#x: fire and gasoline

[space-whalesharks]

WIP Meme

Tagged by @theresaruggedroad and @deputyash. Thank youuu

More BG3 nonsense, a couple of separate events. Keeping the second bit under a read more since there's Early/Mid Act 3 spoilers. Weeeeeee

Gortash cupped her face delicately and Reina bristled. She was desperate to get away from him. Wrong. Bad. Manipulator. The warning bells went off in her head, but that trace of her old self that had come back and settled back into her soul kept her face there, comforted by the touch. His touch. Her stomach curled. "Whether this... new version of you believes me or not, I did this for you. For us. My Darling, I would see this world burned to ash if it meant keeping you and Thomas safe and by my side with the best life imaginable." "The person who says that isn't usually the one holding the matches."

Aaaannd number 2:

Reina sized Lae'zel up. Something was off. Too off. The speech patterns, her energy. Since when would Lae'zel run from a fight? Lae'zel drifted closer, and something in Reina snapped. Danger, danger, danger. With an almost alien speed and precision, she took the dagger off her belt and shoved it through Lae'zel's stomach. A moment later she panicked at her own reaction, fearing there was some sort of magic or curse that had forced her hand- her companions had immediately sprung into protest- And then Lae'zel cackled, completely unlike herself. "There you are. I was wondering if the beasts really did eliminate you from the equation." "What?" Reina breathed, still horrified. She glanced at the knife, still buried in Lae'zel's gut, let go of it and tried to steady her shaking hand. Lae'zel's smile twisted into something foreign. She reached down, removed the dagger from her body, and tossed it aside- and then her body contorted with a sickening crunch. There was a flash of red magic, and then suddenly, Orin was in Lae'zel's place. She had conned them again. Orin stepped closer to her, almost floating on air with the way her body moved. "Oh, I missed you. The Ice Queen, Fireraiser, Killer. Wherever she is in that head of yours. You were always so fun. I wanted to have you. To train that little spark in you, make it crave blood and flesh. But no, you wanted to stay with the little lordling and your runt. I should've slit all of your throats when I had the chance. Maybe I will kill the little runt. Gortash has been so terribly, terribly difficult as of late. He needs the motivation." "What the Hells are you on about?" Reina demanded, but Orin was gone in another red plume of smoke, her answering laughter still in the wind.

[dishpowder]

happy pride month !!! have a lovely june to everyone in the LGBTQIA+ community, allies, friends, and family (˶◜ᵕ◝˶)

reblogs appreciated !! <3

bonus funnies under cut :3

[pinklotushere]

Dick Grayson and Dan Fenton are two sides of the same coin

drawn together by the overwhelming force of their shared anger, yet tempered by their differing ways of dealing with it.

Their personalities mirror each other, with subtle but significant differences in how they react to their emotions and the world around them.

Dick Grayson is a person who, despite carrying an intense inner rage, has spent years learning how to mask it, constantly suppressing his feelings because of the responsibility he feels toward those who rely on him.

His anger is like a volatile storm beneath the surface, always simmering, always ready to boil over.

But Dick keeps that storm contained, partly out of a sense of duty and partly because he cannot afford to lose control—not when there are people depending on him, especially after everything he’s experienced.

When Dick does snap, it’s explosive, a red-hot fury that consumes him and everyone around him.

His anger comes from a deep sense of betrayal, loss, and frustration, emotions that are often triggered by his inability to fully heal from past wounds. His guilt over not being there when others need him can push him to the edge, and when he finally lets go, it's intense and uncontrollable.

Dan Fenton, on the other hand, carries his anger like a weapon—he doesn't mask it, doesn't suppress it, and most importantly, doesn't care who sees it.

His rage is a direct expression of his complete disillusionment with the world around him. Dan feels trapped in a cycle of pain and self-loathing, and his anger is a response to that helplessness. His anger is his shield, his way of saying, "I'm not going to be ignored. I'm not going to pretend anymore."

When Dan snaps, it's not just explosive—it's total annihilation. There’s no restraint, no second thoughts, just a primal need to destroy whatever is in his way, whether it's physical or emotional.

Dan’s rage isn't a mere outburst; it's a reaction to everything he sees as wrong in the world, and he doesn't try to control it because, for him, the control is gone.

He feels like he's drowning, but instead of letting others help, he isolates himself, pushing away anyone who might try to get too close, afraid that he’ll drag them down with him.

The bond between Dick and Dan is magnetic because they see themselves in each other.

Dick wants to help Dan because he sees his own unresolved rage mirrored in him. He recognizes that same fire, that same inability to fully trust the world around him, and he can’t help but want to pull Dan out of the abyss that he himself struggles to stay out of.

However, Dick's optimism—his belief that things can get better—clashes with Dan's complete loss of hope.

Dick can't help himself, but he tries anyway because, deep down, he’s terrified of losing someone else.

The fear of someone dying while he wasn’t there for them is something Dick struggles with every day.

This fear pushes him to try to “save” Dan, not just because of his own guilt but because he can’t bear the thought of letting another person slip away, consumed by their anger and pain.

Dan feels the weight of his anger and self-isolation.

He recognizes Dick’s attempt to help, but he feels unworthy of that help. He fears that anyone who gets too close to him will be consumed by his darkness.

Dan feels like he’s already too far gone, that any attempt to fix himself will only result in dragging others into the chaos.

In that way, he isolates himself, pushing away anyone who might care, even if they’re offering a lifeline.

They are drawn to each other because they are two halves of the same broken whole.

Their anger is the bridge that connects them, even as it drives them apart.

Dick’s attempts to help Dan are ultimately a reflection of his own inner turmoil and his fear of being alone in his anger.

Meanwhile, Dan's response to Dick is a reminder of the path Dick could go down if he allows his rage to consume him fully.

They are both fueled by bitterness and anger, but where Dick’s anger is tempered by a relentless hope, Dan’s is an all-consuming darkness.

The fundamental difference is that Dick still believes in the possibility of change, while Dan is resigned to his own destruction.

In many ways, Dick and Dan are forced into a complicated, tense dance. Dick wants to fix Dan, but Dan resists, unsure if he even deserves the help.

But, beneath the resistance, there’s a quiet understanding between them, a recognition of the same pain, the same anger that keeps them from moving forward. They see themselves in each other, and that’s what makes their connection so powerful—and so so difficult.

But Despite the pain, despite the anger, despite the near-constant push and pull between them, Dick Grayson and Dan Fenton would still end up drawn into something deeper. They would love because of the pain as much as despite it.

Because see, most people see what Dick and Dan project—Dick as the golden boy who has everything under control, Dan as an unstoppable force of destruction.

But they both recognize the truth beneath the masks. Dick sees Dan’s pain, the raw vulnerability buried under all that rage, and Dan sees the exhaustion behind Dick’s carefully maintained control. There’s no need to pretend with each other, and that honesty is intoxicating.

And Both of them are angry—but with each other, they don’t need to justify it.

Dick doesn’t have to hold back his frustration and grief, and Dan doesn’t have to pretend he doesn’t care. They understand that part of each other instinctively, without having to put it into words. They can be angry together, and instead of it being destructive, it’s relieving—like finally having someone who just gets it.

