#images taken before soup

[housebarrett]

Equally hot on top and bottom @r0sebudz

#c: amanda #*images rock n roll is our epiphany #images taken before soup #smoking tw #alcohol tw #wce #tags upon tags

[petsdenonne]

Accidental

(Part 2: Here)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+, nudes, Fluff, Graphic sexual content, friends to lovers.

Word Count: 1,185

Summary: When you accidentally send something to Jason that you're not supposed to he doesn't react the way you were expecting.

Authors note: I read @dxckgrxsonx ‘s Dickpic!Jason x Reader series and it sent me absolutely feral 💕 I had to write something! Seriously, go read it, it’s amazing. Here, look, I even made it easy for you.

✨MASTERLISTS✨

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

oh god.

oh god, no.

Surely you hadn't...no, surely not...

As your finger hovered over the screen of your phone you could see that you had in fact done what you hoped you hadn't.

You had accidentally sent a nude to Jason instead of the man you had meant to. Why did he have to message you then!? It had bumped your chat with him to the top of the list and in your pre-occupied haze you hadn't noticed the name and contact photo at the top of your screen before you sent the image.

Fingers moving quickly to unsend the photo before he saw- oh, no, please no.

The 'sent' under the photo had changed to 'seen'

Bile and panic rose up into your throat and you tried to swallow it down as you threw your phone onto the bed beside you. You had to see him tomorrow! Bruce had invited you to the stupid family BBQ that they hosted at the manor every summer, since your father had died Bruce had taken you under his wing causing you to be an honorary member of the Waynes. Maybe you could pretend you were sick, tell Bruce you had a cold or a stomach bug? no, he'd send Alfred over with meds and soup. Maybe you could fake your death and run off to Bosnia? No, he'd know. He was the Bat after all.

Maybe you could kidnap Jason and brainwash him, cause him to forget that he had seen it and then delete the image from the chat- ding.

Your phones text chime ripped your attention back over to it, wrapping yourself tightly in your duvet you reach over and gingerly bring the phone back towards you so that you can read the message. Whatever he was going to say you could deal with, you'd dealt with Karens during the Black Friday sales when you worked in retail and you were sure nothing could be worse than dealing with that. Preparing yourself mentally to deal with the embarrassment of having to apologise and grovel with him you throw the phone back down again in frustration, causing it to bounce off of the bed and onto the floor, the screen chipping, when you see that it was just a spam text.

-----

By the next morning Jason still hadn't acknowledged the photo in any sense, that was a good thing, right? You were both adults. Adults have needs.

Even so you wanted to avoid him as best as you could, planning to go out. Say hi to Bruce and Alfred, thank them for being invited again like every year, grab a plate of food, and then hide somewhere to eat it.

Walking into the manor, having unlocked the front door with your key, you headed through the halls until you reached the garden. A small radio playing the playlist of whoever had managed to jump onto it first. Saying your hellos and thanks you piled upon your plate with chicken and steak, as well as a few things from the table spread like a healthy portion of Alfreds homemade potato salad before retreating into the manor to find somewhere to eat it.

As you settled in the library, closing the door behind you to pace slowly in front of the bookcases as you ate, your eyes skimming the spines of the vast collection- ding.

oh for gods sake, you'd have to have your number removed from whatever spam list it had been put on, the amount of junk you were receiving was ridiculous.

oh.

Oh.

As you opened the text to block the number you see that it wasn't a spam text.

It was from Jason.

Jasons dick was taking up your whole screen, all 7.5 inches of it. Pubes neatly trimmed back and cared for. You could see every vein and god it was good.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Jasons voice broke you from your thoughts as he stood in the doorway behind you, damn Bruce and his perfectly oiled silent door hinges. Stepping towards you with a dark look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips "Ya' know, you sent me that at the most inconvenient time. Right as I was about to break a guys collar bone, sweetheart. How was I supposed to do that when all I could see was you? so alone. so wet. so needy"

"J-Jay..."

"What? Baby girl. So shy now, I saw the pose you were in. That screamed confidence. Where's that gone, huh?" The smell of cigarette smoke and leather and gun powder filled your nose as he got so close your back pressed into the case behind you, towering over you as he softly placed his finger under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. Pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, your jaw, before he whispered into your ear "I want you"

Potato salad smushed into the carpet as you dropped the plate whilst trying to place it on a nearby surface but missed, you didn’t care, you’d clean it up later. All you wanted to do was get your arms over Jason’s shoulders as soon as you could. Mouths clashed together as he lifted you up by your waist, your legs wrapping around him as he carried you. Soft moans being shared as your lips worked together, his hands moving down to cradle your arse in his palms, fingers digging into the soft flesh through your jeans.

Placing you down to rest on the arm of the nearby sofa, hands were everywhere. His on you. Yours on him. Just trying to undress as fast as you could, both desperate for the embrace of the other. As soon as you were stripped off to an acceptable standard he grabbed you by your hips, turned you around, and bent you over the arm.

-----

Your walls fluttered and clenched around his cock as the thick veins dragged against you. One hand clinging onto your waist tightly, the other on the sofa next to you to support himself as he pumped into you. "Fuck, Sweetheart...would have done this sooner if I had known you'd feel this good..." he growled, digging his nails into your side to anchor you close to him, he had waited so long to hold you, to feel you, and he wasn't planning on letting you go any time soon.

"H-Harder...M-more.." You whined out, burying your face into the leather of the seat. Trying to stay as quiet as possible to avoid others hearing, the last thing you needed was for someone to walk in and see you with him, arse in the air as he pounded into you from behind, his balls slapping against your puffy sensitive clit.

Reaching forwards Jason grabbed ahold of your hair, yanking your head backwards so your face was out in the open and free. Leaning forward to growl into your ear as he made your back painfully arch against his chest "No, Don't you dare muffle yourself, I want them to hear me make you sing"

#Jason todd x reader #Jason todd x you #Jason todd x reader Drabble #Jason todd x you Drabble #Jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #Jason todd #red hood #dc #jason todd smut #red hood smut

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 14 - "If you don't stop now-"

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

If there was one thing vigilante work did for you it was honing your senses and instincts as well as helping you become more aware of the things around you. Of course there were a lot more things it helped with but these were the things that helped Dick realize what just happened.

His back pocket was definitely a whole lot lighter than it had been before he had a little run in with a black haired child. Dick chuckled lightly to himself as he turned around and surveyed the streets. It didn't take him long. The child was apparently still a starter when it came to pickpocketing people, well at least not as skilled as the kids of Crime Alley.

Still for a kid to resort to stealing, especially in a city like Gotham, there had to be a situation behind it. So what was originally supposed to be a little errand run for the sibling gaming night later in the day became now the observation of the little pickpocketier.

He followed the child all evening, watching how the kid stole wallets and fruits from street stalls all unnoticed by anyone else. Close to sunset Dick then also watched with surprise how the kid approached a police station. The kid didn't stick around long, and a quick question to the officers inside as a good natured citizen looking for his wallet, let him find out that the kid delivered all the wallets he had stolen over the day. Emptied of their money but returned with everything else.

He pocketed his own wallet quickly so that he wouldn't lose sight of the child and continued to follow the boy. With time Dick became more and more worried, as the boy appeared to walk around Gotham in a completely random path with no clear destination until the boy looked up once at the clocktower and then appeared like he had a place to go to. It worried Dick, especially when he noticed the boy going into Crime Alley.

Now he wasn't in uniform but civvies and this was his little brother's territory. Dick had two choices, follow the kid and put his civil image at risk and apologize later to Little Wing about investigating a kid of his territory or contact Little Wing and ask him to see what he could find out about this child or if he maybe even knew the kid already.

He did neither, fully knowing he would probably get an ear full from B later. Checking his surroundings he quickly made sure that no one was around as he took to the roofs in his civies. Still following the child as the boy walked through Crime Alley. Finally they reached an old, small and run down warehouse. One Dick knew, neither his brother nor anyone else was using because of how run down it was.

Carefully he jumped on its roof, avoiding any and all loose boards while he made his way to a window and snuck in. Luckily there was an overhead pathway in this warehouse and despite the metal creaking under his feet it looked like it was holding his weight. Looking over the railing though caused him to frown and his eyebrows to furrow with displeasure.

Below him was a small camp. A red haired teenager was holding a toddler in her arms cooking something on one of these mobile electric camping stoves that was hooked up to what looked like a soup thermos. Little ways from her lay two barely okay looking mattresses with little to now ratty looking bedding.

"Danny, where were you all day?!" The teenager shouted once the kid he had followed came into her view and Dick recognised that tone. It was one he also used at times with his siblings and Dami liked to call his older brother voice.

"Earning some money and buying some food for you." The boy, Danny, muttered as he handed over the money he had stolen as well as the food he also had stolen.

"Danny." The sister knew that, Dick thought as he continued to listen in. He had his phone out and had taken a couple pictures already he had sent to his siblings in preparation. Babs was already organizing a temporary stay for the three.

"You need to eat something too! Ellie, Dan and I are fine temporarily living off ambient ectoplasm but you need some food!" Dick narrowed his eyes. Four siblings, three can be assumed as metas able to live off something that's not food. The oldest sister appears to be a normal human. He sent the update of information to the others.

"Besides neither Dan nor me did get caught so far and you said it yourself! Once we got enough money we can get an apartment! Or move further away!"

"Danny. You and Dan can't go and continue to steal things."

"How else should we make money then. No one would hire kids!" Dick could easily disagree with this, considering what he had seen in all his years of vigilante work. But a part of him was glad that these kids did not have the contacts to end up on the really really bad side of things.

"Still you shouldn't do that. What if you do get caught, or worse if you and Dan get the GIWs attention."

"We won't." The boy retorted stubbornly and Dick couldn't help but feel reminded of some of the arguments he had with his own siblings.

"Danny, I know that you and Dan are using what little you have recovered of your ghost powers. If you don't stop now-"

Dick never got to hear the rest of the scowling the teenager was going to give the boy as the door of the little warehouse burst open and he had to make sure that he wasn't going to fall off the overhead pathway at what he saw.

In the bust open door stood Little Wing in his full Red Hood get up and he was holding what appeared to be the feral twin of the boy he had followed. Well at least feral in the sense that the child was yelling profanities and trying to punch and kick his brother.

"So this is where you little shit hide all this time? This is no place to live for a kid like you."

Dick muffled a chuckle as he watched Little Wing take in the stunned other occupants of the warehouse before tossing the kid in his arm over to his siblings. Interestingly enough he saw the boy's eyes flash red and Danny's started to glow green as he took a protective stance before his brother.

"Listen up, you little squatters. You four are coming with me before this shit of a place collapses. No running, no escaping and no fighting back and no fucking biting. You are coming with me and that's that."

Dick made sure that he filmed his little brother's entire interaction with the four siblings, including his very dramatic and bad guy like spiel about forcing the four to follow him when Dick knew perfectly well that his brother was a bleeding heart when it came to the kids of his territory.

Grinning Dick escaped the situation through the same window he had gotten in and sent the video he had taken to the others as the update to the situation. He probably would have to dodge Little Wing later for that but for now he could return to the manor knowing that the little pickpocketier and his siblings were safe with his brother.

#fictober23 #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dick grayson #jason todd #jazz fenton #dan phantom #danielle phantom #the four siblings are on the run and hiding in Gotham #Dick found them and was working out how to help them #But then Jason busts in having caught Dan #Danny went for pickpocketing #Dan pulled a Jason and stole tires in crime alley #he sold them for money back to the people he stole them from #that's why he got caught #and Jason decided to help the little shit that reminded him of himself

[avtrbee]

love game. ii

a/n: you guys were screaming about how angsty love game was so i grant you 1 (one) barely fluffy scene for 1 (one) moment only. gif is not mine :> also, from the love love game had received many of you had asked me to tag you and i have tried my best to tag everyone!! please message me/comment if i missed you. thank u and enjoyyyy 🫶🏽😋

“Oh what would I do to have Dream grovel in front of me?” called out a velvet voice lounging on your bed. “He won’t keep his promises,” it warns.

You stop at the sight of them before sighing in defeat.

“Couldn’t you at least knock?” You question. “Or, I don’t know, let me know before you stop by?”

“Mhm,” Desire replied, not bothering to answer your question. An Endless must ask another Endless permission to enter a their realm. You, however, were not an Endless. Desire has taken to your bed like it was a second home since they found the loophole, disregarding every protest. You warmed up to it eventually. It was nice to have someone to talk to sometimes.

Desire was laying on their stomach with their hands propped up to support their chin. They are wearing the cat outfit today- one of their favorites- with small cat black ears peaking through perfectly styled hair. There was a cunning smile plastered on their face and a tail that swirls around in circles and curves almost seductively. They were a perfect image of a cunning cheshire cat. 

“I meant what I said,” they murmur, golden eyes watching you as you plop to the space beside them. “I know my brother better than anyone. He is as cruel as he was before his capture, my Love.”

“He’s not cruel, just cold.” Your murmur in his defense, sinking into your bed. “He has never done anything bad, Dream is only…neglectful.”

The last word sparked your companions eye. Desire sinks in the bed with you and lays in their side. They reach an arm out to play with your hair lovingly. “And me? Have I ever been neglectful?”

You snort immediately and push their looming head away with a laugh. Many of your husband’s siblings and Dream himself raise an eyebrow to your strange…friendship. But the line between love and desire are thin and often crossed. “You’re fishing for compliments so badly today.” You accuse and Desire smiles. They do not deny it. 

There was a beat of silence before you spoke again. “I am not naïve,” you say slowly. “But he is finally being…” you rack your head for the right word. “…kind to me. I know it won’t last forever, but is it a sin to relish in it while it lasts?”

Sighing, Desire shifted to capture your palm. Soft kisses travel slowly over to the back of your hand until your temple, to where Desire kisses it last. “Is that what you desire? He does not deserve you.”

You heave a sigh before rolling off your bed. You do not deny Desire’s statement. I know, you want to say. But if you do then they will ask why are you giving their brother a chance and you cannot give any answer. You don’t know yourself either.

“I have to go,” you tell them, straightening yourself up. You feel a tingle inside your head and soon enough, your husband’s quiet voice slips into your thoughts telling you to come to him. “He’s calling for me.”

You were already slipped through the Dreaming, too late to seeDesire’s eye roll back in annoyance. 

-

“My lord, I-”

“Wife,” he greeted. “Love.” He amended quickly after. 

Morpheus gestures behind him and steps aside.  At his back stands a long wooden table fit to cater twelve people.There were all sorts of fruit, cheese, and varying plates from different cultures. From where you stand you could identify what you think may be a charcuterie board filled with cheese, toasted bread, olives and grapes. There was bowls of soup, the reddest apples you have ever seen in a bundle next to a basin of colorful berries. Candles that do not melt sprout tall from the food, while decorative flowers lay beside some dishes. The table ressembles a hungry man’s sweetest dreams.

The palace was in a much better shape than you saw it last. There weren’t any more fallen debris on the floor, no more weeds growing at its cracks. No dust hangs from any corner of the room and the floors were pristine like it was newly polished. It was almost shining.

