#but the good part is that i sought out how to help myself instead of panicking and i think that being more informed can help others not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caraphernellie · 5 months

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thank you for the venom // e.w.

summary: suffocating in a small religious town, drowning in your own misery, your own thoughts in which you were led to believe are dirty, disgraceful, unholy - where else can you turn for support other than the church? where else would you want to turn to, when ellie williams, so knowledgeable of the beliefs and teachings of the church, is there to take care of you?

a/n: oh god please don’t hate on me for this 🙏 here’s preacher!ellie. don’t come at me i have religious trauma and am also a big mcr fan so obviously. i am so nervous to post this. i cannot stress enough if this is not ur thing do not read it lmfao. closing my eyes and posting this i wrote it ages ago i dont even remember what it goes like ive been too shy to post it. part 2 where they have rough sex in the church is coming eventually when i get over being shy about that one too. bye

word count: 3.7k (i know.)

warnings: preacher!ellie , fem!reader , religious imagery/references , internalised homophobia (both e and r) , christianity/catholicism , she is so blinded by internalised homophobia , dom!ellie , oral(r!receiving) , fingering(r!receiving) , tribbing , virgin!reader but not innocent , ellie’s actually nice and has good intentions she’s just clouded by religious trauma , sinning , definitely ooc but i tried to make it as 'ellie' as possible , use of pet names : sweet girl , sweetheart , angel , good girl , cutie

“you are aware of the three hail mary devotion?”

ellie looks down at you, kneeling before her by the altar. there’s something unreadable in her gaze. though she looks utterly sympathetic.

“each day, you can seek guidance from the lord by honouring the blessed virgin mary, and you will say three hail marys. you’ll begin each day with a saying.” ellie clears her throat, her gaze unwavering. not even a blink, eyes green as ivy almost sickening you. “i do this everyday myself. ‘o my mother, preserve me this day from mortal sin.’”

“thank you, ellie.”

“you understand that i can’t speak to the lord on your behalf. i am simply the preacher, i am here to provide you comfort and guidance. and i do promise you, if you continue to repent for your sins, god will always forgive. there will always be a spot for you in heaven should you continue to do the right thing. you can acknowledge that these… thoughts… are unholy.”

perhaps there was a reason, that instead of taking yourself to confession, you sought ellie out to ask for guidance, though leaving out a crucial detail. she is the object of your thoughts.

“if it consoles you,” ellie starts, “i have struggled with thoughts of this nature too.”

and like a record screeching, you pause, looking up at the woman. and what a woman she is – black turtleneck, which doesn’t at all hide toned muscles you wish you could see. black slacks, brown boots. shoulder length, auburn hair, and a freckled complexion. she is so respected amongst the members of the parish, always living her life in the holiest of ways, and never would you have thought someone as perfect as ellie williams could have thoughts of sin.

“what?” your voice shakes, and ellie tenses for a moment.

perhaps you could have seen this coming, how there’s often tension thick as a brick wall between the two of you. ellie’s mixed signals ever so confusing.

“sometimes these thoughts get the best of us,” ellie murmurs. she approaches you, and as you look up at her through your eyelashes, she furrows her brows, hardens her gaze. “i have asked god to help me overcome these thoughts. i have had these thoughts and feelings for a long time. yet i repent. you may never get to stop repenting for this. but showing remorse and asking the lord to forgive you is all you need to protect yourself from the devil.”

ellie williams, respected preacher. she devoted her life to the church, wanting to live a life of holiness to make up for those thoughts she couldn’t ignore.

your hands clasped together like a silent, continuous prayer to preserve your own self-control, you open your mouth to speak, when ellie cuts you off.

“i’m glad god brought us together, and caused us to cross paths. you’re a special girl.”

there’s a warm rush of blood going straight to your cheeks, a waver in your voice, and a feeling of deep appreciation pooling between your thighs. “i’m glad too. it’s very comforting… to know that i’m not the only one dealing with these kinds of thoughts. thank you for helping me, and for teaching me that i am not damned. i hope we can both find peace.”

ellie nods slowly, her gaze unfaltering as you rise to your feet. for a moment, you feel that you catch a hint of a different expression – a smirk, one that disappears within seconds. as though she puts on a facade. “we are all born into sin. what matters is that we believe, and we follow the word of god. he knows what’s best for us.”

“and he can lead us back on the right path,” you say, smoothing down your dress, a modest piece, knee length and long sleeved.

ellie is deep in thought when she mumbles her next few words. “in the meantime, i can help you with your sexuality.”

once again, a heavy silence falls over you both as the words hang in the air. ellie’s about to backtrack, when you tilt your head, and her cheeks flush red as wine.

“h– how so..?” you ask, eyeing ellie as she rubs the back of her neck. her signals constantly so mixed, you wonder how you’ve gotten this far. too far to turn back now. her sudden nervous demeanour tells you everything. ellie has her issues, and she is nothing like the perfect preacher everyone respects.

“as a preacher,” ellie says, chuckling in an awkward way, “i should be taking care of people in our town, helping them to overcome their struggles and grow their relationship with god stronger. you are part of that as well.”

and so there it is, the strict and god-fearing ellie back again.

“i’d like to invite you over to my home. to pray, and we can study scripture. i can teach you how to overcome this.” her bottom lip drawn between her teeth, there’s that nervousness again. something impure is implied, her eyes burning into your face for any trace of uncertainty, and in the case that she finds it, she’ll backtrack. “if you’re not interested, just say so.”

and at the thought of what the implications are, you find yourself nodding distractedly, gaze falling towards the crucifix hanging on the wall of the church, and you grow warm with shameful excitement. “yes, i- i can do that. is there a time that suits you, ellie?”

ellie smiles firmly, yet it doesn’t meet her eyes. as if she is having the same mental dilemma as you. “i’m glad. how about tomorrow, 7?”

“of course, i,- yes. i’ll be there. you’re just a walk down the street.”

“perfect,” ellie says, and finally that smile reaches her eyes, an almost teasing twinkle in them, a loving look that doesn’t feel the same as the love she shares with others. “wear something appropriate, alright?”

“uh-huh,” you hum, shrinking under ellie’s gaze, knees buckling.

“i’ll see you soon,” ellie murmurs, voice low. and before you turn to leave, her eyes glance over your body once more. and she doesn’t hide her expression this time. she likes what she sees.

you simply nod your goodbye. as you step down from the altar and bow to the tabernacle, you can feel her stare. you feel it as you walk all the way down the aisle of the church, late afternoon sunlight hitting the stained glass windows just right and casting red shadows over you.

✧✧✧

it’s impossible to make it through the next day. that night when you had left the church, you tried taking ellie’s advice. the hail marys, the devotion. but thoughts crept in, ellie consuming your mind in the most beautiful bittersweet memory. you couldn’t help but to picture what she could do to you, how she could worship you. and the guilt of it had you in tears only after you had came.

at 7pm, you walk down the street to ellie’s house.

and ellie opens the door, not even a greeting slipping past her lips before she speaks. “i like that dress on you.”

and she doesn’t know it, but it eased so much of your nervousness. that you did read the situation correctly. because if you had misread the entire thing, and showed up to ellie’s home in a dress you’ve grown out of, it would have been a certainly difficult situation to navigate. ellie said to dress appropriately. and to you, that meant an older dress that hugs you tightly in the right places, leaving your body looking supple and sweet for her taking.

and should ellie discover what’s underneath the dress, she’ll see just how appropriate you decided to dress for her.

“you look beautiful,” ellie murmurs quieter this time, stepping aside to let you into her home, the brown brick house seeming so inviting at this time of night, warm candlelight lit inside. as you walk in, ellie’s eyes dip down to your exposed thighs, the dress being that short.

“thank you,” you reply, taking a look around the house. dark wood, vintage furniture, candles, crosses everywhere. as ellie leads you to her living room, there are things you take note of that you hadn’t expected. gaming consoles, a dvd stand full of horror films. she doesn’t comment even when she sees your stare, and instead she sets you down on her couch.

“should we start?” ellie asks, a hint of a smile on her lips. “how about we start with a prayer?”

“alright,” you say with a nod, clasping your clammy hands together. ellie grins a little, and does the same, then begins to lead you both in prayer.

“lord, we know that we are sinners. please forgive us for experiencing unholy thoughts about other women, and please guide us to become more like you. please help us to watch our words and actions, and guard us against future mistakes and errors. thank you for sending your son, jesus, to die for our sins — and thank you for your forgiveness. In the name of your son jesus, we pray, amen.”

it’s like with every reminder of your faith, glancing around the room, looking at the red rosary hanging around ellie’s neck, or the bible laying on the coffee table, an insurmountable guilt builds inside you.

ellie eyes a crucifix hanging on the wall, then averts her gaze from it – she simply can’t keep her eyes from wandering to you.

“shall we study now?” ellie asks, voice husky as she reaches for the bible. “i can t–”

“ellie,” you say, eyes pleading with her. your hand meets hers, and you stop her from picking up her bible. “we both know you didn’t invite me here to study scripture.”

ellie freezes, flitting her gaze between your hands, the bible, and your eyes. she’s been caught out. perhaps nervous to make the first move, ellie had switched up again, afraid to do anything that wasn’t innocent, afraid to corrupt you. but the confirmation that you want what she wants is enough.

“no… no, you’re right. you’re not here to talk about scripture with me,” ellie mumbles, a nod accompanying it.

“then…” you begin, fidgeting with the hem of your little dress, tilting your head at ellie with a warm face and trembling legs, white knee high stockings clinging to your calves. “we should… then we should do what you invited me here for.”

a beat.

“are you sure?” ellie asks.

“ellie, i haven’t been able to stop thinking about this,” you say, “haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. so please.”

ellie takes one look at your pleading eyes and your bottom lip between your teeth, and she knows that she’s done for.

“come,” ellie whispers, standing and taking your hand. there’s a faint look in her eyes, and everything feels light and slow as she walks you upstairs, into the bedroom.

ellie’s bedroom is similar to the rest of her house, vintage furniture and low lighting. her queen sized bed is pushed into the corner of the wall. on the nightstand lays another bible, on the wall a cross and portraits she’s drawn or painted herself. there’s a bookshelf filled with mostly religious literature and scientific books about things like astronomy and space. an acoustic guitar sits by the nightstand.

“well,” ellie murmurs, lighting a candle or two on the nightstand, flicking off the main light in the room. she stands across from you, illuminated in a warm candlelit glow. “let’s not waste any more time.”

before ellie does anything else, her hand finds the rosary around her neck. her fingers find the crucifix and she lifts it to her lips, pressing a kiss against it like a silent prayer, one last apology to the god she’s betraying. your heart skips a beat, and within no time ellie’s got a hand on the back of your head, pulling you in.

teeth clashing, hands roaming your body, ellie kisses you like it was the only thing she was made to do in life. she presses her body close to you as her tongue pushes past your soft lips. you’re not quite sure where to put your hands at first, but they settle, cupping ellie’s cheeks to bring her closer. your soft moan is muffled by ellie’s lips, her tongue invading every corner of your mouth, nothing unexplored.

ellie’s hands slide down your body, one gripping your ass over the dress and the other cupping your boob.

pulling away only to catch her breath, ellie pushes you towards the bed, laying you down on your back and climbing on top to continue kissing. she nips your bottom lip with her teeth, every act so desperate, so full of a yearning finally being fulfilled.

she stops kissing you again, this time with her hands reaching for the zipper at the back of your dress. “let’s take this off, sweet girl.”

ellie’s voice is breathless already, and she pants softly as she struggles with the zipper for a moment, her brain moving faster than her hands. she finally manages it, and lifts the dress off you.

you’re quiet, as is ellie. you had anticipated there’d be a reaction to this, the matching set you chose. white and lacy, a bra and panties that match the stockings ellie admired earlier. but nothing could have truly prepared you for ellie’s reaction.

“you are divine,” ellie murmurs, her hand roaming down to your hips. she licks her lips, unable to keep her eyes off of how the bra accentuates your breasts, or how the panties hug your waist. her body language, all too clear of how she truly feels about you, does nothing but cause you to throb inside your panties. “do you trust me?”

the question throws you off. furrowing your brows, but offering a small smile, you reply. “of course i trust you, ellie.”

the soft tone of your voice entices ellie, especially as you take her hand and guide it to your chest, letting her squeeze you through the cup of your bra.

“what a beautiful sin,” ellie whispers, leaning down and attaching her lips to your neck. she’s careful not to leave marks that would be visible, but she squeezes your breast as she kisses and licks a trail down your neck, all the way to your chest.

ellie revels in your soft mewls, the way your thread your fingers into the hair at the back of her head, and hold her against you. her hand reaches behind you, grabbing at the clasp of your bra. and ellie bites down, sucking a bruise into the soft flesh of your breast, where she knows nobody could see it. you arch your back partly in pleasure, but mostly to provide her access to the back of your bra, and ellie pulls it off in no time. her eyes widen as your tits spill out, and she swallows thickly as she watches your nipples grow firm with arousal and the exposure to the air.

ellie’s hand cups your bare tit and squeezes as she brings her face up towards you once more, needing that touch of her lips on yours. her long fingers tweak your nipple, rolling the bud around as she kisses you with a growing passion, groaning into the kiss just as you whine quietly.

ellie chuckles as your hands press into her back, pulling her closer, hugging her and hiding your face away in shame. she kisses the corner of your lips, pausing to soothe you. “shh, let me take care of you. let me worship you, sweet girl.”

you ease your grip on ellie when she says that, and she smiles at you before leaning down. you shiver, feeling the cold metal crucifix of her rosary resting down against your stomach, earning a chuckle from ellie as she wraps her lips around your nipple. she sucks for a moment, then rolls her tongue over it.

ellie’s hand lays flat over your stomach, pinning you down to stop your restless squirming. she moves her leg between yours, her knee pressing a generous amount of friction against your panties.

“h… ellie,” you whisper, “have you done this before?”

ellie looks up at you, and with a grin, she nods. “i have. a long time ago.”

“oh my goodn–” you cut yourself off with a lengthy whine, ellie beginning to suck hickeys all over your chest, from one breast to the other. she gives your other nipple the same treatment, only this time her teeth graze it lightly, and your hand on the back of her head tightens the grip on her hair. “ellie…”

“shh,” ellie hushes you, beginning to kiss down your stomach. “you’re okay.”

your incessant squirming and writhing turns ellie’s grin wider, when she cups her hand over your panties and feels the soaking mess.

“that’s beautiful,” she whispers, her fingers tugging at the waistband now, “this all f’me?”

you nod eagerly, looking down at ellie from where you lay propped up against the plush pillows. any holy thought has left your mind, and it appears to be the same for ellie, who lays between your legs with a cheshire cat smile, stripping the panties down your legs.

“so pretty,” ellie hums, grasping at your thighs and pulling them apart. “tell me, you want me to touch you here?”

a nod simply won’t be good enough this time, and you know that, clearing your throat to speak up hoarsely. “yes, yes please, el… can y– mmff-”

ellie’s fingers rub over your cunt, two fingers spreading the folds, the touch burning hot and electrifying. ellie laughs, not meanly, but sympathetically. “barely touched you yet, cutie. so wet…”

your lips turn down into a pout that makes ellie smirk, and she leans close, leaving a kiss on your throbbing clit.

“c’mon, don’t pout at me,” she whispers, another kiss following the words. “angel…”

you shudder, and then a loud moan escapes your throat as ellie’s tongue flicks out, beginning to lap at you. your body’s responsiveness leaves ellie with so much confidence.

“ellie, ellie,” you mewl, reaching a hand towards her. “ellie, it’s so– mmm…”

ellie reaches her free hand towards you, letting you grab it and intertwine your fingers. she gives a gentle squeeze as she licks a stripe down from your clit to your entrance, then back up again.

ellie can’t get enough of you, of your saccharine taste, staring up at you with blown out pupils as she sucks and laps at you. one of her bony fingers dips into your entrance, and ellie herself groans at the feeling of you clenching around it, but the sound you make is so rewarding that she pushes her ring finger in as soon as she knows you can take another finger. her digits stroke in and out of your sopping cunt, leaving you a whimpering and whining mess.