Neither of them is built for something soft and easy.

They could have quiet, peaceful relationships with people who don’t challenge them—but they don’t want that. They’re both drawn to the fight, to the sharp edges, to the constant tension between destruction and salvation. With each other, love isn’t calm—it’s a storm. But it’s their storm, and they can’t walk away from it.

Even in a room full of people, both Dick and Dan carry a deep, persistent loneliness.

Dick is surrounded by people who love him, yet he always feels responsible for everything, always afraid of letting someone down.

Dan isolates himself because he’s convinced his presence is a threat. But with each other, that loneliness eases, misery loves company, they say

When emotions run too deep for words, physicality becomes their outlet. Whether it’s a fight, a touch, or just sitting next to each other, their connection is tangible.

Dan, who keeps everyone at arm’s length, finds himself unwilling to let go of the warmth Dick offers.

Dick, who usually holds himself back, allows himself to hold on.

Their relationship is a mess of passion, fights, comfort, and raw honesty.

They crash into each other like fire meeting gasoline, but somehow, they don’t consume each other completely. Instead, they ignite something new—something neither of them fully understands, but neither of them can walk away from.

They love in spite of the pain because they are the only ones who can truly see each other, the only ones who can hold on through the worst of it. And even if they hurt, even if they struggle, being together is still better than being apart.

[orbch]

i think every remus ship is going to be insane and messy. like at least a little. but dukexiety and intruality are just so on another level

[dymphnas]

kaiser...in a soulmate au...you would be capable of such damage to me.

[therighthandofvengeance]

a tale told in two parts

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

you be my fire and I’ll be your gasoline, Ch.12

[prev][masterpost] [next]

Jaskier barely notices the week go by. 

He spends his days at the library, hidden away in a secluded little corner, away from the prying eyes of bored guests. Understandably, there aren’t many books that have any information on curses, nor magic as a whole, but Jaskier still searches, looking through aisle upon aisle. 

He flips through more medicine books, which there are a considerable number of due to medicine being the traditional field of work for the women in the Denesle household. Eyck’s mother, as far as Jaskier is aware, has been working as a medic at the Tretogor court for years now. 

What little Jaskier does manage to find about curses mostly talks of the kind that either turns the unfortunate soul into some sort of a cold-blooded creature like a toad, or the kind that makes the person gravely ill. Neither seem to fit the situation Jaskier’s got on his hands. He also reads a very long paragraph written in a confusing mix of Common and Elder about curses that turn men into vukodlaks, and how those that are cursed hold on to their human consciousness but cannot fight the hunger that claws at them from the inside and drives them to kill entire villages full of people that were once their friends and neighbours, that were once their families. Jaskier shudders as he reads it, and the feeling sticks with him throughout the entire day, only letting up late at night, when he falls asleep, exhausted from all the hours spent reading. 

Geralt asks him, once, where Jaskier keeps disappearing to, and the bard tells him simply that he’s occupying the library because it’s been a while since he’d had the chance to read and compose in peace. It’s not entirely a lie, and Geralt buys it just enough not to ask again. Jaskier knows that the witcher can tell he’s hiding something but then again, so is Geralt. If the witcher wasn’t so adamant about not speaking a word of the supposed future, Jaskier would’ve asked him directly and saved them both the need to keep secrets. But Geralt was adamant, and Jaskier could not stand not knowing what’s happening to him.

After that first night that he spent at the library and barely made it back in time for Geralt not to notice that he was gone, Jaskier forbids himself from sneaking out with no warning. He cares for Geralt, he genuinely does despite all the things that hang unsaid between them, and he does not want to ruin the relationship they’ve built over the little time they’ve had together. If the witcher was set on finding a mage that would send them to Cintra by portal, then they did not have much time left, to begin with, and Jaskier really, really didn’t want to fuck that time up, regardless of how long or short it might be. And so, he stays in bed through the night, even if he can’t bring himself to sleep. He listens to Geralt’s even breathing, studies the lines of his face and body, tracing them idly with the tips of his fingers from time to time, soft enough not to wake the witcher up. 

In the mornings, more tired each new day from the lack of sleep and the constant turmoil of theories and anxiety in his head, Jaskier slips away again, staying only long enough to share breakfast with the witcher. The maids that bring it probably gossip about them sleeping in the same bed but, naturally, say nothing. 

[Keep reading]

[galacticwildfire]

Early Mornings

Poe Dameron x Solo!oc

summary: poe dameron and hope solo have places to be, but the only place they want to be is in bed

tags/warnings: essentially a non-sexual situationship (they're disgustingly in love but in denial), cuddling, flirting, kissing that borders on smutty, references to sex and jealousy, some suggestive dialogue, a little angst and brief reference to trauma, but sickeningly sweet fluff overall

word count: 2.8k

a/n: this is a scene I've written for my series fire meet gasoline on ao3 but it's been sitting in my notes app for too long to not share it as a stand alone one shot. also gif for obvious reasons.

~

~

The feeling of Poe's arms unconsciously tightening around my body's what stirs me awake in the early hours of the morning. While I can vaguely remember falling asleep listening to the steady beat of his heart it seems that sometime in the night we ended up with my back flush to his chest and our limbs tangled. Any space we'd left between us in the late hours of last night long gone.

My lips brush the arm he has tucked beneath my head as I look back over my shoulder, finding his head buried in the crook of my neck and still sound asleep. The feeling of him nuzzling into me's a now familiar sensation I let myself bathe in for as long as I can before forcing myself to remember that we have places to be.

The only downside to these mornings is the tragic fact that they have to end, especially when physically removing myself from him is a feat in itself. I may as well be struggling against a Wookie with the amount of strength it takes to pull myself from Poe Dameron's arms. Although I'd never want it any other way.

BB-8 beeps good morning and after returning it I glance at the time, reluctantly and very carefully untangling myself from Poe before he can wake up, a learned skill. Knowing the amount of sleepless nights we've both had in the past weeks I decide to take the first shower to let him sleep that little bit longer. 

My spare flight suit’s folded in the drawer that had been empty until recently, along with the towel that’s made its way into Poe’s room along with other necessities. Despite having everything that I need when I sleep over I haven’t been able to give up the shirt he’d loaned me to sleep in, not that he seems to mind. 

Finding my hairpins on his bathroom counter drives home how routine this arrangement’s become to the point that I don’t know how I slept any other way, how mere months ago I was out there in the Outer Rims alone and now… now I can’t imagine doing any of this without him. 

He’s still asleep when I come out in my flight suit, finding him with the blanket bundled up in his arms in place of where I’d been. The sight has my heart clenching and BB-8 beeps quietly to ask if he should wake him up. 

“I’ve got it,” I say, leaning down to rub his head as I make my way over to Poe, reluctant to wake him up but people are going to start asking questions if we’re both late to our third meeting this week. My mother would start asking questions, and this is something I wouldn’t quite know how to explain to her. 

 “Poe,” I hum as I sit down on the edge of his bed, running my fingers through his messed curls until he begins to stir. “Morning.”