“Dine with me.” Morpheus has seated at the head of the table, and you start to move opposite him to reach the other end- the farthest seat away from him. 

But before you can take a step Dream conjures a chair beside him from sand, on the right side of the table. You sense something strange about your husband…he seems stronger now. Not as weak as he was three days ago, nor was he as powerful as he was before he disappeared.

You could feel Morhpeus’s eyes stare at you as you move. You crane your face up to observe the room, a pathetic attempt to avoid meeting your husband’s sharp gaze as you walk to your seat.

The details in the room were intricate and clean, like how Dream created it to be. It was as if he was never missing for a century. But it was so quiet. Every step you take towards the table echoes across the room and every breath sounds as loud as thunder. The Dreaming was not meant to be so silent.

It does not help that you do not know how to talk to your husband, and neither does he know how to talk to his wife. It has been centuries since you last had a conversation with him that extends from commands or formalities. The clinks of your forks and knives were the only sounds emitting from the both of you as you ate in silence.

You have always prided yourself to be a good conversationalist having succeeded to have decent and polite conversations with your enemies when you need it, but this was something else. The silence makes you want to shrivel up into a ball and retreat back to your realm and cringe at this memory forever. How ironic is it that you get along better with the people who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you than your husband? You rack your brain for things to say, but your usual conversation starters have failed you. Have you ever been in love? Well, guess who I am! Yes, he has, Dream had lovers before you and you before him. Your husband is also well aware of who you are. At this point, you wouldn’t have minded melting into a puddle. 

As if reading your agony, it was Dream who spoke first. “I apologize if this feast overwhlems you. I did not know your favorite dishes.” He admits. 

“Yes, um,” You perk up immediately, eager to hold the conversation lest the silence takes over once again. “I…I like spicy dishes and…” you trail off your words as your eyes search the plates and bowls full of fruit. You reach towards a bowl to your right with a small smile on your face. “...and peaches. I love peaches.” 

From your preiphiral you see Morpheus’ forehead crinkle at the new information and in a second, the food on the table faded away to sand only to be recounjured as countless spicy dishes appeared and bowls and bowls of all kinds of peaches- yellow peaches, white peaches, and nectarines litter the table. Some were untouched and whole, while a small cup full of sliced peaches appeared on your plate. 

“And you?” You asked awkwardly, but not before raising a slice of peach in your mouth. You were touched, truly, but you can’t help to think that the table resembled a glitter-rabid kindergartener’s Valentines day card. Still, your heart flutters and skips a beat. The Dream Lord isn’t callous for no reason, he has priorities. It has just never been you which makes rare moments like these make you think that you could actually love him…until your anger comes back at the memory of neglect.

Morpheus looks at you then back to the table. “I have no preference.”

“You’ve gotten your pouch of sand back,” you realized, finally pinpointing what has changed. You recall how Morpheus conjured the chair you were sititng on with sand, how abundant the amount of food is and how easy he replaced them.

“I have,” Morpheus agrees. “It was with an occult detective who left it with her lover. I should have asked you to join me, you would have made it easer. I intend to travel to Hell next.”

“What business do you have with Lucifer Morningstar?” You ask slowly, frowning at the mention of Lucifer’s realm. Nobody has ever visited Hell unless they were desperate or insane, and an even lesser number has come out alive. You have had a few visits down to Lucifer’s realm but all visits were either summons from the fallen angel or as yourself serving as a representative of yourself, never of personal reasons. 

“One of the demons have my helm.”

“My lord,” you start, weighing your options. Does he intend you to accompany him? Is this his idea of being kind? You have not heard of any summons for Dream in Hell, so you suspect him to enter uninvited. Having you beside him on his way might give Lucifer an excuse to see your act as some form of war causing more chaos.  “Love is weak in Hell. I am willing to help, but I can only do so little to help you.”

“Fear not, Love,” he says, before helping himself to a peach slice. “I am not asking you to accompany me. This is something i must do alone.”

“Alone? You cannot survive Lucifer alone.”

“I must.”

“What- is this goodbye, then, Morpheus?” You gesture widely to the table and to its extravagant excess of spicy dishes and peaches. “Is this what this is?”

You glance at the table and push your plate away, finding yourself full and suddenly disgusted by the amount of food on the table. Deep inside you didn’t expect this supper to go anywhere, but a small part of you hoped. You would be lying if you said that the naive girl you have pushed away from your earlier years came back. 

Morpheus stays silent at your accusations you scoff. “What happened to your promises? I knew it was never going to last, but your promise had only lasted a mere week.”

“I intend to keep my promises, wife.” Morpheus reminds you gently, like he was talking to a cornered animal. “When I come back-“

“If you come back, my lord.” It isn’t lost to him how you drop back to your courtesies so easily, and how he reverts back to call you wife so quickly. “You and I know you will be walking into a trap.”

“I will come back.” Morpheus growls. Somehow you can always sense his annoyance from miles away. The slightest hint of it was always your cue to go, lest you infuriate him more. 

“Isn’t that what you told Lucienne before you disappeared for a century?” 

You somehow always make him angrier. You make him doubt himself, make him seem like he wasn’t worthy of you. Deep inside he knows its true- he had come back weaker than he was before and had treated you cruelly. You didn’t have to rub it in his face.

A fist bangs at the table making plates and you jump in surprise. “You forget yourself, wife.”

“I am used to it. You have always forgotten me.” You stand, pushing your chair back. You turn around to leave, no destination in mind, just eager to get away from the Dreaming, from Dream-

Morpheus stood unmoved, but his nose flared in anger. “Alright,” he relents, scarily calm. “Who would accompany me? You?”

You stop your tracks immediately. Your head twists slowly back to the table where your husband still sits. His gaze meets yours daringly. “Why do you talk to me like that? Like I am useless.”  You let out a small breath in wonder. Finally, it seems like the haze from your vision cleared, like you had just experienced epiphany. “I mean so little to you, don’t I? You see me as fragile, a weak-”

Morpheus runs a hand over his face exasperatedly. “No, no, that is not what I meant, wife-”

“What else could it mean?” Your voice was getting louder in every word, your voice bouncing off the pristine walls of the dining room. “You are Endless and I am just a goddess, but I am not weak! How dare you call me that.”

“I said no such thing.” Morpheus is shouting now, too. “If I take you to Hell with me and Lucifer bargains you for my helm, what then? I cannot lose you, Love.” He asks widely gesturing to you.

“Your concern over losing me is only a recent development.” You remind him, chest heaving from the deep breaths you take to calm yourself. You watch as Dream’s face softens only for a moment before hardening again. “But what of you?” You ask, forcing your voice to soften. “If you stay there, what then? What of the Dreaming? What of Corinthian who has wrecked further havoc in the waking world? Of loyal Lucienne?” Of me?

“You think I have not thought of that? I am not as wreckless as you think I am.”

“I just ask of you to be careful.” You finally plead, exhaustion finally taking a toll on your body. “I understand that what had happened to you is unfair, but every single choice you make impacts billions. I’ve already lost you once but you seem so eager to go so quickly.”

Morpheus face softens at your declaration. “I have no choice.” Blood boils in your veins. Your warnings go through his ear and comes out of the other so quickly. You feel a hand touch yours and your eyes snap to his to realize he is holding your hand to comfort you. “But I shall bring a someone with me,” he amends. “Matthew.”

As if on cue, his raven caws inside the room and looms up to the crystal chandeliers before landing gracefully on Morpheus’s shoulder. 

Your raven? You want to scream, I am right here! 

“Alright.” You reply instead. 

-

In every single place you would dare not to call anywhere home but your realm. It is here where you feel the most safest, able to let your guard down any time. There is no one more powerful than you here. There is only you and the endless sky stuck in an eternal sunset.

Today your bed is gone and is replaced by a huge mirror that you stand in front of. You have been staring at yourself for hours now wondering what had Morpheus seen in you that made him think of you as fragile. Then something shifts.

It was the feeling of lust that overwhelms you first, then you notice how thick the atmosphere has become making it a little hard to breathe. There is an empty hole in your chest that gape widely and you are flooded with the urge to fill it despite not knowing how.

A voice purrs behind you. “Hello, my love.”

You sigh and turn around to meet your old friend. Desire stands in all their glory in a pristine white suit and pants. 

“Desire, darling,” you greet tiredly, but ever so fondly. The memory of your fight with Morpheus brings a frown on your beautiful face. “Have you come to gloat?”

Desire gave an innocent shrug but their lips smugly curved. “Was I right?”

From the mirror you watch as Desire sashays to where you are, wrapping their arms around your shoulders. Their touch grounds you somehow and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut for a moment then reaching up to hold their forearms. “Is it wrong to be worried?”

“You are truly astounding. My brother whispers a few good promises and he has you wrapped around his finger.” Desire plays with a stray strand of your hair, golden eyes looking at your locks then to your eyes through the mirror. 

“If it’s any consolation, you were right.” Desire drawls, looking at your eyes through your mirror. They turn their head until his lips are in front of your ears and whisper. “He might not come back.”

as always, if you like my work, please check out my masterlist! dont forget to tell me what you think, your comments make my day <33

taglist (love game)

@newromsntcs, @wt-fxck, @acdassenza, @archikina, @perhaps-just-june, @humongousgalaxycoffee, @tiens-letters, @blue-and-yellow-jjk-pjm, @winxchester, @ace-27749, @lunaleah, @thecrazytealady, @niname92, @notibotiswear, @thesadvampire, @dont-staple-waffles, @mavelfanatic, @lu123sworld, @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass, @asexualaromosafezone

#morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus imagine #dream of the endless imagine

[nasa]

50 Years Ago: Apollo 17

Not long after midnight on Dec. 7, 1972, the last crewed mission to the Moon, Apollo 17, lifted off with three astronauts: Eugene Cernan, Harrison Schmitt, and Ronald Evans.

Experience the Apollo 17 launch and follow the mission in real time.

Meet the Crew

Let’s meet the astronauts who made the final Apollo trip to the Moon, including the first scientist-astronaut.

Gene Cernan: In 1972, Apollo 17 Mission Commander Eugene A. Cernan had two space flights under his belt, Gemini 9 in June 1966, and Apollo 10 in May 1969. He was a naval aviator, electrical and aeronautical engineer and fighter pilot.

Ron Evans: Apollo 17 Command Module Pilot Ronald E. Evans was selected as a member of the 4th group of NASA astronauts in 1966. Like Cernan, he was an electrical and aeronautical engineer, and naval aviator before his assignment to the Apollo 17 crew.

Harrison (Jack) Schmitt: Lunar Module Pilot Dr. Harrison (Jack) Schmitt joined NASA as a member of the first group of scientist-astronauts in 1965. Before working for NASA, Schmitt was a geologist at the USGS Astrogeology Center. He was on the backup crew for Apollo 15 before being selected for the prime crew of Apollo 17. He became the first of the scientist-astronauts to go to space and the 12th human to walk on the Moon.

The Blue Marble

“The Blue Marble,” one of the most reproduced images in history, was taken 50 years ago on Dec. 7, 1972 by the Apollo 17 crew as they made their way to the Moon.

Bag of Soup, Anyone?

NASA astronauts have an array of menu items to stay well fed and hydrated on missions. For Apollo 17, the menus allocated around 2,500 calories per day for each astronaut. They included:

Bacon Squares

Peanut Butter Sandwiches

Frankfurters

Lobster Bisque

Like anything going to space, weight and containment matter. That's why the Apollo 17 menu included plenty of soups and puddings.

Synchronicity

On Dec. 11, 2022,  the Artemis I mission will be splashing down on Earth after its 25.5-day mission. At 2:55 p.m. 50 years prior, the Apollo 17 lunar module (LM) landed on the Moon, with Commander Gene Cernan and LM Pilot Harrison Schmitt on board. Ron Evans remained in the Command and Service Module (CSM) orbiting the Moon.

Experience the landing.

Planting the Flag

One of the first tasks the Apollo 17 crew did on their first moonwalk was to plant the American flag. There’s no wind on the Moon, but that doesn’t mean the flag has to droop. Did you know that a horizontal rod with a latch makes the flag appear to be flying in the wind? Gene Cernan carefully composed this photo to get Schmitt, the flag, and the Earth in a single shot.

So, is the flag still there? Images of the Apollo 17 landing site from the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter Camera show that in 2011 the flag was still standing and casting a shadow!

Moon Buggy

During Apollo 17, the Lunar Rover Vehicle (LRV), nicknamed the Moon buggy, logged the farthest distance from the Lunar Module of any Apollo mission, about 4.7 miles (7.5 km). 

As a precaution, the LRV had a walk-back limit in the event of an issue; astronauts had to have enough resources to walk back to the lunar module if need be.

Grab the Duct Tape!

The right rear fender extension of the LRV (Moon buggy) was torn off, kicking up dust as the crew drove, reducing visibility. The crew made a resourceful repair using duct tape and maps.

For LRV fans, visiting an LRV driven on the Moon is a bit difficult since all three LRVs used on the Apollo 15, 16, and 17 missions were left on the Moon. But you can find an LRV used for training at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington. Read more about the LRV.

The Perils of Lunar Dust

After the first lunar EVA, Apollo 17 astronaut Harrison Schmitt reported that he suffered from “lunar hay fever” in reaction to the lunar dust. Unlike Earth’s dust particles which are rounded, Moon dust particles are sharp and abrasive, irritating astronaut eyes, nasal passages, and lungs.

Curious about how Moon dust feels and smells? Find out!

So What’s it Like?

After his return to Earth, Apollo 17 astronaut Harrison Schmitt (on the right) described his time on the Moon:

“Working on the Moon is a lot of fun. It’s like walking around on a giant trampoline all the time and you’re just as strong as you were here on Earth, but you don’t weigh as much.”

Splashdown! 

After 12 days and 14 hours in space, the Apollo 17 astronauts splashed down in the Pacific Ocean at 2:25 p.m. EST on Dec. 19, 1972. It was the longest of all the Apollo missions, with the most photos taken. A recovery team was waiting on the USS Ticonderoga just 4 miles (6.4 km) away to pick up the astronauts, the lunar samples, and the Crew Module.

When Are We Going Back?

NASA’s Artemis Program has taken its first steps to sending humans back to the Moon with Artemis I, currently on its way back to Earth. The program plans to land humans, including the first women and person of color, on the Moon’s south polar region with its Artemis III mission, currently slated to launch in 2025.

Is aerospace history your cup of tea? Be sure to check out more from NASA’s past missions at www.nasa.gov/history.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#nasa #space #history #photography #moon #science #artemis #spaceblr #1970s #tech #technology #astronauts

[a-supernatural-writer]

Rusted Orange Leaves

Poly Lost Boys x gender neutral reader

It's been awhile! I am so sorry for being gone so long. Ever since graduating life has been sort of a roller coaster. Working full time along with trying to figure out student loans has been tough.

