerald bracelet Vyn won at the Umir Festival is the perfect accompaniment. Vyn, is of course, impeccable in his smoking jacket and tailored trousers. 

‘Are we expecting guests?’ You ask Vyn incredulously, staring at the food. ‘Surely Mr. Wechsler was confused.’ 

‘Not at all. But I believe I once made you a promise that you would never go hungry.’ 

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Vyn, we’ll hardly be able to finish this on our own.’ 

‘My beloved, whatever we cannot finish, I promise that I will allow you to take down to the soup kitchen to feed the hungry populace. Such a role is fitting for the lady of this house, after all.’ 

‘I’m hardly the lady of the house yet,’ you mutter, flushing red at the implication. 

‘Before you launch into another complaint about how you don’t deserve such wonderful treatment, may I propose something, my lady?’ Vyn stops at the door and looks quite seriously down at you from the gold rims of his glasses. You turn your face upwards, marvelling in how beautifully his silver hair frames his face, the way his gaze seems to strip you completely bare. 

‘I’ll allow it,’ you say. ‘What do you propose?’ 

‘Do you trust me?’ Vyn asks. 

Your mind flashes back to earlier in the day, during the hunt. Your bodies pressed up against each other, drawing the bow and nocking the arrow. His quiet instructions in your ear, your breath, held for so long you almost grew dizzy, and then, the blur of victory after, shattering the intimate moment. 

‘Yes,’ you say at length. ‘I do trust you.’ 

‘Then I propose that we play a little game. There is no need for you to speak tonight. Whatever you eat will be fed from my hand. Give yourself to me completely, and trust me to take care of you. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, you can say our safe word.’ 

You stare into his eyes, and he stares back, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. You nod once, slowly. An assent to his conditions. The game has begun. 

‘Excellent. Your decisiveness is one of the things I most admire about you. And just once, could you say our safe word, before we embark on this little journey together?’ 

‘Pomegranate,’ you say, lips parting to let it slide out in a whisper. 

‘Very good, my beloved.’ Vyn guides you to where the food awaits, seating you on his right hand side, while he takes the seat at the head of the table. ‘I remember peeking at the suppers my grandmother used to host here. My grandfather would sit at the head of the table, here, while my grandmother sat all the way down there, at the end of the table, both of them as far apart from each other as they could get. The length of the table being a gesture of power, to be sure, but hardly conducive for marital harmony. I believe they even ate like that when they didn’t have guests, or took meals apart. So much nicer to sit together like this, no?’ 

You almost open your mouth to say something or ask a question, but Vyn silences you with a finger on your lips. 

‘I would not be asking you to do this if it was easy, my love, I know it is difficult for you. But we are nurturing this fledgling trust you have placed in me, and the game has just started.’ 

You watch Vyn’s slow, careful movements as he tears a hunk of golden bread and dips it in olive oil and black salt, the crumb flecked with herbs. He feeds you the morsel gently, telling you about the special wheat used in making the bread and the fields in Svart where it grows. You listen with rapt attention as his voice carries on, moving from dish to dish. As he promises, he feeds you every first bite with his own fingers, their tips gently grazing against the corners of your mouth, leaving your skin tingling and yearning for more. 

Your mouth is filled with rich flavours of cream and wild fowl, preserves and pickles, salt and fat, acid and heat. Vyn keeps up the one-sided conversation, reading your mind to say your answers for you, his low tones sending a shiver up your spine. The wine makes your head light and airy. As the meal comes to a close, Vyn feeds you a last mouthful of dessert, his long index finger swiping away a trail of honey from the corner of your mouth. A burst of words comes from you as you impulsively grab his wrist and then place a kiss directly in the palm that has been feeding you all evening. 

‘I love you, Vyn,’ you barely whisper, voice hoarse. 

Vyn extracts his hand and gives a loud sigh, standing up from the table. ‘You were doing so well, my darling. Like Orpheus, who turned back just at the very last minute and lost Eurydice, so have you lost our little game.’ 

His eyes are dark, but with a distinct sense of amusement and mischief behind them. ‘Had you won, your prize would have been a fairytale ending, where I swept you off your feet and carried you to the fireplace in the hall, where a magical bower of furs and pillows have been prepared, and you would have sweet love made to you all night—’

‘I don’t care about fairytale endings,’ you interrupt Vyn, standing and moving toward him, a defiance in your tone calculated to push him off the edge, to turn his beautifully crafted game on its head. 

Vyn growls and then pounces on you, lips seeking yours harshly, in an attempt to punish you. You kiss him back just as fiercely, biting his lip and drawing blood, smearing it over both your bottom lips, the taste of iron and salt with the sweet still lingering on your tongues. He pushes you both back onto the table, until your legs are wrapped against it and your spine is bent backwards, dress sliding upwards until your thighs are visible. 

When he pulls away, it is to admire how rumpled he has left you, how wanting. Your hair is loosened from its carefully piled topknot, lying curled and ragged around your face, which still bears a slight trace of his blood. Your chest, heaving, the tops of your breasts exposed. Legs slightly spread to accommodate his waist, his face looming over yours as if he is about to devour you. 

‘Since you seem to be evading my best attempts at seduction, I cannot promise I will be gentle,’ he warns with a smirk. 

‘Maybe that was my intention all along,’ you make an effort to retort, although you are aware of how vulnerable a position you are in. 

Vyn pushes the dishes off the table, everything landing in a loud clatter on the floor. 

‘Vyn!’ You exclaim, turning to look at the food, but he lifts you up onto the table, then pushes your dress upwards around your hips, ripping aside your flimsy underwear. You are about to say something in protest, but then his mouth is on you, trailing heated kisses along your inner thighs, hot breath making you squirm even as he keeps a vice-like grip on your hips. When he licks a hot, wet stripe up the length of your cunt, you cry out in pleasure, spine curving upwards to get more of it. 

‘Hm, you seem to be enjoying yourself,’ Vyn pauses to comment. ‘Should I continue?’ 

‘I will never forgive you if you stop now,’ you pant, and then reach down to encourage his head back between your legs. 

He laughs, then applies himself fully to the task, tongue endlessly swirling, and then thrusting inside, all while your hands are twined in his hair, tugging so hard that you are briefly afraid that you have hurt him. He doesn’t show any sign of discomfort, diligently licking and sucking until you are so close to coming, your body a tightly wound mass of nerves. You catch his eyes flicking up to watch your reactions, and just as you are about to come, he pulls away, wiping his mouth away on his sleeve and grinning viciously. You cry out at the sudden loss of heat, writhing in distress. 

‘Don’t you think you deserve some punishment for ruining our evening? You didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?’ He hisses, then pulls you toward him, forcing you to turn around. Disoriented from the disrupted orgasm and sudden movement, you flail for a moment, then hear the clink of Vyn removing his belt behind you. He grabs your hands and holds them together, using his belt to wrap your wrists snugly, but not too tight. Before anything else happens, he leans forward to where your face is, brushes your hair gently aside to whisper in your ear, ‘Pomegranate?’ 

You shake your head desperately. ‘Good girl,’ he tells you, stroking your hair. 

Then the brief moment of tenderness quickly passes as Vyn grabs your hips, your face sliding across the polished wood of the table and ass sticking up in the air, your cunt completely exposed, only your legs holding you up. Unable to see what’s going on behind you, you can only tremble in anticipation, the feel of Vyn’s hands roughly positioning you so he can enter you. 

His first thrust is not at all gentle, burying him to the hilt in your hot, slick cunt. You both cry out from the fullness, at how ready your cunt is for him. 

‘Look at you clenching around me, such a needy, desperate little slut,’ Vyn purrs, painfully dragging out his first few thrusts so that despite your limited range of movement, you are squirming and begging for more. 

‘More,’ You beg. ‘Please, Vyn, I need more.’ 

‘You will get more when I decide you deserve more,’ Vyn warns, slowing his hips even more, the promise of more friction hanging just out of reach. ‘It’s my turn to enjoy myself.’ 

You cry out in frustration, and are met with a ringing slap on your ass, the pain tingling deliciously. 

‘Can’t be helped,’ he sighs, pretending that you have forced him to this point, when you can tell that it is taking all of his own self-control not to just thrust into you with wild abandon. ‘You’re forcing me to play my hand, you naughty little thing. Do you want to see me lose control?’ 