He blinks in confusion when he can’t feel me beside him, but the tension leaves his face when his eyes find mine.

“Hey,” he smiles tiredly and murmurs “What are you doing all the way over there?”

“We’ve got a meeting.”

“We do?”

“Come on, Commander,” I say, brushing back the dark curls that fall across his forehead. “I thought it was your job to know these things.”

His eyes are warm as he leans into my touch. “I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

“That can easily be fixed-” I begin, slowly withdrawing my hand until he stops me. 

“No, no,” he quickly says, and I’m smiling as he pulls my hand back and holds it to his cheek. His eyes fall shut as his lips brush my palm, his morning stubble a welcome feeling. “Don’t you dare.”

I can’t help but lean down to kiss his cheek, bumping his nose with mine as I insist “Come on or we’ll be late. I’ll grab our caf and see you there.”

“Hey, caf’s my job,” he protests as I reluctantly pull back but relents. “How late are we?”

“We’ve got about half an hour, so take a shower and I’ll meet you in the mess.”

“Yes, Captain,” he says, and rolls onto his back while still holding my hand in his, looking up at me with his brows drawn together as he questions “Since when are you up early?”

“Since I’m actually sleeping well,” I say and he gives me a tired smile that I’m helpless to adore. 

“Me too, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” I say softly, knowing that hasn’t been the case for either of us these past weeks. 

He nods and brings my hand back to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I mean, I sure as hell don’t wanna get out of bed.” 

I catch the glint of mischief in his eye the moment before he tugs me back into bed with him, somehow managing to roll me so I’m lying on my back in the small space and he’s hovering above me - not that I’m putting up much of a fight. 

“Which is why I got out of it before you woke up,” I whine as he nestles his head in the crook of my neck and slips an arm back around my waist, intentionally pinning me to the bed with his bodyweight to keep me from moving. “Since someone likes to cling to me like a sloth.”

He lifts his head up with a proud smile. “A handsome sloth.”

“That’s true,” I agree, helpless to deny that as he bumps my nose. “But that face won’t help you when you’re late.”

“It’s helped me so far,” he dismisses, his stubble grazing my skin as he kisses my forehead. “Might not be enough to get me out of trouble but it’s enough to keep you here.”

My jaw drops a little at the audacity but I can’t argue considering he knows damn well it’s the truth as I shake my head at him. “That damn face - my one weakness.”

“It’s alright sweetheart, yours is mine as well,” he assures me as he peppers kisses across my face. “Those eyes… you know I can’t say no to you so-” I whine again as he pulls back and moves his body off mine, settling between me and the wall. “I’ll let you get going and I’ll meet you in the mess.”

He knows he has me where he wants me and I couldn’t care less as I tug him back by the fabric of his shirt and he certainly doesn’t make any effort to resist as he gathers me back up in his arms, settling over me with his elbow propping him up this time. 

“No, you’re stuck with me now,” I decide and I’m holding his face as I pepper kisses from his cheek to the bridge of his nose, our bodies melding as our legs tangle together.

He kisses my jaw while he teases “Isn’t being clung to all night enough for you?” It’s then he turns his head to look at me and his lips incidentally brush mine, although it’s far from the first time. 

Still, his breath hitches and my voice trembles slightly as I ask “What do you think?”

He searches my eyes, seeking whatever it is he’s looking for before our lips meet. Again, far from the first time. Another in a long series of kisses we’ve sworn wouldn’t happen again and yet we always end up here. The softness of his lips has me trying to recall every reason we’ve used for why this can’t happen. 

The fact that we’re a disaster at the best of times. 

That we both have the tendency to let our emotions cloud our judgement until it ends in screaming fights in the middle of the hangar. 

The fact that he’s still my commanding officer and we’re on fragile enough footing with high command as it is, even if everyone knows we operate as partners. 

That all it would take is one bad call in the field and we’re both dead. 

The fact that he’s my best friend, my partner, the one damn person in this galaxy I trust whole heartedly. 

Knowing that I’d lose my mind if anything ever happened to him.

If I lost him-

My back arches off the bed as his tongue slips into my mouth and he swallows the sound that comes from the back of my throat as the hand that was under me moves to squeeze my waist. He gasps softly as my fingers slip into his hair in return, gently tugging at his curls to pull him closer - needing him closer. 

It’s when my legs hook around his hips that BB-8’s beeping reminds us that he’s still there and we both flush in embarrassment. R2’s been around long enough that he doesn’t linger past a certain time, even when Poe and I’s affection is innocent, but despite being a romantic sweet BB-8 isn’t prepared to see anything more than this.

And Poe and I certainly aren’t prepared to put on a show for him. 

Still, I can’t help but burst out laughing when Poe murmurs in my ear “We have an audience.” He kisses my forehead again before clearing his throat. “Hey buddy, why don’t you go see what R2’s up to?”

He gives an offended beep, both at his dismissal and us forgetting his presence, before finding his way out and we share a look of mortified guilt. I’m trying to hold back embarrassed laughter while Poe’s head dips to my shoulder to kiss where my collarbone's exposed by the partially zipped flightsuit before he again slips into the bed beside me, holding me close with a caressing hand over my hip. 

“I’m guessing you haven’t had to kick BB-8 out before?” I tread, knowing that I’m the only person Poe’s had sleeping over since he’s joined the Resistance, but I can’t help the pang of jealousy at the thought of him being with someone else like this.

“Like I’ve told you sweetheart, I’ve been living like a Jedi since before Leia recruited me,” he says, settling those thoughts with a kiss to my forehead. “I think he’s just mad I’ve been taking your attention away from him.”

“I still give him plenty of love,” I assure Poe and he tugs me closer, his lips lingering on my temple as I bury my face in his neck. “Five more minutes, then we’ll get up.”

“What happened to we’re gonna be late?” he teases and I just groan. “Hope…”

“I know, I know,” I pout, rolling back enough so that my face rests beside his on the pillow we’ve shared more often than not the past few weeks. “I just wanna stay here with you.”

I search his eyes, praying he hears what I really want to say. That I want it to be just you and me. No First Order. No protocol. Just us. Raw and mostly unfiltered.

He plays with my fingers, kissing each one individually before he meets my eye and I know that he does. “How about after the meeting I swap patrols with Karé so we can go out together?” he suggests. “It’s been a while since it’s been just the two of us and our x-wings.”

“Because command nearly has a nervous breakdown every time we go out there together,” I remind him, lacing our fingers together. “I believe the words ‘tie-fighter magnets’ were used.”

Neither of us can pretend we aren’t proud of that label. 

“Well, it’s a good thing that the two best pilots in the galaxy can take them out then,” he says but I don’t miss the way his face falls when he remembers what happened the only time we couldn’t. Even now I can't shake the sound of the pure fear in his voice when he pulled me from the crash. He kisses my hand again and tries to push it from his mind but the memory lingers. “It’s you and me, and the patrols Leia’s got scheduled shouldn’t be dangerous.”

“Famous last words,” I say and he can’t argue with that considering command’s right when it comes to our track record. “But I’d like that. You and me.” 