I wanted to start writing again and get back into The Lost Boys with a bit of a self indulgent fic. For context I recently lost my Nana (grandmother) a couple weeks ago and its been tough to say the very least. She was not only my grandmother but she was another mother to me and in this fic there is a lot of things that are actual things that my Nana and I would do together. Not only that but this is also a fic for anyone who might've lost there own grandmother or even a grandparent in general who you had a very close connection with.

Happy fall to all of you and I am very excited to write for one of my favorite seasons of the year. Get ready for some spooky, Halloween fun and in general fall themed fluff.

Word Count: 1,840

The smell of pumpkin and cinnamon filled David’s noise as he walked into a place that he called a second home. Music that he remembered coming out during the time of the 1910’s and 20’s played at a reasonable volume. Being loud enough for anyone to enjoy but just low enough that people could talk comfortably to each other without raising their voice. 

He smiled softly as he walked deeper into the house and caught sight of you doing your thing around the kitchen. 

You were making your grandmother’s infamous great pumpkin cookies that she made every year around the fall holidays. You smiled a little though that smile didn’t quite reach your eyes as you mixed in the chocolate morsels that went in the cookies. 

But now these cookies were to be made by you and other members of your family since your grandmother unfortunately passed away not even a month ago in September, just before the leaves started to turn. 

A part of you was sentimental; making her baked goods and other recipes she taught you ever since you were little. You and your mother were really the only two who she taught her recipes to, leaving it to the both of you to teach the rest of the family. 

You had her cookies on your list along with her pumpkin and apple pie and the traditional fall soups she made from scratch. You also had some of your own recipes you’ve been wanting to make. 

With it being the beginning of October, the leaves turning their beautiful vibrant colors, you turned on the music that your grandparents played and had been going at it in the kitchen since the early hours of the morning. 

You were so engrossed in your activity that you didn’t notice your boyfriend David walk into your home. You had given him a key a while ago, turning your home into his home as well… along with your other three boyfriends; Dwayne, Marko and Paul. 

David had gotten there before any of the boys could. He knew that you were dealing with your grief in your own way. You had been having your days where certain sounds, images and even scents sent you into a crying mess. Hell, even before your grandmother passed away, you got so upset because a candle you bought smelt like her. 

You wanted to bask in her scent forever. Her smell gave you comfort and it scared you that you could never live in it again so you haven’t even lit it since her passing. Afraid to lose it and never smell it again. 

David knew that your grandparents weren’t just that, they were another set of parents; a mother and father to you. David knew how much your grandmother loved you. He and the boys got to spend some time with her and she talked about you so much and always wanted to make sure that you were taken care of. You were her first grandchild and she loved you like you were her own. 

Your grandmother even had them tear up, making them promise her that they would love you and make sure that you would always be happy and live your life. And they promised that. 

You eyed the amount of batter in your mixing bowl, finally noticing David when he walked into the kitchen, “Hey.” You said quietly, not fully trusting your feelings in that moment. You wanted to cry, but at the same time, you were feeling the most comfortable since her passing. 

David smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist and placing a soft kiss on your temple, “Hey. I can see you’ve been busy.” 

You nodded, leaning into him, “I made some apple turnovers for the first time. I think they came out really good. I have another batch in the oven and pumpkin soup is simmering on the stove… think it’s too much?” 

David shook his head, “Nope. I think it’s perfect. Do you need any help?” David didn’t think it was too much. If anything with how much the four of them loved your food, it could never be enough. And who was he to stop you from cooking and baking, this was your way of coping, he didn’t want to stop you from healing. 

You felt warm and fuzzy when he offered to help. Cooking with David was always wonderful. It surprised you just how much he enjoyed doing the activity with you. It warmed your heart even more at the idea that you were gonna teach him your grandmother’s recipes. 

“Yeah, I can teach you her pumpkin pie and I wanted to make her chicken pot pie to go with the soup.” You could help but get excited as you explained what you wanted to make. 

David just smiled, taking off his coat and gloves, grabbing a basic brown waist apron that was hanging on a hook in your kitchen, matching your own. You got one for him after he complained a little by getting flour and food particles on his pants one night. 

He tied it around his waist and grabbed the kitchenware he needed and the ingredients that he needed. He followed your instructions as you did your own thing, chopping whatever vegetables and poultry needed for the chicken pot pie. 

Of course, during the longest part of cooking, prep work, did the others file into your home. 

Paul came in smiling at the scene before him. He never in his life thought he would see David doing such a domestic thing in his life, but then again, he didn’t think that for himself either. “Do we have to kiss the cooks?” Paul teased before giving you a kiss on the lips, tasting pumpkin and chocolate on your tongue as he gave you a stomach fluttering deep kiss that held nothing but love with no lust behind it. Just pure love. 

David rolled his eyes when Paul gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek to tease the bleach blonde. “Smells great in here.” 

Paul honestly loved it when the home smelled like this. Your home for him was a place of comfort. A place for him to unwind and just relax. That’s what made you very similar to your grandmother. Both of you made your homes feel like a home. 

He always thought your grandmother was the definition of a grandmother. A woman with a heart of gold and a pure soul. Always making sure everyone was taken care of. The day she passed was a sad one. 

He was frozen in fear the moment the news settled in for you. He had never seen someone feel so much pain that wasn’t physical. He’d seen you sob your heart out before. But seeing your face turn into anguish and cry out so loudly and so heart broken, truly shook him to his core. 

Since then he’s been treating you much more softly. It wasn’t per your request, but something in him changed and he wanted to show you just how much he cherished you. It’s not like he didn’t already, he just had a much more lustful and hornier way of going about it. 

Marko was next to walk in, carrying a small brown bag in his hand and smiled once he saw you spreading out the cookie batter on the pan, “Are those the pumpkin cookies you were talking about?” 

Marko softly grabbed your chin and placed a short kiss on each of your cheeks before placing one on your lips. 

You giggled as Marko gently nipped at your lip, “Yes. I’m gonna bake them once the rest of the apple turnovers are done… what did you get?” 

Marko smiled as he carefully pulled out two tea cups with saucers attached to them. One design to be like fall colored leaves and the other in the shape of a pumpkin with leaves. You cooed at the teacups, wanting to hold them but didn’t want to dirty them with the batter on your hands. 

“Oh, Marko. They’re so cute.” You cooed softly. Marko felt his chest swell with pride as he got you a gift that made your eyes sparkle. And he knew that tone in your voice. You only talk that way when you truly love something. 

“I’ll go put them with the rest of your collection.” He took the teacups and placed them in a wooden cupboard with glass that you used as a display case for your teacups that you pulled out in rotation to use. You had an addition to mugs and teacups and you had an ever growing collection that weren’t just sitting on a shelf but were used for different times throughout the year. 

Marko grinned to himself. He had been trying his best to make you smile recently. Little gifts and outings have been his way to do just that. Even though you’ve told him multiple times that he didn’t need to buy you any gifts, he wanted to. He loved seeing your eyes shine with happiness and he wanted to treat you. You’ve been going through your emotions and even your thoughts for the most part alone. 

You didn’t want to talk to your family much about how you were feeling, afraid of judgment on some weird level. You were afraid that your family wasn’t going to understand how you felt and the way you were going through your grieving process. 

After placing the teacups in the case, he took one of the apple turnovers you already made and took a bite of it, groaning at how good they were. “These are banging.” He comments. Paul joined in and grabbed one of his own, enjoying the freshly baked dessert. 

Dwayne was the last to walk in. Seeing you doing something that you love and glowing, his heart, if it could, would’ve fluttered. Without a word, Dwayne came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaned down placing a kiss on your forehead. “You’re not pushing yourself, are you?”

You shook your head, done with placing the batter on the pans, “No. I’ve been taking breaks here and there throughout the day.” 

Dwayne hummed, squeezing your waist a little, “Good.” 

He didn’t want you overworking yourself too much, even if it was doing something you loved. Sometimes, Dwayne would just make sure that you took time to rest and relax. He knew how hard the past couple weeks have been for you. If the nights of you crying in his arms didn’t tip him off, then you being extra clinging to them lately did. 

You moved to go wash your hands, Dwayne still having a grip on you and moving with you, not wanting to let go yet.

You chuckled, and after you dried off your hands, you reached up and tangled your fingers through his hair. Feeling the utmost content in this moment. 

Out of all the days that have gone by in the past couple weeks, for once you felt at ease.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #poly lost boys #poly lost boys x reader #gender neutral reader #david x reader #paul x reader #marko x reader #dwayne x reader

[rottenpumpkin13]

Who has the biggest social media following?

I think Sephiroth would either post every thought he has or he would post once every lunar month.

Genesis would have the highest quality camera, knowledge of all social media sites and plus being a queer.

Angeal could be an online dad who mostly posts/reblogs cute animals.

Lazard is legally obligated to have social media and post, he makes it well known to all.

Zack posts every 5 seconds and most of the time it is complaints or vague posts that scare Lazard.

Rufus has been a social media presence since he was five and he has dirt on all the most famous people.

Idk about Cloud.

• Sephiroth has the larger following, but he also has maybe 20 photos in total on his social media, and only one of those is of himself (a picturesque photo Angeal took of him in the mountains. Sephiroth posted it, thanking Angeal and complimenting his photography skills in the caption, but it quickly broke the internet and is one of the most liked images ever. He posts once every few months and it's usually obscure and done so only because PR nags him about his social media presence.

A photo of his food at a restaurant, a photo of his sword perched against the wall of his office, a box of chocolates with his face on it (a partnership Shinra did with a famous chocolate company that Sephiroth found amusing), a photo of a book he likes, several nature snapshots, a cat he saw in an alleyway and stopped to pet, and what was his favorite picture—a nice photo of him, Angeal and Genesis together that Lazard took. PR took it down because Genesis was throwing gang signs (he didn't know Sephiroth was going to post it)

Oh yeah, there was one other photo that had to be taken down.

*Lazard bursts into Sephiroth's office*

Lazard: I TOLD YOU TO POST A PICTURE OF YOURSELF WITH PRESIDENT SHINRA.

Sephiroth: I did.

*Lazard pulls up a picture of Sephiroth with the half-cropped out President Shinra*

Lazard: THIS ISN'T WHAT I MEANT.

Sephiroth: God I look stunning.

• Genesis is a close second in terms of following, a fact that will forever irk him—even though he acts like it doesn't bother him. He's very dedicated to his curated, themed social media feed filled with action shots of him in battle, photo ops of him attending events and plays, magazine cover shoots, countless book recommendations and walls of text where he's waxing poetic about Loveless. At a glance, one would think Genesis's life is effortlessly perfect, and that's exactly what he wants people to think.

But who needs reality checks when you're best friends with Sephiroth.

*Genesis posts a perfect mirror selfie alongside Sephiroth and Angeal, he captions it "We seek it thus"*

SephirothOfficial commented: He cried when he couldn't get the lighting right.

• Angeal is somewhere in the middle, and he's relatively normal about what he posts, preferring to showcase what his real life looks like. There's pictures of him with the Seconds, Thirds and select infantrymen he's befriended. He also posts his cooking proudly, and always makes sure to add the recipe in the caption of the photo. He even posts some post-workout photos of himself that garner a lot of attention. He posts proud pictures of his plants, and picturesque nature scenes from his missions. Angeal's social media is where you'll find lighthearted photos of his friends, as well as a heap of sillyness that has PR ripping their hair out every other week. But his ultimate sin is being the friend who has to take a photo of everyone's food before they eat.

*At the restaurant, Zack is slowly rocking back and forth*

Zack: I'm having unfriendly thoughts.

Sephiroth: Can we please eat now?

Angeal: In a bit. Let me just adjust take one quick picture of Gen's soup...and.....done!

Zack: THE GODS HAVE ANSWERED MY PRAYERS

Genesis: They all look a bit blurry.

Angeal: You're right. Let me start over.

*Zack starts sobbing*

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #crisis core #headcanons

[distortionbobble]

"do you ever shut up" no... and nobody asked for this but i'm thinking about situationship!anakin right now. minors dni. fic has no warnings rn . might expand this one. modern au.

see the thing is, if any of your friends had gotten into this, you would have done a whooole extraction mission to get them out of it. a situtaionship? with that fine-as-fuck man? pretty wavy brown hair and that stupid fucking smile... baby your eyes look like the ocean i'm not arguing with you...

you found him on hinge during one of your dry-spells. the first thing you noticed was how pretty this man is. his profile featured pictures of him hanging out of the window of his car, gravity pulling his hair down as he flashed the camera a prize winning smile. another picture inside a restaurant, just a hint of manicured nails in the corner of the photo.. taken by an ex-girlfriend, maybe? you hum, and scroll down to see the rest of his profile.

"anakin, 22... figuring out my dating goals," you murmur to yourself, munching on your popcorn. okay, figuring out dating goals, that means... means what? a situationship? fuck, do you even have that in you? you're ready to x him out but something makes you wanna look at that face just one more time. fuck, he's pretty.

before your better judgement can stop you you're typing out a quick response to his prompts. green flags i look for are... good at legos. okay, that's cute, right? maybe he doesn't know what his dating goals are because it's kind of intense to be like, i want a long term relationship. that is a lot of pressure. you respond by sending him the lego flowers bouquet that's sitting on your coffee table (yes, your ex gifted it to you. no, that doesn't matter to you. what he doesn't know won't kill him. besides, it was a good present).

does this count? you respond, tossing your phone to the side to focus on Love Island playing on the TV, not expecting a response from anakin for at least a couple days. which is why you're almost shocked when the screen lights up with a notification from hinge.

anakin: yeah, looks pretty good to me ahaha

anakin: sent an image

anakin: rate the set up?

you open it with curiosity and a little bubbly feeling in your chest-- a cute boy matched with you, you're pretty sure it's well within your rights to be a little excited. it's a rather impressive set up of a few different lego sets, all built meticulously. you spot a few that are difficult to get your hands on, and think for a second on how to respond to him.

you: do i spot the indiana jones temple escape set?

anakin: oh my god yes that's my favorite set lmao, took ages to get it

you: dude that's so lucky

you stare at the screen, biting your lip. fuck, this is such a dry-ass conversation, it'll probably die out anyways so you don't bother sending a follow-up

anakin: honestly pretty lucky in general w all my sets. i've got a coupe unopened ones if you wanted to hang out and do them w me sometime tho? might be fun.

oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. okay, be cool about this. wait, is this code for a hookup? okay, hang out and do them with him = y'all fuck after the legos? or before? you're confused. but like, legos sounds like a fun time.

you: sounds like a good time. does friday work? we could pick up some takeout from this place on jefferson ave, if you're down

anakin: down for friday. but i was thinkin i could make you somethin? i can make a mean miso soup, if you're down.

you: seeya friday, then :)

--

you brought chocolates. to his apartment. and after you knocked on the door, you're thinking maybe this wasnt such a good idea, after all. the chocolates, and the being here in the first place.

but anakin opens the door, and his apartment smells so good, and he's got a set of space post card lego sets already open with the accompanying instruction booklet next to him.