“c’mon angel,” ellie murmurs against your pussy, “i got you, i got you. ‘s this good?”

you nod, squeezing ellie’s hand in a vice grip, hips bucking against her face eagerly. “ellieeeeuuhh, oh, oh my g–”

“don’t,” ellie warns, “don’t take the lord’s name in vain, and don’t bring him into this.”

“i– s-sorry,” you gasp out, tipping your head back, “oh, oh, ellie, i’m gettin’ close.”

“good girl,” ellie murmurs, keeping the fast rhythm of both her fingers and tongue. “gonna be good and cum f’me?”

“yea, yea,” you say in a breathy voice, more moans leaving your lips, “ohhh, mmfuck, f-fuck, ellie.”

ellie’s ruining you, reduced you to nothing but babbles and moans. you buck your hips up more, rutting fast against her face, and that’s when you hit your peak. with a shriek of ellie’s name, you cream on her fingers, covering them with your slick, allowing them to stroke in and out even quicker.

ellie rides out your orgasm, slowly pulling away when you’re finished. she peppers kisses along your shaking thighs, leaning up to catch your lips in a kiss.

“good, sweet girl?” ellie asks, kissing the top of your head. you nod – but ellie isn’t finished with you, apparent as she begins unbuckling her belt.

“mmm,” you hum, “‘s perfect.”

“alright, angel, c’mere,” ellie says, stripping down to nothing. she sits by the headboard, pulling you onto her lap, hooking a leg over you. “you’re doin’ so good, you know? think you were made to please. good at taking what you’re given.”

“only because i want it,” you say in response, which has ellie chuckling. she grips your waist, grunting when her cunt makes contact with yours.

“good,” ellie says sternly, “because– shit.”

ellie loves how you keel over and press your nose against her neck because of the way your sensitive pussy rubs against her own. she tightens her grip on your waist, fingernails leaving little crescent moon marks in the plush skin as she begins moving you, groaning and moaning at the way your clit bumps against hers. she moves her own hips too, gasping your name.

you breathe soft whines into ellie’s neck, arms wrapped around her, hugging tight. it’s nothing but desperate now, your second orgasm approaching right in time with ellie’s.

“hnng, f-fuck, yeah, you gonna cum again?” ellie asks, squeezing your ass as you move against her. “good girl, cum, c– cum with me, cum with me s– fuck.”

ellie tenses up, hips moving fast to rub your soaking cunts together as you both cum. kissing your temple, ellie gently moves you off of her, running a hand through her damp and sweaty hair. “stay here angel, ‘m gonna clean you up, and we’ll cuddle then, okay?”

you don’t have much of a say in the matter regardless, shaking in the afterglow of ellie’s touch. she comes back moments later, looking a bit cleaner herself, carrying a wet washcloth. she begins to wipe you down, being extra careful around all of your more sensitive areas. she leaves kisses in the wake of her touch.

“you are beautiful,” ellie says in a firm tone. “the most perfect angel i’ve ever seen.”

you can only give ellie a half smile in response, and she drops the washcloth, leaning in and kissing you sweetly.

“don’t stress, you know why? because god always forgives as long as you’re willing to repent.”

ellie climbs into bed, pulling you close with an arm around your waist. she rests her chin on top of your head, a protective hold on you.

“why don’t we say another prayer before we go to sleep?” the preacher asks, tone almost uncertain. is she convincing you, or herself? “he’ll forgive us.”

tags: @dinasvampgf @fadedin2u @machetegirl109 @eurewili @craz1er4you @divinediors @onlinelesbo @thecowardwrites

i'm still trying to sort out my tag list!! it wouldn't let me tag some people. if you wanted to be tagged but weren't pls let me know so i can fix that <3

credits: middle pic in the banner is @switchbladekillerqueen <33 this pic inspired me to write this fic!!

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x you #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fanfic #tlou x reader #tlou2 x reader #preacher!ellie

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aothotties · 25 days

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Telling Toji you want a baby

Hello beautiful people! I wanted to post this yesterday, but I was busy celebrating mothers day myself! Happy belated mothers day to all the sexy moms out there!

Warnings: mentions or pregnancy, fluff, sought angst, mentions of mama fushiguro, creampie, overstimulation,

Word count: 1690

~~~

You and Toji are on your way back from visiting your sister and her family. She just recently had her third baby and you decided to stay and help her around the house.

During your visit, you couldn’t help but develop a bit of baby fever being around her children. Those cute chubby cheeks and the random babbling was enough to convince you to make one yourself.

You and Toji have talked about starting a family of your own in the past but decided you wanted to wait until his son, Megumi, was older.

You’re pulled out of your deep thoughts when you hear car doors closing outside, indicating that your husband and son are home. You greet them at the door and Megumi runs into your arms.

“How was school munchkin?” You ask, picking the small boy up and resting him on your hip.

“It was good, I missed you today.” He rests his head on your shoulder and you rub his back soothingly.

Your baby fever is getting stronger by the damn second and your husband standing in the kitchen watching you two isn’t helping one bit.

“I miss you too gumi, you want a snack?” He shakes his head and closes his eyes instead.

“He had a long day of playing so I’m sure he’s tired.” Your husband says, walking around the island in the kitchen to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“I can tell, I’ll go and lay him down.” You hold Megumi close as you make your way to his room.

You smile at the sound of his light snore and loosened grip on your shirt. You lay him down slowly and plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Love you, mom.” He mumbles sleepily and your eyes widen.

Megumi has never called you mom before, he’s only ever called you by your first name. You and Toji agreed that you would let Megumi decide what you were to him, and it’s clear he has.

You press a kiss to his forehead and close your eyes as you feel tears build up.

“I love you too.” You whisper back and step out of his room.

You quickly wipe your tears and clear your throat as you walk into your and your husband's shared bedroom.

To your surprise Toji is already in there, his headset is thrown over his ears and he’s lounging back in his chair.

“Hey cutie pie, why the long face? Did another animal die in a book or something?” He teases, and you roll your eyes.

You force yourself into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. He looks at you in pure confusion and sets his controller and headset aside.

“Megumi called me mom.” You mumble against his shoulder silently.

Toji freezes in his chair and isn’t exactly quite sure how to react. You both have talked about his wife in the past, but you try not to since you know it’s a bit of a tough subject.

“I’m sorry this is out of nowhere, I just felt like you should know.” He wraps his arms around you tightly and you relax in his embrace.

“Don’t apologize, he’s right you are his mom. You’ve been here since he was one. You’re all he knows.” He rubs your back and rests his forehead against yours.

“I wanted to talk to you about that. So you know how my sister and her husband just had a baby?” You ask, you nervously play with the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah I’m aware, your mother wouldn’t stop asking when we were gonna have our own, why?” He raises an eyebrow and you simply smile at him.

“Oh my god are you pregnant!?” He sits up quickly and you almost fall from his lap.

“Jesus Christ Toji, no I’m not, but I’m hoping I soon will be.” You quickly throw in the last part and await his response.

“You’re serious right now? You want a baby?” He asks looking into your eyes for any signs of doubt.

You nod confidently and straddle his legs while he sits back. You rub your hands up and down his arms and chest slowly.

“Don’t you wanna make a baby with me, Toji?” You seductively ask, lips kissing up his neck gently.

He smirks at your antics and grabs a handful of your ass in his large hands.

“If you’re serious about this then so am I, I’m never gonna say no to coming inside your sweet pussy”

That’s the last thing you remember before you end up bent over the mattress with your face stuffed in the sheets.

You don’t wanna wake up poor Megumi down the hall, but it’s getting harder not to scream with the pounding your poor cunt is receiving.

“Be quiet mama, I see I’ve got to teach you some things. Can’t be waking up the new baby with your screamin’.” He teases, and his rough hand rubs up your back.

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you so your back is flush against his chest. The new angle has your eyes rolling back and your head resting weakly on his shoulder.

“T-Toji, f-feels good!” You whine as his thick bulbous tip abuses your sweet spot.

“Of course it does baby, you can’t stop coming and crying on my cock.” He smirks and holds onto your hips with both hands as he picks up his thrusting.

Your walls tighten around his thick shaft and your orgasm courses through your entire body. Toji wraps an arm around your waist as you convulse on top of him, he uses his other hand to rub quick circles on your swollen nub.

“Fuck! Fuck! Daddy, t-too much” You gasp as another orgasm builds up quickly, your lower belly warming up slightly.

“You can take it, Daddy’s so close princess. I want you to take all of me, can you do that baby?” He grunts out in pleasure, and the feeling of your sopping pussy begins to catch up to him.

His hips start to lose their rhythm but never their force, you nod your head in response to his question.

The hand gripping your waist slaps over your mouth and you scream into it as another climax approaches.

This one wetting the man and bed below you, tears begin to stream down your face and your body goes limp.

Toji replaces his hand with his lips and thrust up into you and few more times before pumping his warm cum into you.

You whimper against his lip with each twitch of his veiny cock, his large fingers finally give your clit a break.

He pulls away from the kiss and rubs his hand over your belly. You open your eyes and look up at him, the need for sleep is very clear on your face.

“You’re going to make an amazing mother.” He plants one last kiss on your forehead before he maneuvers you both to lay on your side.

You smile at the compliment and attempt to sit up so you can go and take a shower.

“Baby, we’re done now. I need to clean up and take a shower.” You look back at him and he raises an eyebrow in confusion.

“Oh no baby, we’re not finished. I was just giving you a break. We need to make sure you get pregnant, don’t we?”

~~~

“Happy Mother’s Day mama!” You hear from above you.

You open your tired eyes and are met with your son and husband standing over you with gifts and breakfast.

“Oh my goodness, thank you guys!” You sit up as quickly as your large belly will allow and rub the sleep from your eyes.

You pull Megumi into your lap with the help of Toji and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. Toji sets the food next to you as he sits down and you kiss him as well.

“Daddy told me to tell you that he cooked.” Your son gives you a bright smile as he tells you the surprise and you hold in a laugh.

You can hear the older man suck on his teeth and can only assume an eye roll came after it.

“Well, I can’t wait to try the food Daddy cooked. I’m sure it’s delicious.” You reassure Toji and he gives you a small smile.

You hum in satisfaction at the taste of the food and also end up feeding your two boys in the process.

“When will my brother get here?” Megumi asks, well you assume that’s what he asked because his mouth is full of eggs.

“Well, baby the doctors said any day now, it’s up to him.” You wipe his face with a napkin and he giggles at the feeling.

“You can come out now, It’s okay!” Megumi lays on the bed and pokes at your stomach as he talks to it.

“Alright boy that’s enough, stop poking your brother.” Toji feeds him another piece of bacon and the little boy jumps off the bed quickly.

You laugh and shake your head while Toji just sighs.

“I don’t know where he gets that from.” He mumbles, stuffing eggs in his mouth now.

“Yeah, I have no clue either.” You say as you stare at the adult version of your son.

“How are you feeling? He doesn’t seem to have much space in there.” He looks down at your belly and tries to massage away any soreness.

“I’m doing alright, he’s ready to come out now. I haven’t had any more contractions within the last hour so I think I’m good.” You continue to eat more food and Toji just stares at you.

“Have you been having contractions and didn’t tell me?” He gently turns your face toward him and you nod your head.

“I woke up and you guys were gone so I laid back down, it’s not like my water broke or anything.” You shrug your shoulders only to realize that you may have spoken too soon as your bed dampens under you.

Toji’s eyes widen in pure shock and you smile nervously at him in return.

“Oops?”

Ari

#jjk x reader #jjk scenarios #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jjk x y/n #jjk imagines #jjk x you #toji x black reader #toji x you #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader

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fangswbenefits · 5 months

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getting this off my chest

I really, really love writing for this fandom.

I think I haven't felt like this in years.

Astarion is such an enticing vessel for my creativity and has rekindled my joy for writing and putting it out there.

Alas, imposter syndrome really gnaws at my nerves more often than I care to admit.

"But Ruby, you have so many people who like your work. Why do you doubt yourself?"

Because I grew up being told I was never enough. That I was the worst at what I did best, which back then was learning English and surrounding myself in the language, hence why I sought comfort in fanfiction.

My sister, whom I love dearly, is an English teacher. She would be so harsh on me, and I know she meant well. She really did. But it was so hard back then. I would come to her with creative writing in English and she would just roll her eyes and tell me I wasn't good enough.

Nowadays, she acknowledges that I am more proficient than her and more at ease with the language, and even tells my nephew to study English with me instead.

But back then, I needed someone to believe I could do better.

So, there is a part of me that is proud that I am able to deal with real-life fatigue by writing and finding enjoyment in this hobby. But a much darker part of me tells me I'm not worthy and that I simply got lucky.

The Arrangement means a lot to me. I tend to dive right into fandoms and start writing for the character that caught my eye.

But I couldn't do that for Astarion... I am still unsure why. For those of you who have been here from my Miguel O'Hara days or when I first started posting about Astarion, you'll know The Arrangement was the first thing I ever posted for him.

Took me 2 weeks to get the first chapter out because I kept thinking I couldn't find a voice for Astarion. One that felt like him. After all, I'm always a step behind because I am not a native speaker. There will always be that looming feeling that I can't convey this story properly.

Even if you now know me for my Astarion smut, that wasn't even the driving force of my love for him.

It took me 2 months to feel comfortable writing smut for him. Why? I don't even know.

But The Arrangement feels different.

I love writing it and I love taking my liberties with the plot.

It's my opportunity to fully showcase my love for him.

I know not everyone likes it. I know some of you have dropped it. Some of you will drop it. But some will walk along this path with me, and I can't stress enough how your feedback and love help keep these negative thoughts at bay.

It's an internal work, though. It is not your job to validate my writing skills. This is not what puts food on my table. I am not looking to be published. I am looking for an escape. And it's so frustrating when my mind tries to rob me of joy even when it comes to a hobby.

"If this is a hobby why does it matter what others think or if they like what you write? Just have fun. Write for yourself."

And I do write for myself, but I share my work because I am hopeful my words can make someone's day. I seek that connection I never had growing up. Perhaps it sounds silly, but it's what makes the most sense in my head.

The Arrangement should be my pride and joy even if not perfect (nothing ever is, I suppose). And I'm exhausted of not feeling proud of it. I'm tired of this vicious cycle of self-doubt.

Don't get me wrong. I love writing smut. I think that's what I'm best at (well, in my opinion). I love exploring Astarion this way, too, but...

I don't know where I'm going with this... if anyone has made it this far, thank you, and sorry for the word vomit...

#ruby rambles ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

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bellewintersroe · 10 months

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Charles Leclerc x SchumacherDaughter!

Lila is the youngest of the 3 Schumacher siblings, at 22 shes catching the attention of the public eye. With the new found popularity through Drive to Survive, social media has dubbed her the next ‘it’ girl despite her constant desire for privacy. When her love interest becomes more or less the most sought after man in F1, how will she cope with being the internets fascination? Both Charles and Lila have dealt with immense amounts of loss and trauma, so their mutual understanding for one another fuels their so called ‘friendship’.

Part 2 - no warnings! Filler chapter, slow burn/ start but will start to pick up soon.

From the first time I’d met Charles I knew I’d developed feelings almost instantly. I had always been the the type of girl who caught feelings quickly. Maybe that was a recipe for disaster, wearing my heart on my sleeve, but there wasn’t a single fibre of my body that could prevent it. Not being around the boy was helpful, but the one thing that fuelled the crush even further? Social media, of course.

I had always been private online. All my accounts were locked and I’d never planned on making them public out of the pure fear of gaining too much unwanted attention. That didn’t mean I couldn’t do a stalk however…

I’d find myself laying in bed until stupid hours in the morning for the following week after the Monaco GP, scrolling mindlessly through my searches. The majority of them were amusing- I didn’t seem to worry too much about gaining a hate train online, of course the trolls were there, but keeping as far out of the public eye as possible meant I was semi protected. User: Lila Schumacher sparks relationship rumours with Mercedes driver George Russell, despite him already being in a long term relationship with Carmen Montero Mundt.

I laughed at that one and all the responses telling the reporter to shut the hell up.

User: Charles today with Mick and Lila Schumacher. User: Lila Schumacher makes a rare appearance at the Monaco GP, 28.5.23. User: Lila Schumacher is so beautiful, like her mum, why don’t we see more of her? User: can anybody else see Lila Schumacher being with one of the drivers? Shes so gorgeous I wouldn’t be surprised. ——— > User: she looked to be talking with Charles, he looked v into her so maybe? ——— > User: no not Charles surely? I was thinking she’d be more with somebody like George or Lando.