“Me too sweetheart,” he says, stretching as he lays back, both of us ignoring the fact that we’re definitely not making it to breakfast before the meeting. “But first I’ve gotta shower, get dressed-” he trails off, deciding to be a little shit as he grins “Unless you wanna join?”

I’m matching his grin with a playful slap to his chest. “Then we’d definitely be late.”

“I didn’t hear a no.”

He can see me blushing red and he still wears that same cocky smile that I’m more than tempted to kiss off his face. I don’t know how many times he and I have been on this ledge, teasing and tempted to go further, only to treat this with more caution than we’ve given to anything else in our lives.

“Are you trying to call my bluff? Because we both know how that ends.”

This is one thing, waking up together and sharing these kisses that we don’t acknowledge. This we can still fool ourselves into believing is the pinnacle of platonic love, a playful extension of the affection we share - an unconventional partnership.

Sex is another thing entirely. 

When we’d first met and things got heated I wanted it, and I wanted it with him, but we both know that this partnership is too delicate to handle those emotions on top of all the others we can scarcely deal with on our best days. 

“Oh I know,” he assures me. “Considering the last time I tried to call your bluff you took a shot at me.”

“You were the one who said I wouldn’t do it,” I remind him, blaming that one on a bout of temporary insanity on both our parts after a dogfight gone wrong. “What can I say? You drive me crazy.”

“I know,” he grins. “The good kind of crazy I hope.”

“Always,” I smile before correcting. “Well, most of the time.”

“Alright, we’d be lying if we didn’t say most,” he admits and we share a laugh knowing that everyone on base, even our own squadron, was at their wits end with us not that long ago but here… it’s just us and no one else.

Unfortunately that has to come to an end, but not before I press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Breakfast in fifteen.”

“Yes, Captain,” he smiles as I sit upright, but raises an eyebrow upon deciding to try his luck. “I can make it in ten if you give me another one.”

And so I do, only for us to end up right back where we started; in the bed with his hands on my waist and mine tangled in his hair. The gentle swipe of his tongue across my bottom lip has me planning to use the dwindling privileges that being the General's daughter brings to get away with being late by at least another half an hour, although Poe puts a stop to that as if he wasn’t the one who started this. 

“Poe,” I whine when he pulls away, sitting up properly and leaving me with my head on his pillow. "Why do you do this?"

He still has the audacity to play around and take his sick enjoyment in riling me up. “We have meetings, remember?”

My eyes narrow at him. “Bastard.”

“What was that?”

“Bastard,” I repeat and he grins. 

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Come on beautiful,” he murmurs as he pulls me upright and I just laugh. 

“Oh no, don’t ‘come on’ me when you’re the one that dragged me back into bed.”

He gives an unapologetic shrug but the warmth in his eyes makes up for it. “You missed the beautiful part.”

I shake my head and he kisses me again before I have to put my hands on his chest to keep enough distance between us that I can actually get out of the bed and away from it without him pulling me back into it. 

“We’re gonna be so late and you still need to get ready,” I lecture, knowing I’ll be the one getting the blame for it considering he’s the favourite. 

“Give me ten minutes to get ready and I’ll meet you in the mess,” he promises, extending a pinkie out to me but I’m not naive enough to get close enough for him to pull me back in. “Considering your track record Leia expects us to be about twenty minutes late anyways.”

I scrunch my face up at him but he only smiles. 

“You’re really cute when you’re pretending to be mad at me.”

The smile I can’t force back only proves his point. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” he challenges, having woken up intent to test me but I'm not falling into his trap again. 

“After the meeting,” I promise before heading out the door to find BB-8 waiting outside for us with R2. “Come on, you can keep me company while he drags himself out of bed.”

We're halfway to the mess when we come across Jess who's in a rush. "There you are, Threepio's been looking for you and Poe. Have you seen him?"

"Yeah he's just in the shower," I say as I continue on my way, only to freeze a little as she turns her head back incredulously.

"How do you know-"

"BB-8 told me," I quickly follow up and she blinks at me in disbelief before she shakes her head and keeps walking, but at this point Poe and I have accepted the fact that our squadron believes we're hiding some illicit affair from them.

Then again, it's always poor Jess who seems to catch us in compromising positions. Although as long as it's her and not my mother, or maker forbid Threepio, I can live in peace with that.

[l4ngdonsad]

the feeling of your hand touching my face with a gentle move, is all i ever wanted. your lipstick smells so good on my lips. i hope that you don’t mind if i stay here with you a bit longer.

[space-whalesharks]

Call Me When You're Sober

Ship: Past Enver Gortash x Tav (Reina) Rating: M Summary: As pieces of Reina's forgotten past start revealing themselves, including her old ties to Lord Gortash, ignorance can no longer stay bliss, and she has her memories restored. Instead of fixing things, it only complicates them. Note: Features @euryalex's Tara, heavy spoilers for Act 3, NSFT (don't get too excited, nothing terribly spicy)

It wasn't supposed to go like this. Memory loss from a head injury was going to be a setback, not a curse. But seeing the apparition in front of her, she wasn't so sure.

“...I thought we were friends. Return to the city, find Orin, and claim her Netherstone as you agreed to do. And then I will forget this transgression.”

Reina stared at the flickering blue image of Gortash on the screen that had popped up on the sub, hardly paying attention to the threat. This was the face of the man who her old self was bound to, who had memories with her that were all but ghosts now. He had kissed her so thoroughly when he found out she wasn’t Orin in her form that it gave more questions than answers. 

The projection’s eyes found hers briefly, and his lip curled again just as it had hours prior. Something inside her lurched. She hated disappointing him. But why? Why did this break her? He was a threat. He was a problem they needed to solve. But now he was stopping them from resolving a bigger problem. The phantom turned his attention back to Farowyn and arched a questioning eyebrow. 

Farowyn leaned forward, closer to the screen. “Hey Gortash, cut the-“

“Farowyn, stop…” Reina’s voice came softy from behind her. It sounded off, too far away. 

Farowyn turned to look at her. “What? You can’t seriously be considering his offer any longer."

Whatever challenge was on Gortash’s face seconds ago was suddenly gone, replaced by smugness. “Oh? What’s this? Trouble within the ranks? You should all listen to-“ 

“Gor-“ Reina cut herself off. No. Use the first name she had learned. Maybe it would help. “Enver. Please. You too. I cannot do this any longer. I’ve lost too many people I’ve come to care about when I’ve had nothing for weeks. I can’t let this happen. I can’t let you hurt anyone else.”

He was ready to meet her protest. “Good. So tell your people to turn around-“

“No,” Reina cut him off, trying not to flinch at the venom he had said 'yours' with. “Not to mention I’m down here, you blow this place up, I go down with the ship. And I doubt you want that. I have a new offer.” 

He looked through her now. The resulting silence was deafening, only broken by the metallic clanging of the submersible. And then:  “I’m listening.”

“You let these people go. The Duke, the Mind Flayer, the Gondians. All of these people go free.”

“For?”

“Me. You wanted your audience, you want to talk things out, it’s done. I’ll come willingly but these people get to see daylight again.” 

Her friends all started talking at once, but she held up a hand to quiet them. “If you kill these people, we are done. No chances for ‘amends’ or ‘getting to know you again.’”