He punctuates the last sentence with a vicious thrust, going deeper than before and making you squeal. The sound makes him stop, and he reaches beside you for a napkin. 

‘I think we need to work on your silence,’ Vyn says, hips still moving gently while his hands have left your hips and are doing something else. He leans down, pressing his weight against you and hand coming toward your face with the folded napkin. 

‘Open your mouth,’ he tells you, then puts the napkin delicately between your teeth. ‘Now, bite down. If you let the napkin fall, I can only assume it is because you intend on using our safe word, and in any event, that would mean our little game is over. If you want to continue, your only choice is to behave yourself.’ 

You bite down on the cloth napkin, and Vyn cocks his head sideways to look at your trapped face, giving you a wink before returning to his position behind you. He starts off with slow thrusts again, searching for the right angle, hips snapping leisurely into your ass, the sound of skin on skin turning you on more, if that was even possible. Your soft moans are muffled by the napkin, which is slowly soaking with saliva. 

‘Such a good girl,’ Vyn cooes as he thrusts deeply and you give a low, dull moan, trying to stifle your noises. ‘Let’s see how you do under more difficult conditions.’ 

He reaches down to grasp a handful of your hair, pulling your head upwards so that your spine is arched like a bow, and begins moving faster, each thrust of his cock a blinding shaft of light in equal parts pain and pleasure. If anyone were to walk in on you both right now, or even listen in on what was happening, they would hear a symphony of moaning, Vyn growling to tell you what a good girl you are, how well you are taking his cock, as if you were made for him. Your hands behind your back, back impossibly arched as he grips onto your hair, subject to the pleasure that is invading every part of your body. 

Vyn’s thrusts grow harder and more needy, and your cunt has begun to spasm, craving sweet release. 

‘I want to see your face when I make you cum,’ He rasps, and then pulls out, flipping you effortlessly onto your back, hair spilling out in all directions. Your arms are crushed behind your back, but the pain of your stretching shoulder joints is welcome, only adding to your pleasure. He is stretched out on top of you, mouth hungry, diving for your breasts, teasing your nipple with his tongue, hand reaching down to rub your clit in agonising circles, then slipping back inside you and groaning at the sensation. You cling on to the napkin for dear life, terrified that if you drop it, he might really stop, and leave you empty and wanting, just like that. 

But Vyn doesn’t stop. His eyes locked onto your face, he rubs your clit ceaselessly as he pounds into you, again and again in a vicious, desperate pace. 

‘Come for me, my love,’ he whispers, and like that, you are undone, waves of pleasure crashing through your body as your cunt clenches, legs shaking from the effort. A few more hard thrusts and Vyn joins you, thrusting deeply inside you one last time and then collapsing, his cock still throbbing as it fills you with cum. 

He only allows himself a few moments before quickly sitting you up to undo the restraints around your wrist, examining them for chafing, pressing a light kiss to each one when he finds you perfectly well and unharmed. 

‘Was I too rough?’ Vyn asks, hurrying to hand you his jacket. You shake your head, a mischievous grin on your face as you refuse to drop the napkin between your teeth. He blushes and removes it. You stretch your jaw a few times, which is slightly sore from clenching so hard, but will be fine in a few moments. 

‘Please, Vyn, I would have used the safe word if I was being hurt.’ You reassure him. ‘The only thing I regret is that I’m probably too tired to go through all that again.’ 

‘Too tired?’ Vyn’s smirk returns. ‘I hope not. There’s still a fireplace and a floor full of furs waiting for us.’ 

In the blink of an eye, you are swept up in his arms, and he is carrying you to the door, like a bride over the threshold of her new home. He hasn’t even bothered to put on any clothes, trousers long forgotten, and his dress shirt hanging loose. 

‘Vyn,’ you say, an idea suddenly coming into your mind. ‘You knew I wouldn’t be able to keep quiet, didn’t you?’ 

‘I will neither confirm nor deny my initial hypothesis,’ Vyn says. ‘But let’s just say, the outcome was above and beyond what I expected.’ 

As he carries you to the hall and the fireplace, two of his fingers have secretly slipped into your cunt once again, and you sneak a glance at him, grinning. 

[kakashiislut]

This was supposed to be a request, but I messed it all up :( and now it’s gone so I’m going to summarize it :( I’m sorry!!

So Kratos and F!Reader meet some where randomly and become friends, along with that, Reader is a single mother (I’m sure it was a daughter!) and reader slowly becomes a motherly figure for Atreus and they start a lil family :( (of course Mimir is the second dad)!

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I’m so sorry I messed up something as simple as a request :/ I’m gonna try and make this awesome. :( I hope you guys like it, I’ve been struggling with writing, cause nothing seems to want to come out no matter how hard I try. <3

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Warnings: barely suggestive themes, we all know Kratos is hot, fluff and friendship, family themes.

Authors Note: I had this draft for like a couple of weeks and just started finishing it now. I tried making it like a full story, but I kinda suck with those now. I’m sorry the writing style just changed half way through it 💀

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Our Family~ Kratos & Motherly!Reader

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Breathing relaxed, feet below your shoulders, elbow back and straight. Stare at your target, you don’t want the deer to suffer, you want one clean, quick shot to its lungs, heart or brain. You chose heart, quick and easy, the deer won’t feel a thing. It was grazing on the nature below its feet, suckiling up flowers, grass and probably some bugs along the way. It was beautiful, it’s tail flared wildly in the wind, back legs stepping back and forth. The deer was happy….but you where hungry.

Drawing the bow string back just a bit more, you where ready to let go when it’s head snapped up “what-“ out of shock, you let go causing the arrow to sore through the air and hit the poor animal in its throat, it dropped quick, falling towards you. Another arrow? No, the deer wasn’t injured before…

Quickly reaching for another arrow, you scooped the area out. No one. The wind seemed to be silent all of a sudden, the only noise to be heard was the deer frailing  and crying, before it eventually stopped. The arrow below it snapped, waste of an arrow.

You almost left it. The deer of course. With half an arrow still lodged in its neck, blood pooled on the floor and trailed towards your feet. You stared at the thick crimson, even it’s blood was perfect. But you can’t, you have to not only feed yourself, but her.

“Hmmm”

What? Shooting your head back up, you where met with a behemoth of a man. Easily 100 ft tall and 10000 pounds. The marks on his body color matched the blood the deer gave to the earth. He was as pale as snow, yet as intimidating as fire. He reached down, easily turning the deer over and examining the arrow you shot into its neck. His eyes glossed over yours. He just stared.

It’s not that you where weak….you can hold a damn good fight…but with him? No! He would destroy you, you felt like you where crumbling just by his gaze. “I shot it first!”STUPID. Why is that the first thing you think of!!! “Not very Well…” his voice seemed to boom in the silence of the forest. A murder of crows squawked loudly as they flew from various tree branches. Even they where afraid.

“Excuse you,” Putting on your mother face, you where almost gonna lecture him. Letting out a sigh, you spoke again “I have a kid…even if that means half- or even less then half, I’ll take it. You can have the rest!” Your eyes went soft, it was getting hard finding deers and other sorts of animal large enough to feed you and your daughter recently. You couldn’t just let her starve.

“Hmmm”

What? Does he only fucking respond with grunts and moans? Who is this man and why is he built like a Greek statue. Taking slow steps, you step over the blood,  cautiously. You had thrown your arrow in your satchel and slung the bow across your chest. It was a pretty bow, just like you, reader <3 (breaking the fourth wall, my bad)

He kneeled down, took his knife and stabbed the deer in the side of its stomach.

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Slugging half a deer over your shoulder wasn’t as bad as you thought. Being able to have half -of what you rightfully shot- made you a little excited. A little pep in your step, you knocked 3 times on your door and waited. No answer. Smiling proudly, you knocked 4 times and a good second later, the door slowly opened and just below the handle, a little girl stood.

“Mama!” Pulling her body from behind the door, she ran out to hug your legs. “Go inside, honey, this deer is heavy” nodding her head quickly, she ran inside and pulled the door fully open. Hitting the snow off your boots, you dropped the deer by the door on a cloth sheet.