——— > User: Lila and Charles Leclerc were talking at the Monaco GP, doesn’t mean they’re together but I’d DIE if he looked at me the way he looked at Lila- that’s all I’m saying…

I exited the app after that, deciding I’d read enough, I knew it was stupid to do, but part of me couldn’t help myself. I’d always been a nosy person. So when Mick invited me to come to the Spanish GP, I accepted his offer (much to his surprise). “You’re from Spain? Which part?” I asked Carlos Sainz, whom I’d engaged in a conversation with whilst attempting to find the Ferrari garages before the qualifying. He asked if I wanted leading back to Mercedes but I was trying to find Jean Todt, my God father and dads longtime close friend, so I got a tour from Mr Sainz instead. “Madrid, have you been?”

“Oh yeah, it’s beautiful there, I’ve been a few times…” my eyes glanced up from the floor, gaze landing heavily on the other Ferrari driver now stood in front of me. My breath hitched seeing the surprised looking boy.

“Lila! Hello!” Charles exclaimed, the exact same heart flutter I felt the other week in Monaco had returned. “Hi!” For some reason I was surprised he’d remembered my name, hearing him say it made me feel certain ways. He moved forwards, giving me a quick hug as I clamped my teeth down on my bottom lip so I wouldn’t grin so harshly. “How are you?” I asked. “I am good, I’m good. And you?” Charles was pink in the cheeks, brown eyes practically sparkling in the Spanish sun. He looked like Prince Charming or something out of a fairy tail, I found him intoxicating.

“Good, thank you.” I breathlessly spoke, “you have met Carlotto?” He then grinned as I snapped my attention back up to Carlos with a slight furrow of my brows. “Carlotto?”

“Lord Perceval.” I giggled out at the name now, turning back to Charles who was staring right back to Carlos with a wide eyed expression. “Lord Perceval? Is that a nickname, or?”

“No, no, no!” Charles laughed. “That’s my.. um that’s my middle name. Perceval.” Charles explained as I felt my cheeks beating up, hearing Carlos too giggling along. “Oh!” I exclaimed. “How posh.” I shrugged as he laughed slightly back to me with an uneasy, “yeah.”

“I better go find Jean anyway, has anybody seen him?”

“Oh, Jean? He’s in that way.” Charles pointed towards three different doors. I frowned in confusion. “Charles, show her, your directions are bad.” Carlos pointed out as I giggled nervously.

“It’s okay, I’ll try find him.”

“No, no, I’ll show you.” Charles insisted as I bit back a smile. “Thanks for getting me here anyway.” I thanked Carlos. “It’s ok.” The Spanish man politely smiled. “Chiedile un appuntamento.” Carlos then spoke to Charles as I glanced away, no clue what the hell they were speaking. Italian maybe? It wasn’t French and definitely wasn’t Spanish. When I did look up, Charles was staring back at Carlos wide eyes in a manner as though to say, shut the hell up. I pretended not to notice as Carlos giggled, patting me on the upper back before I began following Charles.

“I think he should be this way. I could be wrong.” Charles stumbled forwards, turning over his shoulder as I caught up besides him. “It’s okay, I don’t need him urgently, I just wanted to say hi.” And say hello to you.

“He is your god father, right?” Charles questioned as I nodded. “Yeah, he’s my dads friend.”

“Ah.” Charles nodded, and for a brief few seconds, I felt a little awkward. I was lost for words, dwelling in my nerves that had appeared now I was semi alone with Charles.

“I think I saw you earlier.” Charles then pointed out. “Oh yeah? Where?”

“Playing tennis at the hotel, I think it was you there? You looked good- at playing tennis I mean, but you did look good as well, merde, it might not have been you.” Charles stammered as I felt myself becoming somewhat breathless again, when he was nervous I felt this warm rush of excitement run through me, but it somehow made me feel nervous too. His compliment made me laugh, realising exactly what he was talking about.

“Yeah that was me, I was playing with another girl?” I tilted my head to look at the smiling boy. I hadn’t seen his smile falter once since seeing him again, I enjoyed the way it would lift up his eyes, the dimples forming in his cheeks and the way his teeth would poke through every now and then.

“Ah, yes it was you.” Charles shyly spoke. “Yeah, I’m not very good. I just like playing.” I grabbed at my blonde hair nervously. “I play too, I am bad.” Charles laughed out. “I’m sure you’re not that bad!” He responded with an uneasy noise.

“I just think you would beat me.” The fact he had noticed me earlier this morning had made me go all red in the face, I felt all giggly and weak in the knees.

“No way, I’m really bad. Trust me, I just play for fun.” I bashfully spoke, thanking him quickly as he opened the door for me. Jean wasn’t in sight ahead of me, so it gave me a little more time with Charles which I was thankful for.

“Me too.” He grinned as I offered him a smile in response, turning to my left to see Jean not too far ahead, sitting down and mid conversation. “Oh, there he is! Thank you for showing me around, I’d be lost without you and Carlos.” I joked, pausing to stand directly across from him now. “It’s ok, it gets confusing in here.” He shrugged as I nodded, going to turn around. “It was nice to see to see you again.” He quickly spoke, causing me to halt my movements and turn up once again. There was a slight height difference between us, I only stood at 5”3, and he was nearing 6 foot, I guessed?

“Yeah you too, if you see me playing tennis again feel free to say hi.” I giggled, shrugging nervously. “I will.” Charles laughed as I timidly broke eye contact, turning to go find Jean. “Oh!” Charles exclaimed again. I turned around.

“I was- we could play tennis maybe? If you would like to?” His words made my heart literally jump and I swear he could see the way my smile tugged up. I was nodding before I even replied, borderline too stunned and shy to speak.

“As long as you let me win you.” I managed to blurt out as he laughed once again, pulling out his phone. “I can probably do that… well you could do that.” He corrected, unlocking his phone and clicking on his phone book.

“Oh.” I perked, pulling out my phone, ensuring to clear any embarrassing messages from my notifications before allowing him to type his number in. It felt like a fever dream, no man had asked for my number before, it was always Snapchat or Instagram first- it felt slightly more… personal? I liked it.

“I will text you.” Charles nodded. “Okay, see you soon, Charles.”

“Bye, Lila…”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc

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justzawe · 6 months

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interview | zawe ashton

Actor, director and writer Zawe Ashton has no interest in being perfect. Drawn to the messiness of being a villain, Ashton uncovers the heartbreak behind the anti-hero as she takes on the role of the formidable, Dar-Benn, in Nia DaCosta’s The Marvels. Relishing the chance to make “her-story”, Ashton and DaCosta bonded over literature and their joint vision for an empowered, all-female, ethnically diverse ensemble. The lack of diversity on screen wasn’t lost on Ashton growing up as an aspiring actress – the ability to rectify that and heal her inner child is a mission Ashton is grabbing with both hands.

The vastness of the Marvel realm means most actors in Hollywood have their Marvel audition story. For Ashton, there had been previous close encounters, narrowly missing out in the latter stages. But with DaCosta, it was different. Ashton recalls, “We bonded over literature. Nia wanted to make a very small movie based on a Jane Austen novel and I was absolutely into this so we talked for a good couple of hours. But instead, what ended up happening was her asking me to play a villain in this movie… The process was so natural, I didn’t have to think so it made my goal really clear to serve Nia’s vision. Being part of this piece of “her-story” with the youngest black woman to direct a Marvel film felt extremely important as a moment in my career.”

A departure from her traumatic high school physical education lessons, Ashton felt empowered by the experience of getting into physical shape for the role, all while transitioning into motherhood. “It ended up being transformative. The entire stunt team I worked with touched my heart in such a deep way… They helped me realise a physical world so far removed from botched PE classes that had made me think that I couldn’t be a physically strong person. It was very powerful.”

It was also the opportunity to set her inner child free on set that made the transformation into Dar-Benn so liberating. She enthuses, “Having the inner child run wild was the best – and scariest – part of this film… I had to play which most of us haven’t done since the sandpit. So indulging in that was a very unique experience to have in front of thousands of people. But it was so fun – I honestly loved every second of it.”

But it was her character’s vulnerability that Ashton sought to capture. “Anti-heroes have always been attractive to me. As a child, I was drawn to the reasons for why they did what they did. So I was always really satisfied when we got to see their vulnerabilities that helped us to understand them.” And while egos often get in the way, Ashton had no qualms playing the villain. “I honestly feel like the responsibility to be the hero would be too much on my shoulders. I’m very comfortable in a space where I don’t have to present as perfect, where I get to be a bit messy or a bit frightening or a bit off centre… I always find that a very interesting journey to see why someone on the outside wants to carry out what they want to carry out.”

Despite history being made with The Marvels, Ashton isn’t shying away from debates around wider representation across the film and TV industry. She considers, “Being part of a completely female driven cast is really important – bringing different ethnicities to the screen heals the inner child within me. I think back to myself as a young girl looking to film and entertainment and not seeing a broad spectrum of representation, and how that was more damaging than I could have realised or vocalised at that age. So being part of something that makes another little girl not have to experience that is very moving.”

And while she’s hopeful for the future, Ashton knows there’s still a long way to go. “I think the scale is tipping. But there is still a huge amount to do to truly, holistically balance out the things that need to be balanced out to have a healthier industry. I feel very grateful to at least be on that road and be part of the conversation… There are so many voiceless people out there, who should probably have the mic instead. But this industry is extremely powerful in terms of how we interact with it. So I’m really aware that I have this platform because of the work that I do.”

Not content with shaping conversations on screen, Ashton is also changing the narrative through her work as a writer and director. She muses, “There are a lot of stories that are brewing inside of me that I’m desperate to get out… You get to a certain point in life where you have this incredible vantage point over a huge portion of your lived experience that you can’t really access while you’re still living it. One of the benefits of aging is that your creativity really can deepen. You have even more life experience to draw from and more creative ways of looking at that life experience. It’s another way for me to process life.”

With so many stories to tell, one character that remains a cherished favourite is the enigmatic, if not slightly deluded, Vod from Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain’s, Fresh Meat. Ashton enthuses, “I cherish her as a character so deeply. I cherish the team that helped bring her to life – all the amazing production and design team who were all part of bringing her weird and wonderful world to life. Often as an actor you can be known for a role that has a small trauma attached to it, so the character becomes an avatar that you feel slightly trapped in because how you view the character isn’t how the audience see the avatar, so I was lucky. It’s one of the biggest achievements in my career so far!”

As Ashton continues to find her voice both on and off screen, she’s discovering new realms of possibilities.

#zawe ashton #article #interview #schon magazine

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staycalmandhugaclone · 1 year

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Arrows (Special Request) - Doc - Part 3

Part 3 of Arrow. Reference to Found Footage. If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved!

Also: got a new Poll up for your thoughts! Should Doc Have Her Own Blog?

Warnings: This one's pretty mild - descriptions of pain, some guilt... I think that's about it

WC: 2,458 - I'm thinking one more chapter will finish this off

If I looked for it, if I let my mind fade into the hum of overhead lights and focused only on each fractured inhale, I could just taste the scent of autumn flowers, that rich earthiness lingering from mere hours prior when Hunter laid here instead of me; when the ship was blessed with a rare moment of quiet that we coveted for too little time. I wondered if he gleaned comfort from my scent during those precious few moments of peace, or if my presence had become so commonplace that he barely noticed it anymore.

And the others? What tiny details caught their attention when reality simply became too much to take in at once? Did Crosshair count the scratches on the durasteel walls? Did Tech run through impossible equations in his mind? Is that why Wrecker so frequently sought out the simple tooka doll? To distract himself with the sensation of static wrought by gently grinding the stuffing between his callused fingers? And Echo…

I remembered the first day he finally let me help him. I remembered how hesitant he was; how he’d nearly fled before allowing my touch too near the nodes of metal lining his spine; how violent his relief had been when my hands soothed the ache from muscles desperate for a release his body simple couldn’t grant him anymore. I remembered the tears we never spoke of and the stillness as I’d simply held him after. Where did he seek refuge when the memories threatened to overwhelm him? When the ache of limbs lost long ago resurfaced absent cause or hope for reprieve?

I wanted to hide in the shattered recess of my psyche, safe from the hurt and cold, set apart from the body he’d helped place atop a cot that was never meant to be anyone’s bed for long. I wanted to pretend that when I woke from this half-dream I would find us still soaring through the in-between of hyperspace, that it might be a rare morning in which I rose before the others and could lure them into the kitchenette with the scent of fresh caf and some delicacy snuck aboard from one of the exotic markets of some far away world. I wanted anything but for my mind to be dragged back into the ruined form too weak even to shake beneath the chill dancing atop skin aching beneath its own weight.

“-at me! Come on…” Echo… I didn’t want to hear the fear in words he forced into a whisper.

“Please… Come on, I need you to look at me.” I didn’t want to feel the subtle tremor in the gentle touch of his hand against my jaw, the desperation in how his thumb swept so carefully atop my cheek; the broken prayer of my name murmured in a voice that seemed to resonate through me in a delicate rush of heat.

But, once more, he called my name, and I knew I would endure this agony for eternity if only to free him of the sorrow in his voice. I wanted to sob beneath the understanding that I’d never really escaped the pain, that what madness feigned reprieve had merely lulled me into a denial that could only ever end like this: thrown back into a hurt too great for the nerves to ever stop screaming. Hot. Cold. Pain. Pressure. Every sensation overstimulated into a deafening noise rekindled by the ceaseless racing of my heart. Still, I forced myself to look for him, gaze sweeping blindly before me for a long moment before finding the brilliant amber of his eyes.

“Hey-hey; good,” The words escaped him in a gasp of relief, fingers flaring out to hold my face like I might fade again at any moment. “You stay with me, Doc. Don’t scare me like that again.” I shifted slightly into his palm, movement delayed beneath exhaustion, but the hint of a smile flitting at the edges of his lips was worth the effort.

“Tech’s making progress on figuring out how to communicate with the locals.” He explained, the already smooth cadence of his voice slowing even further. “It won’t be much longer before he gets a cure from them for whatever gunk they coated their arrows with.” I could just make out Tech’s crisp voice in the distance, but I couldn’t understand any words. It took a long moment to realize he wasn’t speaking common, that whatever dialect he was working to understand more closely resembled Geonosian, and I had little hope in trying to grasp some meaning behind the guttural clicks and growls. Abandoning the attempt, I let my attention return to eyes still heavy with worry.

“With there being a sentient race here, the mission’s voided until the senate works out a charter with them.” He explained, and I didn’t doubt that he knew how I was relying on the familiar sound of his voice to ground myself, to keep my fractured glimmer of awareness focused on him lest I recede back into the corner of my mind where nothing quite existed. “That means as soon as we know you’re alright, we can leave; so, you just hold on a little longer, okay?”

I think I nodded, but with how the room spun, it was hard to tell. I tried not to think about it; tried not to think of the ache in my chest that only grew beneath my heart’s frantic pace, the effort it took to drag each panted, shallow gasp through my abused throat despite how the raw flesh balked from even that fleeting caress of air; the distant sensation of having sprinted to the point of collapse and forcing myself to continued regardless how acid filled my veins and every cell was begging me to stop.

“… awake?” Voices hummed somewhere nearby.

“Not really.” I didn’t realize I’d fallen back into that haze until hearing them. “She’s been… not really sleeping, but…” Echo struggled slightly to explain before adding, “Her heartrate’s finally starting to come down, though.” As soon as he said it, I realized he was right and felt myself relax slightly into the worn cot.

“That is… a relief.” Despite his words, there was still a tension in his voice that my mind rebelled against. “Beta blockers can take some time to begin working, and I was unsure if they would even be effective given the nature of the toxin.” When I managed to look up at him, he held the med-scanner over me, attention locked on the screen with the same steadfastness as he granted his datapad.

“Tech.” Echo called, and I could hear the smirk on his lips. His brother glanced briefly toward him before turning his gaze to me, and, for just a moment, he froze.

“Ah… hm…” For those first few seconds, he seemed torn between wanting to say too many things at once yet unable to remember how to speak, and, Maker, if seeing him stammer didn’t bring the threat of a chuckle to me. He must have seen the hint of a smile, seen the fond affection in my eyes because only then did he finally seem to breathe, shoulders loosening as he allowed himself to smile back.