His image stared her down again, and something in the strange shift of energy made her feel like they were the only two people there in that moment. In another life, in another time, it should’ve felt romantic.

“Quite the bargaining chip you’re about to throw away, My Darling. You’ve assessed your value to me correctly. Underestimated, even. But are you sure you’re willing to play that hand now? Give yourself up for all these people?” His tone was the usual mocking he spoke to them with, but there was something else there this time. Then, without the mocking edge: “They’re strangers.”

“So are you.” 

Something flashed in his eyes, even conveyed over the magical waves. He glanced away, clearly having battling thoughts. 

Shit. That had hurt him, gotten him where it counted. It was good, but she knew it could end badly. She needed to make or break this. “But I’m willing to change that so long as this goes my way.” Still, she needed something else. “If you love me as much as you want me to think you do, you’ll do this.” The manipulation felt wrong, dirty, cruel - but this was his game and she was going to play it. Briefly she wondered if this was the old her coming through. Was she so vicious before, with her words like knives just like him? Is that why they had worked so well? 

Gortash was silent again, fuming, and briefly Reina wondered if she had ruined everything, if he was going to set the place to ruin over her interference.

“… Fine. Conditions met.” He turned to Farowyn. “Go rescue these people. Be the heroes you so desperately want to be. We will talk when it’s sorted after you’ve surfaced.” He did nothing to hide the underlying threat. The alliance could be in peril now. “And Reina,” he turned his attention back to her. “Come home. Alone.” 

The feed cut off, and everyone in the sub waited in dead silence for a few seconds. They hardly believed that it had worked. So they waited a few more minutes, but no threat came. The place remained intact- if not a little rickety. 

Farowyn, Gale, Wyll and Astarion had gone down to retrieve Wyll’s father, Omeluum and the others. 

Reina had stayed behind, lost in her own head and trying to help the survivors get settled as they came up. She tried to sort out the scraps that she had learned from the man himself. She had been Gortash’s right hand. They had been engaged to be married. They had a son. And there wasn’t supposedly a lie if the negotiation on the sub was to be believed. He loved- or perhaps just cared for her enough that he would trade anything for her safe return. There were too many moving parts now. She tucked her head down, hovering just above her knees as the world spun. It was too much all at once. She was torn, but why? Were her old memories somewhere in her brain causing conflict? Was she endlessly loyal to Gortash? Did part of her not want them to succeed for fear of losing him? By the time they had reached the surface and given up the sub’s captain to the ladies of the water, Reina had come to a conclusion. If she was going to Gortash, she was going to try to be prepared as possible. She was going to talk to the Emporer to see if it was possible to put her memories right. Maybe it was the tadpole interfering. And so she had taken the Artifact from Farowyn briefly, asked for an audience, and the Emporer had arrived, heard her request, and with a deep sigh- admitted it all. 

The head injury she had chalked up her amnesia to was a cover story- fed to her by the Emporer no less. The Mind Flayer had come across her on the beach, recognized her from her past with Gortash, and upon knowing she was a fierce, powerful fighter they could use, had wiped the better part of the last thirteen years from her brain- all of the ties to Gortash. ‘I needed an asset, not a liability.’ 

It felt like the worst betrayal yet. Now all she felt like was a loose cannon with no clear allies outside the main group. Most of the trust she had built in him all but disappeared in an instant. Maybe she should’ve gone to Raphael about all this. Too late now. “Fuck that. Give me back what you took,” Reina spoke after a long moment. It was the only way she could trust him again. Besides, Gortash had named his terms: “Come home.” It was simple- but then she had no idea where ‘home’ was. And then she concluded she needed her memories back to have the biggest chance- and she would make the Emporer return them. 

“That will prove to be an unwise choice,” The Emporer answered. 

“I don’t care. I’ve lost enough. Give me back what you took. Give me back my life.” 

“And if you revert to… your old self?” The Emporer inquired. 

“Then you can sense it, and you’ve got all these people here to strike me down for it.” 

“Are you… sure, Rei?” Karlach asked from the back. 

Reina looked at her. Of course, Karlach would be the most skeptical. She deserved to be. And her heart ached for the both of them. It was true. What if she did come back… different? Her old self? How would she be with Karlach? Still, she wanted to try. Needed to. “I have to, Karlach. I can’t… not know. This whole time I’ve felt like more than my memories are missing, and now I know why, and I just-”

“I get it,” Karlach offered. She smiled weakly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“Hey, Emperor, everybody. Karlach gets the first and last shot at me if this ends badly, and I go back to Stab-Happy me.” 

Karlach laughed weakly, and the others merely murmured in agreement, too weary to say much else. “For what it’s worth, love or loved the new you.” 

“Same to you.” 

Karlach hesitated, then pulled her into a hug before releasing her quickly. “Sorry. I just… needed to get that in. Just in case.” 

“It’s good. I’m glad you did,” Reina assured her. She looked at the others, who merely watched her sadly or nodded their own brief potential goodbyes. She turned back to the Emporer. “Now, do it.” 

The Emporer nodded. “It will feel strange,” he explained before he drifted over to her. 

“Worth it.” 

He extended a hand, and magic flowed between his fingers. He waited a moment, then touched her head. 

The effect was immediate. There was a rush of strange energy, enough to send her to her knees. Her head spun, and then suddenly, there were rushes of images- memories. 

She was young, surviving on the streets. A woman steals the bread she had paid a few days’ wages to get. She’s hungry, desperate. The next moment, the thief lies dead in the street, her blood running off the knife in Reina’s hand. It wouldn’t be the last time she did it. Several such occurrences pile on from the first. 

The flashes continue as they slide back into place in her mind. Her first was certainly not the last. More people fall to her blade—some over important offenses and petty reasons. A Flaming Fist grabs her ass at a tavern. She pounces, clawing at his face and shoving a knife between his ribs. She’s got an audience. She’s immediately thrown out of the bar and is threatened that more of the Fists are on the way. So she runs- straight into a broad chest once she goes around the corner. One of the stranger’s hands cradles her elbow and the other her waist as he apologizes, but before she can accuse him of being a lech, his hands are gone. He introduces himself as ‘Enver’ and informs her he saw the ‘display’ at the tavern. She panics, and then he’s got the audacity to shush her, and she’s incredulous until he offers an easy, knowing, attractive smile and offers her a job. He’s got a ‘dangerous’ business to run, and he needs someone to watch his back who isn’t ‘afraid to get their hands dirty.’ She feels like it’s a trap of some sort, then he assures her it ‘pays handsomely.’ What was she supposed to do?

Time drifts forward. She becomes Enver’s right hand, mostly there to stand silent and look scary and produce a flame in her hands when things start to sour. 

Men cheat Enver, and they meet her blade or fire - it doesn’t matter which one to her. 

Enver wines and dines her on occasion after a ‘job well done,’ and the pair talk about their rough pasts. It’s nice knowing someone else out there had been so wronged. He starts calling her “Reina, my Reina,” and it warms her in all the right places. 