"hi," you smile up at him, a wave of shyness washing over you as you look at him. how are people allowed to be this pretty? it's like the camera didnt do him justice, because he's at least 20x more attractive in person.

"hey. it's nice to meet you," anakin responds with a grin of his own. "d'you wanna come on in? i've just put some of the veggies into the stock. got some tofu and stuff, bok choy, it'll be good," he says, shutting the door behind you as you enter his apartment.

"nice place," you say, looking around quickly before you take off your coat and shoes.

things flow easily between you too. he tells you about his day, his job, asks you about yours, asks you about your favorite movies. you ask him about his lego sets, his decorations, his favorite music, how he learned to get so good at cooking (the soup is fucking delicious). he puts on a grateful dead song on his speakers as you work on the sets, laughing when he asks you to separate two legos that are stuck together with the nails that you have ("don't you have one of those lego-separating tools?" "those. are for pussies.").

the sets come together what feels like too quickly. you almost wanna tear it apart so that you can have an excuse to just stay for a little longer, but it doesn't seem like anakin is eager to kick you out either.

but it's late, and you should go. as you head out for the door, you feel your eyes drifting to his lips-- his pretty bottom lip, plush and rosy and you wanna sink your teeth into it-- and you know he notices too. he doesn't say anything. is a first date too early to kiss?

"well," you say, lingering at the door. "i, uh, had a good time tonight."

"me too," anakin says, equally as awkward. he leans in just a little, so that his face isn't so far, so that you don't need to look up so much.

well, that's it. no invite to a next hangout. you try not to let your face fall as you wish him goodnight and thank him for the miso soup.

you've only made it out of his apartment complex when your phone lights up with a message.

anakin: d'you wanna do smthn next week?

you smile.

#situationship anakin skywalker #situationship!anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader #anakin skywalker x female!reader #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker drabble #my writing #modern!anakin skywalker #modern!anakin #anakin skywalker modern au #anakin skywalker fluff #distortionbobble's fics

[fangsyouverymuch01]

If walls could talk

This is part 2 of my series. You don't have to have read the first part to get into pt 2, butttt I would appreciate it! :) Part 1 LINK.

Part 3 is also out! Here is the LINK.

Summery: Tav is fighting against their dark thoughts and decides to do something about it. However, what other bloodthirsty killer lurks in the dark forest?

Words: 2,2 k

Parings: Astarion x durge, Astarion x tav

Warnings: Blood, dark fantasies/nightmares, daggers, smut if you squint???, murder, sleep deprivation, sassy vampire

Hope you like it! <3

Moonlight marks the end of the day, painting the swaying leafs a faint blue. The cracklings of the fire and the laughter from your newfound companions warms the cool night. You’ve managed to gather a party of the gith - Laezel, the blade of frontiers - Wyll, Karlach - a fighter from avernus, Gale - Mystras former chosen, sharworshipper - Shadowheart and lastly the pale rouge Astarion. Quite the mix to say at least. 

Everyone’s laughter is mixed with the occasional slurping. Gale had insisted on making a traditional potato and leek soup which was appreciated by some, others like Astarion had barely touched it. 

“You’re not hungry Astarion?” Karlach asked as she gulped down her second bowl of soup. 

“I prefer something more filling.” he stated and shot you a quick glance before adding “ Besides, the events of today have me thinking of other things than leek soup.” .

You nearly choke at his comment and retort by gluing your eyes to the bowl in your hands. 

“No offense taken my friend, however you are missing out on this delightful soup, the leeks are scarcely this fresh in Waterdeep.” 

The party hums in approval and the conversation falls into a stillness, only the occasional breaking of twigs and swaying trees break the silence. Soon enough, the moon reaches its peak and everyone zips up their tents for the night. Your tent contains a simple bedroll and a teddy bear Karlach had lended you after observing your dark under eyes worsening the past days. Sleep had not found you , thoughts of life before the crash kept sleep from embracing your tired form. The others abilities had been wiped from the tadpole insertion but their memories stayed intact, why hadn’t yours? Questions filled your cortex, gaining a disturbing wriggling from the worm trapped within your skull. Adding to your concern, were your trances. Unbeknownst to your companions, these trances haunted you far more than sleep deprivation. Blood, gore, torture, murder and a variety of dark fantasies threatened to consume you.

What will happen if you lost control?

This night differed from the others, the lack of sleep seemed to affect your willpower and fantasies of butchering foe and friend displayed themselves as your eyelids felt heavier. Cradling the stuffed animal, your eyelids dip and curl your legs against the lower of your abdomen. Snoring and faint breaths cushion your tilted ears, guiding you to enter the embrace of night. The occasional stir flings your eyes open but the blue light signals them to close yet again. 

Flashes of Shadowheart and Karlach pass by, them withstanding to burst into laughter as you awkwardly shift to fit the very large lute in your lap. Alfira bombards your efforts with words of encouragement, unsuccessfully pulling you from glancing at Shadowheart and Karlach doubled over in the corner, tears forming in the half elf’s eyes and the tiefling biting her lip as she pushes down a rumbling laugh. Exhaling to calm yourself, you pull at the strings and an array of tunes and random noises are produced. A terrible tune, a tune so foul that your ears fold to lessen the eardrum to vibrate at every tone crushing against it. Stealing a glance at your companions, an image of a headless Karlach strikes. Twisting  your neck towards Alfira, she’s holding her heaving chest and pouring into her lap is a waterfall of thick blood. The once joyous ambiance twists into a macabre dreamscape. Shadowheart and Karlach's previous laughter warps into haunting echoes, and Alfira's encouragement morphs into desperate pleas though her gurgling. Your fingers tremble on the lute, producing dissonant, nightmarish sounds that echo the chaos. As you steal glances at your companions, Shadowhearts face contort into grotesque expressions of agony. The nightmare's grip tightens, effectively suffocating you.

“What did you do?” Shadowheart whispers, hands lacing with the hem of your trousers by your feet, the essence of life a ghost on her lips. 

Wake up. Wake up!

You need to stay awake. 

You can’t and you won’t let this control you. 

Panting, your person rises from the bedroll. Your heart drums against the sternum of your ribcage and you swear, the sound of cracking bones bounces off the taupe tent walls. Tears pour as the floodgates to your tear duct opens. It was all so much, overbearing guilt tightens its snare and breathing burdens your lungs. Tossing the sweat drenched stuffed bear, you unzip a backpack in the corner of the tent. In the backpack lies a crossbow you picked up from the battle outside the groove, a battle your then more modest party barely withstood. Pulling it out you prepare to head out into the night. Perhaps your thoughts could not be controlled but you did have a choice in what was at the receiving end of your brutal fantasies. Puffing out a breath of air, your rise and glare at the dark sky. The cloud-free night unveils moonbeams and stars twinkling in the vast expanse, inviting contemplation. 

“Please let this work.” you plead with the moon. 

The camp is positively silent, making your chance to slip into the shadows significantly increase. Carefully, you tread past Gales and Astarions tents. To your surprise, Astarions tent is slightly unzipped. Was he also facing the restless night? Or was he out causing mischief at night as well? Having no time to ponder the alternatives, you make way towards the dark forest.

The night has the once calm and inviting nature evoking a sense of adrenaline - what hid in its shadows? The ballad of birds and paws of gentler creatures had slumped with the rise of the moon, leaving behind a hushed stillness that amplifies the rustle of leaves and distant whispers of the nocturnal world. As the cool breeze carries the fragrance of earth, the night becomes a stage for the mysterious and unseen, where the darkness holds both the thrill of the unknown and the comfort of needed solitude. A twig is snapped further down the unknown woods, sending a subtle tremor through the air. Instinctively, you froze. Your gaze narrowed, senses guiding your body to scan for any signs of movement. Amidst the rustling leaves, a fleeting silhouette hides behind the vegetation —a prey 

Salvation by the blade! Salvation by the blade! Salvation by the blade! Salvation by the blade!

It demands to be heard. Clutching your soul, clawing at your cortex to take a shot at the unknowing creature behind the protecting leafs. A feverish sweat trickles down your temples as you aim the crossbow. Narrowing your eyes, the moon casts an eerie glow as your prey skillfully drains the life force from another unsuspecting creature.

Pointy ears, white curls - Astarion? 

No. No, it can’t be. 

Descending into the trance, your body remains unfazed to the revelation before your eyes. Astarion is crouching over a boar, blood from its guts spilling over his leather beeches and obscene guttural noises escapes the elf’s lips. 

Did he have the same affliction as you? 

When fighting to regain clarity fully, his keen ears catch a hint of movement in your direction. Swift as a shadow, he hurtles toward the foliage, forcefully pushing you onto the plush grass. With a thud you hit the ground. His dagger assertively rests at your throat and the other hand restraints yours from countering his initiative. His face, smeared with blood, reveals menacingly sharp teeth, droplets cascading onto your lips. The metallic taste mutes the voices in your mind, and as clarity dawns, you realize it may be a moment too late to salvage the situation. 

“Trying to sneak up on a rouge now are we?” The elf snarls. 

“Astarion wait I didn’t know-“ you ramble as you try to regain your full clarity. 

The elf’s jaw tenses as if juggling his options. 

“Are we the same you and I?” You ask unwillingly, being careful not to move under his sharp blade. 

“Darling, you and I are nothing alike. I’d never make the questionable decision to aim my bow at a fellow and trusted companion ” Astarion answers and leans towards your face, persistently persevering eye contact with you. 

At that, Astarion pushes his dagger further into your jugular vein, earning him a disapproving growl. He’s straddling you with his full weight pressing you down, there is no escaping except from your sharp tongue. 

“I never meant to hurt you, it’s just-“ you stop, contemplating how to explain your condition to the irritated bloodstained elf before you. “I dream in red, I’ve not slept for days in hopes it would go away to no avail, so I came out here to kill some worthless boar or rabbit in hopes it would ease my fantasies.” You confess in one breath.

There it was, the truth of it all and now it was up to him to decide.

Astarion investigates your features as if trying to detect any dishonesty, face still covered in blood running down his neck, spilling under the front lacing of his shirt. What starts as a chuckle turns into a manic laughter from the elf’s lips. On display are his teeth again.

Fangs. A vampire. 

“I won’t tell the others, just let me go.“ you begin as panic rises from your chest. 

“How delightful, a maniac with a dark urge and a starved vampire. A fruitful pair don’t you think?” He smirks as his eyes grow dark, a deep crimson boring into yours. 

“Fruitful?” you question as he narrows the inches between your faces. 

“Darling, your urges have you adrenaline pumping and mine keep me far from alert, we could perhaps come to an arrangement for our predicaments..” 

Oh.

His push on your jugular vein softens and he leans in to whisper in your ear. 

“You give me a taste of your delectable blood and your reward leaves you from acting on these dirty thoughts of yours. “ 

His sultry voice entwines with your senses, warm and enticing as it beckons you to accept his proposition. On a logical level, he presents a solution to your predicament. Yet, it's hard to ignore the stark reality—this man, soaked in blood, recently grappled you to the ground and still pushes a dagger menacingly against your throat.

“Not a drop too much, I still need to be able to fight when the sun rises.” you squeeze out, hiding your blush at the position in which he held you, restraining you from squirming and hiding. 

“I’ll restrict my urges as long as you do too darling” 

Gods. 

Astarions lashes flutter against your cheek, traveling along the curve of your neck and sharply inhales near your jaw. The dagger in his grasp is speedily pocketed into his holster, hand now reaching to angel your head in the perfect position. 

“Very good” he coos. 

Heat grows between your thighs as his legs squeeze the sides of your hips and chest pressed against yours makes your breath hitch in response. You want to indulge in every part of him but at the same time you are at his mercy. He was dealt a hand where destiny, hope and trust entirely was up to him.

“Give in, embrace the truth of the blade.” the voice licked into your other ear, tongue slithering further in. 

“Astarion please get it over with, I-“ you stutter as the trance flits back into your limbs, nails reaching to tear themselves from his grip. “I’m losing myself…please” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. The rouge skillfully bundles your restraint from pulling away from his sharp teeth. Licking the area to prepare for his bite, he plants a kiss before puncturing into your pumping jugular vein. The pain is sharp at first, urging your mouth to let out a gasp. Seconds pass and with time leavs the pain and is traded for an electrifying jolt that sends shivers through your body. Warmth, pleasure, joy, arousal and at last - nothingness. The kiss of stillness lures before you and only Astarions licking pierced through the vacuum-like atmosphere. His head bobs up and down, curls cushioning your tilted jaw. 

“Astarion?”

The rouge stiffens as your words cleave through his own blood frenzy. His licking is replaced by fluttering kisses, sending jolts of warmth to spread between your legs. Your once bundled hands are now also intertwined with his, the other tangled in your hair. The elf slightly pulls your hair, earning him a muffled moan as you bite down to contain your racing thoughts. As your head spins in bliss, Astarion prowls to catch your disoriented eyes with his pupil-blown ones. The vampire is positively delighted, a genuine smile creeping up as he loosened his grip on your hand. 

“ You are truly delicious my dear.” the euphoric man softly speaks, licking his lips.

“I’m glad to be proven a filling snack.” you say through half-closed eyes.

Astarion must’ve noticed your delirium and furrows his brow in response. 

“Are you quite alright?”

“Yes of course, why wouldn’t I?” you whisper and give him a genuine smile.

You glance at him with fully opened eyes, taking in the sight before you.

Trying uncipher your progressively clouded thoughts you mumble “You are very pretty Astarion”.

In the moonlit silence the rest of your conversation turns into a blur. The last image to flash by is a trembling hand that sought your pulse, any sign of life.

“Don’t you dare die on me.”

#astarion #astarion x durge #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader #astarion x y/n #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate tav #durge x astarion #astarion smut #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #shadowheart #karlach #laezel #wyll ravengard #tav

[temptingfatetakingnames]

The Last Steve Harrington Part 14

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Hot. It was too hot. But he couldn’t stop shaking. Every swallow felt like he was forcing glass down his throat and his breath wheezed out of his tired lungs.

“Steve,” a soft voice cajoled. He swatted at it to go away. It chuckled instead.

“Steve, I made soup.”

He cracked his eyes open, squinting at the soft light coming in the trailer window. Eds was close, leaning over him. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He was smiling softly, thumbs moving slowly against Steve’s over warm cheeks.

“Pretty,” Steve mumbled and watched as dimples appeared at the corners of his boyfriend’s smile.

“Not as pretty as you.”

“Don’t feel pretty.”

Eds laughed softly. “You’re always pretty, Steve. Now sit up and have some soup.”

A hacking cough woke Steve from his dream, still feeling the ghost of Eds’ thumbs caressing his cheeks. Fire scorched down his throat and he moaned low as his body shook. His joints ached as he attempted to sit up and dizziness blurred his vision. He fell back down with a huff and closed his eyes tightly.

A cold. Or the flu. He felt like shit. Pressing the heel of his palm on his forehead he felt the sweat on his skin – he was warm but shivers wracked through him. Flu then. He needed antibiotics to bring his fever down and water to keep hydrated. Where was his backpack? He needed to find a defensible position to hole up in until the sickness passed. He patted around the bed, fingers twisting in the sheets but he couldn’t find his backpack. He didn’t know where he was and the light – it was bright and warm and… not red. Why wasn’t it red?