“I was successful in establishing a means of communication with the natives.” He explained, voice quieting as he set the scanner down to gently place his hand over mine. “We’ll have to travel to their colony to retrieve it, but I assure you, we’ll return as quickly as we can.” I wanted to ask him what he’d learned, wanted to remind him that it was okay for him to feel the thrill of excitement at discovering this new people, but, with a fleeting squeeze that reminded me of the strange numbness stealing through that limb, he turned and walked quickly from the room.

“Crosshair and I are staying with you.” Echo reassured me as I stared at the door for a beat too long. Before I could gather breath to reply, that door opened once more as Hunter and Wrecker approached me, strides just shy of rushed. Echo reluctantly stepped away for Wrecker to reach me, massive hands enveloping mine as he nearly trembled before me.

“I’m sorry, Doc; I should’a been payin’ closer attention…” My heart broke at the guilt in those gentle eyes. “I should’ve heard ‘em or”

“Shh-shh.” It was quiet, and it was weak, but Wrecker instantly stilled at that soothing sound. My fingers shifted listlessly in a vain attempt to hold him. Despite the faltering movements, he understood, grip tightened carefully around me. “Be… b…” Lips and tongue listless beneath what ragged breath I forced through my ruined throat, the tattered snips of speech escaped me sounded more akin to a wheeze than a word.

“It’s a’right – promise. We’re”

“Be c… care-f-full.” He instantly fell silent at the strangled words, gaze dropping to watch his thumbs shift lightly atop my wrist, brows furrowing deeper with each passing second.

“We will.” He whispered, glancing almost shyly toward me. Movements nothing if not careful, he set my hand back atop the cot and turned to rejoin Tech, leaving Hunter and me alone.

Without hesitation, he let his hands cup my face, let his forehead fall to rest lightly atop mine as his chest swelled with slow, deep breaths, and I felt the fear that wanted to ruin him; I felt the tension so nearly causing those hands to shake, but I also felt the breadth of determination driving his every movement, and, when he shifted to touch his lips to my brow, when he lingered in that tender kiss, I couldn’t doubt him.

“Promise me you’ll hold on.” He begged, words fluttering across my scalp.

“Ca… can’t get… rid o… of me.” Despite the terrible weakness in those fractured murmurs, there was a smile on his lips as he pulled back to meet my eyes. The reverent dance of his touch sweeping delicately along the curve of my cheeks sent a warmth through me that, if only for a moment, let me forget the crippling pain twisting through my knee and shoulder, the nauseating war of blinding heat and that terrible cold churning beneath my skin. He held me, and I existed only in the quiet in his eyes, the too-quick eternity in those few seconds of reaching for words neither of us could quite speak.

And then the muscles of his jaw bunched, teeth clicking together as he dragged his gaze from mine, hands pausing just a moment longer before returning to his sides. With a final deep breath, he left as well.

In those stolen seconds free of guilt-ridden eyes, I let myself crumble, face twisting beneath the agony I’d fought so hard to mask in the face of the others. My head craned back into the thin pillow, heel dragging uselessly atop the mattress as breaths I’d fought to keep steady shattered into sobs that I still struggled to force into a hard-won silence, hand reaching up to claw uselessly at my ruined shoulder.

I heard the hiss of the door but wasn’t able to fight myself back into that earlier façade before the approaching footsteps stopped sharply. Caught in that moment of weakness, my teeth locked around my lower lip, shame and sorrow twisted across my face as I glanced up. The dark understanding in Crosshair’s gaze robbed me of that shame, and I found myself unable to even try vailing the depth of hurt torturing me without it, eyes sliding shut as my chest hitched. His touch whispered so softly over my shin, I almost doubted its existence until the gentle rasp of his voice hovered just above the tense silence around us.

“What can I do?” It was a rare thing to hear that softness from him; the faintest hint of a plea just brushing past his lips.

His jaw tensed. In silence, he tread to the far wall, meticulously removing his armor with practiced ease to rest atop the counter. Hand lingering atop that final bit of plastoid, he hesitated, but when he turned back to me, those eyes were quiet in a way I wasn’t used to, and I found myself frozen as he returned to my bedside, as he eased his arm beneath my uninjured shoulder, hand slipping down to wrap around my back, and he lowered himself onto the very edge of the cot, embrace tightening just enough to gently pull me against him until he lay nestled beneath me.

“S… s-stay.” I hated how the word fluttered from me in that desperate whimper, but the overwhelming need for something, anything to distract myself from feeling my veins carrying poison and pain and fire throughout every inch of me overruled what pride might otherwise have stilled my tongue. He didn’t move for a long moment, gaze burring into mine with an attentiveness that was once unsettling, but now I yearned for the comfort of that gaze, the innate safety in it.

“This okay?” I remembered him asking me that once before and found myself nodding against him just as I’d done then, cheek dragging over the coveted warmth of his chest. I could feel the thrum of his heart, felt the powerful, slow beats count the seconds with a leisurely calm I so desperately clung to, mind instantly focusing on that steady rhythm, on the tentative brush of his hands over the base of my ribs, the soft weight of his chin resting lightly atop the crown of my head.

Maker, I wanted to sleep; to vanish for just a moment into that emptiness as I melted into the safety of his embrace. I ached beneath the weight of an exhaustion so deep, the simple act of drawing breath was quickly becoming an insurmountable task. Some distant whisper of logic told me it was from the toxin, remembered Tech stating that it blocked some autonomic functions, but that knowledge offered no reprieve.

“m…m s-so… tired…” I sobbed, straining to press closer to him. Instantly his arm tightened, and I could feel him shift to look at me. The gentle caress of his fingers trailing through my hair drew my gaze up to him, and I knew he saw the threat of hopelessness in me as his jaw worked subtly over words he hadn’t yet settled on.

“Close your eyes.” He barely breathed the quiet words. I started to tell him I couldn’t, that my body simply refused to grant me that escape, but then his hand settled softly over my eyes, and, in the darkness, there was only his touch, the gentle dance of his heartbeat, the strength of him surrounding me, and I readily lost myself in him.

Next Chapter

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river-in-the-woods · 3 months

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What are some guidelines you follow when you choose to work with a deity? With me, I don't involve myself with those from closed practices or I'd risk retaliation by the people or by the entity themselves. There are beings that sound like they could give me bang for my buck but I'd have to consider if I needed their assistance for a ONE time thing rather than sought out a deeper relationship. Weee there cases where you needed help for a one time scenario and ended it there?

Hi there, apologies it's been so long. I was moving house just as you sent in this question! Now that I'm more settled, let's see if I can tell you something helpful :)

Personally, I've always gone for the deeper relationship. I've not been in a situation where I needed to ask a particular spirit/deity who I didn't know for particular things. But that's just my preference. I value the trust, and invested time and energy I've built up with a being, over what their 'official' expertise is. A spirit or god always has unadvertised skills or other allies they can call on, after all.

That's not to say I've always been successful with it. I've chosen gods I was interested in, made good faith gestures through offerings and prayers, and plenty of times I didn't get the response I was looking for. In which case I would just move on, keep looking, and deal with problems by myself. I've had hard times like anyone else, but I've not been in dire enough situations to feel the need to ask help from a deity I've never worked with before.

Even if you have not settled on a pantheon or tradition, there are still your ancestors and spirit neighbours who live in the same locale as you. Those beings will impact your day to day life more directly, so it's always being friendly to them, giving an offering now and then. At the very least, so they don't hinder you, but in the best case they may like you enough to actively help your endeavours.

If you are looking for a patron deity, one you want to be serious about, there are some things I could recommend. But bear in mind this is based on my own principles; I choose my gods like I choose a significant other. I tend to walk the Path of the Devotee. This is the norm in East Asian magic, so it may be a cultural thing for me as well. It is certainly an exercise in patience.

You might prefer to do things differently, so feel free to ignore if that's not your style.

If the deity is part of an established tradition or unbroken lineage, this is much easier. If the tradition is large enough, they will usually provide laypeople practices you can get started with. You don't have to initiate for this. Otherwise, you'll need to speak to a verified shaman or priest of that tradition and ask them for advice.

Basically, if a tradition has survived hundreds or thousands of years, you can have faith that there is at least something to it – i.e. the deity has already been vetted by that lineage as being capable of supporting several generations. Therefore instead you would evaluate the (human) teachers of that tradition to see if you are happy to receive their guidance. Of course, the teachers have the right to evaluate you too.

If the deity of interest is not currently a patron of an unbroken lineage: you'll have your work cut out for you.

First, study the deity's reputation. I've always looked for virtue in the deities I venerate. Namely, I look for evidence of their compassion, a sense of responsibility for other beings. I choose them as I choose my friends and teachers. The beings you surround yourself with, are the ones you will become more like. Needless to say, don't choose a patron based on just their aesthetic appeal.

I do research on their lore and look for other devotee's experiences of them. You want to pay attention to devotees who have been actively venerating that deity for 10 years or more. How have they grown throughout the time of that relationship? Have they come out of major life obstacles wiser, stronger, more at peace? Can they honestly say that they feel supported and empowered by their deity?

Sometimes a person's life is just a result of their own poor choices and not the deity's lack of responsibility for their followers. But you get plenty of people who claim they are a 'priest/ess' of their deity, that they have been blessed or chosen, or have ecstatic experiences – and yet they can barely manage a shred of humility or a kind word, or they constantly complain about their life being terrible, or they've been stuck in the same negative cycles for years on end. "The proof is in the pudding", as they say.

In any case, there is no point in devoting yourself to a god that will not elevate you and help you become a better version of yourself. Godhood, power and influence, is by itself not a worthy enough reason for veneration. There are many, many gods. Little gods, bigger gods. Not all of them are truly transcendent. And many you will simply not have an affinity for. Don't place your life into the hands of one who will drop you.

Making contact After you've verified the deity's reputation, look for the best ways to contact them formally. Traditional prayers, invocations, mantras, offerings and so on. Make a good impression, express your interest, tell them about yourself, tell them what you admire about them, and so on.

At this point, you could go all out, do a big ritual and ask for their help on something, see what the outcome is. As I said, I don't normally do this, because I think it requires a strong magical and spiritual skill set (which I don't have). But that would be a good way to evaluate the deity as well.

Either way, continue to make regular attempts to contact the deity, always with an offering, however small it might be. Meditate on them and their symbols. This is building your own reputation with the deity and carving a channel of communication with them.

When it comes to assessing the value of a relationship with a deity, I always try to give it at least 6 months to a year. It sounds like a long time, but I personally do not have very strong psychic senses so I need plenty of hindsight to see if my efforts are having the desired effect. And besides, if one is looking for a life-long patron, 1 year is really not that long.

In that time, I make a lot of notes on if/how my requests were answered, if/how my life has improved in that time, any visions or knowledge I've received on the deity, how successful my divinations were, and in general if there is a growing sense of closeness between myself and the deity. It is well worth doing a few big rituals here and there because this is the best way to assess the accumulation of one's efforts.

So, this is how I would get started. I hope it helps, let me know if you have anymore questions on the matter ��

#inbox #anonymous #resources #deity work

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macabremoons · 11 months

Text

Even Forever Takes Breaks

TW: Power imbalance, possessive behavior, sicko for sicko romance, and general dark themes. Be safe!

A/N: Thank you to @sugar-phoenix for editing this. She's so good at it omg. Also to @wipsbymor for convincing me to post this LOLL. I don't know how canon this is ngl. Right now I'm just writing short stories to get a feel for the WIP.

I haven’t seen Grimoire in five days.

I wish I could say that I was happy about it, yet there’s a lack of giddiness in my chest. Instead of popping champagne and cheering, I find myself waiting for him to come back.

I don’t miss his company. This much I am sure of. It’s just that when a parasite settles within you for so long, it’s odd to be without it. I can’t feel eyes on me when I should be alone. There’s none of his idiotic commentary. It’s been nearly a week since I’ve heard one of his gorey promises. I know he’s coming back. Just as the rooster knows when to sing its call, just as the moon knows when to come out and when to go to sleep, just as the seasons pass, Grimoire will be back.

The clock ticks in the corner, and I try my best not to stare at it.

I go to my advisory meetings as if nothing is wrong. I can tell my advisors notice Grimoire’s absence, but my eyes are too sharp for them to ask questions. They bow just as deeply even without Grimoire glaring at them from over my shoulder.

“Queen Sabelina, the people have faith in your might and have requested that you defend them from the neighboring country,” Horus, one of my least favorite advisors, says. He stands to reach over the map resting on the long table. “The kingdom appears to have this small providence surrounded. I am happy that they have sought you out, but it’d be near fruitless to try to help them. We would lose money and men—”

“Lord Horus, what house do you belong to?” I interrupt. Horus goes still, and I can see his mouth slightly twitch downwards.

“The House of Griffin. We have served the thrones for centuries.”

I try not to roll my eyes. Being loyal to the throne does little to comfort me. I am not centuries old. I know some question my claim to the throne. Someone loyal to the throne might even betray me.

“Yes, and when your house nearly fell to ruin a century ago, did my forefather abandon you? Did he not come to your aid?”

I watch as denials run to the tip of his tongue. I’m sure he hates being compared to commoners. “He did, Your Majesty.”

“Good,” I say, standing. “I was afraid for a moment you had forgotten. This kingdom refers to me as their Blood Queen, and what use is a queen drenched in blood if it is not the blood of her enemies? An attack on any part of my country is a personal attack against me, and should be taken as a personal attack to everyone in this room.”

“Say we lose this town.” I look at the map. “Whithallow. Who is to say our enemies will stop here?”

My advisors stare up at me, and I do not let down my gaze. For a moment, I think that they will disagree with me. All of their familiars are close to their person, stored in their brooches, yet mine is empty. They could easily kill me. I’m sure Horus wants to.

Lorin speaks up. “Perhaps we are just unused to seeing a monarch so enthused about protecting their people.”

I narrow my eyes. “Well I’m here now.”

Another advisor I haven’t bothered to remember the name of speaks up. “Surely though, Your Majesty, you do not view your men as so disposable? The houses have been doing the work of the throne for longer than the history books can accurately scribe.”

“The houses are important,” I agree, sweeping my gaze over them, “but they are just one part of the kingdom. A very powerful part, but still very small. Am I to reject all my subject’s care to coddle you with golds and silvers?”

“Of course not—”

“Then we answer my people’s call and tell them we are on our way. Meeting adjourned.”

They leave wordlessly, and I slump back into my chair. I see it now: I am a fool in their eyes. They bow their heads because of my claim to power, but just as I yanked the throne any one of them could as well. Without Grimoire, there is no Blood Queen, just Sabelina.

I curl into bed defeated and cold and close my eyes so I can pretend I’ll get any sleep tonight. Before I can spiral too much, the bed dips, and I sit up quickly.

It’s him. There’s tears in his eyes as he leans closer to me, and I allow him to embrace me in a tight hug.

“Please, do not make me leave you for any longer,” he says, face buried into my neck. “There is no moon without your presence. No stars, no gravity, no reason for me to go on. Scorn me as much as you like it. I welcome your anger, just do not make me leave you.”

“I’m surprised you listened.”

“You commanded it. Due to our bond I had to.”

Oh. I feel stupid now. With as powerful as Grimoire is, it is easy to forget that he is my familiar.

“You… may come back.” He doesn’t move. “I have to sleep, Grim. Get off.”

Grimoire shifts to his side. His arms go stiff to his side. I want to turn away, to look away, but I am so stunned by the fact that he’s truly back at my side.

“Tomorrow I will schedule a meeting with my advisor to discuss some battle plans.” I pause, suddenly embarrassed. “Perhaps you could scare them. Just a little.”

He jerks his head. “Anything you wish, my love.”

For once, as I close my eyes to sleep, Grimoire’s intense stare does not unnerve me.

I did not miss him, I tell myself. I think it, so it must be true.

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slothquisitor · 6 months

Text

We're Not All Dying Here

The brain is defeated and the world is saved, but it doesn't fix everything. Basically, I have a lot of feelings about how everyone is free of the tadpole, but Astarion is the one who loses everything. Major endgame spoilers. Astarion x Liv, 5k, hurt/comfort more than angst for once.