Enver gains power, and ‘Gortash’ starts carrying weight around town. Still, people doubt his prowess, and they either suffer the fate of the others or they’re spooked enough by her looming presence that they relent. 

Months later, there’s some big job. Reina doesn’t understand all the details. Still, Enver does most of the intimidating this time. She’s there for backup. It’s got no business being so attractive. After they come into their payday, Reina guides him into a dark corner outside his home when they’ve seen his buyers off, basking and emboldened with the heat in his eyes as he lets himself be led. She leans up and kisses him. It’s slow, and after a moment, Reina realizes he isn’t giving much in return, and she pulls back, afraid she misread the signs, and then suddenly he’s on her, crushing her to the stone wall and kissing her back with three times the force she had. Her world narrows down to him, trying to keep track of limbs when they get lost in each other, and when he hoists her up into his arms, she goes willingly, locking her arms around him as he tries to get back into his home as quickly as possible. 

They don’t even make it to the damned bed. There’s a table in the foyer, and Enver shoves everything off of it before placing her on it, and they get to work tearing at clothes. And then he’s inside her as the pair exchange heated kisses. They eventually make it to his bed, and she rides him, and everything feels right in the world. 

Life continues like that. She intimidates his enemies; he makes deals, they fuck. At some point, lust turns firmly to love, and she hopes it’s mutual. Enver recruits more people to the cause. One such person is Karlach, and somewhere where her minds are meeting, her stomach twists at the recognition. 

Enver’s invited to parties now, given his reputation. He brings her on his arm, and she feels all sorts of powerful, enjoying the thrills of high society, the dresses, the wine, the poorly disguised competitions of who’s got more money or power or whatever the current interest was. 

One such party has her in a flowing red dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. Enver can barely keep his hands off her between the business dealings, and she soaks it all in. They speak to someone; she can’t recall his name. Aevan, she thinks. Enver’s hands rest teasingly on her thigh under their dinner table as they talk business. 

Reina grows bored with it quickly, and her eyes drift to a raven-haired elf in the corner, looking terrified. Tara. It was Aevan. They had known each other. Or maybe ‘known’ was a strong word. 

After that, she sees Aevan more and Tara less. It’s a concern, but she’s not that invested. Business is business. 

Somehow Enver grows powerful enough to deal with Zariel. She doesn’t know the details either, but he’s anxious. Karlach goes missing from the glimpses after that and she assumes there was a deal for her. Her current knowledge swims with the newly revealed information, and the twist in her stomach becomes a damned tempest. She knew. She knew.

Later, a doctor tells her she’s with child. Enver’s ecstatic, talking about legacy, a family. She points out that the mighty Enver Gortash shouldn’t have a bastard child. He proposes then and there, and she insists that he shouldn’t be ‘marrying the help’ either- and to his credit, he’s incredulous at that, assuring her that she’s more, but she refuses- and then tells him they’ll be married ‘when he means it’- she didn’t even understand that now. She wants to be ‘away from it all’, and the same should be said about raising a child. She supposes that’s clearer. Perhaps. Enver buys them another house in the Lower City by the water. A ‘Summer Home’ he had called it, though it had gained the reputation of a ‘Love Nest’ for those of his associates who had started to wonder about Gortash and his ‘Head of Security’ but had no idea about the boy.

Their son- Thomas, is born and grows. She takes a temporary retirement from her position to raise him. Enver’s a decent father, stopping by as much as possible given his ever-growing-busier schedule. He’s there for the milestones: first steps, first words. 

Thomas is four when Enver gets the idea for what she now knows is the Steel Watch. When he’s at home, he tinkers with various mechanical pieces, talking at Thomas for the most part as the boy watches him without knowing what he’s doing. It’s a lovely, joyful sight for the old Reina, but the tempest in the new one’s stomach sours. Gortash is dangerous, not to be trusted, not to be humanized, but there’s something too soft in this. She knows it’s real, but it feels wrong. Enver isn’t Gortash.

The Steel Watch idea takes off. Enver becomes less of a laughing stock in town as the first few models help with Baldur’s Gate security. 

She makes a passing joke about being redundant after the Steel Watch takes over her job. He assures her that it wouldn’t happen; she’s still his favorite guard and takes her to bed to prove it. It should’ve been sweet. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. 

A competitor tries to kill Enver sometime after that. Enver survives, Reina comes out of retirement to strike the man down, and they move on, but Enver’s weary. Good, Newer Reina notes bitterly.

Enver makes a special Steel Watch automaton as a gift for Thomas’ seventh birthday. An added security measure, designed solely to keep close to Thomas, keep him safe from threats ‘as backup to his dear mother, of course.’  Thomas nicknames him ‘Shadow’ fittingly. 

Months pass of the same. Enver starts a project that he keeps mostly quiet about. He’s quick to relent when she finally asks, holding her close and telling her stories about the Absolute and being a Chosen for Bane. It sounds like nonsense, but there had been rumors about these ‘Absolute’ attacks around the city where people credited ‘her.’ She’s skeptical, but he apologizes for keeping her out of the loop and promises to do better. Liar, New Reina thinks. 

Unfortunately, she’s proven wrong. Enver’s very open about it and starts talking about ‘invasion plans.’ It’s still preposterous until he notes that it’s an easy power grab for them. A better life for them and Thomas. A nicer life, ‘no more shadows. Well, aside from our automaton friend.’ 

He eases her concerns with a kiss and a “Marry me now” against her lips. She agrees. He takes her to bed again, asking how ‘Lady Gortash’ sounds, going over a would-be timeline in the afterglow. There’d be a coronation. He’d marry her that day, declare her his wife after he was knighted. Let Thomas’ secret out. Sure, he’d have a reputation, but who would argue with a Lord? A Lord with Bane’s blessing behind him? 

It works. New Reina wished it didn’t.

Old Reina teases him afterward, telling him she wants him all to herself- a small wedding before the pomp and circumstance. Only they would know about it, their little secret. 

He agreed, and then, the following day, he arranged the paperwork and an officiant and married her by the sea a couple of days later, promising that she’d get the ‘real doting’ she deserved at the ceremony. 

It hit Reina then as the memory slid home. The Coronation. When this version of her met him, she crashed her own wedding without knowing it. No wonder Gortash had been so stunned. Not only that, but she was a bride with no memory. That explained it. Orin had called her ‘Runaway Bride’ in the sewers. The missing pieces slid into place. All the confusion began to clear. 

Fittingly, she meets Orin next in her memories. She’s terrifying as she was months or weeks or whatever it was later.  Orin tests her, producing a knife seemingly out of thin air and dancing the tip along Enver’s side when he had been distracted enough when it first made contact that he didn’t react until it dug into his skin. Reina had been faster, however, rushing her and pressing the blade against Orin’s throat. 

Orin had giggled at that and clapped, declaring that she liked her. ‘You’re much too fun for Gortash.’ 

She disappeared in a red cloud after that. 

Reina had barely left Enver’s side after that- until she had to. 

Some sort of ship appeared, ripping its way through the atmosphere. There was panic in the streets, and she had gone out to quell some of it, only for Orin to pop up in front of her when she had made it to the city proper. 