He could feel his panicked heart pounding in his ears and it was making his head hurt. He coughed, and the sound was wet and loud. Too loud. Covering his mouth with his hands, he tried to contain it. If a Demodog found him that would be it, he couldn’t fight like this. He needed to be quiet.

“Steve?”

He blinked at the hallucination standing beside his bed. She looked like… Joyce? Her hand reached out slowly towards him but paused before reaching him. It hovered there in front of him and time seemed to slow as he waited for it to touch him.

“Can I check your temperature?” the hallucination asked.

The hand hovered, waiting for an answer and Steve’s heart ached. He had no idea why his fevered brain had conjured Joyce of all people but… he wanted to be soothed, wanted to have his hair brushed back and be taken of… even if it wasn’t real. Steve nodded and closed his eyes, leaning towards the outstretched hand. He sighed with relief when it brushed his hair back from his forehead. Her cool hand felt wonderful against his heated skin.  

“You’re burning up,” she said, concern etched into her voice.

Steve snorted. Tell me something I don’t know.

“I’ll be right back.”

The cool hand slipped from his skin and he almost whimpered from the loss. Panic was still humming in the back of his mind but he didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. He just wanted Joyce to come back.

Steve drifted and confusing images fluttered through his mind. He saw Eds laughing in the sun, healed scars on his stomach and a harder look in his eyes. Robin yelling, a doorway of light open behind her. A picture of himself that he didn’t recognize. Swing sets and porch steps and cigarette smoke trailing into the sky. Fighting dragons and falling out of trees. His kids holding on to him tightly, and a loose grip on two of his fingers. The crackle of a walkie-talkie and a radio playing music too loudly. A feeling of… safety? Peace?

He didn’t understand it. There was no safety or peace in Hawkins. Not anymore.

Distantly, he heard whispers and feet pounding on the stairs.

“Steve?”

He squinted at the new voice and groaned. Eleven. Here to torment him with his failure. He liked the other hallucination better.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. It was always what he told her.

He blinked and she changed - a scar appearing across her face. Blink. The scar was gone. Blink. Shorter hair. Blink. Her hair was back. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his vision. Eleven gently took hold of his fingers and it made him still. That odd feeling coming over him again. She was still holding him when Joyce came back carrying a bottle and a spoon.

“Scooch over honey,” she told Eleven, who moved out of the way a bit but didn’t let go.

“Alright, let’s get you up.”

Slowly, telegraphing every move, Joyce reached out and helped him into a sitting position. His body trembled. They both felt so real. The spoon was filled with a foul-smelling liquid and held up to his lips. He opened his mouth and swallowed it down quickly. It made him gag and he thought he might throw it up but he suppressed the feeling. Medicine couldn’t be wasted. A coughing fit seized him, setting his throat on fire. Wheezing and exhausted, he collapsed back down into the bed. 

Soothed by cool hands in his hair and a loose grip on his fingers, Steve fell asleep.

He felt fuzzy the next time he woke up but much more present. Rolling onto his side, the cloth that was on his forehead fell off. There was a glass of water sitting on the table beside his bed that he grabbed with shaking hands. He sipped slowly, letting the cool liquid soothe his lips and throat. Muted sunlight was still streaming in the window so he knew he hadn’t slept the whole day away, but it must be late evening.

His nose was plugged and he wheezed loudly with every breath he took, feeling like something that was hit by a truck and left by the side of the road to die. He vaguely recalled Joyce giving him medicine and checking his temperature a few times. Feeling the ache in every one of his joints, Steve shuffled until his feet were on the floor and he was in a sitting position. Taking a deep breath, he stood up and waited until the room stopped spinning before he started walking downstairs.

The house was oddly quiet. He could hear the television and someone puttering around in the kitchen but that was it. The world felt surreal, the warm fading sunlight casting everything in a hazy glow and the muted sounds seemed far away. Dizziness accosted him suddenly and he leaned hard against the kitchen doorframe before he fell over.  

Joyce, who had her back to him, turned around when she heard the noise. She rushed over to his side.

“You should be laying down, what are you doing walking around?” she asked, gripping his elbow and taking some of his weight. Steve thought she would lead him back to his backroom but she started walking towards the living room instead.

Hopper was sitting in his recliner, beer in hand, watching a baseball game with the volume low. Seeing them he pushed his feet against the bottom of the chair, moving to get up and help but settling back down when Joyce waved at him to stay. Steve sat down on the couch with a grunt, tension radiating from his sore muscles. Joyce grabbed a pillow and tucked it behind his head and then threw a blanket down over his chest and legs.

“Feel up to some food?” she asked as she tucked the blanket tight around him. He swallowed painfully, his stomach rolling at the thought of eating anything. He shook his head.

“What about a milkshake?”

“Yes, please,” he managed to rasp out around his ruined throat.

She left after feeling his forehead again. Joyce had taken care of him before (as much as he would let her anyway) when he was in the hospital, but this… felt different. Something about being sick made him feel much more vulnerable than when he was hurt. His mother had never been the maternal type, hadn’t known how to soothe, how to be warm and gentle. It was something he had lived without for a long time. It was… strange, to have it now. When he was an adult who could take care of himself and didn’t need coddling. But just because you didn’t need something anymore, didn’t mean you couldn’t still want it.

“How are you feeling?” Hopper asked.

“Fine,” Steve replied. A Lie. He felt like shit.

Hopper shot him an unimpressed look.

“Pretty shitty, actually.”

Hopper nodded. “Warm enough? I can get you another blanket.”

“I’m warm, thanks. Whose playing?”

“The Cubs and Dodgers.”

Steve settled deeper into the couch trying to let the tension ease out of his tired joints. He wanted to ask where everyone was, but he was too tired and his throat hurt too much. The couch was comfortable and it was nice to have something to watch even though he couldn’t really focus on the game. Joyce came back out after a few minutes carrying a tall glass with a straw sticking out of it.

“It’s strawberry, I hope that’s okay,” she said as she set it down on the table in front of him, close enough for him to reach easily.

Steve nodded and quietly said, “thank you.”

Joyce smiled and reached a hand out to his forehead. Steve froze with unnatural stiffness as she brushed his hair back and settled her palm against his heated skin. He knew that she had done this multiple times throughout the day – a reflex to make sure he wasn’t too warm – but this was the first time he had been completely lucid for it. In the blurry haze of his memory, he remembered her hesitating the first time, asking permission.

He forced himself to loosen and look at her. All he could see in her eyes was warmth and concern. She looked at him like she looked at Will, Eleven and Johnathan…. Like he was hers. He closed his eyes, unable to hold her gaze. Her hand lingered for a moment longer and Steve tried not to tremble.

When she left, Steve drank his milkshake and thought, is this what it’s like?

---

Steve didn’t know what to do.

They were all looking at him, relying on him, but their situation couldn’t be worse. Surrounded by enemies and out of options…

“There’s too many of them, were completely overwhelmed. I told you we weren’t ready for this!” Lucas shouted.

They were all screaming and yelling at each other and Eddie was sitting back with a manic gleam in his eye. He thought he had them. Steve had his eyes glued to the map on the table, trying to think of anything they could do to get themselves out of this mess. He had initiative and if he didn’t do something drastic right now, they were going to get wiped when he ended his turn. They had managed to do some damage to the boss, the Lich King but they were getting crowd controlled into oblivion and there were too many zombies and other undead creatures for them to handle. They were all hurt and running out of options.

“What does the room look like again?” he asked.

Erica flipped back to her notes and read out Eddie’s description from when they first entered the room.

“Musty air greets your noses as the door opens. You see a large room that must have been magnificent once but has fallen into a state of complete degradation. The marble floors are covered in a thick layer of dust, the tapestries on the wall are moldy and threadbare. Eight pillars dissect the room, old and cracked from age. As you step inside, the brazier’s flair to life, glowing an eerie green. The sarcophagus’ lining the walls start to shake…”

“How is this helping?” Mike asked, quick and panicked.

“Do we have a resurrection scroll?”

“Yes. But it doesn’t matter Steve because we’re all going to die down here!” Dustin yelled.

Steve turned to Eddie, “how high would I have to roll to knock down one of the pillars?”

“You can’t –”

“The description said they were cracked.”

Eddie sucked a deep breath in through his nose and then narrowed his eyes. He looked at the map and immediately noticed what Steve had. The enemies had somehow become perfectly aligned so that if a pillar fell just right, it would take most of them out. Only one party member was also in the way. Worth the sacrifice to take so many enemies off the map if they had a way to bring them back when the fight was over.

Steve was close enough that he could move behind the pillar and still have enough initiative to hopefully pass a skill check and knock it over.

“We can’t knock a pillar down, Steve,” Dustin hissed at him. “It could cause the roof to collapse and kill us all!”

“If there were only four, I would agree with you. But there’s eight. We’re going to get wiped next turn anyway. This is the only thing we can do and if the roof does collapse the fight is still won and the world is saved even if we died, right?”

They’re all looking at the map now, the room completely silent as they think over Steve’s plan.

Erica nodded decisively. “Do it.”

Steve looked at the rest of The Party, he needed everyone to agree, this could result in the death of their characters. They looked back and nodded, nothing but steely determination on their faces.

“I position myself behind the pillar. Taking a deep breath, I place my hands on the cool stone. I know I’m strong enough to do this. I take a quick look at the ceiling, praying that it doesn’t collapse around us and push with everything I have.”

“Roll strength.”

Steve picked up his D20 and held it in his hand, hoping with everything inside himself to roll high – to save them. Holding his breath, he tossed the dice onto the table. Silently, The Party watched it roll…

And roll…

And roll…

It settled.

Steve couldn’t believe his eyes.

Natural 20.

His first critical success.

Jumping into the air so quickly his chair knocked back he shouted, “Nat 20! I rolled a 20, Eds!”

The Party screamed with excitement, but settled quickly, looking to Eddie to see if their characters would live long enough to continue the fight.

“The pillar is solid and has stood for thousands of years, but it doesn’t stand a chance against the strength of Sir Chuggington when his friends are threatened. His muscles bulge with the effort and sweat runs down his forehead as he pushes with all his strength. Crack! The pillar begins to shift. Crack! Chuggington screams with rage and with a final burst of strength the pillar collapses unto the unsuspecting undead creatures. Applejack screams as the pillar begins to fall but doesn’t have time to escape and is also crushed. Dust and debris fall from the ceiling and the ground trembles from the impact…but the roof doesn’t collapse. Only three enemies and the Lich King remain. They all turn to Chuggington with empty dead eyes, but you can sense the hate burning in their depths…”

Eddie sat back, a small smile hovering on his lips as The Party all attacked Steve with hugs.

He had bought them time and an opportunity to still pull off a win…

Steve was pulled from his dream by the feeling of being lifted.

“You sure you have him?” a voice whispered.

“I have him,” another voice whispered back. “He’s still too skinny.”

“Careful on the stairs.”

He was being carried by Hopper who made his way carefully up the stairs and into Steve’s room. Hopper set him gently down onto his bed, before pulling the blankets up to cover him. Joyce came around his side and tucked him in the same way she had downstairs. He had never been tucked into bed before.

Steve blinked up at them sleepily.

“Go back to sleep, Steve,” Joyce said as she placed another wet cloth on his forehead.

He tried to mumble out a thank you but he was asleep again before the words left his mouth.

---

It took him a few days before he started to feel better. His fever and sore throat were gone, but the aches and pains in his joints stuck around for a while. Hopper and Joyce continued to take care of him to a degree that Steve had never experienced before, even with Eds. Joyce always had a cup of tea or a milkshake ready for him, cooked him delicious soups and other soft easily digestible foods, and brought him medicine every hour he was due for more. She started to touch him more, just his forehead at first and when he continued to be fine with that, on his shoulders and back. Hopper kept him company, brought him his book or his Walkman and kicked the kids out when they were being too loud. He constantly asked Steve how he was feeling and stared him down until he gave an honest answer. It was easy to talk to Hopper, Steve discovered. He was excited to have Steve around when football started because no one else in the family was even remotely interested in it.

Steve’s heart beat fiercely at the words.

No one else in the family, Hopper said.

Steve felt…

Warm and safe and…

Loved.

And he thought, yes.

This is what it’s like.

Part 15

@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @a-gae-af-racoon @nailbatandfreak @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries @espressopatronum454 @r0binscript @seths-rogens @fruity-nerd @sani-86 @n0-1-important @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @paintsplatteredandimperfect @viridianphtalo @goodolefashionedloverboi @13catastrophic-blues @newtstabber @queenie-ofthe-void @tinytalkingtina @hbyrde36

-Theres a couple songs I would love to share with you guys that have a lot of meaning for this story. Strangest Thing by The War on Drugs, Like a River Runs by Bleachers and Sia, and Water by Ra Ra Riot. Strangest Thing is just a perfect song for this fic. The lyrics, the mood, the title *chefs kiss* -Once again, I don’t know a lot about D&D but I did my best. -Family is a big theme for this fic so I wanted to have a chapter where Steve realizes that Hopper and Joyce love him. Hope you liked it!

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #multiverse #angst with a happy ending #slow burn #the last steve harrington #joyce byers #jim hopper

[exhausted-archivist]

Art Used in the Dragon Age: Official Cookbook: Tastes of Thedas

While there was some new art, previously seen concept art, there was also the use of ending credit slides. Some possibly denoting certain world states that I briefly referred to in the master post here.

I've split it into sections of:

New Art

Previously Shown Art

Character Art and Slides

General World State Ending Slides

Everything is going below the cut because this will be long. I will also note which page and recipe each image accompanies in the book for easy reference. (Here's to hoping tumblr doesn't mess with the image layout.)

Edit 10/30/2023: Added the page numbers that were missed because it glitched out and deleted things when I tried to go over 30 images and didn't notice till now.

New Art

Page numbers from top left to right going down:

Orlesian Woman: Sour Cherries in Cream, p. 121, Tevinter Pumpkin Bread, p. 151

Building Etching: Crow Feed, p. 43, Antivan Sip-Sip, p. 161

Spider Design: Posion Stings, p. 115

Sea Creature: Lamprey Cake, p. 147

Smoking Meat Racks: Smoked Ham from the Anderfels, p. 95

Antaam Spearman: Unidentified Meat, p. 37

Admiral Isabela: The Hissing Drake, p. 157

Etching of Bowl: Rivaini Couscous Salad, p. 19

Etching of Platter: Nevarran Blood Orange Salad, p. 13

Table Setting: Goat Custard, p. 127

Red Bear: Conversion Charts, p. 172

Giant: Lamprey Cake, p. 149

Blue Building: About the Authors and Photoghraphers, p. 175

Mabari and Army: Roasted Turkey with Sides, p. 99

These are all new images with three of these looking to be concept art: the presumably Orlesian woman looking at Andrastian themed items, the antaam spearman preparing to throw a spear, and the table setting of what looks like it might be for Rivain or Tevinter based on the aesthetic. Though I lean more Tevinter due to the snake on the basket.