You rushed to wash your hands as quick as you could, you wouldn’t want to stain the poor girl with the deers blood. Swooping around, you picked your five year old up and swarmed her face with kisses. “MY LITTLE BABYYY” you cooed loudly, “Mama’s so proud of you, you’ve been listening so well to me”

Your daughter let out of a cheery laugh, smile capturing her entire face. She always smiled like her father…

“Where’s the deers legs, mama?” She pointed over at the animal after you placed her down on her feet. “Baby…I met the strangest man…”

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You didn’t think you’d meet him again, Really. Well without the boy who took you to him, you wouldn’t have seen him ever again. Ever.

“You saved my life…thank you” Atreus, was his so called name. He stepped on some thin ice and WAS going to fall to his death before you swooped down and caught his wrist.

He had taken you back to his father, wanting to thank you with some stew from a deer he was supposed to hunt and take back.

I mean, he got the hunting part easily done. The taking it back to his home? Not that easy.

His dad seemed a little weary at first, mad even. You understood it though, who just takes a stranger to their home to have some dinner after saving their life. Even women can be dangerous.

He was mad until:

“Oh my head! Is that you? Y/N? Oh my, I never thought I’d see you again!”

“Mimir?…MIMIR! By the gods- what happened to you-? Where is your…” your eyes trailed down to the head on a pillow, he had no body…infact…he barely had a neck.

“Body…” you mumbled the last part…probably a sensitive topic. “Oh…about that..” he seemed to snicker awkwardly, if he could rub the back of his neck, he would.

“Did Odin finally betray you?” You questioned, cautiously stepping up to rub at his horns. “Oh I miss your hands. If only we could dance again” he smiled up at you.

“And yes…yes he did. Speaking of Odin…I apologize, Y/N…for choosing him over our friendship.” His eyes trailed over to the big guy. “Kratos, don’t be afraid, it’s just Y/N…an old friend”

“I am not afraid.”

Kratos huh….he’s handsome. Super handsome. The downwards tilt of his nose was enticing. The way his traps and biceps where built….it was incredible. Not only that, but he had amazing boobs- I mean pecs. He had amazing pecs. His thighs where huge, almost like they could squeeze a mountain between them. Or maybe me- STOP. No horny thoughts.

“Hi…I’m Y/N” you offered your hand, back perched up proudly. “Do you remember me? We both shot that deer and we split it in half. Well I mean you! You split it in half; with a very small knife in fact- it was impressive actually, I couldn’t have-“

“I do remember you.”

“Ok…”

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You never thought you’d spend that much time with them.

“MORE MORE! ATREUS MORE!” You daughter  squealed, arms Infront of her while Atreus flew her through the air like an eagle. He ran around the cabin, laughing and smiling along with her.

You didn’t think you’d get that close.

“Hey! You be nicer to your father! He is trying his best to raise you into a better person! Now you go apologize and hug him. NOW!”

You didn’t think you could put on this motherly act and become one for Atreus. He listened to you. Kratos was grateful for it, thanking you in his own special way.

“Ugh i Love the ribs. I feel so special when you give them to me” you smiled, taking a bite of the deer meat.

He would often bring you gifts as thank you. He found a cool little trinket? It’s all for you now. A poem book? It’s for you to read to your daughter.

The best part? Atreus started referring to your daughter as his sister. At first it was a slip up, but when he seen your reaction only being filled with love, he really started referring to her as his little sister.

“You’re the Best Big brother ever!” She would coo at him, sitting on his lap while he would braid her hair. “And you’re the cutest little sister ever.”

He would make her the cutest toys and little pieces of clothing. He was crafty and liked to draw, and she liked to sit by him and watch. If he got into an argument with his dad, he would sit and cuddle her to relax, of course, she would scold him to go apologize. Yes, he listens to her.

It was your little family. Mimir and Kratos as the fathers. Atreus and Y/D/N as the kids. You? The scary mother that everyone cowered under….and loved. Dearly and Truly.

“Ugh look at us! Look at our family” Y/N laughed, eyes trailing over a picture that Atreus drew, “our little family. Well- Kratos isn’t so little-“

A gentle laugh was heard from Mimir. “He’s big. Like a bear.”

“Shut up.”

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[adrunkskeletonsduck]

hii could you please write a hurt/comfort fic with jake sully ? maybe the reader overworks themself during training (and in general) because they feel like they arent good enough and jake has to reign them in lol.

tysm ! and if u dont get around to writing this it's ok haha

8:55ᴘᴍ

➜ Pairing: Father!Jake Sully & Child!Reader

➜ Warnings: Gn!reader, self degrading talk, mentions of reader overworking themselves, fluff

➜ Word Count: 0.7k

➜ Notes: None

Aᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

“Thats enough for today,” Jake announced, emerging from the trees and stepping between your bow and the crooked ‘x’ you’d carved into the tree. You lowered your bow, gesturing with it as you replied.  

“No, I need more practice.” You moved to step around him, drawing your bow once again and training your eyes on the target. Jake reached out and grabbed your arm gently to draw your attention back to him. You turned to look at him, glaring harshly.

“It’s almost eclipse, you need to get back,” he told you sternly. Your eyes flicked back to the tree for a moment, then up to meet his unbending gaze before you huffed in defeat and yanked your arm back. 

“Okay,” you grumbled, slinging your bow around you and beginning to walk back. He watched as disappeared behind the underbrush of the forest, before turning to take a quick look around the area you’d been all day. There were holes around the target you’d carved yourself from previous arrows you’d shot and a few scarps of food you’d eaten earlier sat on the ground where you’d been standing. Jake had not missed the way you disappeared for the day over the last two weeks, or the growing eyebags under your eyes. It was obvious you’d been overworking yourself and he shook his head; he’d make sure to talk to you after dinner that night. 

___ 

That night, Jake found you sitting up in a nearby tree, feet dangling over the edge as you picked at your hands and nails idly. His footsteps, although quiet, jarred you out of your thoughts that swirled with distaste for yourself. You pushed them aside, listening intently to your surroundings as he got closer. Although you didn’t acknowledge him as he sat down next to, or when he wrapped an arm around you in comfort.  

“What’s been going on?” He asked gently, watching as you paused playing with your fingers, before huffing and continuing.  

“Nothing, I’m fine.”  

“It's alright to tell me, I’m your father.”  

“Really dad, I’m fine,” you insisted, and he sighed wordlessly, letting the two of you fall into an uneasy silence for a moment before trying again. It was obvious that something was bothering you, and it was very likely that that something was the reason you had been overworking yourself. Jake hated seeing you like this, and he wanted to help you with it, but he needed you to let him help you first.  

“Please tell me what's wrong,” He pressed again, making you huff frustratedly. Why couldn’t he just leave this alone? But since he wanted to know so damn bad you’d decided to just tell him, letting the dam break and all your frustrations pour out in a ramble.  

“I’m not good enough! Nothing I do is ever going to be good enough. I can't shoot a bow like Neteyam, I’m a terrible hunter and I’m not learning to be Tsahik like Kiri either so I’m just... just useless! And you probably think I’m a massive disappointment.”  

He was a bit taken aback by your outburst. It broke his heart that you thought of yourself this way, who had told you those things, and moreover, what had made you believe them? All the parents he talked to had applauded your skills as a hunter, and he often caught younger children in awe as they watched you practice.  

“Is that why you’ve been overworking yourself? Because you think your useless.” He asked, and you answered bluntly, 

“Yes.”   

He shook his head, “You’ll never be able to shoot a bow exactly like Neteyam because you're not Neteyam, but that doesn’t make you useless sweetheart. Nor does it make you a bad hunter.” You wanted to believe him, but your mind was quick to make up excuses.  

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” you mumbled.  

“I’m not,” he said gently, continuing when you didn’t reply, “When I look at you, I see an accomplished person, someone the younger children look up to and aspire to be like.” The sincerity in his voice and words urged you to believe them, but a small voice of insecurity in the back of your mind would not allow you to.  

“It's not good to overwork yourself, it won't help you get better, only exhaust you. For now, you should get some rest, give yourself a break and in the morning, we can work on your shooting skills together.”   

“Okay,” you agreed, voice barley above a whisper as you stood. Jake new it would take some time for you to truly believe the things he was saying, so for now he would do everything in his power to get you to see yourself in the same light everyone else did.  