“So sorry about this, Spare, but Gortash loves you so, so very much - it’s going to be fun watching him struggle without you. Hurting him is just… so delicious. Wonder how he’ll cope with a runaway bride.” 

She had stared for a moment, then upon figuring that had been an apt threat, she pulled her knife on her, then froze when Orin shifted into a mirror image of her. She finally found herself on the receiving end of her own predatory smile. Orin-Her waved, and Reina turned to see a large tentacle directly behind her. She barely had time to react before it collided with her chest, and she felt herself get ripped to shreds- 

And she woke in one piece, locked into some sort of apparatus in the dark- on the ship? She panicked, but the more she struggled, the tighter the strange bonds on her limbs and over her chest tightened. There was suddenly a hiss, and a red mist spilled into the pod. She fell into a deep sleep. 

She woke to the sound of an explosion. She looked around, and there was chaos. The dark surroundings were engulfed in flames, falling apart. From straight ahead, someone had jumped out of a hole ripped into the ship's side. One of her future companions, no doubt. Sleep called to her again, and despite fighting it, she went back under. She woke up shortly after as the flames had grown since- but that also meant she had less time to escape. She struggled again, and the bonds loosened. Good. Whatever mechanic had been hit controlled her bonds. She rotated her wrists experimentally, and when the bonds gave more, she faced her palms out towards the glass, focused, and sent flames hitting the cover. It shattered, and after some maneuvering, she wiggled out the rest of the way. She found her footing and immediately headed for the hole, but the ship suddenly lurched and sent her flying. 

The ship took another hit, and the velocity sent her straight for the hole. She was relieved- until she cleared the ship and realized just how far up the ship had been. There was a thousand-foot drop from her and the ground, and it was closing in fast. Well, that just did it. She was about to die due to someone finally cheating her. It was karma, she supposed. Thomas, I’m sorry. 

New Reina held her breath just as much- this was it. How it all happened. 

She closed her eyes and waited, expecting it to all stop, but even as she could hear the wind growing louder, passing around trees or whatever would be her grave, it all stopped. She risked cracking an eye open, only to find she was surrounded by some sort of purple magic, hovering a mere few inches up off the ground. What in the Hells? The purple faded, and she was dropped gently on the ground. She sat up and then panicked again when the space in front of her seemed to tear open, and a Mind Flayer stepped out of the gap. She screamed, only for it to lift a hand- and silence her. That did nothing to her, and she tried to scream louder and went for her knife, but it was long gone, probably lost in the fall. 

The Mind Flayer stepped closer and shifted his hand. “You. This is a surprise.”  the Emporer’s voice entered her mind. He closed in, touching the side of her head, then the front. You will be useful. Well, if that wasn’t a terrifying thought. “Be at peace. I will find you and the others later.” 

Suddenly there was a tremendous pressure- not pain, but not pleasant either, and Reina felt it all over again as she realized this was the turning point- undoing whatever memory magic he had used.

The matching sensations collided, and whatever remaining loose ends in her memory slammed back into place, and Reina was whole again- no Old Her, no new. Just her. It was overwhelming and dizzying, and when she felt The Emporer’s hand release her - the snap feeling was enough to send her to the ground, retching. Even her magic was skewed by the sensation- she felt flames explode from her hands into the sand below them, and she would hardly be surprised if she pulled glass up with them. 

Her head stopped spinning, and she looked up at the others. The Emporer observed her, subtly leaning towards Farowyn- a silent order to be ready to strike. She looked at the others gaping at her, but then her focus immediately shifted to Tara and Karlach, standing together, also leaning towards each other, clearly aware that they’d be the most affected by the retrieval of her memories. She shot upright, and they visibly tensed, ready to go onto the defense, and even if she expected to be attacked, she launched herself at the pair of them, looping an arm around each of them, pulling them closer, shoving her neck between them so she could force their heads together. She didn’t know when she started sobbing, but she was.  “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I couldn’t- I can’t- I-”

“Good. We get Rei back. So long, Bronze,” Karlach offered, careful where she held her to return the hug. “Can’t exactly forgive you from back then, but this one? Yeah. ‘Sides, I guess Gortash’s dick can be a hell of a manipulator. Unfortunately.”

Reina managed a half-laugh, half-grossed-out groan that matched Karlach’s even as she made the joke. She looked Tara’s way, and when the woman offered a reassuring smile but said nothing, she sighed, trying to gather herself. “Aevan’s on the list of bastards we take down after all this if we make it out alive. I promise.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Tara agreed. 

Reina looked at the others, who were all watching them curiously, either touched or relieved- to her own surprise, Astarion was in the group of the former. She turned her attention back to the Emporer. She opened her mouth, then shut it. 

“I hope you can understand.  It was the only way.” It hesitated. “I implore you honestly: Can you pursue our cause with this knowledge? I will know if you lie.” 

She stared at him incredulously, then sighed. “I…” Did she truly not know after this? Her mind was still swimming with the possibilities, the conflicting feelings. Could she betray the man that she did love? Gortash hadn’t remotely lied about that. “Yes. But… my son. I need him safe. I… I need to play the field, but I’m with you. En- Gortash has caused too much damage. They all have. My son’s got nothing to do with this. He’s innocent, he doesn’t understand.” 

The Emperor waited a moment, then nodded. “See that it is done. I sensed no ill will in the boy. Hardly his father’s son.”

She didn’t care for his tone then, picking up on a hypothetical threat. If he did show any of Gortash’s personality, what then? Protectiveness swelled in her.  No wonder she had been so inclined to care for every child she came across. It was probably part of her trying to remind her of Thomas. 

The Mind Flayer picked up on it and put his hands out, this time in relative surrender. “He’s safe from harm; you have my word. I have no doubt you’ll keep him from straying from the right path.”

She didn’t know how to dignify that with a response. “I’ll make contact as soon as I can.” 

“See that you do,” The Emporer responded, keeping her gaze when she glared back at him. 

The others protested, too, promising not to stray far from the estate once she pointed it out on a map from the glimpses she had seen. She had said her goodbyes then and headed for the Upper City, finally reaching their mansion. Bronze accents were everywhere. She supposed they really did have a color theme going. 

The front door opened and Gortash himself looked back at her from the threshold. She couldn’t read his face, much like she couldn’t on the sub. Sure, there was cold fury there, disappointment, skepticism, but something warmer. Relief? Hope, in an ironic twist? It was a small comfort that she didn’t know, even with her memories intact. She understood him less than she feared. 

They continued the stare down for a while, and when Reina took a careful step forward, eyes not leaving his, he finally stepped aside and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Reina, My Reina. Welcome home.” 

[diarrheathingwhenyoushit]

Fem!Ryusae magical girls 💯

[mister-eames]

1/2 Recently you’ve gotten a few asks about Eames & the first time he sees Arthur doing [insert something salacious or ridiculously innocent] & i’ve been loving it! But let’s turn the tables on arthur now! What about the first time Arthur sees Eames after he’s had to bulk up for something, the first time Arthur gets a full view of Eames’ tattoos rather than just a peek, the first time he sees Eames in a fitted suit or with a beard?? (Think Tom in the drop. Soft bearded eames ftw!)