Also on AO3

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When Liv manages to pull herself out of the Chionthar, it is to a changed city shrouded in orange haze, the smell of battle still in the air. Buildings have crumbled, and there is smoke in the distance, but the bells are ringing in victory, and she swears she hears distant cheering. The Netherbrain is defeated, and she and all her friends still stand. She collapses on her back upon the wooden dock, sucking in deep breaths. Her mind is quiet at last, she can no longer feel the tadpole.

It is an immense relief to be alone in her mind once again. The Emperor is dead, the tadpole too, and she is entirely herself. She will not be turning into an illithid. The very thing she sought to do months ago has finally been achieved. It doesn’t feel real.

Astarion sits down heavily beside her, running a hand through his sopping-wet hair. “I…I can’t feel the tadpole. It’s gone - we’re free!” His voice cracks a little on the last word, excitement, exuberance, exhaustion, all wrapped up in one little word.

Liv wipes at her eyes, still wet from the river, and pretends there are not errant tears mixed in. “We did it.”

“On your feet, soldier,” Karlach stands over her, holding out her hand. Liv takes it and is pulled up and straight into a bone-crushing hug. “We take our victories standing up.”

Liv nods to hide the way she sways a little when Karlach lets her go. She feels a bit unsteady, her limbs weak. She can’t remember a time she’s felt this drained of all magic, but also this alive. It’s a heady feeling, full of adrenaline and relief.

“My powers…they’re draining,” Wyll says looking at his hands. “Just like Mizora said they would. A small price to pay, in the grand scheme of things.” His voice sounds a little lost, a little full of grief. They have all sacrificed so much to get here, to be truly free. Wyll’s father is alive, but for how much longer?

Liv isn’t sure what to say, so instead she turns to survey the city. Jaheira pats her shoulder. “Well, this is a bigger mess than any we made in the good old days. My congratulations.” Pride laces the joke, and Liv wishes she had the words to say just how much Jaheira’s unrelenting faith in her has meant.

There will be time for that later. There is nothing pressing at them on the horizon. No day to save or villain to take down. The adventure is over, but not everyone has been saved. Orpheus hovers nearby, a sense of accomplishment tinged with grief radiating off of him in waves. Even without the tadpole, she can feel the bright burst of his emotions. She hasn’t forgotten what was asked of her, what she promised.

Even when my time in the prism stretched out like eternity - when escape seemed impossible - I never lost hope. I knew that my destiny was to liberate my people. To return to them triumphant. I was wrong. It seems that I can only fulfill one part of my destiny. My people will be liberated, but I cannot return to them. Not like this. You helped me destroy that abomination. Now help me destroy myself. You must kill me. Orpheus kneels, draws out his sword and holds it out to her.

She doesn’t want to do this, even as she takes his blade. She grips the blade awkwardly. She is not a fighter.

Orpheus hasn’t noticed, is instead looking past her. But first, Lae’zel, I will have your promise. Carry my hope, carry my burden. Call my dragons, Quulos and Quuthos, and ride to the Astral Sea. Destroy Vlaakith, release our people. Be our future and our legacy.

Lae’zel bows her head solemnly. “It will be done. I will never be free while my people are still bound by Vlaakith’s chains.”

Orpheus nods, eyes falling shut as he squares his shoulders. Enough talk - give me my freedom. Freedom from this form.

She was the one who asked him to do this, who gave her word, but she wishes there was any other way. “Are you sure?” Orpheus still seems very much himself. Perhaps he could still live a life, still help his people in some way…but it is not what he wants.

Orpheus glares up at her. Release my soul to the Astral Seas while I still have one to call my own.

The tears threaten to fall, but she will not let them. Because they are not for him, not really. She barely knows this githyanki prince who sacrificed so much and saved them all. Still, she wishes things were different. She did not flinch away from his transformation and she will not flinch away from the consequences of her choices. She lines up the blade, resting it against his heart, and then plunges it into his chest. It’s strange, how easy it is to take a life. How little effort it takes. She has long since stopped counting the lives she has taken, the stories ended by her hand. Even though he asked for this death, and changed to an illithid willingly, Liv knows she won’t ever forget this moment where she had to look her own weakness in the eyes and kill it.

Gith’ka tavkim krash’ht, Orpheus whispers as he falls. She doesn’t know what it means. She hopes it is a comfort. There are many things she regrets, but she cannot seem to find it in herself to regret not being the one to turn. She’s not sure what that says about her, who it is exactly she has become.

She scarcely has time to think before Lae’zel steps forward, voice raised to the sky, calling the dragons. She turns to her as one lands beside the fallen prince. “I can never forget you. Your name will be etched in our slates. You will be called Mla’ghir - liberator.” And then Liv is pulled into another hug. It’s stiff, uncomfortable, even. Lae’zel has only one arm around her, as if she’s unsure about this display of care and affection. But as Lae’zel pulls away she’s smiling. “Live well.”

“Good luck, Lae’zel,” Liv manages.

And then Lae’zel is off. Riding up into the sky on the back of a red dragon all triumphant glory against the orange haze of the sky. Other dragons with their githyanki riders follow suit, portals opening within the sky above the city. It’s a strange sight, but then, what hasn’t been today?

“Well, the crown is in the depths of the Chionthar. Perhaps that’s where it should stay, or perhaps I will give it back to Mystra, as she asked,” Gale says, watching the rushing water of the river.

“And here I thought I’d have to talk another friend out of godlike power,” Liv says, attempting humor but only sounding tired.

Gale looks away from the river and gives her a smile. “If our time together has taught me anything, it’s that there are things in this world far more valuable than power. I’m sure Mystra will summon me soon enough, but until then, I propose we celebrate our victory the mortal way - with a drink in hand and reckless abandon in our hearts.”

“Oh…I could really go for a meal…and a drink,” Karlach agrees.

“We should see if the Elfsong is still standing,” Astarion suggests. He tosses a brilliant grin her way, and his eyes are bright with excitement. He’s beautiful, even waterlogged, it’s rather unfair.

She realizes then what he has likely been marveling at for several minutes: he is standing in full daylight on these docks. Perhaps…perhaps some of the parasite’s gifts were permanent after all. “You-” Words fail her.

He shrugs off her awe with a hand on his hip and a jut of his chin. “I honestly don’t care what we do, once we get….ow!”

Astarion raises a hand to his cheek, flinching as if he has been burned. “What the - oh gods. Oh no. Well, it was nice while it lasted…” his skin is blisters and cracks, and Liv’s heart breaks. For several horrifying seconds, he doesn’t move, doesn’t react, just watches the burning of his hands. “Argh! I’m sorry, I-I have to go!” He’s running then, stumbling up the dock in search of shadows.

Liv is already giving chase, cataloging any spells she might be able to use to help, and trying to figure out if she has any magic left for them at all anyway. But then, she hears Karlach cry out. The sound stops her short…because of course: her engine. Responsibilities to both her friends and their suffering war within her. She tells herself Astarion will be alright for the moment, but Karlach will not. So she stays.

Karlach is doubled over, clutching her chest. “Engine’s finally cooked. Held on just long enough.” Karlach is drenched in sweat, each breath is a labor, but somehow she is still smiling through gritted teeth. “So, how’d I do?”

Liv doesn’t want to accept this. Now that the brain is defeated she was supposed to have time to fix this. There’s got to be a way. She kneels down beside Karlach. “You were spectacular in every way. As always. But I need you to hang on, I can still cool you down, we can find Dammon. You’re going to be okay.”

Karlach reaches out, grasping Liv’s shoulder. “I adore you.” Before Liv can answer, flames emerge between them, the heat almost unbearable. “I never gave up. I did my best. I did my best.”

It sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. Liv leans forward. “Karlach, hang on just a little longer. Please.”

But it seems like Karlach hasn’t heard her. “It’s the one thing I can’t beat, isn't it? I wanted to live. In my city. With my friends. Gods…goodbye, sun. Goodbye, sea.” And then Karlach turns the full force of her orange eyes on Liv. “Goodbye.”

And there’s nothing Liv can do, nothing she can say.

“No! Stop,” Wyll calls. “I won’t allow this. Karlach, you’re coming with me - back to Avernus.”

Karlach’s face is twisted in pain. “You can’t…you…”

Liv seizes this moment. “Give me a year - just a year. See if I can make some headway. If I can’t…then you pick the time and place, and I’ll be there. I promise. You’re not alone anymore, Karlach. It’s not forever. Just to buy us time.”

“So? What do you say? Die here, now, or live on with the Blade of Avernus at your side. Zariel won’t touch you. I swear it, Karlach.”

Liv holds her breath, waiting. Hoping her friend chooses life.

Finally, Karlach nods. “Fine. I’ll go. Wyll. With you. But we have to go. Now. I can’t hang on much longer.”

“Thank the gods you’ve seen sense,” Wyll says as he rushes to her side. He smiles when he looks back at Liv, magic already swirling around their feet. “Our next adventure awaits!”

And then they too are gone, and Liv is alone.

Except…she isn’t, really. Shadowheart, Gale, Halsin, Jaheira, and Minsc remain. Perhaps they will all go their own way now too. She’s not sure she’s ready for that.

Their group is quiet for a long time, as they all look at the place Karlach and Wyll had stood. As they all consider their dwindling numbers.

Halsin is the first to speak. “Come, we should find Astarion.”

Oh gods, Astarion. So much has happened so quickly, that Liv has scarcely had time to catch her breath.

“I think he ran this way,” Liv gestures up the docks, already breaking into as much of a run as she can manage. She prays he made it somewhere safe. She has lost enough today, she can’t bear to lose him too.

***

Astarion pulls his knees closer into his chest as he leans into the shadow beside the crate he’s managed to find. The shadow is a slip of a thing, barely large enough to shield him from the sun’s rays. It’s been a very, very long time since he’s been burned by the sunlight this badly, but he can already feel the blisters and cracks in his skin knitting back together. His healing abilities are back at least, small comfort that. He has had far worse pain than this, but in this moment, those memories are distant things. The pain of the present, the pain of now, demands his full attention. No amount of telling himself he’s had worse seems to distract from the persistent, burning throb.

But it will pass.

And he will remain here until nightfall. Then he will go to find his friends and Liv and finally celebrate her victory. She did it, and he’s so fucking proud of her. The perfect heroic sacrifice had been placed before her as if it had been tailor fit to her and all her many insecurities. And she had done what she wanted instead. And the world was still saved. Gods, she better remember that.

He supposes this is his victory too, but it doesn’t feel like it. Not here. Alone. These docks are filthy, and they reek. And that was before a giant brain was destroyed over top of them. He’s going to need a very long, very thorough bath after this. And maybe a criminal he can drink dry on the way to the Elfsong. He’ll feel much better once he’s not cowering behind this bloody box, anyway.

But there had been a moment there…where he had believed that his ability to walk in the sun was permanent. The parasite was gone, but there he stood on the docks with his friends. It was…it was an impossibly perfect moment. It was gone just as quickly as it came, but for a moment, it had existed. And it had been beautiful.

He is free, and the world is saved, but he is still a vampire spawn. He leans his head against the rough wood of the crate and lets the disappointment wash over him. There was, as ever it seems, a tiny part of him that believed this ending would be just like all of those adventure stories he’s been consuming these last months. In those stories, everyone gets the happy ending they deserve: curses are removed, lovers ride off into sunsets, and friends are reunited.

It feels safe to admit it now, to admit it here at the end of all things, that he had hoped that if he was played the part of somewhat heroic adventurer well enough…that maybe he’d get a little something too. He’s fought side by side with heroes, killed monsters, solved murders, conversed with gods…and he had hoped for something in return. Nothing too much, no, just…this. But that is not the way of the world. That is not the way of his life. He really should know better by now. He curls deeper into the shadows to which he is once again chained, and tells himself that this isn’t a defeat.

“Astarion!”

He straightens upon hearing his name, is rewarded with a burn on his cheek for his trouble, and he resituates himself in the shadow. The voice sounded like Liv’s, but it was far away, so it’s hard to know for sure.

He waits a moment, wondering if he will hear it again. Perhaps he imagined it completely. It’s been a long day after all.

“Astarion!”

There it is again. Not imagined. Only this time it’s Gale’s voice calling, and he knows even his delusions aren’t that cruel. His friends - they’re looking for him.

He’s not sure why, but he never expected it at all. He should have, probably. Liv is far too good, too kind to leave him here on this dock. But he’s not sure that he wants her or their friends to see him like this: cowering beside a crate on a filthy dock that reeks of fish. He’s not sure he wants them to see what he’s become. The tadpole made him exceptional, still a spawn, but better. With it gone, he has been reduced to what he was before as if this little adventure of theirs hadn’t happened at all. He’s hardly in the mood for celebration, and he considers how easy it would be to stay here, to hide. He’s rather good at hiding, after all.

He could simply remain quietly here, and they will pass on by. He’ll rejoin them later, or at least find Liv - he’s not so sure about the rest. There’s a certain amount of shame rising up within him. He doesn’t want to sit here on this dock until nightfall, but something about needing a rescue now, after all they’ve done makes him feel unacceptably fragile.

“Astarion!” Liv’s voice calls, closer now. There’s a hint of panic in her voice.

He sighs. Now, that won’t do at all. He didn’t realize she’d be worried. And suddenly his plan to remain here and alone vanishes.

“Over here, darling!”

He hears her footsteps drawing nearer, and then she’s peering around the crates, green eyes wide with concern. She looks immediately relieved upon seeing him, and now he feels like an asshole for not immediately answering her. He sees her take in the scene, him scrunched up in this scrap of shadow, and her brows knit together in a different sort of worry.

“Astarion, I am so sorry,” she says before pulling a scroll out and casting darkness above the whole area. It’s a simple spell, but the fact she uses a scroll speaks to just how drained she is, just how much of her magic she poured into the fight today. She turns and yells, “I found him!”

“We knew this would happen,” he replies, waving her apology off with his hand. She is genuinely sorry, he can see that, but he doesn’t want it. He unfolds himself from the way he’d been sitting for the last half hour, stretching out sore limbs.

Liv shakes her head. “No, I…I was right behind you, but then…Karlach’s engine…” The words trail off.

Oh. “Is she…” Astarion asks, afraid of the answer.

“Wyll convinced her to go to Avernus with him while I look for a fix…but it was a near thing. And bad timing. I didn’t mean for you to be all alone… I meant to follow…”

Karlach in Avernus…with Wyll. How very interesting. Liv has been asking for time, for the opportunity to solve that particular problem for a while now. She finally has it. Good.

“I understand. It’s alright.” And he means it. He never expected anyone to come after him, and of course, she had to stay for Karlach. Liv had promised to be with her till the end, and Liv doesn’t break her promises.

“I-” Liv begins, only to be interrupted.

“There you are!” Gale says as he and Shadowheart round the corner of the crate.

Shadowheart is already approaching him, hands held out. “Let me take a look at you, I’m not entirely spent.”

He holds up a hand and leans away. “Thank you for the thought, dear, but I do think I’m fine.” It’s true, he can barely feel the burns now.

“Look Liv, it is just as Boo said! You shouldn’t have doubted we’d find Astarion,” Minsc booms.

He meets Liv’s gaze, and without a hint of irony shrugs. “You really shouldn’t have ever doubted the miniature giant space hamster.”

The joke earns him a tired smile, before she sighs and sits down. “When will I ever learn? You’ve always got to trust the miniature giant space hamster.”

The rest of their friends join them on the ground, seemingly content to wait until nightfall. Gale spends at least fifteen minutes overexplaining how if he wasn’t so drained from the fight with the Netherbrain he could adjust the darkness spell to follow Astarion around. Jaheira and Minsc bicker about old battles and the destruction left in their wake, Halsin and Shadowheart continue to insist that they can offer him healing, but he can’t seem to do much beyond looking around at all of them with a sort of disbelief. Eventually, Liv’s gaze meets his across the space, and while their friends talk and bicker around them, he knows she feels the same sort of disbelief. They are here, and they are not alone.

It’s not long before the sun sets, and what remains of their group limps their way through the quiet, rubble-strewn streets of Baldur’s Gate. It’s a long walk to the Elfsong, or perhaps it just feels that way after the day they’ve had. As they walk, Liv slips her hand in his, and he is reminded of another evening they walked these streets hand-in-hand, how they wished for simpler days.