The bowl and platter look to maybe be prop designs, and they are distinctly bird themed with what looks like feathers around the base of the bowl and then mirrored crows on either side of the platter with a dagger etched in the center.

The red bear shown here is new, though it is similar to a mural in Dragon Age: Inquisition in the barn where there is a green-ish bear with stars on its muzzle breathing what might be fire, while holding the white silhouette of a figure with antlers. (Couldn't attach it due to there being a photo limit.)

Then to further note that the dark blue building image looks similar to some concept art/Development images from Dragon Age: Dreadwolf (DA4)

Previously Shown Art

The piece below have been shown elsewhere before, but there are some new additions so I am showing it here separately from the new art.

Ferelden Spread: Roasted Wyvern, p. 85

This is was first shown in The Art of Dragon Age: Inquisition and is labeled as "Fereldan Fineries". It was coloured and lacked the two figures in the back left of this image. (Below)

Character Art

Cole and Maryden: The Emerald Valley, p. 169

Sera: Sera's Yummy Corn, p. 103

The Iron Bull and Krem: Hot Chocolate, p. 159

Varric and Aveline: Varric's Favorite Pastries, p. 143

Josephine and Inquisitor: Fish Chowder, p. 59

Leliana: Grilled Poussin, p. 77

Cullen: Croissants, p. 137

Morrigan and Keiran: Nettle Soup, p. 65

King Alistair: King Alistair's Lamb and Pea Stew, p. 67

These were mostly character specific ending slides you could get in DAI, going from the top left to right they are slides for: Trespasser: Human Cole ending up with Maryden. Trespasser: Partial image of a slide for an Inquisitor who agrees to become a red jenny with Sera and the Inquisition is disbanded. Trespasser: Iron Bull and the Chargers are alive and taking jobs throughout Orlais and Ferelden. Trespasser: Varric is Viscount Trespasser: Josephine, her personal quest completed. This is the romanced Josephine version. Trespasser: Leliana, not Divine Trespasser: Cullen, having not taken lyrium during Inquisition Inquisition: Morrigan and Keiran leaving Skyhold World of Thedas vol 2: King Alistair

Ending Slides

Antaam Slide: Lentil Soup, p. 63

Halamshiral Slide: The Hanged Man's Mystery Meat Stew, p. 57

Grey Warden Slide: Sweet and Sour Cabbage, p. 61

Disbanded Inquisition Slide: Sugar Cake, p. 145

These were all ending slides you could get at some point in Inquisition, from the top left to right: Trespasser: The Qunari threat Inquisition: Kicked out of Halamshiral with low approval Inquisition: Grey Wardens were kept in southern Thedas to rebuild, they are estranged from the Wardens in Weishaupt Trespasser: The Inquisition was disbanded

Final Thoughts and Implied World State

Overall the world state makes a lot of sense I think, they went with the one that would be less quantum - so no one is dead or could be dead and is in an important role; hence Cassandra being Divine,

Summary

Inquisition is disbanded

Grey Wardens are divided; though as of the comics and Tevinter Nights we know regardless all Wardens have been called back to Weisshaupt. Unclear if the civil war mentioned in DAI is actually happening.

Morrigan has Kieran and he doesn't have the old god soul anymore

Cole is human

Josephine had her personal quest done.

Leliana wasn't killed in Origins, she is fully human and now retired.

Alistair is king

Cassandra is Divine, no clear answer on the state of the Seekers.

Cullen is retired and established the sanctuary for former templars.

#dragon age #dragon age official art #dragon age tastes of thedas #da: tot #josephine #josephine montilyet #morrigan #cullen #cullen rutherford #the iron bull #krem #sera #leliana #cole #varric #varric tethras #alistair #king alistair #alistair theirin #isabela

[pumpk1n-writes]

Tell Me All About The Dark Places You Hide ~ Part Nine

➥ in which the reader figures out that their best friends are the infamous Woodsboro Killers and decides to help them rather than turn them in. {ft. Drugs and alcohol, murder, short chapter, fake knives, real knives, Billy and Stu being soft for each other}

Part Eight | Part Ten || Word Count ~ 830 Words

Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid @katie-tibo @laurajmcmanus @sparklyphantom @minkyungseokie @misscaller06 @juda-the-simp @severuslovebot @asdorlia @billysbae @lilac-fangirl @bloody-delusion-expert @rubyroscoe1 @honeynicoole @ok-boke @thatonetallweirdo @ren-ni @fictionalcharacterslut @ennycutie @moneyoverl0v3 @lexasaurs634

Your heart was racing as you ran, laughing, around Stu’s kitchen and living room as he chased you with a soup ladle. Billy watched from the couch, a smile gracing his usually serious face. It was a picture taken from people who deserved to be happy and in love, not a merry group of murderers.

All too soon, it was over, and the three of you were back to planning. You checked the food and made sure the blood capsules and fake knives were safely hidden in the pantry, along with the second Ghostface costume, and the door was locked. You turned around to one of the most surprising images you’d ever seen. Billy had both of Stu’s hands in his and was giving him a pep talk of some sort. He finished and patted Stu’s cheek, and nobody made any sort of weird joke.

You smiled to yourself and shepherded Billy out of the house, tossing his own Ghostface costume towards him for the first part of the plan. You found most of the anxiety of what you were going to do leave your body as the first few party guests arrived.

Around an hour passed and you were well on your way to giving up and murdering Sidney in her own house and completing the job right then before you heard Tatum’s voice and Stu’s greeting. They were finally here. Rolling your eyes in resignation, you took a final swig from your beer and slammed it on the table, turning around and plastering a fake smile onto your face.

You stumbled over to them, watered down beer sloshing in your solo cup. You purposefully slurred your words in your best attempt at a drunken stupor. Leaning heavily on Stu, you pretended to think really hard about what you were about to say. “How…” a pause while you furrowed your eyebrows, ignoring Stu’s hand snaking down your back. “Are you?” You beamed happily at them and the two girls laughed.

“Having fun already, are we?”

You nodded, waiting until they were out of sight before dropping the act and groaning to Stu. “That was perhaps the stupidest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Stu laughed at you, patting your shoulder. “It was your idea. You have to be passed out on the couch in order for Act 3 to happen.”

You groaned again rubbing your face with your hands. “Yeah, yeah. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

The next part of the plan was quickly approaching, and you watched Stu send Tatum out for more beer and then lock the door. You quickly put on the act again, pouring half a beer into your cup and stumbling out to the living room to listen to Randy’s rant about horror movie rules.

The phone call came in and you watched happily as everyone left. You giggled to yourself, laying down on the couch against Randy’s shoulder and closing your eyes.

*DiViDeR*

You woke up to find Randy gone and Sidney frantically shaking your shoulder. “Valerie! Valerie please wake up, please.” You pretended to sit up groggily, looking at her with an unspoken question. “It’s Billy, it’s always been Billy.”

You sat up straight, standing up and facing Sidney. “What? No, I don’t believe it. He was perfect, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” You internally vomited at the words coming out of your mouth. There was blood everywhere, and if you peeked through the hallway, you could the see the open door revealing the bodies of Dewey and Gale Weathers. When had she gotten here?

Billy stalked through the hallway, seeing you with your back to him, talking to Sidney. He switched the knife in his hand for the fake one and came up behind you, tapping your shoulder. You screamed and turned around, rolling your eyes as soon Sidney couldn’t see.

He stabbed, puncturing the blood packet, then stabbed again and again. You fell into Sidney, pleading with her to run. She did. Straight into Stu.

She was cornered in the kitchen, Billy behind her and Stu in front. She seemed pretty preoccupied to pay attention to you, so you silently stood up and moved, limping pathetically to sell the act. toward the kitchen.

“Oh my God. Valerie, you’re alive. Please, please. The gun is on the table. Please.” Her pleads we’re pathetic. You wanted to shoot her perfect little face.

You whimpered to make the “wounds” believable, limping over to the table. Stu shot forward to “stop” you, except you decided to change a few things about the plan.

You grabbed the gun from the table, pointing it at Sidney’s stomach and firing two shots in quick succession.

“What the fuck?” Billy yelled, anger filling his eyes. “That wasn’t part of the plan!”

“Not your plan, no. But mine?” You pointed the barrel towards Billy’s forehead. Something told him you knew your way around a gun and wouldn’t miss. “It’s all part of mine.”

#scream 1996 #billy loomis scream #scream #billy loomis #stu macher my beloved #stu matcher x reader #stu macher #Stu macher x Billy loomis x reader

[serosblunt]

BakuSquad Drabbles: If They Had A Crush On You

BakuSquad x (Female) Reader

NSFW, 18+

Characters: Bakugo, Kirishima, Denki, Sero, Mina

Warnings: Mentions of smut (masturbation, electrostimulation, kissing, general horny thoughts.) Reader with female anatomy and pronouns. My terrible use of Spanish.

A/N: I am not Spanish, nor have I ever taken a day of it in my life so pls forgive me if I messed up the beautiful language😭

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

Bakugo was NOT a pervert. 

Hothead? Yes. Slowly-coming-out-of-the-closest? Yes. But he was not a pervert. So why did he find himself having so many restless nights thinking about your face? 

The blond would frequently wake up to sheets soaked in sweat and slick palms that emitted his caramel essence. 

The way you smiled at him for less than a second when he handed you a pencil, or the casual manner in which you wiped sweat from your brow while sparring with Uraraka was so enticing to him. 

Perhaps it was because for only the third or fourth time in his life, someone wasn’t afraid of him, and that scared him. If he hurled insults at you, you would simply throw him back a grin, a toothy one that matched his own, as if you were telling him you knew he didn’t meant it. You were his equal and he respected you, maybe even worshipped you. 

Walking down the halls, if you were to accidentally bump shoulders, Katsuki would internally die a little, and turn a deeper shade of red than Ejirou’s hair. 

For some reason he would be overcome with the need to…apologise?!

You were his kryptonite, exposing all of his weak spots. 

He was in deep. And he didn’t know if he wanted to get out. 

Katsuki was fucked. 

Maybe he wanted to be, if you were down ;)

The red-head had always prided himself on being manly, and it hadn’t taken long for him to figure out he was harbouring strong feelings for you. 

Your loyalty to your friends and your willingness to drop everything’s for them at a minutes notice had initally peaked Eijirou’s interest. It was a very manly quality to have. 

His longing had only grown from there. 

Kirishima fondly remembers one day when he wasn’t in class, and during the lunch-break there was a pounding at his dorm room door. He was sick, it was really only a sniffle but Aizawa advised him against getting the rest of his classmates sick. 

He opened his door to find you, out of breath, having apparently run all the way from the classroom. You somehow had managed to find tissues, soup and an assortment of medicines along your fast-paced journey, with help from Recovery Girl. 

His heart was fluttering around you constantly from that day onwards, and he knew he couldn’t keep blaming lingering cold symptoms forever. 

His friends had caught him staring lovingly at you from across the room on more than several occasions, and smacked him out of his trance, as good friends did. But not before Mina got a few photos of the “lover boy” to show you later.

If he wasn’t going to step up and ask you out himself, she would do it for him. 

Denki WAS a pervert. 

Lately the two of you had been partnering up for training exercises, and his filthy mind had wandered. It was inevitable, you had boobs and were breathing. 

As you dodged his attacks, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you hadn’t.

If you submitted to them willingly…asked for them…begged for them…

He had a crystal clear image of you underneath him, any time you trained. Naked and begging him to run his volts through you. In his mind, it made your toes curl and your nipples impossibly hard, and that wasn’t the only hard thing around.

When the thoughts got too much for the horny teen, Kaminari reverted back to blaming an over-usage of his quirk. Often this backfired on him however as you came even closer to him to run your fingers through his hair, knowing that it had helped him feel more grounded on occasion. 

It was common knowledge that recently, Denki, in his infinite wisdom, had developed intense stomach aches whenever he overused his quirk, which he obviously needed to see Recovery Girl for. 

Alone. 

Really, it was just an excuse to hide his boner from you and make a quick getaway, before either shamelessly rubbing one out in the bathroom or trying to coax it down enough to see the nurse. 

Unfortunately Denki could be a little clueless. You had felt something poking you in the thigh the first time you trained together, you decided to start wearing shorter skirts from that point onwards. 

Sero is a confident man. He knows he likes you and he suspects that you like him, but he needs to put that theory to the test. 

In the beginning he starts out slow, with only a word or two whispered so low you’re not even sure he said anything. 

Then the long-haired teen decided to use his powers for good. 

He calls it experimentation, and the way you blush after he breathes so softly just below the shell of your ear, he calls that data. 

“Data which must be collected again and again.”

The phrases too begin innocently enough, but Hanta knows how to get what you both so clearly what. 

“Cariño,” he purrs to as you reach for a snack.

“What does that one mean?” You squeak back, meekly. He finds it completely intoxicating. 

“It means ‘sweetheart’, but that’s nothing compared to what I’ll be calling you later, mi dulce princesa.”

You practically bend over for him right then and there, and the cocky, smiling fool knew it too. 

The tension between you two was more electric than anything Denki could produce, and it was driving Sero just as crazy as it was driving you. His lips spent more time attached to your ears in those few short weeks than they did apart from them. 

The taller boy was completely enamoured with the way you melted simply from his words.

Needles to say it didn’t take long for the two of you to start dating, and Sero kept up the Spanish.

Thoughts of you came to Mina often, but especially at night. When she was getting ready to slip her fingers below the waistband of her nightwear, inching them closer to where she so desperately wished it could be you touching her instead. 

It felt like it should have been wrong, the two of you were friends, but you were close. Closer than she saw a lot of her other friends act. But the way it felt, the way she felt about you, overpowered all that negativity. 

Ashido pictured your smile, your collarbones, your hands, and if she thought about it hard enough, she could almost feel the ghost of your lips against her skin. 

Your plush body against her own. It edged her closer and closer to her release.

She was practiced at this, having had the same desires for many a night. She knows just what vision will get her over the edge. 

Mina pretends it’s your voice in her ears instead of her own laboured breathing, coaxing her on, telling her you love her too.

A few more talented flicks of the wrist has your name on her lips like a symphony. 

Later that night, as she does every other, the bubbly girl curls up to a teddy bear you gifted her, which still holds your scent. 

You’ve never understood why she blushes the first time she sees you each day, but Mina knows that each night will be the same as the last until you’re hers. That’s the only secret she’s ever kept from you. 