[crow-winged-wolf]

Self-Same Trial

So I'm gonna go out on a limb and finally post my first story on here, please be kind. it's fluffy, has a few innuendos, but nothing mature. Not yet anyway lol. If this turns out well, I might post the spicier stuff. I once promised to write a little something about Astarion seeing himself at the Self-Same Trial. And here it is.

Anyway, pairing is Astarion and F!RangerTav (Serra)

The four walked into the room slowly, looking around at every corner of the room as if it was about to leap out and tackle them. Shadowheart was at the front of the pack, gaze locked on to a statue of Shar holding a basin. She approached confidently, grabbing the dagger on the edge of the bowl and slicing her palm without a second thought. Serra winced once more, not truly used to seeing someone happily open their palm 3 times for various challenges, but there really wasn't any fighting involved, so she guessed a weapon hand weakening wound shouldn't be too much of a bother. Shadowheart looked like she was listening to something, nodding and taking a sharp breath.

“So, this one is called the Self-Same Trial.” Shadowheart announced, turning to them.

“What does that mean?” Serra asked as they continued to the next room, pivoting on her heel mid stride to walk backwards.

“I’m not sure.” Shadowheart shrugged. “I don't know what the trials are, just what the statue holding the basin said. Vanquish your old life to receive my wisdom.”

“Maybe we can ask that rather well armed group up there.” Astarion interjected, pointing up at the raised platform above them. Serra turned around to look up at four figures sneering down at them.

Astarion recognized three of the figures. There was the small blonde Wood Elf Ranger at the front with a crackling bow clutched in her hand who was clearly Serra. The hulking red Barbarian Tiefling to her left with an eternally burning sword was Karlach, and the Half-Elf Cleric to the right with a glowing mace and black, tightly bound hair was Shadowheart. That only left the fourth person, the male High Elf of the group with a pale complexion, silver hair, and daggers clenched in both hands. He was boasting a cocksure smirk that made Astarion want to Misty Step up there and wipe it off his face before he could move, but he held back to watch the girls reactions.

“They look exactly like us!” Serra marveled.

“Oh, I get it, you have to fight only yourself!” Shadowheart called out as the group up top opened fire on them, the Serra clone and the white haired High Elf drawing on their bows while the Karlach and Shadowheart clones went for the steps to get closer.

He exchanged a look with Serra before pulling his hood out from the collar of his armor and over his head, fading into the shadows without another word. “Astar- crap.” She hissed, barely twisting out of the way of yet another arrow from her own clone. “Get down here and do that!” She snarled, drawing her own arrows back and sending them through the clones shoulder.

“Well, hello darling.” He purred as he dropped the invisibility right behind the Elf. “Care to dance?”

The clone turned and regarded him silently, putting the bow away and slowly drawing his daggers again as the two began cautiously circling each other.

“What, nothing to say?” He tutted in disappointment. “I was hoping this would be more than just physical.”

He had to admit, the clone was rather handsome. The drow armor that Serra insisted on dying red and black really made his crimson eyes practically glow against his pallid skin. And it was fitted just the right way to cut a very alluring figure. He had to remember later to look into getting more corset style clothes, those looked especially good on him.

The clone lunged forwards blade first, the sharp edge skating past Astarion's side as he twisted out of the way, parrying the second blade that came down for his chest. It still managed to bite into his arm with a glancing blow, making him hiss in pain, then retaliate with a strike at the clones exposed back. He landed both daggers into its shoulders, knocking the wind out of him as he hit the ground face first.

Below them, Serra had managed to entangle and drag her clone down to her, a resound snap coming from the mirror images arm when she landed on her side hard. Karlach had all but slashed her clone to pieces, and Shadowheart was exchanging blows with her own, both succeeding at missing the other with firebolts.

As Serra dispatched her clone, she looked up at the raised platform, slightly worried. The girls were almost finished with their fights, and Astarion was usually one of the fastest in a fight, ending one or two enemies before she could fire off a single arrow. Him still being missing was unusual. She headed for the stairs to go up and check on him.

Meanwhile, Astarion was looking down at his prone dance partner, his eyes drifting down along his back and stopping at his backside. Astarion quirked an eyebrow at the clone, twisting to look down past his own shoulder, then back at the clone. “Hm, not everyday you get to see your own-”

“Astarion? Are you okay?” Serra called, peering over the floor as she came up to eye level with it. The silver haired Elf waved her off, and heard the rustle of the arrows in her quiver.

“I’m fine, pet!” He snapped before she could nock her arrow, the rustling stopping. He glanced at her, the tip of her bow disappearing from view as she watched him cautiously.

“Okay.” She climbed the rest of the way up, sitting down on the raised floor to watch Karlach and Shadowheart finish their fights.

“Pity,” He sighed as he knelt down and brought his blade to the heavily injured clones neck, cradling his chin in his palm firmly but delicately. “I was just enjoying gazing upon this gorgeous face.” Serra glanced over, watching the reverence with which Astarion regarded the clone. He had a knee in his back to keep him down, his expression saddened by the thought of losing his first chance in a long time at seeing his own face. Her eyes brightened as she thought of something, tucking the idea away for later.

He dispatched the clone quickly and cleanly, wiping the blades on the clones back before standing up and looking around. Karlach and Shadowheart climbed the stairs to join them, Serra picking herself up and stooping over the Astarion clones body to pick something up.

“Where is the orb?” Karlach asked, looking around. Serra came up between them, placing the softly glowing purple orb in Shadowheart’s hands.

“Astarion’s clone had it. Anyone hurt?” She looked around, each of them checking themselves over.

“Just a scrape, darling, nothing to worry about.”

“Excellent, let’s go.” She nodded, leading them back out of the room.

“So, they looked exactly like us?” Astarion asked. The girls nodded. “Well, I don't know about you, but my clone certainly was a handsome devil, wasn't he?” He smiled brightly, Serra cracking a distracted smirk.

That night at camp, when everyone went to sleep, Serra snuck off to Gale’s tent with a request, careful not to let Astarion see her. He was sweet, if not somewhat territorial at times, and she saw his expression when she spoke to Gale. She held a finger to her lips as she approached, Gale smiling at her in confusion. He glanced at Astarion’s tent where she was usually headed, then back at her. “Serra, what brings you to my tent tonight?”

“I want to learn a party trick, do you mind teaching me?”

“Well sure, why not.” He shrugged. “Which one?”

It took her three nights practicing with Gale in secret before she was confident in her ability to cast this very specific spell. Multiple times, Gale asked why this one, but she always dodged the question with a well placed inquiry of her own.

In the morning of the fourth day, Serra looked exhausted, but proud as she came up to Astarion and pulled him aside. “I want to show you something.”

“Does it include a secluded corner of this shrine?” He asked, smirking at the slight blush that tinged her tired face.

“Only if you want.” She retorted, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. “Give me a moment, retuto sui!” She waved her hand in front of her face, slowly opening her now crimson red eyes, smiling then wincing as she bit her lip. “Fangth. Fangth are new.” She lisped, giggling in a more masculine voice that didn't belong to her.

Astarion stood rooted to the spot as she changed her appearance to mirror his all the way down to his height, breaking from his stupor when she bit herself. He placed two fingers under her chin, pushing her face up so he could look at it better. “When did you learn this?”

“The patht couple nighths.”

“You can’t possibly have gotten every feature correct, darling. My nose isn’t that big.” He chuckled, turning her head side to side slowly.

“I can get better. I jutht need practiss.” She frowned as she bit her tongue this time in her struggle to stop lisping.

“How far does this illusion go?” Astarion glanced down at her flat chest then back up to her face.

“How far do you want it to go, darling?” She mimicked him playfully, albeit clumsily, rather enjoying the feel of his voice as it reverberated in her throat and upper chest deliciously.

He cupped her face between his palms, running his thumb across the cheekbone that he was slowly coming to understand was his, and smiling impishly. “This could be a new way of exploring myself.” He cooed.

“Careful, sweetheart, that almost sounded like an offer.” She winked at him, unable to hold back her giggles at her imitation. She didn’t have his laugh perfected, so it sounded more like Astarion giggling like a giddy schoolgirl. “Hey, wait a minute.” She said as she managed to reign in her laughter, taking a step back. “I've alwayth wanted to do this!” She reached up, carding her fingers into the soft silver curls on her head and ruffling them before pulling them forward. “Man, your hair’s long!” She laughed. She tried to push it back in place, failing miserably as the locks fell across her eyes again in a feathery light mess that didn't seem to bother her as much as it did him. Astarion reached up and fixed her hair for her, tutting her and slapping her hands away as she tried to help.