They hear the Elfsong before they see it. Music pours out of doors and windows thrown open to the warm night. The block the tavern sits on looks relatively untouched, even the Baldur’s Mouth building, which really is a pity. The energy emitting from the Elfsong is a somber, desperate sort of celebration. The people of the city have survived something they don’t fully understand, but many seem determined to celebrate the victory anyway.

Astarion isn’t sure that he’s particularly interested in a celebration anymore, but he knows if he simply disappears, Liv will follow. So he resolves to put up with the celebration for at least an hour or until he can find a moment to sneak away without her noticing.

As their group enters the tavern, it is filled with many familiar faces. Harpers, Fist, and Guild members alike. At one point, a man jumps on a table and yells, “It’s the heroes of Baldur’s Gate!” Their group is immediately swarmed by people thanking them, handing them drinks, and pressing a touch too close for Astarion’s liking. Originally, Liv sticks close to him, seemingly trying to provide a buffer between him and the insistence of the crowd. When it becomes clear that most of the attention is focused on her, Jaheira, and Minsc, she pulls away with an apologetic glance.

“There’s a corner over there that looks rather unoccupied. I think we could claim it,” Gale says, voice tinged with exhaustion.

Astarion doesn’t need to be told twice, but he waits for Halsin to go first. The crowd parts easily for the gigantic druid, and Astarion follows in his wake, glad to not have to force his own way through the crowd. In two hundred years, he’s not sure he’s ever seen the Elfsong quite this crowded.

“Quite the party,” Shadowheart comments as she sits down at the table.

“Doesn’t seem so much a party as an excuse to get extremely inebriated,” Gale says, watching a group of swaying Fists who have decided to sing a rather bawdy tune very off-key.

“People’s friends and family members were turned into mind flayers before their eyes today. To witness such an act against nature, to have to kill someone you once knew…they deserve a little celebration,” Halsin says.

“And so do we,” Astarion says loudly, as a full tray of drinks arrives courtesy of very grateful citizens.

He finds entertainment for a while, as he sits in the corner watching his his companions awkwardly accept thanks and gratitude. People absolutely stumble over themselves, treating them like they’re some great heroes of the realm. Astarion supposes they sort of are. His best efforts to brush off anyone that seems too below his notice is met not with offense, but a joking sort of laughter, as if he must be kidding when he tries to be dismissive. The more empty words are heaped over to him, the more the party becomes tedious and decidedly unfun. He’s surprised by how little he wants to be here with all these people. It’s a chaotic revelry, shouldn’t this be exactly what he wants? Exactly what he enjoys?

But it’s doing nothing for him this evening. He’s annoyed by the empty praise and the genuine gratitude. Honestly, he doesn’t give a shit about any of these people. He might have helped save the city, but he hadn’t done it for them. Not really. But he can’t say any of that, even if he wants to.

So, he slips away at the first opportunity. Hugging the wall to avoid having to wade through the thick of the crowd. He catches sight of Liv on his way to the stairs. She is all smiles beside her brother, talking animatedly to some important-looking person he doesn’t recognize. Liv is finally getting the sort of recognition she deserves. He’s barely made it to the the second landing when he hears his name.

“Don’t tell me you’re sneaking up here and not taking me with you,” Liv says, rushing up the stairs behind him.

“I didn’t want to pull you away from your adoring public,” he says with a smile and an elaborate gesture back downstairs.

“I’ve been trying to find a good excuse to sneak away for the last twenty minutes,” she admits. “I thought this would be the sort of chaos you’d enjoy.”

He shrugs. “Just as surprised as you are, darling. But go, enjoy. I’ll be up here, cleaning up, resting, and generally trying to ignore the very loud party ongoing downstairs.”

“How would you feel about some company?”

He pauses, pretending to consider. “I could be persuaded. Don’t you think that two heroes of Baldur’s Gate have probably earned themselves a free private room though?”

Liv grins. “Even if they haven’t, I know where they keep the keys, and I will threaten to fireball anyone who tries to stop me. I need a night of sleep that doesn’t include Minsc’s snoring.”

“Can you even cast a fireball right now?”

Liv tilts her head. “Are you wanting to find out?”

He laughs. “Absolutely, but I’m rather more interested in the other things you can do…”

She shoves him playfully before heading back down the stairs. “I’ll be back,” she says over her shoulder, smile brilliant.

He can’t help the grin on his own face. It’s over. They’ve survived. While he waits, he slips into the large room they’ve been sharing with their companions and quickly grabs a few of their things before returning to the hall.

A moment later, she returns triumphant, key in hand. “No fireballs necessary?”

“Not at all.”

“How disappointing,” he replies with a grin.

“Saves energy for my other talents,” she winks as she unlocks the door, revealing a small, rather cramped room. There’s a bed and a tub and a desk, and not a lot else. But it is theirs for the night.

He shuts the door behind them and then reaches for her, pulling her into his arms. She fits against him easily, warm and steady. He breathes her in letting the familiarity, the sense of safety, wash over him. It’s over, and they’re here, and he’s grateful.

She pulls away first, and he restrains his disappointment, but she doesn’t go far, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. He leans into the soft touch; her eyes are soft. “Are you alright?”

“But of course,” he replies automatically. “The brain is defeated, and we’re being hailed as heroes of the realm, why wouldn’t I be alright?”

She gives him a knowing look. “Because you can’t walk in the sun. Because we’re free, but you’re the only one who lost something.”

“I won’t lie, I had rather hoped that some of the protections would be permanent, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I’ve gained so much more than I’ve lost,” he says. He means it. “I’m free of the parasite - free of Cazador. I’ll never be in someone’s power again, and all it cost was my life in the sun. Now, I belong to the shadows.”

“We’re going to find a way for you to walk in the sun again,” she says the words, so earnestly, so sure. He wants to believe them.

“You - do you think it’s possible? I suppose there is a chance. And if there’s a chance, no matter how small, I’m going to take it,” he says. She is still full of surprises, even now. “I can’t help but notice that you said ‘we’...Is that what you want? Is this what you want? I would understand if you wanted to go your own way.”

He doesn’t expect her to walk away now, but there is something about offering a way out, about making sure this is her deliberate choice that is important to him. And despite feeling like he already knows her answer, a tiny bit of anxiety rises, as if he needs to hold his breath for her answer.

“I’m sure. I love you,” she says.

He laughs. “Good because selfless as I am, I really didn’t want to let you go. We’re rather excellent together, you know.”

She presses onto her tiptoes to kiss him, and he wraps his arms around her tightly, holding her to him, anchoring them both in this moment. He’s still not entirely sure he believes this moment is real, that the danger has really, finally passed. Sometimes he worries he will close his eyes and find himself back at in the kennels, in that wreck of a house, all of these adventures some waking dream. And yet…her lips are soft and gently insistent, pulling him back to here and now.

Liv pulls away with a wrinkle of her nose. “We are both in desperate need of a good bath.”

It’s true. “And then?”

Liv pauses, some emotion rising in her. Her eyes glisten a bit, but she’s smiling. “Whatever we want.”

And there it is: freedom.

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x liv #bright lost things #slothquisitorwrites

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windvexer · 11 months

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(Scrupulosity Anon) I want to thank you for your very kind, compassionate, and generously thoughtful answer. That Home is what I do seek, have always sought, and have never found in Christianity. The other post was indeed helpful, as as you might have guessed, internalized scientism has been what I fell back on for most of my life (and still slip on occasionally for safety), and the imagery you used resonated deeply. If I may ask one more question, which you are, of course, perfectly within your rights not to answer: how, and why is it that you came to find that Christianity was not your Home, and how do you reconcile that with not being a "bad person"? There is a part of me, encouraged (and perhaps created) by that aggravating outer source that insists that one day, I'll "see the error of my sinful ways" and succumb to Him, or "be so broken that I'll let Him into my heart," even though I've been reaching for Him all my life, to no avail.

For myself, I can't equate Fear with Love. I can't reject or condemn myself, or other people for who and how they love. I also feel like I can't trust my mind, which has been actively antagonistic to me my whole life (and insists, in my weaker moments, that if I renounce and repent, I'll be Accepted). How did you come to terms with, and celebrate, your Otherness?

Hello again, Anon.

I'm not sure I can answer your questions so I'll answer something a little to the left instead.

I enjoy speaking in flowery metaphor, and if we wanted to really dig into the theory and metaphysics of witchcraft, I think I could defend this "Home" thing on a sorcerous level.

But when I left Christianity, I had no notions of spiritual Home, no idea that Christianity was just not right for some people, and I had zero ideations that I was on a journey to find a spiritual home or family.

I left Christianity because it made me feel bad. That's the long and short of it. There was a lot of soul-searching, yeah. But that soul-searching pretty much began and ended at, "wow, this is making me so unhappy that I'm willing to risk hell just so I don't have to do it any more. That means I should quit, right?"

It was never much of a concern to me that I was a bad person. Three of our pastors had affairs in a small time frame. I figured God had pretty much lost the morality argument at that point.

I think my real answer (regardless of whatever questions you've asked) was that despite how bad it was for me, leaving Christianity sucked very bad and it continued to be an awful transition for years and years.

I have a vivid memory of when I formally renounced Christianity (an unnecessary step, but one I felt motivated to take). I perceived myself floating in an infinite black void, totally untouched by the light of spiritual protection or the foundation of religious dogma. What an awful feeling.

I was miserable. And there was no one idea about religion, home, or Otherness that made a lightbulb click for me and say, "oh! That's alright I'm not a Christian then."

It was all just living my life. My faith is built on a foundation of thousands of moments of daily life over the years where I continuously tried to support myself in moving away from something I knew was bad for me, even if I didn't know where I was going.

And very slowly - sometimes at a standstill, and sometimes at leaps and bounds - I turned that infinite black void of spiritual isolation into a mosaic built out of the plain stones of ordinary experience. Something to stand on.

These moments of experience were built on introspection, self-therapy, coping techniques, and education. They were moments when I asked myself what was worth living for, what it meant to be a good person, who I was, and what was right to do with myself. Some of the moments were deep and beautiful. Some of them were moments of screaming stubbornness where I had no thoughts at all except that I couldn't go back.

Most of them were plain. Forgettable. Mundane.

Over time, that infinite void became a little platform where I could rest and breathe before jumping back into the dark waters and pulling out another stone. A lot of the time, I just distracted myself with divination, spirit work, and sorcery - and then I looked around, and saw my platform had grown. A lot of the time I tried to ignore it. Sometimes I tried to work on myself on purpose.

And, slowly, all the shapeless phantoms and mirages I cursed and fought in the sea of isolation revealed themselves as friends, allies, and family. It began to dawn on me that the entire time, what I was really looking for was home - and that I'd found it long before I knew I wanted it. I turned around one day and the platform was a house.

All of this was just doing the only thing I could do: going to find rocks to pile up so I had a place to rest.

So I think all of this is why I can't really answer your question about how I didn't know what was Home, and reconciling those teachings, and finding Otherness, and celebrating it. All of it is ten years of just carrying on.

I think that's the very boring thing about all of this. Being a Christian sucked for me, but despite how miserable I was, leaving it sucked and finding out how to be without it sucked too. There was no technique, ritual, or whatever, that fixed me. I still am not fixed. I just had a driving force that goaded me to go fishing for stones.

Maybe that's how Otherness is celebrated; that there's no correct course of living to be the best kind of funky little freak you can be. But just that you've got to carry on.

Maybe we've all just got to not give up. I think that's a nice thought.

I wish you all the best, Anon. It's a hard path to walk, but I wish you many rocks in your pockets.

#answered

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mccdreamys-writes · 2 months

Text

smiles for miles – 24. forty-five-and-a-half

we can let them wonder; everyone thinks they know the truth. - Keaton Simons, Nobody Knows

N O V E M B E R 9 T H 2 0 1 1

For the past three days, life had been a whirlwind since I brought Maile to live with me. It felt like a major milestone, almost as significant as the day I decided to reconnect with her after our past parted ways.

As I walked into the office, Reid greeted me warmly. "Hey, Alex! Welcome back."

I had deliberately taken three days off, fully dedicating myself to being with Maile. Every moment was spent getting to know her better, studying her habits and idiosyncrasies. It might sound a bit voyeuristic, but my aim was to truly get to know her, all of her.

I couldn't help but notice how she cradled her glass with both hands, a gesture that echoed innocence, like a child holding onto something precious. And the way she drank, taking small, deliberate sips instead of the usual gulps, was incredibly charming.

"It's good to be back," I replied, my words filled with genuine warmth.

As I made my way over to my desk, I spotted Morgan, JJ, and Garcia already there, their laughter and chatter filling the air. It was like they had their own little bubble of camaraderie, and privacy was nowhere to be found.

"Hey, hey, turtledove," Morgan greeted me with a grin, mischief dancing in his eyes.

Finding my desk occupied, I settled for perching on the edge of Reid's desk, joining the lively group.

"Come on, spill the beans," Garcia urged, leaning forward eagerly. "Did anything juicy happen while you were away?"

Yep, privacy wasn't exactly on the menu. But in the midst of all the banter and teasing, there was a comforting sense of belonging with my team. I knew behind their playful jests lay unwavering support.

Putting on a facade of innocence to mask my racing thoughts, I casually asked, "What should have happened?" It wasn't just a casual inquiry; it was a subtle way to gain more understanding in what they wanted to know.

But before anyone could respond, Hotch briskly walked past us, his expression serious and focused. The file in his hand hinted at the urgency of the situation. "Four homicides in Colorado Springs," he announced, his voice carrying the weight of responsibility as he headed towards the conference room.

After we hashed out every detail of the case in the conference room and combed through it again on the plane, we found ourselves with a solid three hours of travel time left before landing at our destination.

During this downtime, the three youngest members of our team wasted no time in bombarding me with questions. They were like eager detectives, hungry for every scrap of information. But I managed to dance around their inquiries that tiptoed into personal territory, skillfully deflecting without giving too much away.

Meanwhile, Hotch and Rossi remained focused as ever, absorbed in their own tasks and discussions. Their quiet efficiency stood in stark contrast to the lively chatter that surrounded them.

Morgan's question hung in the air, wrapped in a mix of curiosity and mischief. His playful yet persistent tone hinted at the burning desire to know more. "So you were going to tell us what happened between the two of you," he prodded, his eyes sharp with anticipation.

With a subtle shake of my head, I pushed back gently against the inquiry. "No," I responded, a wry smile dancing on my lips as I sought to maintain a sense of mystery. "You simply asked me 'if' something had happened. I never said anything had." Despite my attempt to deflect, I couldn't suppress a flicker of amusement at the exchange.

But JJ, always quick to pick up on things, chimed in with a knowing grin. "Oh, come on. Your face says it all," she teased, adding a playful twist to the conversation. "Something definitely happened."

"And what would that be?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow at the mysterious exchange unfolding before me, eager to hear their theories.

Their eyes met, passing silent messages like telegrams filled with hidden secrets. Morgan leaned in, whispering something to Reid, his words veiled in secrecy. Reid, in turn, shared the confidential message with JJ, their heads close together in a secretive huddle. As they murmured among themselves, I watched, anticipation growing, wondering what bombshell would come from their covert conversation.

Finally, they broke from their huddle, faces displaying newfound determination, tinged with mischief. With a playful nudge from JJ, Reid stepped forward, ready to deliver their collective conclusion.

"Alright," he began, voice laced with mischief. "After some intense deliberation and analysis of all the facts, we, well, mainly these two," he gestured towards Morgan and JJ with a sly grin, "have come to the conclusion that there must have been... some form of coitus."

I nearly choked on my drink, caught off guard by Reid's bombshell. "And how did you arrive at that conclusion?" I managed to splutter, disbelief evident in my voice.

Once again, my coworkers gathered closely, heads bent as if sharing some secret scheme. Reid stepped forward, taking on the role of spokesperson with a mix of amusement and a hint of embarrassment.

"Considering you two have been living together for three days," Reid began, his words cautious, "it's possible you've had some... opportunities." He shot me a knowing glance before adding, "And Alex, it's been a long time since you were last with someone."

His words hit me like a sucker punch, making me cough on my drink. Morgan nudged Reid forward, silently signaling him to get to the point.