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

#bnha bakugou #bnha #bnha smut #bnha ao3 #bnha au #my hero acedamia #my hero x reader #my hero #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x you #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo #bakugou #bakugo smut #kirishima headcanon #kirishima fluff #kirishima x y/n #bnha kirishima #mha kirishima #kirishima smut #denki imagine #bnha denki #denki x you #mha denki #kaminaridenki #mha kaminari #kaminari x y/n #kaminari x you #denki kaminari

[aliellnea]

The loving theory- Kageyama Tobio

Part 2 of my Kageyama story

Content warning: MANGA SPOILERS, angst, mention of a family members death (that's probably it for now, aside from my very watpad plot and probably my bad english), THE WORST WAY OF CARRYING A PLOT

Not proofread

PART 1

Looking out of your window you watched as the wind gently swayed the trees. Your mind was clearly not on the math homework in front of you. You was definitely going insane since your encounter with Kageyama earlier, but you couldn't get it out of you mind. Did your mother know he would be going to Karasuno? Why didn’t Miwa tell you? How come you hadn’t seen him for the past week at all on the way to school?

With a sigh, you focused entirely on the street. With the sun setting, the night lights were already on, and most people were already home, so it was fairly deserted outside. The house in front of yours had all the lights out, meaning the Kageyamas weren't home yet. You had been there so many times before that you knew the exact floorplan of the house, which was slightly different from yours. Your bedroom window was face to face with Kageyama’s but you made sure the blinds were closed almost all summer so you wouldn’t have to see him but after seeing him today you thought it was useless now.

Glancing at the clock on the desk, it read 7 PM, meaning you had to hurry and prepare dinner for you and your mother. With only one source of income, you lived quite tightly, but you made it work, even if it meant sacrificing time together. Your mother had taken on additional work shortly before the school year began, increasing the household income. As a result, there was an established routine where yoy assumed the responsibility for cooking dinner every evening.

“Oh dear that smells wonderful” said your mother from behind startling you slightly, you didn’t ever hear the door.

“Hi mom, how was work?” you said, smiling

“Same as always baby” replied your mother while kissing your head “ Actually, I just ran into Tobio how late do these boys come from practice?” added with wonder in her voice

“Did you know he chose to go to Karasuno?” you lowered the heat on the stove to speak.

“Oh god you didn’t know? I’m sorry baby I thought Miwa or him would’ve told you”

“We haven’t talked in months” you replied in a week tone

Your mother's expression softened, understanding dawning in her eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that, sweetheart," she said gently, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"It's okay, Mom," you said, forcing a small smile. "you’ve been busy with work and everything."

Your mother gave you a sympathetic look before turning her attention back to the simmering pot on the stove. "Well, let's not dwell on that now. Dinner smells delicious. Why don't you go set the table, and I'll finish up here?"

Nodding, you moved to the cupboard to retrieve the plates and set the table once yo were done you ran to your room to take a jacket and there you saw him, in his room. He must’ve seen the light switch in your room as he looked up directly at you. He was shirtless and combined with his shocked face he waved awkwardly at you. Blushing, you took the jacket and left the room as fast as you could leaving a shocked Kageyama behind.

The image of Kageyama shirtless lingered in your mind, sending a flutter of nerves through your stomach.

Your mother glanced at you curiously but didn't comment, instead pouring steaming bowls of soup into each plate. "Everything okay, honey?" she asked softly, her eyes full of concern.

"Yeah, everything's fine, Mom," you replied quickly, forcing a smile. "Just feeling a bit tired, I guess." your mother gave you a knowing look but didn't press further.

On Monday morning, the rain painted the town. You luckily didn’t encounter Kageyama that weekend after Friday’s incident, but you spent the whole weekend thinking about joining a club. Your first choice was being a manager for the men’s volleyball club. You found the time you spent with Sugawara and Hinata quite enjoyable, and you were in desperate need of friends in this school. However, after learning that he was also in Karasuno, you kind of discarded the idea.

You looked at Kunimi and Kindaichi on the other side of the booth while sipping on your overpriced drink. The two boys were talking about their classes and the club but your mind was everywhere except their conversation.

“What’s on your mind?” asked Kindaichi

“I don’t know, I’ve been thinking of joining a club but…”

“you don’t want to run into Kageyama” interrupted Kunimi

“Was I the last one to know that he was also going to Karasuno?” you said with disbelief “anyway, how do you even know that?”

“Don’t worry, I couldn’t care less where he went” started Kindaichi “I could never play again with someone as selfish as him”

“Yu” you couldn’t help but scold

“You can’t keep defending him. I don’t care what his problem is you even tried to help him and he treated you like garbage”

“Kindaichi calm down, this is not the place for this.” Intervened Kunimi before the other boy could get more worked up “We actually know because next week we have a practice match against them”

“And?”

“Oikawa requested it. Kageyama has to play the whole match as the setter”

“Oh god, can he be more egocentric? Isn’t he old enough to get over whatever issue he had when we were 13?”

“He’s actually quite nice you know. It’s easy to play with him” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes “Okay okay no more Oikawa. Why don’t you join the club? Fuck Kageyama. Didn’t you say that there was also that lousy player? The orange haired one”

“I know but Kageyama was the exact reason I quit last year”

“And I’m still mad about that” said Kunimi.

"Aki'," you said with a hint of affection, a playful glint in your eye. "If you're so eager to kiss me, just say the word," you teased, only to be met with his playful retort, complete with mock puking sounds “Okay maybe I could do like a trial or something but, if I end up being their manager don’t be sore losers when we win”

“Likewise” answered the both of them

Even if you didn’t approve of what they did on their last tournament Akira and Yutaro had become great friends. You also kind of understood why they did what they did because after all Kageyama had been their friend and teammate for two years, they reached their limit that day. They were there on your father’s funeral and made sure you didn’t isolate yourself you were grateful to have them and still be in contact with them after choosing a different school than them.

When you left for home it was already dark outside but since it was a school night the streets were pretty calm. You always liked going on night walks, specially with Kageyama and his grandfather. They started when his health deteriorated and couldn’t join you on your jogs, but those walks became the best part of your days. If you weren’t with your father, you would be at Kageyama’s watching some match on the TV or playing outside so when he died it was also a blow for you. You tried your best to keep Tobio company and try to distract him a little, you thought you were helping him until he snaped that day.

As you approached, you spotted Kageyama walking towards his house, sporting the Karasuno jersey. He looked really good in it; you couldn't help but notice. You've always thought he looked best in darker clothes, especially with his dark hair and pale skin. Suddenly you remembered the sight of him shirtless in his room and blushed a vibrant red. He looked up and caught your eyes as you reached your door.

“I’m sorry” he almost shouted making you jump.

Flustered and caught off guard you let out a simple “Okay” and closed the door rapidly. How the fuck were you supposed to manage the club and see him every day?

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #kageyama x you #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x reader

[klbwriting]

Adventures In Atlantean-Sitting

Chapter 7

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Arthur has power stripped and Orm recovers

Arthur knew something was off the moment he entered the council chamber. Horvath was smiling wide, Orlan was glowering at him more than usual and his normal allies seemed sullen. He sat in his seat and looked around before setting the bagged evidence on the table in front of them.

"I will be testing these today. They came from the attack two nights ago in Coastal City..." he began. Horvath snorted a laugh. "Is there a problem councilman? A barnacle in your throat?" Horvath just chuckled.

"Your pathetic attempts at humor won't help you today," he said. He produced a holodisk and set it on the table. He pressed a button and an image of Orm at the pier appeared, he had his weapon trained on something, but whatever it was couldn't be seen. Arthur inhaled deeply, annoyed. "We, the council, have decided, since this would clearly be a conflict of interest for you, that the investigation will be taken over by one of us. Orlan and I were just putting our fish in the ring so to speak, for the honor of capturing your brother and bringing him in." Arthur looked around, no one met his eyes except Horvath who looked ecstatic.

"I see," Arthur said. "Well I would like to extend to whoever heads the investigation to please test these materials. If he was using the weapon once again we have missed a weapons cache to reset the DNA. And he must not be working alone considering I went to the attack sight myself and saw multiple weapons and these gloves. I recognize this color and design. This was one of Orm's old suits, so strange that if he is the one doing these attacks, has a cotingent of soldiers with him, that they would all need to use his DNA, why wouldn't they just use their own?" This seemed to baffle the council for a moment, Horvath sputtering some.

"Perhaps it is a message he wants to send," Orlan offered. Arthur finally looked at him. He seemed completely neutral in all of this, which Arthur found unnerving. Orlan typically hated him, but in this regard, he seemed passive, as if he didn't care about any of it. "No matter what, he is always going to come back. They use his DNA so as not to expose those on his side in our ranks. Orm is a master strategist, the idea surly would occur to him to have plants among us all. Even in this room." He looked pointedly at Arthur, who glared.

"You think I would help the person who tried to harm my family?" he asked, voice low. Orlan just shrugged noncommittal, but his comment had worked. A few murmurs spread through the room and Arthur knew he was fighting a losing battle this time. He needed to regroup. "Well then, if you were going to vote on someone new to lead the investigation please do so now. I recuse myself." Orlan won and that was the only time Arthur saw any emotion, just a simple uptick of his mouth into a thinly veiled smile.

Orm slept on and off for two days recovering from the poison. YN kept watch over him, making sure he drank and ate, checking his fever, and keeping him warm. Despite Atlanna telling her that he would be fine after rest she still couldn't sleep, instead watching him for any signs that he was failing, that he was going to stop breathing. By day three she was exhausted but still going. She was so focused on making some soup for his dinner that she didn't hear him get up and start walking around. She nearly had a heart attack when she turned around he was just standing there by the counter.

"Fuck me Orm, what the hell?" she said, breathing deep, clutching her chest. He laughed. "Yes, very funny." She sighed and wiped her hands on the towel on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you," he said. He looked better, his color was back and his eyes were bright. She took a relieved breath and smiled at him. "How long have I been out?"

"You've been in and out of consciousness for two days. Arthur and Atlanna were here, they gave you the antidote to the poison." His eyebrows shot up. "Ya, they tried to poison you," she said, setting the soup to simmer. He frowned, he was trying to remember what had happened. He didn't remember anything from the attack at all. "What do you remember?"

"Nothing much, I remember the roller coaster," he said. YN felt her heart sink. He had forgotten about the kiss then. What if he changed his mind? She moved to turn back to the soup when she felt a hand in hers, pulling her to him. He wrapped his arms around her gently. "O...and I remember this." He leaned in and kissed her softly. Her hands went to his face, holding his cheeks as she kissed him back. When they parted she stared up at him. "I would never forget something as amazing as that kiss." She blushed and he couldn't help himself, he kissed again. He pushed her to the counter and tried to put her on it but faltered. "Sorry...I still feel weak."

"Its alright, you should probably be in bed still," she said. He groaned and she laughed at his grumpy face. She had missed it honestly. "Fine, how about we hang out on the couch today? We still need to watch Blue Planet, I think you'll love it." Orm thought about it, what he really wanted did involve the bed, but he knew if he got into it, even with her, she would only let him sleep. He nodded.

"Better than sleeping all day again," he said. She led him to the couch and settled in to watch.

#orm marius #king orm #ormmarius #orm marius x reader #king orm x reader #kingorm #ormmariusxreader #kingormxreader #ormseries5

[silversiren1101]

Owlcatober 2023 Day 1: Protection (and Memory!)

My first entry for Owlcatober! (@owlcatober). I'd promised myself a min 500 words and ended up with 4,585!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: The Commander (Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous), Seelah (Pathfinder RPG) Additional Tags: Owlcatober (Pathfinder), Heart-to-Heart, Armor, just girls having a heart to heart chat over polishing some heavy plate armor, Amnesia, Memory Loss Series: Part 1 of Siren's Owlcatober 2023 Summary:

Not yet Knight Commander, Minovae Arangeir retreats to the quiet of Defender's Heart's stables to polish heavy armor "scavenged" from the battlefield. The weight of her missing memories sits heavily on her, having woken up only days ago in Kenabres with only a name and country of origin. Her steadfast new friend, Seelah, has her own thoughts on the matter.

The armor came apart easily under Minovae’s hands, seemingly remembering by muscle what she couldn’t by memory. The plackart and cuirass separated with some bolts, and next came the faulds; which she didn’t like, for some reason. Another word floated to her distantly from the hazy soup that was her thoughts: tassets. Something in her told her that she preferred tassets. The fact that she knew what they were—the sheets of armor that extended down the thigh from the waist—much less that she had a preference for them, made her sigh heavily as she worked. She hardly knew anything else about herself since waking at that festival however many days ago. Armor, though? Important enough to her to remember, apparently. No, not just remember but have preferences for! Was it because of her tail? That made sense, given the thought of reattaching the faulds to the plackart in her hands made the top of it ache and itch with phantoms. She must’ve had bad experiences before, confirmed as images flashed in her mind then: the sight of her ganzi scales, cracked and oozing from armor chafe, and said armor, so ill fitting, being replaced with a new suit of something… dark… Far darker than what was in her lap now…

She growled in frustration as the image abruptly slipped away from her, feathers bristling from the back of her neck all the way down her spine. Even the tip of her tail snapped, the sound of the plume at the end like a soft whip crack. She nearly threw the armor piece away, wanting to hurl it into the corner of the stable where the hay would catch it, but that strange, cold restraint from before washed over her again. It was the same as when the flash of rage had taken her in the Shield Maze at the revelation of what’d happened to the mongrels, towards Hosilla and Wenduag, who even thinking of now brought confusing feelings of guilt and mistake. But like before, with that burning heat of rage, icy discipline welling from somewhere else within her snuffed it out. The feeling, like gauntlets cooly alighting on her shoulder and wrist and curling underneath her chin, not to crush or harm but to guide and hold her head high, shut out the bristling chaos of emotion.

Breathe, it told her, and so she did. 

She reclined backward with a deep inhale, looking up at the stable roof where she noted the holes in the thatching that would make this place into a puddle should the sky open. Stars twinkled through the holes, and something in her squeezed at the sight, like she… she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a clear night sky, a thought that carried with it some horror she had no recollection of. 

And breathe again. She followed the order, exhaling deeply and shunting those star-born feelings too, away to someplace else. 

Calm descended upon her once more. She relaxed back into the position she’d been in previously, where her violet eyes—unnervingly bright—stared back up at her from the now much cleaner cuirass in her lap. The weariness in them was apparent. 

There was no point chasing these flashes of memory, she reminded herself. The harder she tried, the more elusive they became, like trying to grab a bar of soap from the depths of the tub. They came to her only subconsciously as nagging reminders, or the opposite of when you walk through a doorway and forget what you’d just been about to do. The most she could do was continue what she’d been doing before that’d caused them to appear in the first place—even as much as she was terrified of knowing the truth of herself. Waking up with no memory in the middle of demonic invasion, knowing how to fight, knowing instinctively of demons and cults and how they worked, with this wound on her chest that ached like nothing else and being… what she was, given tieflings seem to fill the cults’ ranks in droves and she was something similar enough…

And knowing that that gripping, snarling, devouring rage that came over her in the Shield Maze had to have come from somewhere deep down within her; from the parts she couldn’t remember. Even if that discipline that’d corrected and steeled her resolve had come from the same place, the fact the former existed at all filled her with a disquiet she couldn’t bear to think overly long on. 

She was afraid of herself. There was no denying it.

But there was no denying this armor had to be cleaned, either. Fear over the self she didn’t know resurfacing through muscle memory be damned.