“What made you think of learning this spell?” Astarion asked. Serra smiled sweetly, wrapping her hands around his wrists and placing them at her cheeks again. 

“I thaw- SAW how you were looking at your clone in the self-same trial. When you said it was a pity to lose that handsome face, I remembered Gale talking about a spell that lets you mirror someone's appearance. I thought I might like to try to give you the chance to have a look at your face up close instead of in the middle of a fight.”

“And what a marvelous face it is.” He said, Serra beaming.

“I don’t smile like that! You’re too giddy to be wearing my face!” He flicked her nose, Serra laughing again.

“Oh, this is why you came to me for those midnight lessons!” Gale said loudly, laughing. Serra shot him a withering look, Astarion somewhat bemused she was sneaking around just to learn to clone his face.

“Thanks, Gale.” She growled, Gale looking at her in surprise.

“Oh! I thought…” He looked at Astarion, then back at Serra.

“Well, I’m definitely not your crafty student!” The silver haired Elf motioned to himself with a flourish, Serra crossing her arms over her chest, momentarily distracted by the firm pecs that greeted her forearms.

“Ah, you certainly mastered this spell, you had me fooled!” Gale announced, the expression on his face a clear indication he was about to launch into a long diatribe about how the weave worked or something like that. Serra was about to cut him off when Astarion interrupted him.

“I don’t want to be a bother, but isn’t your little roast looking a tad dark?” He pointed to the fire where a roast was suspended over it on a spit. Gale looked, suddenly bolting for the food while muttering about the fire being too big. “There, now it’s just us again, darling.” Astarion smirked mischievously, taking a step closer to Serra. “Enjoying what that feels like?” He plucked at her sleeve, Serra looking away in embarrassment as she dropped her arms to her sides.

“I think I’m gonna change back.” She muttered, Astarion stopping her as she raised her hand by tracing her jaw and chin with gentle fingertips.

“Let me enjoy this just a bit longer, pet. I do rather enjoy finally being able to gaze upon my own face.”

[quillthrillswriting]

sooo.... anyone else ever wondered how different ATLA would have been if aang had been frozen at age 16 instead of age 12?

yeah... me too 😌 my new fanfic "the teenager in the iceberg" follows the events of the show, but with only aang aged up, while everyone else remains their canon age.

also...cmon....how funny is it to switch zuko and aang's iconic dialogue to "you're just a teenager!" "...so are you?"

this idea was originally inspired by the talented @allgremlinart's aged up aang drawings, so please go show them some love!!:)<3

enjoy the excerpts from chapter three, that just dropped this morning!

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Katara watched Aang take one last, painful look at the temple, then turn to the sky ahead, lit up in shades of orange, pink, and gold. She swore she could see arrows in every cloud, arrows like the ones inked across Aang’s body, and the gentle breeze that carried the crisp night air towards them seemed to wrap around them like a loving spirit.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“...You have no idea where we’re going, do you?” Sokka sighed, turning the map that was held against Appa’s saddle with a couple of rocks toward himself. “I’ve been charting our progress, and it’s starting to look more like a scrap of paper a toddler is practising circles on than a navigational tool.”

“C’mon Sokka, I’m an Air nomad, travel is in my blood. I have a very strong internal compass. Besides, you’ll find that as a nomad, I’m a master of evasive manoeuvring.” Katara raised an eyebrow, looking up from her spot near the back of the saddle as she stitched a rip in Sokka’s pants. “Besides,” Aang continued, typical teenage boy overconfidence emitting from his tone of voice. “I know it’s near water.”

Sokka leaned over the edge of the saddle, eyes scanning the blue expanse below them that stretched as far as the eye could see. “We must be getting close then,” he scoffed, his tone dripping in sarcasm as he slouched back into his spot across from Katara.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“Aang,” she said distractedly, “could you hold this for me?” She handed him the mirror. 

“Y-yeah, no problem.”

She tugged out her hair ties, flipping her head upside down for a moment to make sure that it had all gotten loose, then she gingerly tugged a few tendrils of water from the nearby ocean and wrapped tiny streams around her hair, tugging out the crimped braid pattern and reviving her curls. Then, she carefully bent the remaining liquid back out. 

She couldn’t see his face through her thick hair as she stood back up, but from his voice, Aang seemed impressed. “I get that you haven’t been able to learn any big combat moves, but for someone whose bending is self- taught, you sure have a pretty good handle on these smaller things.”

She properly flipped her head up now, curls and waves bouncing around her face. Her dark brown locks shone with honey-toned highlights, all different shades of caramel and chocolate sparkling as they framed her face. She reached up, gently twisting and clipping a few strands out of the way, but a few wayward pieces still fell forward, gently brushing against soft, full lips and smooth skin. Aang awkwardly froze for a moment, caught off guard by how different she looked when her hair was loose and free. He had a weird urge to tell her so, but bit his tongue, instead focusing on her answer. 

“I learned most of the smaller things from helping Gran-Gran.” Katara’s eyes sparkled, clearly caught up in a vision of home as she reached up to brush up her hair. “ As she’s gotten older, her range of mobility has started leaving her. It’s not really comfortable or safe for her to stoop over to wash her hair, so I learned how to bring the water to her and wash it while she was sitting up, then I learned how to dry it for her fast.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Sokka yelped, his voice defensive and offensive all at once. “There is no way a bunch of girls in cutesy makeup and dresses managed to tie me up.”

“Awe, you think our makeup is cutesy? How sweet .” The girl's voice was crooning at first, sweet and gentle, but Katara could see from the way her muscles flexed as she held Sokka by the collar that there was venom hiding behind those words. She was right. “Throw him to the Unagi.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“Katara, c’mon, we’re supposed to be sticking together, where are you going?” Aang tugged at her arm until she was facing him, looking at her earnestly as if he hadn’t basically been flirting with all of those girls back there.

The words came out before she could stop them. “I thought monks weren’t supposed to go around flirting with any random girl, and they’re definitely not supposed to go around catering to a village full of fangirls.”

Aang raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing in a way that made Katara want to splash the smirk off of his face in a wave of water. “You sure have a lot of opinions on what you think monks are supposed to do, considering that I’m the only one you’ve ever met.” He shifted his weight, leaning in a bit closer. “Matter of fact, maybe it's just that you have a lot of opinions on what you think I’m supposed to be doing.”

Katara stiffened at the memory of the words that Sokka had just said minutes before. “Why would I care what you’re doing? I don’t. ”

Aang shrugged, reaching past her to grab a papaya and biting into it. After swallowing, he reached into Katara’s satchel, his hand brushing her waist as he pulled out some coins and quietly thanked the vendor. “Keep telling yourself that, Katara.” Hearing her name from his lips did something to her, but she kept her gaze level, eyes blazing with flame until Aang backed off.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

♥ check out the three chapters of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->

[09232003]

TL asleep? Thoughts on babysitting baby Floyd and Leona bc I’m crazy

Floyd seems like a sweet kid, but that’s all an act. He screamed until he blew Jade’s eardrums out, the push he needed to leave Floyd with you for the day. Although Jade made a scene about caring for his newly babied brother, he really was delighted getting to spend time with an easier to deal with, cuter, better behaved Floyd. Those things were all relative however, better behaved means nothing if the baseline is zero. he was still a demon spawn who behaved like a kid deprived of attention at home.

Jade wouldn’t trust anyone else to care for baby Floyd considering all of the enemies they made around campus. It would be nothing for a group of kids with a death wish to walk in and pick on him, teasing the little guy. Most others on campus would probably believe it to be well deserved, failing to protect his cute, little brother! That’s why he drops him off with you, the only person who would recognize his cuteness and care for him.

He likes to draw and will draw on any and all things. He draws pictures of the two of you on vacation, eating takoyaki, taking over the ocean together, and trying on backpacks. You’ll be tempted to keep them until you notice the ‘Ugly,’ scribbled in crayon with an arrow pointing to you. Azul forced Jade to find him a babysitter when he drew on some important contracts in his office. When asked to apologize, Floyd went in for a hug that turned into a mini-squeeze attempt. Since then, Jade as to remind everyone that he’s cute, but you mustn’t get to close.