"Yeah, yeah," Reid said to Morgan before turning to me. "And let's not forget, you two are head over heels for each other, like a couple of horny teenage boys ready to jump at anything that moves."

I stayed silent, refusing to give their comments any acknowledgment. Frustration hung heavy in the air as I got up from my seat and moved to the far end of the plane. There, I sought refuge in the quiet corner, determined to distance myself from their teasing and gossip that seemed to fill the cabin.

N O V E M B E R 1 0 T H 2 0 1 1

In a remarkable show of teamwork and clever thinking, we cracked the case in just two days. It was a real testament to our skills and dedication. But even as we celebrated our success, I knew better than to get too comfortable. Experience had taught me that triumphs often meant tougher challenges ahead. So, despite our recent win streak, I braced myself for whatever tough case might come next, knowing it could drag on for weeks, testing our patience and brainpower.

As the clock struck 9 PM, signaling the end of another long day, the office buzz quieted down. My desk was buried under a mountain of paperwork that seemed to grow by the minute. Looking around, I noticed the usually bustling office was strangely empty. It was just me and Reid, his presence standing out in the deserted workspace. It was unusual, and I couldn't help but wonder where everyone else was.

"Hey Reid, do you know—" I started, but he cut me off, seamlessly blending the end of my sentence into his response.

"Blake, could you hand in my case report?" His voice was urgent as he dropped a stack of papers on my desk and dashed off before I could even react.

"Yeah, sure," I muttered, though inwardly, I felt a twinge of annoyance at being saddled with yet another task. It seemed like the endless pile of work was something I couldn't escape, no matter how much I wanted to.

As I weaved through the office, dodging desks and cubicles, the weight of the reports in my arms felt heavier with each step. It was like the air itself was conspiring to make my burden even heavier.

Approaching Hotch's office, I was stopped before I could even knock. Hotch stood in the doorway, his expression as unreadable as ever, his demeanor as solid as the walls around us.

"You can take those to Strauss," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument as he handed me another stack of reports. "She wants to review them herself."

I nodded silently, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as I thought about the endless stream of tasks waiting for me. Duty called, and I had no choice but to answer.

Turning on my heel, I headed towards Erin's office. We had a history. There was a time when our connection hinted at something more, a potential for romance lingering on the edge of our professional partnership. But that fragile thread snapped when Erin betrayed my trust, leaving me to fend for myself during a critical moment in one of our cases.

As I stepped into Erin's office, I found her deeply immersed in scrutinizing case files, her brow creased with concentration. "Thought I'd add to your stack," I quipped lightly, placing the files on her cluttered desk.

She looked up, exhaustion evident in her face, and gave a brief nod of thanks. "Appreciate it."

I hesitated, ready to leave, but her next question caught me off guard. "How are you holding up, Alex? After everything?" I assured her, hiding any vulnerability behind a calm facade.

"I'm heading home to her right after this," I announced firmly, turning to leave without waiting for a response. "Take care." I glanced back briefly before stepping out of her office.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I felt anticipation building inside me. Home was calling, and I was eager to embrace it with open arms.

Feeling utterly drained yet excited to finally reach the comfort of my home, I trudged up the familiar path leading to our house, my bag hanging heavily from my shoulder. Despite the fatigue weighing me down, the thought of reuniting with my favorite person pushed me onward with a newfound determination.

"Hey, I'm back!" I called out as I pushed open the door, anticipating Maile's cheerful response. But to my surprise, the house was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere I had expected.

"Maile?" I called again, venturing further inside, a sense of unease settling over me as I scanned the rooms for any sign of her. Then, I spotted the colorful balloons scattered throughout the house, hinting at Maile's activities during my absence.

Intrigued yet cautious, I continued exploring, unsure of what surprise awaited me. Suddenly, Maile's voice rang out, breaking the silence and making me jump in surprise. As I turned the corner, I was met with an unexpected sight.

The room was filled with the cheerful chatter of my entire team, each one wearing festive party hats that Maile must have persuaded them to don. Even Hotch, known for his serious demeanor, couldn't hide the hint of a smile as he joined in the festive celebration.

I stood there, eyes wide with disbelief, taking in the scene unfolding before me. The table was piled high with delicious snacks and refreshing drinks, all meticulously arranged by Maile. Balloons of different sizes hung from the ceiling, forming the numbers '45 ½' in a playful nod to the occasion.

Baffled by the unexpected celebration, I couldn't help but ask, "What's this?" My voice held a mix of surprise and genuine curiosity.

Maile beamed with warmth as she approached, gently taking the weight off my shoulders and guiding me towards the gathering. "We're celebrating," she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious as she led me into the midst of our friends.

Confused but intrigued, I looked around at the smiling faces, each one filled with excitement and anticipation. "But what are we celebrating?" I pressed, my curiosity piqued by the mystery that surrounded the occasion.

Maile's smile widened as she explained the reason behind the surprise party. "I couldn't be there for your 45th birthday, or for many before," she confessed, her words carrying a heartfelt sincerity that touched my soul. "And I thought you deserved a celebration. So, we are celebrating your 45-and-a-half-th birthday, which just so happens to be today."

A soft chuckle escaped me as I soaked in Maile's thoughtful gesture. "My 45-and-a-half birthday, huh?" I mused, feeling a surge of affection for her. It was moments like these that reminded me of just how wonderful she was, her creativity and kindness never failing to warm my heart.

"Absolutely," she affirmed with a playful glint in her eye. "I couldn't let such a milestone pass, now could I?" Her words were filled with joy, echoing the festive atmosphere that surrounded us.

A rush of laughter bubbled up from deep within me, spilling out in waves of pure joy as I leaned in to share the moment with Maile. Pulling her close, I wrapped her in a tender embrace, feeling the warmth of her against me as I pressed my lips to hers in a sweet, gentle kiss. In that fleeting moment, amidst the laughter and celebration, I felt a swell of emotion rising within me.

It wasn't just any kiss; it was a milestone, a symbol of how far we'd come together. Sharing that kiss openly, in front of our friends, felt like a true achievement—a testament to our journey and the newfound freedom and authenticity we'd discovered in our relationship.

Though my team already knew about us, their reactions were filled with genuine excitement and happiness, as if they were witnessing our love unfold for the very first time. Their collective gasps and cheers filled the room, creating an atmosphere of warmth and camaraderie that surrounded us all.

In that moment, I was reminded of the unwavering support and friendship I found in each of them. They were more than just colleagues; they were my true cheerleaders, always ready to lift each other up and celebrate life's milestones together. It was moments like these that made me grateful for the bond we shared, a bond that went beyond work and touched the depths of our hearts.

"Time for cake!" Maile's suggestion of diving into a sweet treat was met with a gentle reminder from me about the late hour. Glancing at my watch, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern as I noted the time.

"It's almost 10 PM," I remarked, subtly expressing my hesitation about indulging in cake so late.

But Garcia, always one to champion the joys of life, quickly dismissed any worries. "Who cares about the time? Cake is always a good idea!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious.

With a grin echoing Garcia's sentiment, Maile nodded in agreement and playfully nudged her in camaraderie. "Exactly," she chimed in, her tone lighthearted as she acknowledged Garcia's unwavering love for life's little pleasures. "That woman knows what she's talking about."

Then, with a playful tease, Maile turned to me. "Now, malady," she continued, "you're going to sit back and enjoy the cake I ordered because the one I made was definitely not edible without a heavy case of food poisoning."

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lunick · 3 months

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I want to disappear.

No matter how hard I try to die, the world just refuses to let me find peace. It won't let me go.

I'm too broken. Existing is painful both physically and mentally. The more I try to heal, the more I realize that there's no hope for me. There's no saving me.

I've sought help in two different countries, I've gone to multiple pros, I tried to open up, but I'm too much.

The best thing I can do is to suffer in silence and alone. I am a fool. I am a stupid, delusional fool. For ever thinking that I had a chance at all.

I can't even be the bare minimum to my parents. I couldn't even be their daughter.

I'm too weak to work and live on my own because of my health and the way trauma knocks me out. I'm a failure. I'm a stupid, hopeless failure.

It's so laughable. When I make projects about healing from trauma, finding safety, discovering infinite possibilities. In the end, they're just unachievable fantasies.

I've been working on my webcomic again because I never aborted the plan to kill myself after I finished. Though I guess in this case I'm going to withdraw from the internet and spare everyone from myself instead.

It sounds stupid considering the fact that it'd be easier to just fade away, but I guess some fucked up part of me wants to leave with at least 1 thing finished.

Maybe I just want to feel like I'm not a failure once. Just once.

And maybe 2.0 will resonate with people who aren't beyond saving like me. I don't know.

I suck at being the villain. And warmth is tempting, but I don't deserve it. People don't deserve to deal with me. I want to be so boring and forgettable that when I disappear for good, it would be like nothing changed.

I want to be forgotten. Please forget about me. Please let me go.

My passion is dead.

I'm nothing but a foolish failure.

I'm posting this here to get it off my selfish chest. If somehow, someone finds this post, I am so sorry.

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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Beyond the Blood Tie - Chapter Nine.

Huge thanks to the few of you who are enjoying this! I appreciate you so much :)

Previous Chapters - One Two, Part One Part Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Words - 5,537

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

Edie's POV

Four weeks. Four weeks have passed now since I saw Angel last, and I hate to admit it to myself, but I miss him. This situation, it's so weird. I've become so drawn to someone I shouldn't have, that not even taking him away from me dulled the effect he had on me. The blood tie we had has now faded to nothing at all, and I have to say, I actually miss seeing little flashes of his memories and thoughts. It drove me mad when he was first moved, because I kept on picking up on him thinking about me and realised he missed me as much as I missed him. Now though, well he's had a week of freedom and I can't help but think that if I really did interest him as much as he said, he'd have sought me out by now. Hell, he knows where I work, even if he doesn't know where I live.

Bearing that in mind, I am left with the assumption that I wasn't so interesting to him after all, that after the blood tie wore off, so did his interest. Ahhh, well. Easy come, easy go, I guess. Except I can't seem to shake it off quite that easily, the notion it doesn't matter that he's no longer in my life. Maybe I'll run into him again someday in some place, and maybe I won't. I hope I do. I'd like to see what he's really like away from the situation and scenario I met him in. If I don't, then I'll always think of him fondly for doing me one of the biggest favours anyone has in getting me to actually confess such a long-kept secret, one that I've gone on to tell those closest to me as well. One of whom is sitting next to me right now.

"Okay, gimmie those feet so I can get coat number two on," Miley requests, as we sit at opposite ends of my couch, enjoying a girl's night in. Sasha is out of town this weekend, and after the heavy night I had with Ahmed and a bottle of tequila after work last night (which ended in him carrying me on his back all the way home while we sung Johnny Cash songs at the top of our lungs, and out of tune) I really don't feel like going out again tonight. My hangover is still kicking my ass. Instead, Miley and I are sitting here with green mud masks on our faces, painting our nails and watching the Adam Sandler movie, Happy Gilmore. I'm not much of a fan, but my friend here adores him.

"How's your head now?" she asks, after I've placed my foot in her lap and she's begun painting on the red polish.

"Bleurgh, like the rest of me," I grimace, reaching for my bottle of water. I've drank about four litres to flush all the last remaining traces of tequila out of my system so far today. Tequila is not something I usually drink, but the mad Arab talked me into it. I'm never listening to him again, this is his fault entirely.

"That'll serve you right for listening to Ahmed," she laughs in reply, moving onto the next toe.

"Funnily enough, I was just thinking that!" I exclaim with laughter, and then hold a hand to my pounding head. I feel like suing the company who makes Advil right now for false advertising, because my headache definitely hasn't been kicked into touch yet.

"Speaking of things you're thinking about, is the vampire still on your mind? I keep noticing you sitting there looking thoughtful," she broaches gently, while I switch feet and she begins the next.

"Okay, so I'm going to actually confess for once, instead of keeping things to myself. He taught me that doing that doesn't do me any good. Yes, I am still thinking about him. Strangely enough I miss him, Miley. I don't quite know how I feel about that either. I feel like I failed somehow in letting a detainee get to me, to find a way inside my head so easily. At the same time, though, I thank him for it, for getting me to air the secret I'd kept for so long out of shame and make me see I have nothing to be ashamed about. Sasha told me a long time ago that vampires are very enchanting, and I have to agree," I tell her honestly, while she listens intently.

"I really don't blame you for feeling like that, and I don't think anyone else would either. He had a big effect on you, and you know if he was human, it wouldn't have happened, he wouldn't have cracked you. He did though, and that's left a lasting impression. So, when you say you miss him, do you mean you actually feel something else towards him, other than just being grateful?" she then questions, finishing the second coat of polish on my toes, while I pick up the bottle of glittery silver polish she chose to do the next coat on hers.

"Oh no, nothing like that, I mean he is attractive, but I just don't feel turned on by the dead. He did feel nice though, when he hugged me. His skin was stone cold, of course, but it wasn't unpleasant.” I pause for a moment, remembering that hug. Oh, it was so good. “But no, I think I'd just like him as a friend, or something like that. He was really interesting, and by the time I saw him last, I knew I wanted to know him better. It doesn't look like that'll happen, though," I continue, giving the bottle of polish a shake before beginning to paint the first nail on her foot.

"Well, it's only been a week. He's probably catching up with all he missed out on while he was locked up. I'm sure you'll see your new friend again soon.” I suppose that’s reasonable enough.

"That's the thing, though, babe. I don't know if he is a friend or not.” My uncertainty is met with a cute little smile of reassurance.

"Well, just give it a bit more time before you write him off and file him into the section marked people you could have known, but ultimately didn't. Who knows? He might be wondering how the heck to approach you, being as you met one another under such unique circumstances. If it doesn’t happen, though, then the old adage of you win some, you lose some is applicable." See there? Miley comes out with the most wise and logical explanations when you least expect her to. She then looks over at the table, to where a new lamp I bought recently resides. “Edie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think a lamp knows it’s a lamp?” And she’s back to bizarre.

Taking her advice on board, I quit thinking about the vampire and instead, enjoy my evening with my wonderful friend. Sitting here pining for someone I barely know isn't going to do me any favours, and if he has decided to just walk out of my life without a second look back, then I'm a big girl now, I can handle it.

As it turns out, I manage to keep myself distracted from thinking about him very adequately, with how busy I seem to become. On Monday, I have Ahmed head over to mine a good few hours before we're due in work, talking me into a session with him down at the boxing gym we work out at together on occasion. We also head in on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday too, both succumbing to a bit of a health kick. On Friday we rest, and I use that free day to squeeze in some quality time with Sasha, who will again be out of town this weekend, so no girl's night out this Saturday.

"So yeah, I really don't think Will could have dumped me at a better time. My career is taking off, so with that in mind it would have made things a little difficult, negotiating a relationship around that. At least I got a good fuck out of him. Ahh, you win some you lose some, huh?" she explains, as we move slowly from counter to counter here at the Yin Garden, the only huge department store in the whole of Nevada.

We're currently browsing through the makeup and skincare counters, me perusing moisturiser choices and kindly bring offered many tiny sized free samples, while Sasha fills me in over why she isn't seeing the vampire Will any longer. Shame, he seemed pretty cool on the couple of occasions I met him. It was a clash over the fact they're both very career driven, though, why he called time on their new relationship, which is understandable enough. I'm just glad Sasha isn't too upset about it.

"That's the second time I've heard the win some, lose some expression in regard to a vampire over the last week," I reply, offering my wrist to the lady with a tester perfume, and then actually deciding I want a bottle, it smells so nice. It smells like vanilla, freshly cut grass and blackcurrants, but isn't overpowering like you'd imagine it to be at all.

"The formerly captive one hasn't sought you out yet then?" she asks, as the lady who sprayed me with the perfume fetches me the 50ml bottle of Spring Meadow that I requested. It smells just like a garden in the springtime, nice and fresh without being heavy. I hate strong perfumes.

I shake my head, retrieving some cash from my wallet. "No, he hasn't.”

"Well, after what you told me, I really do think he will, you know. It'll be when you least expect it, I bet. That's one thing you have to learn about vampires, they're not exactly predictable," she reminds me, as I pay the lady the $50.00 the perfume costs.