2/2 even better if all these instances happen pre-get together or prior to them becoming coworkers/friends with benefits. I think Eames has suffered enough in his pining and thirsting; it’s time for Arthur’s turn 😏

Okay so I took a hot second to answer this one because your ask really inspired me to make a gifset based off of this, but the last couple of days have been a bit of a shitshow so that is on the backburner for now.

Okay, okay - so, Arthur first seeing Eames all bulky and hirsute - like Arthur didn't even know that was a thing that he was into. He's always dated clean cut men and suddenly here comes Eames of all people, beefy and thick and hairy and looking as if he could pick Arthur up and throw him across the room. It's a regular Tuesday morning, Arthur is nursing a lukewarm coffee when he has, for the first time in his life, the sudden urge to be manhandled. He wants to tussle like a schoolboy. He wants to know how wide his knees would have to spread if he were to straddle Eames' waist, his thighs.

And Eames is just standing there, on the other side of the warehouse, stroking his (surprisingly ginger and very well-maintained) beard absent-mindedly, talking to Cobb. Somehow Eames looks incredibly soft and firm at the same time and it's doing things to Arthur. This is his first crisis of self.

Maybe it's the height of summer and Eames has taken to walking around in a muscle tee (thank u tom hardy) - maybe he unbuttons his shirt a bit and fans himself with Arthurs paperwork and has the audacity to be competent at his job while he's doing it (the worst part of it all!), meanwhile Arthur's entire world has been narrowed down to a few simple words like beard and soft, and i like bicep, and they rotate around in his brain like a rotisserie chicken while he's trying to do his damn job. Second crisis.

Does Eames cotton on that Arthur is having his entire world flipped upside down? Probably not. I think he's great at reading people but when it comes to Arthur Eames cannot look at him objectively, can't read him without his own wants, desires and hopes clouding his judgement. Is Arthur licking his lips more often? Yes, but it is summer and Arthur may be parched. If Arthur is attracted to him he's never said it, and Arthur never has a problem telling Eames what he thinks (right?).

[apocalypse-shuffle]

JACKSON JEKYLL & HOLT HYDE (monster high) — canon divergence

☯︎ғɪʀᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ɢᴀsᴏʟɪɴᴇ☯︎

(pic source: monster high - ghouls rule)

❱ In which during the events of Ghouls Rule a lot more things go wrong but they all lead to something right in the end.

Jackson lowkey blames Holt…

❝ The smile she gives him then is more wry than he thought her capable of yet, and Holt is rapidly realizing that it’s been nearly two months since him and Frankie have said more than three words to each other in passing.

And he wouldn’t bet Jackson’s had much luck with her either now that he’s thinking about it.

“That’s great! Honestly!” she says, easing off her heels and prying a hand from its death grip on her bag to gesture to him. “You guys deserve a good relationship, but I don’t think I fit into it right now. I’m barely over six months old, you know? I’ve still got my own things to figure out that aren’t just from my dad’s entering society 101 lessons.”

When she laughs it’s light. Her expression loses some of its tension. Holt’s shoulders fall.

“So…?” ❞

Jackson Jekyll & Holt Hyde and Jackson Jekyll x Frankie Stein x Holt Hyde

“PREMONITION” The calm before the storm of the impending Halloween ‘holiday’ at New Salem High. (SFW, POV switch) not here yet

❱ Series Status: coming soon

(pic source: monster high - ghouls rule)

A/N: The main ship changed in this rewrite bcs I’m no longer being a girl hater, and bcs these were my favorite characters in the first place; I was just in a mood when I first wrote this and as a result made Holt/Jackson/Heath happen as a substitute for the Frankie shaped hole in my life (not that the ship w/ Heath isn’t valid otherwise).

WARNINGS: SFW, mature themes, canon typical action, monster normie relations, xenophobia, cussing?, mixed canon (gen 1), teenage romance, romantic relationships, slow burn, polyamory, PUNS, self-cest (idk, they’re literally different people who share a body, but also two sides of the same person at the same time), identity crisis.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own any of the monster high characters, setting or story; just the original parts of my story that I’ve written around those preexisting elements owned by Mattel™️. THIS IS A WORK OF FANFICTION AND NOT AN OFFICIAL MONSTER HIGH PRODUCT.

❱ series playlist

⚠︎While this series isn’t 18+, it does have mature themes; you’ve been warned.⚠︎

— rewriting & reposting this from my ao3

[vuulpecula]

There wasn't anything about her that stated she was looking for services he could provide, but in these days, was there ever? Her smile was tight, forced, as she looked upon Hamza, taking him in from his crown to the tip of her toes, she took a moment to breathe. Their mutual friend had said he would be here, arranged the meeting, and as she stood on the opposite side of the chain-link fence, she was glad for it. He appeared capable at the very least.

"You are here to meet someone," she asked softly, wanting to confirm that it was indeed him. "Someone who needs something from you, yes?."

✖ @amalanexus ❤'d for a starter.

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

you be my fire and I’ll be your gasoline, Ch.15

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The sky behind the windows is still heavy with rain when Jaskier wakes.

The room is cast in the warm orange glow of the hearth, the fire flickering and dancing on the walls; a change to the low candlelight of the night before. Jaskier can hear the soft crackling of the burning logs, an accompaniment to the rapid patter of the rain on the roof, stronger now than it had been when he was falling asleep. 

It’s not the kind of weather that encourages stepping outside, and though Jaskier knows they have to make their way to the Academy today, and sooner rather than later, he allows himself the pleasure of not thinking about it for a little while longer. 

Coën is still next to him in bed, reading something that looks like a leatherbound journal, but he takes his attention away from the pages when Jaskier moves closer to him to rest his head on the witcher’s shoulder, his skin sleep-warm. Coën dips his head, nosing at Jaskier’s hair and placing a kiss on his temple. 

The easy, familiar affection makes something in the bard’s chest bloom. 

“What time is it?” he murmurs, pulling the covers up so the warmth doesn’t escape. 

“Still relatively early,” Coën replies, his eyes going back to the journal. “Or, by the standards of a brothel, very late. It’s not yet eleven. I thought you’d be asleep for a couple more hours, at least. Last night you fell asleep before I could as much as get a towel to wipe you clean.”

Jaskier flushes at that, cheeks suddenly hot. 

“I like having your smell on me,” he says, still. 

Coën’s green eyes don’t leave the pages, but Jaskier can still feel the witcher’s attention slide to him, like a string plucked in his chest. It makes him realise, distantly, just how attuned they are to each other. 

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t fade,” Coën says, a threat that promises nothing but pleasure. His signature.

All around them, the brothel is quiet, the patrons gone back home and the workers asleep after a long night. Aside from the rain on the roof and the windows, and the crackling fire in the hearth, the only sound is their breathing. It’s peaceful, tranquil even. 

Jaskier takes it all in, snaking one arm over Coën’s waist. He avoids a jagged scar on his lower abdomen, a habit built over the years.

[Keep reading]

[galacticwildfire]

An excerpt from the upcoming chapter of Fire Meet Gasoline, and oof this is an emotionally driven one.