Floyd would be a human toddler who clings to your side, trying to climb up you most of the time. His favorite places would be your lap, on your side, or straight up under you unfortunately. Jade warned you about cuddling and spoiling Floyd, and even instructed you on an acceptable way to gently spank him if need be. You lose every time. It’s useless. He doesn’t pout or whine, he learned that it won’t get him anywhere, instead he’s as kind as can be, giving you random kisses, toys, and compliments. His voice is usually cute, even as an adult man, but now it’s dangerous.

He’s good about naps, but will put up resistance if they’re not on his schedule. If you just plan your day around his sporadic bouts of sleepy, you’ll be fine! He’s unfortunately a picky eater but will eat anything if you give him a side of his favorite foods. He’ll teach you all about compromise. Similarly, if he’s wearing something he doesn’t like, he’ll just take it off. You chasing after a naked toddler, who runs too fast for a merbaby who just learned to walk, is a common occurrence around campus. His mood probably shifted and he decided he no longer wanted to dress like a sailor in the middle of the day. Azul lightly chides you on putting his clothes away when he’s not wearing them, lest you’ll confuse his clean clothes for sullied. He hands you a tiny, red and white striped shirt and a pair of blue shorts… the very same ones he’s supposed to be wearing now.

Baby Floyd is sensitive and wants you to reassure him. His sharp little teeth are a sore subject for him, he hasn’t learned to appreciate them yet. He’ll follow you around questioning why he’s different, wondering if he’s cool like a superhero. He notices he looks more like all of the villains. When you remind him that he’s a good boy, who’s very strong and handsome, he turns away from you hiding his face with his arms. His signature giggle is all he muster in response.

He has the same bully tendencies that big Floyd possessed, hair pulling, nipping, taking your things, sneaking up on you, and even name calling. His name calling isn’t as biting as it’s lost all his teeth, but every now and again, Scaredy Catfish and Idiot-brain get to you. Jade always makes sure to have him apologize the next day. Wrapped up in a handwritten crayon letter with a self portrait of Floyd crying as Jade- the Meanest Brother Alive forced him to write this, is a coupon to the Mostro Lounge. Jade hopes that it’s enough, but he doesn’t really care. He goes, “Ehh… was he wrong?”

When he bathes with you, he turns back to his little moray eel self, fittingly called a puppy by Jade. Jade usually handles bath time, but on nights where the lounge is open late, you have to. He shows you how he likes to be brushed and expects you to do it for hours, fussing when you won’t. It’s hard to say no, though.

He has the same infectious laughter. He’ll insist on sleeping in your room with you, to protect Koebi chan from monsters and the dark.

Leona is baby!

Leona is a great kid when he’s asleep. He takes many little naps throughout the day, waking up to eat and play exclusively. His favorite games are board games and hide and seek. He explodes into a fit of giggles if you let him sneak up on you. He’s still working on his signature roar, so you’ll hear a lot of yipping coming from him as he anxiously awaits feedback. The best thing you can do is pretend to be scared. Wide eyed, you look at him and ask, “No way… did that come from you? I thought there was a full-grown lioness in the room just now.”

Ruggie brings him to you when he can’t watch him, usually during his other shifts. He explains that kittens, or cubs, are not like big cats, so be extra cautious. Jack couldn’t handle him, Ruggie was at his breaking point, and he needed a break. You exchange fat fur babies when he agrees to take Grim to Spell drive practice if you watch Leona.

Cub Leona is a lot like Cheka; energetic, bright, and curious. If curiosity killed the cat, Leona is no exception. He wanders around ramshackle looking for trouble, history, and culture in the ghosts, books, paintings. Concepts all far beyond your typical 4-5 year old. He’ll ask you to tell him stories about things he’s really too little to understand. When he’s too excited to sit still, reading with him is how you calm him down. From his palace and royal caretakers, there are hundreds of books he had memorized from before he could read. He likes to show off how well he can read, using his tiny, clawed finger to follow along.

He’ll suddenly go quiet too, worrying you, until you see his stance. Crouching down, backing up slightly, he’s ready to pounce. Be prepared for Impromptu games of chase. He doesn’t run as fast, but he has enough stamina to outrun a tank. He’ll also sing for you if you ask, he’ll do most things, unlike the Leona he’ll grow in to. You’ve never heard big Leona sing, purr, or laugh as freely as his younger self.

Cub Leona can be soothed by brushing his hair or taking a nap with him. He doesn’t cry often, usually over nightmares or sad thoughts. You find that he’s a pretty profound kid with a sensitive heart. He’ll sit pensively, lost in thought before reverting back to a child his age. From a solemn expression one moment to a Mahou Burger King Jingle the next, loudly at the top of his lungs.

Unlike other kids, he’s not too hung up on clothing, wearing anything Ruggie drops him off in. Jack notices how unnecessary and uncomfortable his designer baby clothes are and will often times replace it with more suitable clothes. Baby Nikes? No, Dinosaur, light up shoes, Ruggie. Baby Balmain print coat? He asked for one with aliens, which Jack did go to several stores to find.

Jack and Ruggie drop by to help you often. Ruggie baby proofed Ramshackle, commenting that it really needed to be done when Grim moved in. He’s the tactical, sensible side of child rearing, feeding the cub, bringing his clothes, dissuading him from dangerous play. Jack takes care of the emotional side to the best of his abilities, making sure that Leona is comfortable and happy. And he is. They both refuse to put him down, sometimes wrestling him from the other.

He’s not a picky eater, but if getting big Leona to eat vegetables was difficult, then this is impossible.

His least favorite time is bath time, unsurprisingly. He’ll fight it until the very last minute when he thinks he’s won. Once he’s in, he needs stimulation to take his mind off the nice warm water, shampoo massage from prefect, and light music playing- truly it’s torture. He keeps his eyes shut the entire time, tense, waiting for it to be over while he reluctantly plays with his bath toys. You wonder if big Leona hates bathing this much too, was it the cat in him?

He was feared in the palace, but not in Ramshackle. You gladly hold him, kiss him, read to him, and love him. He’s distant and quiet at first, holding his head down, not wanting to scare you too. When he realizes that you three aren’t like everyone else, he’ll allow himself to be playful and sly, and full of tricks. You’ll find him just sinking into you on occasion, laying on your lap for his nap, or trying to crawl into your skin with favorite book.

His Tail wags the entire time, swatting the air around him.

[issdisgrace]

NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF

WARNINGS: Fluff, age regression, rudy is a cute kid

It had been a long day of meetings after meetings. With the last meeting over, I head back to the barracks, hoping Rudy was in our shared room. Walking down the long corridor, I eventually come to a stop at our door. Just before I open it, I hear giggling, well that’s stranger. Deciding to continue on, I open the door and I’m met with the sight of Rudy in his boxers and an oversized shirt sitting on the floor playing with 3 stuffed animals. I recognize the stuffed animals immediately as the ones I bought and given to him as gifts. The first one was a bear that I got him for valentines last year. The second one was a penguin I got him for our first Christmas together. Then the third one was a jaguar I bought him not even a couple of weeks ago because I saw it and the eyes reminded me of him. Now thoroughly intrigued by the sight in front of me, I make my presence known as I shut the door behind me. Before I can get a word out, Rudy jumps up from his spot on the floor and runs towards me. I’m able to brace myself before he jumps into my arms. I manage my grip on him so he doesn’t fall. He doesn’t seem to care as he smiles and says,

“Hi daddy.” His voice is so sweet and small. It warms my heart. 

“Hey bud. How are you?”

“I’m good. Just missed you lots.”

“Aww, I missed you too.”

“Really?”

“Yep, I missed you a lot.” 

“Do you want to see the picture I drew?”

“Sure bud.” I carefully set him down, to which he grabs my hand and leads me to his setup. I watch as he rummages through some papers before pulling out a drawing. He hands it to me with a smile and I can’t help but smile back as I take it. Looking over the picture, I read the messy writing that says “me and daddy” with an arrow pointing to 2 figures holding hands. 

“This is so good, baby. Did you do this all by yourself?” He nods vigorously as his smiles widens.

“You’re very talented, I must say.”

“I am?”

“Yep, you could be a professional.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I think this should be hung in museums.”