She takes the notes with a smile. “Enjoy your purchase, miss. I have to say, I adore your hair! Such a pretty shade to choose," she compliments kindly, handing me my receipt and perfume in a fancy little bag.

"See? Some people like my hair!" I exclaim to my friend, before turning and thanking the smiling lady behind the counter.

"I like your hair, now it's calmed down a bit. It was a little... bright before.” Shaking my head, I link my arm through hers before we continue to the next counter. I actually think I like my hair more now, now that the violet has rinsed out a little to more of a pale violet wash. It looks pretty nice. Even Vic said it looked better, and he prefers my hair in its natural dark blonde shade. Sasha's comment about vampires being unpredictable is the last mention of the undead for the rest of the day, with her returning to work after her break (she gets two hours!) and me going home to drop off my purchases, have a workout, eat dinner and then take a nice, long bath before heading out to work.

"Oh Edie, sweet violet haired princess, you smell damn good, girl," Max groans lustfully in the control room, wrapping his arms around me and then comically dry humping me, making Aileen and Ahmed fall apart laughing.

"Get off me, you big sweaty fool! I'll tell Jeanette!" I exclaim as I reference his wife, slapping his arm while he laughs, picking up my coffee and gulping it back. If we're here early, we usually all congregate up here in the control room with Aileen, dicking around and drinking coffee until our shifts begin. After at least finding out my new perfume works well on persons of the male persuasion, I finish the last remaining dregs of my coffee and then head down to my chamber to begin work. I have an unruly teenager who reminds me a little of me when I was in her place. Except this one has a habit of crying when she's beaten for her crimes (beating the elderly before robbing them) and trying again and again to get the sympathy vote from me.

"Did you stop when the eighty-five-year-old lady begged you not to hurt her, just before you threw her to the curb, kicked her until her hip broke and then robbed her purse? No, I think not. Tears don't work with me, sweetheart." I state in reply to her protests before round kicking her straight in the hip, making her squeal and cry more. She's pathetic.

After putting her through the same kind of pain she did her victims, and enjoying every last second of it, I happily wave her goodbye at the end of my shift, lock my chamber up and then head out to walk home. I'm not going out tonight, not after seeing the electricity bill that landed on my doormat this morning. I had just enough spare cash for my shopping trip, and that's it until payday next Tuesday.

Walking down the street, I stop to light myself a cigarette, watching a couple of women literally fall out of a bar, obviously having taken advantage of the buy one, get one free promotion the establishment is offering. It’s as I'm returning my lighter and smokes to my bag that I suddenly feel all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, like there's a presence behind me. Turning around, I see nothing but the few people who are concerning themselves with getting cabs home from their nights, continuing my journey. All the way, though, I feel that same odd feeling, yet each time I turn back, there’s no one around. Weird. I can feel it so strongly, though, like someone is watching me. My guard remains up, as along my route there are plenty of alleyways where robbers like the girl I just finished punishing can duck into, should you suspect their impending attack.

Walking quickly, I hit an open space of the road as I leave the more built-up area, walking over the freeway bridge and turning again to see nothing, even though I still feel like I'm being followed. Just because I can handle myself, it doesn't mean I don't feel a little scared. Unless you have one yourself, you can't fight off a gun being held to your head, or a knife to your throat.

Feeling safer for entering a well-lit Palm Court, the little cul-de-sac where my bungalow is located, I walk to my home with confidence as palm trees all around sway in the slight breeze. Believe me, this is welcome on such a warm night, the air has been too still and stupidly hot all day. When October arrives in a fortnight, Nevada will begin to cool down a little, I'm glad to say. It always does.

Fishing for my keys in my bag, I feel even better now for approaching my front door, until I definitely hear something behind me, and turn around to finally see that something. Or rather someone, standing right there with a small smile. My heart just skipped about three beats.

"Evening, Edie," Angel says, after literally appearing out of thin air. Now, what was that Sasha told me about them popping up when you least expect it?

"You've been following me the whole time, haven't you?" Immediately, he starts to smile wider. Damn, he's sexy. Pity he's dead.

"I have, you're right.”

"Why only appear now then? And why hide every time I turned around?" I then ask, amused.

"I'm shy.” Oh god, the snort of laughter he just prompted from me. "To be serious, I wasn't quite sure what to say. It's a strange situation, a former detainee seeking out his punisher. Then again, towards the end of our time together down there, things had changed."

I nod, confirming his thoughts. "I suppose you're right. So, have you thought about what to say now that you've appeared?"

"No, but if you invite me in, I'm sure I'll think of something.” I can cope with that. Smiling, I then turn around to open my front door, walking in and hanging my bag on the peg before removing my cigarettes and phone.

"What are you waiting for?" I ask, confused when he just stands there on the doorstep.

"I need you to actually invite me in, or I can't enter your home," he replies, while I look at him with surprise.

"Won't you please come in?" I offer. "I thought that only existed in books and movies, vampires not being able to enter your home unless you invite them." I then add as he walks in. God, he smells good. Whatever cologne he has on, it’s warm and spicy, and it makes me want to bury my face against his neck. Why? Why does he have to be dead?

"I'll have to fill you in over what is true and what is total myth," he offers, following me along the hall as I head toward my kitchen. When I get there and put my kettle on the hob, it feels strange to not ask him if he'd like a drink (since a vampire's diet solely consists of blood) which makes me laugh inwardly. It's strange he's here full stop. I just let him in without question, too, without any hesitation or doubt. I guess I really do trust him now.

Picking up a clove of garlic from the little basket that hangs to the side of the cooker, I decide to lead with that myth discovery. "So, are you repelled by this stuff?"

"No, it doesn't have any weakening effects. Other than the fact I wouldn't come near you until you'd cleaned your teeth if you'd eaten any. Any smells of food or drinks nauseate us, but strong ones like that are even worse. So yes, repelled would be the right word, actually, but it can't harm or weaken us like stories have suggested. Same with Holy water, crucifixes and the fact that we can walk upon hallowed ground, those are also myth," he replies. "Are you alright? You're looking at me strangely." He then adds, while I just laugh a little through my nose and shake my head.

"This is odd, that's all. I mean here you are, talking to me like I didn’t put you through massive amounts of pain, and like you never loathed me for every second of it either. I don't spend social time with the people I punish. I just feel a little uncomfortable, I suppose," I confess, spooning dried coffee granules into a large mug, followed by my required four sugars. Sweet toothed Edie; I hold my hands up to it.

"Well, I can think of a way for it to not feel uncomfortable. As I remember, there was one thing we shared that was exactly the opposite," Angel replies, while walking over to me. He then turns me around and puts his arms around me, and after hesitating for only a moment, I happily wrap mine around his waist. It feels nice, just as it did before. Oh lord, that scent close up. I’m so glad we don’t have the blood tie any longer, because my cooch just did a little backflip. Damn him. Okay, time to put the brakes on. I guess it isn’t fair to potentially lead him on.

"You're not interested in anything happening beyond a friendship of sorts, are you?" I ask, leaning back to look him in the eye.

"I won't lie, yes I could be. You're interesting, you're attractive, and damn, the ass on you. But I can't be invested in us being anything more than friends. I have a, um… slight problem with you humans," he explains a little uncomfortably, letting me go again so I can turn to pour my coffee.

"A slight problem? That sounds intriguing." I say, pleased when I use a word that wasn't in my vocabulary up until eight weeks ago.

"If you'll save my nose and sit out in your back yard to drink that, I'll tell you about it." To the backyard we go, then, because this I need to hear.

Angel's POV

"Just give me five minutes, I need to take a quick shower. I stink, as usual," Edie states, while taking a whiff of one of her underarms and then pulling a face. She's over exaggerating; she doesn't smell that bad at all.

"Okay, I'll be here," I reply, watching her as she walks back through the door and disappears from my view. I've been thinking about this, tracking her down pretty much since I was released. I didn't want to find her right away because that would have looked creepy, but I knew I wanted to see her again. Besides, I have had a life to lead since being released, which has consisted in me blowing off a hell of a lot of pent-up steam. Two nights after I was released and had caught up on rest by sleeping for two days straight, I went out and fed plentifully and then I went to a vampire club, picked up two women of my own kind, came home and fucked the living hell out of them. It was a good night, one that continued, too.

The only time we stopped for three days was when the sun rose and we rested in an entanglement of limbs on my bed. After going out to feed again at sunset, we just went straight back to mine and carried on. As a human, I liked a lot of sex and that hasn't changed in my vampirism either. The only thing that has is the fact I cannot have sex with a breather, because I have a habit of unintentionally killing them, like I explained to you before.

It pisses me off, and I mean really, really pisses me off. You've no idea how enticing and erotic a warm body is to us. The memories of hot flesh alone stir my arousal, but I know I can't enjoy it again. Fifty-three lives lost to the fact I get homicidal at the point of orgasm is enough. It's starting to get to Charles and Ursula too, who do try to keep on the straight and narrow in accordance with the law.

'Dear lord, Angel! Not again!' That’s what Charles exclaimed lightly when I last dropped a dead body at the foot of the stairs five years ago, the very last time I attempted to have sex with a human. Ursula just put her head in her hands for a moment before coming to help me bury her. 'This is something I think you must accept you cannot do, my child. Your success rate is zero, and I believe it shall remain that way with the living, at least' is what she told me after we'd buried the body of the girl out in the Nevada desert.

I don't try any longer, because I know I can't put Ursula through it again. She's covered for me too much as it is since we became answerable to humans for our crimes against them. I have to remind myself of this decision most firmly when Edie walks back out five minutes later wearing a cropped vest and a pair of very small denim shorts. The sight of her legs makes me growl quietly in the back of my throat, just for a second and not loud enough for her to hear. Immediately, I have to erase the images that rush to the forefront of my mind, imagining what those legs would feel like wrapped around me, how I’d love nothing more than to rip all of her clothes off, lose my face between her legs, bounce her on my cock and… I need to stop. I can't let myself want her for even a moment, because of what I'm about to explain to her.

"So, you were going to tell me about the problem you have with my kind," she states, after sitting down comfortably, lighting a cigarette and picking up her coffee.

"Yes. You trusted me with something which I haven't and won't say to anyone, so now I have to do something very un-vampire like, and trust a human I don't know well with something that could potentially get me into a whole lot of trouble," I begin, giving her a look that says 'and if you do tell anyone, I know where you live' before smiling to take the edge off it.

She shrugs, smiling back. "There's no need to give me murderous looks, I won't reveal to anyone what you're about to tell me.”

"Okay. The reason why I don't have anything to do with humans in sexual context is because I can't control myself. When I cum, I kill. Simple as that, I get too excited. This is why I don't even bother trying any longer, and why I never will with you. I prefer you living," I explain, watching her nod, but look a little stunned all the same.

"Pardon the pun, but I can live with that," she snorts softly, making me laugh a little. "It works out well since I have no sexual interest in your kind. No offence, but dead doesn't do it for me." she then adds, with honesty I do appreciate.

"None taken, although it is a shame, these conflicts. I'm an amazing fuck," I inform her with a wink.

Her eyebrows flutter a little, her mouth tugging up a fraction. "Yeah, so am I.” I'm in no doubt she is, either. I can just sense it about her. Hmmm, this is wandering into territory that ain’t good.

"I'm also changing the subject, because I don’t want to think on that for too long. God damnit.” My pained whisper rouses a soft chuckle, and adorably, he even blushes a little. “Alright. Tell me about your current detainee, what are they in for?"

"My current became my former at the end of my shift, and she was a young girl in for battering and robbing the elderly. I enjoyed every last moment of punishing her," she informs me, again with honesty that I really enjoy. I decide to see right here just how honest she'll be.

"Did you enjoy punishing me?"

"Yes.” Her response was delivered without a hint of hesitation. "But you knew that already, didn't you?"

"I wanted to hear you say it, just to be sure I was definitely right.”

She looks a little uncomfortable then, biting her lip. “I didn’t towards the end, though. Or rather, knew I wouldn’t, after the last time you saw me. Hence why you spent your last three weeks in with Max.”

I nod, raising my eyebrows a little. “Yeah, I did wonder.”

"Well, you know enough about my job now. Tell me about yours," she then questions, while taking the black band that holds her hair in a ponytail and pulling it out, combing her pale violet waves before braiding them and putting the elastic back in at the end. For some reason, I really enjoyed watching her doing that.

"There's nothing much to say about it. People tell me what they want, I sketch it out, they approve it and then I etch it onto their flesh forever with a vibrating needle. End of," I reply. "You should see how good I am; let me cover that mess on your back." I then offer.

"I might take you up on that, when I have a couple of hundred dollars to spare.” Flicking her smoked cigarette away into the grass and stretching her legs, I have to try and stop myself imagining running my tongue up them. Ahh, shit. This might be harder to ignore than I first thought.

"I'll do it for the price of the ink, just because I like you," I offer, smiling.

"For real, you actually like me?" she asks, with a smidgen of surprise.

"You should know that by now, really," I state, trying to keep my eyes away from her legs. Looking at the face isn't much better, though. I keep imagining it contorted in sexual bliss.

"Just because you respect me doesn't mean you actually like me. I'd understand if you didn't," she shrugs. I can't fault that logic, but in this instance, she's wrong.

"Then answer me this. If I didn't like you, why would I be here? That second guessing you're doing, it needs to stop," I chide softly, watching her look away and smile, closing her eyes for a second. I got you there, didn't I, Edie? I voice as much to her as well.

"Yes, you did, but this is the first time I've ever gotten to know a vampire, and I know you're not all straight up. I guess I have in my head still, the way you were for a time," she tells me, again with honesty that just makes me respect her even more. I hate humans who lie.

"Well, I'm being straight up with you. You don't have to worry about any of that any longer. I'm here because I want to be, I have no ulterior motives and no wish than anything other than to know you.” She nods, looking like she's relaxing to the idea a little more. I miss our blood tie. I wish I could still feel her emotions.

"Alright, I believe you. Really, I do," she assures me with a smile, a smile so pretty that I have to shut my eyes for a few seconds, but still, I can see her face right there. After finishing her coffee, we head back inside again, and it's as she walks past me that I suddenly smell a pleasant scent under my nose much more sharply than before. I could smell whatever perfume she wears lingering on her skin since she came back from the shower, but standing closer to her, I smell it more strongly, and it makes a tingling feeling run through me. For a moment, I can't help move up behind her quickly, halting her with a hand to her hip, moving my face close to her neck, to the source of the scent while resisting the urge to kiss it.

"Erm, Angel? Are we going to have a problem?" she asks, turning around to eye me curiously.

"If I don't leave right now, we might. I'm sorry, but you should take it as a compliment. You're extremely tempting, but I can't let you temp me. As I said, I like you being alive. I'll see you again soon, at some point." Leaning down and kissing her cheek, I move at speed out of the back door and off in the direction of home. All with great, great reluctance.

I had to put some distance between me and her right at that moment. I wanted to take off her clothes and smell her all over, then press kisses to whatever part of her body I found that scent lingering upon. This is a test I can’t give up on, the test being to actually have a human friend and to overcome the fact I want to have sex with her as well. I have to accept that I can't or not see her again. I've made my choice, and that is to know her.

It’ll help me find some of the humanity Ursula tells me I need to get a better grasp upon, help calm me down, so she tells me. My creator is who I see first upon arriving home at close to 4am, only one hour before the dawn. I walk through the quiet house, only picking up on the energy of her within. This is good, since I want to talk to her, and she just so happens to be very good at the subject of human relations.

"Ahhh, there he is," she smiles warmly to me as I enter her sitting room, looking up at me over her book like she's been expecting me. Of course, she has. She would have felt me nearing home as I travelled back here.

"I'm glad you're here. I need to talk to you," I sigh, moving to sit on the couch at the end nearest where she is seated in her armchair.

"About the human you want to befriend, your punisher?" Damn, she's good.

"Yeah, her. I think I'm going to have difficulty as seeing her as just a friend. Even though of course I know that she can never be anything other than that." I reply, watching her nod just once before she begins to speak. She is always the one I turn to with a problem, her words bringing me resolution.

The ones she uses tonight are no different, and as usual, I feel better for talking to her almost immediately. She'll always be the only female in my life who I don't and never will have any kind of complications with.

With Edie, I know it’s gonna get complicated. No matter how much sage advice I receive from Ursula.

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