“I don’t want it in museums because then you can’t see it.”

“You’re right bud, I’ll have to put it up somewhere. I can see it every day. But I’ll do that tomorrow. I’m too tired to do it tonight.”

“Oh, ok.”

“Now what do you say I change out of these clothes and then we get some sleep?”

“Ok.”

“Alright, I’ll be back in a minute.” Walking into the bathroom, I shut the lock on the door behind me. I take a moment to collect my thoughts. Ok so I have a boyfriend regressed to the age of 6 or 7 and no answers on why or when did the regression started. I, of course, knew what age regression was. I just never thought Rudy would be the type to regress, not that I’m complaining he’s a pretty cute kid. This also fills in a lot of blanks and explains some of his quirks. But I’ll have to talk to him when he’s big again. Deciding I have thought enough about how this going to change the dynamic of the relationship. I strip down to my boxers and throw the rest of my clothes in the hamper. Exiting the bathroom, I see Rudy already snuggled up in bed with a stuffed animal in his arms. Slipping in the net to him, I pull him close into my chest and give him a kiss on the forehead.

“Goodnight Rudy.”

“Goodnight daddy.”

TIMESKIP NET DAY

The blaring of the alarm quickly woke me up. Rolling over, I turn it off. Sighing, I roll back over to face Rudy, his eyes fluttering open. 

“Good morning, Y/n.”

“Good morning Rudy. Do remember what happened last night.”

“No, not really. The new recruits were giving me a hard, and I came back here and that was really all I remember.”

“So you remember nothing while you were regressing?”

“Oh god, you weren’t supposed to know.” Rud says as he hides his face in his pillow. 

“It’s ok Rudy. I have no problem with you regressing it just a little shocking, as you hadn’t mentioned anything to me. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I-I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Rudy, I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me. I get its hard to be so open and I love you too much for this to change anything about us or our relationship.”

“I love you too.”

“I love you more Rudy.”

[violetsixx1981]

Kevin, we need to talk!! Part 2

Word count 809

WARNING ⚠️ READER FINDS KEVINS PLANS TO SHOOT UP THEIR SCHOOL!!!

“SHIT, babe, wake up,” Kevin yelled, jumping out of the bed. You yawned and opened your eyes. “What’s going on,” you asked? “My mom is home, I just heard her car door,” Kevin said as he threw his clothes back on.”Oh fuck,” you said jumping up and scrambling to find your clothes. “You get dressed, I’m going to go distract my mom. I’ll text you when it’s okay to come downstairs,” Kevin said as he shut the door behind him.

You got dressed and sat down at Kevin’s desk. Leaning all the way back you knocked the back of the chair into the dresser that was next to it. You heard something hit the floor. Swiveling the chair around you noticed that a notebook had been knocked free from between the desk and his dresser. Shimmying your hand into the gap, you grabbed it. You were just going to put it back, but the cover said KEEP OUT, and let’s be honest you’d never been good at following instructions.

You opened the notebook and found a list of your classmates, noting that they were all the super popular, and super smart kids. You flipped to the next page and found a sketched diagram of the school with all the exits marked. You were starting to get a sinking feeling in your stomach. The next page was a drawing of metal bike locks and a bow and arrow. You knew that Kevin loved archery, and he was very good at it. It was actually the reason you’d noticed him.

He’d been on the archery field at school, his face had been in such a state of concentration. The way his shirt rode up his stomach when he pulled the bowstring. He was gorgeous.

You flipped to the next page and your entire world came crashing down. There in black and white was a full laid out plan to shoot up the school with his bow and arrows. There was even a part about using the metal bike locks to lock the students in. You sat there staring at the notebook in your lap, you couldn’t breathe.

“Babe? I texted you. My mom is bringing in groceries. So if we head down now we can just pretend we were in the living room the whole time,” Kevin said as he walked into the room. You jumped up and the notebook went flying across the room. Kevin walked over and picked it up. “Where did you get this,” Kevin asked, as if he didn’t know exactly where you’d gotten it from. “I knocked the chair into your desk and it fell,” you said. Kevin looked pissed, more pissed than you’d ever seen him. Even more pissed than when Nathan Mercer had grabbed your ass in the hallway. He slowly walked over to the desk and put it back where it came from. All the while you stayed against the far wall, unsure of what to do. "Kevin? P-please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” you said, stuttering. Kevin sighed. “I think you should go,” he said sitting down on his bed. “What? No! Kevin, please talk to me,” you said. “No please go,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere,” you said crossing your arms. “Y/N, GET OUT,” he yelled causing you to jump. “Why,” you asked biting back tears. “BECAUSE IF YOU DON’T GO I’M GOING TO HURT YOU, AND FOR SOME FUCKING REASON I DON’T WANT TO DO THAT ANYMORE!! SO DO US BOTH A FAVOR AND GET THE FUCK OUT,” Kevin roared. You quickly grabbed all your stuff and ran out of his room and down the stairs. Tears were clouding your vision and you nearly collided with his mom bringing in groceries. You muttered an apology and ran out the door. “Y/N? Are you okay, sweetheart,” she yelled after you. But you didn’t turn around, you just kept running until you got to your car. You jumped in throwing your things into the passenger seat. Starting the car you pealed out of his drive way, not even bothering to put on your seat belt.

“What did he mean by he doesn’t want to hurt me, anymore,” you said aloud. Then it suddenly made sense. When you had first started trying to talk to Kevin he was very cold towards you. Almost like he hated you. Every time you tried to talk to him he always seemed angry even if he’d been smiling or laughing just before. You’d almost given up trying to ask him out entirely when out of nowhere he had asked you out. “Was he planning on hurting me,” you asked yourself out loud? It was then you realized that the rumors were true, Kevin Khatchadourian was in fact a sociopath. You were in love with a sociopath. You had just lost your virginity to a sociopath.

[chrysochroma]

Hermit Horror Week

Day 3: Chase

@hermithorrorweek

Title: Trophy Hunting

Prompt: Chase

Rating: Teen And Up

Words: 1,009

Warnings: Gore, Blood, Violence, Death, Horror, Decapitaton

Summary: False is very good at the Head Games.

read on Ao3

Since its beginning, the Head Game had occupied most of FalseSymmetry’s time. She found that the other participants mostly used mob heads or wandering villagers’ trades to get to the top of the leaderboard. However, False decided that she would take a different approach to the challenge. Something a bit more entertaining. 

False stood before the bounty board at the Head Game building, eyes scanning the list and fingers tapping against the grip of her bow. She heard the faint flapping sound of an elytra closing and spun in the direction of the sound, nocking an arrow and drawing her bowstring back. 

“Hey, Impulse,” She called out.

“Hey,” He replied, although a bit quietly.

“Watcha doing?”

“Oh, nothing.” He equipped his shield with a flash. “Just looking at the leaderboard.”

“Yeah? And who’s winning?”

Impulse quickly glanced at the board next to him, not wanting to give her more of an advantage than she already had. He read the name on the top sign, then slowly turned back to False. “You.”

“I wonder why.” She tilted her bow down and shot her arrow straight through Impulse’s foot and into the ground, pinning him where he stood. 

A spike of pain shot up through Impulse’s leg as a couple hearts disappeared from his health bar. He tried to step away, but was stopped by the arrow. “Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” he started. 

False put her bow away and equipped a shining diamond sword instead, then ripped one of the pieces of paper off the board. “Well, too bad for you that you’re today’s double point Hermit then, isn’t it?” She stepped closer, tightening her grip on her sword’s handle. 

“Can’t we cut a deal?” He offered, still holding his shield up. 

“Sure we can. You stay still while I take your head, and I’ll make this quick for you.” She raised her sword. 

“No, no, no, I meant something more along the lines of: you don’t kill me, and I’ll … give you diamonds! You like diamonds, right?” He smiled nervously. 

False tilted her head to the side, her lips spreading into an entertained grin. “I do, but I’m going to have to respectfully decline your offer.”

“Wait-!”

“Pleasure doing business.”

She swung her sword, cutting through Impulse’s neck, separating his head from the rest of his body. Impulse’s body slumped to the ground, blood pouring out of his severed veins. 

She sheathed her sword, then picked his head up out of the puddle of blood in the grass, ignoring the rest of his body laying there, then walked over to the anvil and penned her name across his forehead, claiming the bounty as hers. She dropped his head in the designated barrel with a wet, bloody splat, then walked over to the lake next to the Game building and washed his drying blood off her hands and sword. 

False walked back to the leaderboard and smiled at her name at the top. 

Every day, False checked the new bounties, hoping to find another target to hunt. She was only able to claim the bounty a few times before it got taken, but this was one of the lucky few. 

False landed on the top of a giant mushroom and tucked her wings back, eyes locked on ZombieCleo. She was updating the leaderboard with yesterday’s scores, completely focused—a perfect target. 

Silently, False spread her wings again and glided towards the back of the Game building, keeping her eyes on Cleo. She landed on the edge of the back wall, then jumped onto the stack of diamond blocks in the middle of the area and climbed to the top. She drew her bow back with a creak, then let the arrow fly. She watched as it embedded itself in her shoulder, causing Cleo to stumble back. 

Cleo pressed a hand over the wound to staunch the bleeding and looked up towards the source of the arrow. She locked eyes with False, then spread her wings and flew off. 

False smiled, then nocked another arrow and pulled the bow’s string back, tracking Cleo through the sky. She pointed the arrowhead to just ahead of where Cleo was and let the string go, shooting the arrow through the sky towards her. She watched as it punched a hole through Cleo’s wing, causing her to falter and fall back to the ground. False took a leisurely glide down to where Cleo had crash landed, still holding her bow. 

Cleo was laying on the ground, looking at her wing. Blood from her shoulder was pouring out onto her shirt and hand, which was failing to stop the flow. She looked up just as False landed. “Nice shot,” she said.

False nocked another arrow, drew back her bow, and aimed straight at Cleo’s heart. “Thanks.”

The arrow stabbed into Cleo’s flesh, her blood making another stain on her shirt. She coughed a few times before her chest froze and her muscles went slack, her body draining itself of life. 

False took out her sword and sliced her head off, scoring a line in the mycelium below. She went to pick up the head, then paused. 

How about I keep this one for myself? She thought. A trophy of all my hard work. I deserve it, She decided. 

She picked up Cleo’s head, then took off towards her home base. During the journey, she had the best idea of what to do with it. 

A perfect way to ward off competitors, She thought. 

When she arrived at her house, she went into one of her chests and got a fencepost, then went outside and stabbed it into the ground next to her front door. Then she raised Cleo’s head and stared into her glassy eyes before impaling it on the spike in her lawn. Cleo’s blood dripped down the oak wood of the post, leaving a burgundy stain in its wake. 

False smiled at her new decoration, then went inside, took out her sword and began to sharpen it in preparation for her next kill.

[yandere-fics]

Miriel Stonewood

♡ “Baaabe, can we please get out of here nowwww? Just forgive me already. That way we can go home and cuddle!″ ♡

She’s a more manipulative of a yandere. She will whine and cry and beg for hours until you tell her that you also love her. She’s quick to forgive as long as you pay her attention for a few hours, no matter how bad your ‘crime’ was. She’s a wee bit delusional like that.

♡ “You already know my name silly! Miriel Stonewood. We have a small small village so last names aren’t really necessary, we just take the last name of our village, but if you insist then I’ll take your last name when we wed.” ♡

Elf babies age slowly so people rarely have children because no one wants to be stuck raising a child for a century or so.

♡ “How old am I? Elves age different babe, so I’m 123 which I suppose in your age would equate to 20 years old. Don’t worry though babe! I won’t outlive you or anything like that if you were worried!” ♡

Normally elves are allowed to venture out off their village when they turn 150 but she was let out early because she’s the daughter of what is practically their king. If she was more mature one day she’d be queen. So basically she’s a nepo baby.

♡ “Aww are you jealous of that guy baby, don’t worry I only like women darling, especially you!” ♡

She’s a lesbian, as long as you’re a girl she’ll love you. Trans girls, chubby girls, etc.

♡ “Does my job really matter as long as I have enough money to take care of you? I’m starting to become tired of all these questions, can’t we discuss more pleasant things my love? I really don’t want to get upset with you and I don’t think you want that either.” ♡

She’s technically a envoy for her village. She works for The Bosses company and works to help elves get settled in the city and help them claim their love. Her village isn’t directly accessible unless invited in so they need someone to go back and forth between the two.

♡ “What do I like? You, babe! What else would I possibly be interested in, you’re my soulmate, baby. Beyond that I suppose it’s a bit funny how mortals are so gullible sometimes.” ♡

She’s very dull honestly. She likes you alot and she likes drawing blood when she punches someone. If she doesn’t draw blood during the fight then she’ll just have to punch them again.

♡ “I do hate one thing, I hate how my job takes me away from you! It’s really unfair, The Boss must not have their own soulmate cause they don’t know how hard it is to be separated from theirs.” ♡

She dislikes how you haven’t submitted and fully become hers yet because that means she can’t drag you back to her village yet.

♡ “Uhm well I guess if I had to name an ability, it would be how good I am at loving you but that’s to be expected darling.” ♡

She’s above average with a knife but beyond that she can’t do much in direct combat other than punch hard and pull at your hair. She can do damage with a bow and arrow though if she remembers to use the special poison for arrows that her parents gave her. It was super expensive but she always forgets.

♡ “Just remember that I love you so much babe, I’m so glad you’re mine.” ♡

[weiying-lanzhan-fics]

Thicker Than Water by athena_crikey

Enjoyed the world building in this story. Loved the complexities of LZ and WY’s relationship. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Quotes:

Wei Ying is looking around the interior, clean from last weekend’s vacuum. “Nice car. I kind of pictured you driving a Porsche, or an Audi maybe. You know. Something sleek and sexy.”

Lan Zhan glances at him, and he grins. “I don’t know. You just give off that mysterious hot dude aura. Like James Bond, but you know. Hopefully less misogynistic.”

His car is, in fact, a Honda Fit. He had been considering a Leaf, but his battle to get his Strata to install charging stations in his building has been an uphill one.

“This has good mileage and a user-friendly eco-mode,” he says, fairly sure Wei Ying is not being serious but unable to reply in kind.

“Wow Lan Zhan, you really sell it. I’ll put Honda on my list for future me’s vehicle choices.”

————

Lan Zhan draws in a breath, slow, so deep his chest aches with it. He can feel his heart pressed tight within him, the feeling uncomfortable, distressing. But he can’t just keep sitting here and letting Wei Ying carry the conversation. The conversation he initiated, and now finds himself unable even to lead.

“You and I are very different,” he says, slowly. For once, Wei Ying doesn’t interject. “You are very different from anyone else in my life. I have been. Dazzled. By you. I thought that perhaps, despite our differences, despite my doubts, we could be… something.”

“And now you don’t?” asks Wei Ying, quietly. Lan Zhan turns to look at him. He’s sitting stiffly, his eyes wide, worried. For the first time he looks vulnerable – more than he did luring out a yao, more than he did walking into a house with a violent spectre.

“How could we, when I cannot even find the words to tell you what I want?”

Wei Ying leans forward, reaches out and hooks his long fingers over Lan Zhan’s. “I thought that was a pretty clear message just now. You’re right – we are different. Maybe too different – I don’t know. But I want to find out. I want – I want the way you look at me, like I’m the only person you’re thinking of.”

Lan Zhan swallows dryly, his throat tight. With fear, with desperation, but also for the first time with an ounce of hope. “You are. Since we first met, I have not been able to stop thinking about you. Each time I see you, it just makes me want to see you again.”

M, 68k

Summary:

The Lans were one of the founding families of the Vancouver Guild; part of their legacy is to maintain their place in it for the benefit of all. Cultivation is important, essential, serious.

In the distance, something squeaks.

A disaster, is Lan Zhan’s first impression as the bike squeals to a halt on the far side of Song Lan’s car. The man riding it – and he’s tall, and lanky, and sure-footed – hops off and locks it to the car’s back door. The back door of a police vehicle. He pulls his helmet off to reveal long, sweat-soaked hair with a shaggy undercut, bright grey eyes, and a smile that launches like an arrow straight through Lan Zhan’s chest.

No, he thinks, watching this trainwreck of a man shimmy between the narrow space dividing Song Lan’s back bumper and the next car’s hood like he’s doing some kind of dance step. Absolutely not.