And so her hands moved over the pieces of armor once more, their names and purposes coming to her idly, as she scrubbed them cleaned with the rag. From the same places that knowledge came did the knowledge that demonic viscera had to be cleaned out fast, something about the acidity in the blood causing rust, even with proper solvent and oiling routines. She somehow knew what those were too, having grabbed containers of both from the meager equipment ‘armory’ in the inn’s pantry, which were now both sitting off to the side next to her here in the Defender’s Heart stables. She could have done this in her room, but the bustle and din inside the inn had quickly grown suffocating at the thought—especially with the risk of their newest ‘recruit’ seeking her attention while in the midst of it.

Count Arendae seemed to have figured out quickly that nearly everything about him repulsed her, to her chagrin. Which, combined with the fact he seemed particularly infatuated with her ganzi-ness, meant that he couldn’t seem to leave her well enough alone for more than an hour at a time. All so many insinuating euphemisms disguised as questions about her scales and feathers and fangs! She could hardly remember more than her name, and yet the answers had come as easily to her mind as easily as she’d told him to shut the Hells up and make himself useful about the place. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, though. His healing abilities paired with his shocking willingness to lend them made him just tolerable enough to keep around.

He very much was like the second-hand armor she was currently working so hard to get into serviceable condition, in a way. The cultist that’d been wearing it had barely been dead on the ground for an entire second before she’d clocked that he hadn’t just been wearing half-plate, but enchanted half-plate. Something in her had called out for it, had been calling for it since she’d woken only with scalemail at that damned festival, the lightness having made her feel as naked as a babe. This half-plate wasn’t perfect—she craved something even heavier, her limbs without a doubt accustomed to more than even this—but, much like with Daeran, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Like wearing a dead man’s armor. That she’d slain herself.

At least the chalk and blood scrawling of Baphomet’s unholy symbol had come off with barely any elbow grease needed. She would just… try not to think too hard about where the armor she would be wearing came from. 

Suddenly, the sound of approaching boots, heavy, snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see a familiar smile, as radiant as the sword on its owner’s hip, approaching from across the Defender’s Heart enclave. Even over the din of survivors and guards and crusaders shoring up the inn’s defenses, distributing other recovered arms and armor to those that could bear it, and the mixed chorus of bitter laughter and desperate sobs, Seelah’s footfalls could be heard as clear as the support drumbeat in a tavern song.

“There you are, Minnow! I was wondering where you’d gotten off to”, she beamed at her as Minovae gave a short wave and dip of her chin in greeting.

The paladin, coming to the side of the stable’s half-doors still closed, rested her forearms on the sill. She seemed about to say something more, a question on her lips, only for her smile to falter to bewilderment upon seeing the pieces of dismantled armor surrounding Minovae on the stable floor. “Woah! Careful, you know that stuff isn’t easy to put back together. Plate armor is in short supply around here.”

“In such short supply that I had to take this off of a dead cultist, yeah”, Minovae cracked a grin in response. “You don’t think they’ll miss it, will you?”

“Uhh, given how you smashed his head like a melon on a summery holiday, I think the only thing he’ll be missing in the Boneyard is a helmet.” 

Something dark had passed across the paladin’s gaze beneath now furrowed brows, and the normal humorous note in her tone sounded uncharacteristically strained. Something in Minovae sank at the sight and at some realization. It’d just come naturally to her, that way of fighting, and she hadn’t batted an eye at the aftermath.

“...Am I really that brutal in combat?”, she asked, voice having gone quiet.

Seelah blinked, and Minovae watched as she made a concerted, determined effort to reignite her dazzling smile. Even knowing the effort, it did make her feel better to see in a way. Seelah just kind of had that effect, like when the sun finally reappeared after a streak of cloudy days.

“In particular? No, I think that just comes with the territory of bludgeoning weapons, sis’,” she reassured her. “They tend to make a mess, which is why you probably fight with a shield, too. Helps catch the—”, a grimace broke between the words, “—splatter.”

Was it? Minovae considered it. The call to a shield had been as strong as the call to heavier armor, something in her accustomed to it like wearing normal clothing. Fighting without either throughout the caves beneath Kenabres and the Gray Garrison had felt like fighting in her skivvies. It wasn’t because of the blunt-weapon splatter, no, even though the grip of the warhammer she’d taken from a rack in the Shield Maze had been as familiar as breathing. All she’d known was that she was called to the front line of their little fighting group, that her rightful spot was in the vanguard, because the thought of anyone else getting hurt when it could—and should—be her filled her with shame and horror. You can’t keep everyone else protected if you can’t keep yourself protected…

“...You really still don’t remember who you are, do you?”

The question made her realize a few seconds of silence had passed, and that she’d been frowning, expression frozen into a pensive look. She looked back up at Seelah, noting that soft, concerned look in her warm brown eyes.

“No… Just the flashes here and there. Like—”, she gestured at the pieces of armor around her, “—I know the names of all these pieces, and how they come apart and go back together again. I know they have to be cleaned and polished and oiled, and I know demon blood rusts and rots even the most babied steel. I know how to wear it and fight in it, just as I know how to sunder it off the enemy… And I know how to angle a shield to drive it into the gaps of armor, and that if you bring a hammer down onto the edge, you’ve got a makeshift guillotine…”

A flash of disgust and horror shot through Seelah’s expression at that last part Minovae said almost unconsciously. She hadn’t even known that she’d known that. It’d just come out with all the rest, like more of the same. Not wanting to linger on that particular imagery for long, she continued.

“But as for why I know all of this…? Seelah, I don’t even know where to start”, she sighed with a shrug of her shoulders and an agitated rattle at the tip of her tail. 

“Hey, that’s okay, you know!”, Seelah reassured, tone back to its cheeky self. “You fight demons like you’re born for it and you’ve got a heart of gold. You might not know who you were but I know who you are: someone I trust.”

Minovae balked at that. “How can you say you trust me? How can anyone trust me in this situation! I could be just another cultist that’s just forg—”

“HAAAAAAAAH!” 

She jumped at the sudden howl of Seelah’s laughter, cutting her off. 

The sheer oomph of it had thrown the paladin’s head back. Seelah practically howled in amusement to the night sky above, and Minovae could only stare in wide-eyed surprise. It carried on for some few seconds, before Seelah fell back over the stable half-door, shaking her eye and wiping a tear from her eyes.

“Minnow, seriously? I know you’ve got a dark sense of humor but you are not a cultist.”

Indignance licked like a little burning flame in her gut at how self-assured Seelah sounded, and how her concerns were apparently so outrageous as to howl in laughter. Her lips pressed together tightly before she snapped. “How can you be so sure? Waking up with no memory in the middle of all this and having just the right knowledge to survive what should be impossible odds is a bit convenient!”

Seelah just stared at her, smirk having gone smugly confident enough as to further rile that knot of annoyance the laughter had stirred within her. 

“Because, Minnow, by the grace of Iomedae—”, Minovae swallowed down her atheistic distaste at the smugness in the declaration, “—I can sense evil. And you? You look like a decorated tree during Crystalhue with how brightly you shine with Goodness.”

That gave her pause. She felt a heat creep into her cheeks, could feel them reddening beneath the seafoam colored scales lining them. Figuring out how she could ever respond to that left the two warrior women in silence for some few seconds as she mentally puttered through her thoughts. Seelah only looked more knowingly self-assured in her smile with each passing one.

“I… I…”, Minovae eventually sputtered, before breathing deep and turning her attention back downwards to the half-cleaned armor she’d come out here to tend to. “...I’m just someone trying to do what I can out here, okay? I don’t know if that makes me a shining paragon of ‘Goodness’ in your goddess’ eyes or whatever. I’m just… doing my part, you know? Because I can fight and that means I can protect, even if I don’t know how or why or where those skills came from.”

Seelah’s own response was an amused snort, exhaled through her nose. Minovae didn’t bother to look up, suddenly feeling like she’d been thrown into a matron’s washbucket and churned all about with the washing pole. The feelings of fear over her unknown past and the unquestionable proof that was a paladin’s metaphysical senses—calling it confusing didn’t even begin to cut it. Instead, she reached for the solvent over her shoulder on the bale of hay she’d parked herself against and began to dab it on a particularly nasty clump of grime caught in the curves of where the plackart hugged the wearer’s sides. When was the last time this was cleaned? She’d gotten it off a cultist, she reminded herself, so probably never.

Movement in the corner of her vision told her that Seelah wasn’t done with her yet, though. The paladin straightened up, pulling herself off the sill, and rounded the half of the door already opened. A great clanking of armor sounded as she crossed the hay-strewn floor and subsequently unceremoniously plopped herself into a cross-legged sit directly across from Minovae, sending pieces of hay flying from the gust of air.

Minovae said nothing. She kept her attention downward to the armor, the piece already cleaned but not wanting to risk her reaching for another to work on as concession or acknowledgement of the paladin’s presence. Frustration and annoyance and confusion rolling in her chest like a tangle of cats. Why did she take so poorly to being comforted? Or complimented? Or reassured?

Because that’s your job, something in her said. You’re the protector. You’re the guardian. Seelah is your junior. You are the one that needs to look after her. It’s your job as her commander offic—But, no. She wasn’t. She was no one’s ‘commanding officer’... Why that word?

A rustling, clanking sound made her blink back into focus. She looked up from the work in her lap and hands to find Seelah in the middle of doffing her own armor, a flat, determined expression on her face.

“What?”, Seelah paused, flashing a daring, challenging grin. “You’ve already got all the stuff out for it. I might as well join you. Like you said, demon blood chews through armor like nothing else.”

Minovae merely stared at her, feeling suddenly very exhausted. Ultimately, she shrugged, and scooted the bucket of water and cleaner rags to within Seelah’s reach, knowing full well this was an excuse to continue this conversation further. “Alright, then.”

To her credit, at least, Seelah managed to pass some several minutes in silence; save for asking Minovae to pass the picks or solvent every now and again. It was almost calming, in a way, sharing the space with someone else working on their own armor.

Nostalgic, she realized. It was familiar and comforting. It felt, bizarrely, like home.

And then Seelah broke the silence. 

“You know, when I made that comment about that cultist missing his helmet”, she said so quietly that Minovae second-guessed whether she’d spoked at all. “I wasn’t actually thinking about him. Or you.”

Minovae paused in where she’d been oiling up the now re-assembled breastplate in her hands. Slowly, she looked up into Seelah’s face, finding that the paladin was staring off into space, her expression now more pensive. A knot of worry clenched in her stomach. The last thing she’d wanted was to pass off her worries and foul feelings onto someone else—in fact, that’s why she’d attempted to end the conversation. Now it turned out that Seelah hadn’t been alluding to how Minovae handled herself in combat? With how easily she took the lives of their enemies, with nary a blink nor worry about the gore? She felt a rise of sheepishness at how self-absorbed she was to have assumed it’d been about her, but banished it handily; you are the one that looks after everyone else. Fix this. 

She swallowed, and invited the connection.

“Okay… so, what were you thinking about, then? The way your tone had fallen, it sounded like it’d really troubled you.”

Seelah breathed deep—inhale, exhale, so much like how she had calmed herself earlier—and leveled her with a trusting gaze. “...Can I tell you a story? About who I was before I became Seelah the paladin?”

Where was this conversation going? Minovae held her stare for a few moments, realizing that Seelah was about to share something with her deeply personal. She was as touched about it as she was uncomfortable, but that internal command insisted yet again, fix this. 

And so she nodded, and Seelah shared her story.

She listened in rapt attention, hardly touching the armor at all, as Seelah told her all about the mithral helmet she’d stolen from a paladin named Acemi when she was but a young thief. She listened as Seelah detailed the guilt that’d overtaken her, having stolen from the very people that’d come to Solku to protect people like her—yes, even the thieves and the criminals, because that’s what paladins do. She listened, and tempered her reaction as she knew where the story was going even before Seelah described how Acemi, who had been among the bravest of those paladins, perished holding the gates against the endless horde of gnolls a Solku’s gates; about she’d crumpled from taking a flail to the skull.

A blow that that stolen helmet might have saved her from. 

“From that day onward I… I knew I had to make up for it. I promised myself to justice and goodness right then, and now here I am”, she sighed, shoulders relaxing along with her breath. “Seelah the paladin may not be the Acemi the world lost because of her stupid, selfish choices, but I’m just… I’m doing my part!”

She said the last part, parroting those words back at her, with a renewed zeal and bright smile.

Minovae couldn’t help but respond in kind, feeling herself smile wider than hardly anytime else since she’d awoken in Kenabres. 

“You know, you really are the model paladin…”, she chuckled softly. “Climbing onto a funeral pyre in guilt and living for the woman that let you keep that helmet even knowing you took it.”

Seelah gave her a wry chuckle back, grin going lopsided. “You bet I am. Just as you’ve decided you need to protect all these people even when the only thing you remember is your own name and that you’re from Cheliax. Most would be more concerned with their own problems, you know.”

“...It’d be wrong of me not to”, Minovae shrugged. “Like I said, I’m just doing my part. The thought of abandoning any of these people—”

“—Even that Horgus Gwerm guy?”, Seelah interrupted, eyes shining mirthfully.

Minovae couldn’t help but snort in response, eyebrows waggling as she rolled her eyes. “Yes, even that selfish sense of ego with legs, and the sentient cockroach that is Count Arendae. Abandoning any of them to the demons feels like… it feels like… betrayal…”

The word came to her unwittingly, supplied by the void of memory deep within her. A betrayal of all you believe in. 

Seelah sat up straighter at that. She crossed her arms, and beamed at Minovae challengingly.

“Well, there you have it then. Does it matter who you were and what awful things you might have done if this is who you are now?”

It does. It most definitely does, she wanted to say. Some crimes cannot be repaid with service, no matter how good. Seelah’s expression, though, so reassuringly confident and beaming as it was, stilled the words on her tongue, just as the true meaning of the question in light of the story she’d entrusted her with did. 

“...I suppose you’re right”, she said instead, turning her attention back towards polishing the breastplate to a gleaming shine. “Minovae the maybe-once-cultist and Seelah the once-helmet-thief, what a heroic pair we make.”

Seelah chuckled again. “Even saying that, I don’t think you were a cultist. If anything, I think you were much similar to me than you realize, atheism be damned.”

That soured her mood all over again. It wasn’t a joke either, she could tell that for certain. Seelah hadn’t said it in the joking voice. She’d been entirely serious about it.

Minovae snorted derisively. “I was not a paladin, I can assure you of that.”

“No?”, Seelah challenged, at the same time exchanging one clean pauldron for the one still in need of treatment. “You know how to fight demons. You’re braver than most every other Crusader I’ve ever met. You have a sense of justice and goodness like any of my brothers and sisters. And, you call out orders and tactics so clearly in combat that even Camellia falls into line without question.”

Minovae listened with increasing annoyance as Seelah listed off each example as if it were concrete proof. The breastplate beneath her oil rag squeaked from the growing force with which she polished it. 

“None of those things are unique to paladins, you know”, she asserted.

“They aren’t, and normally I would agree with you”, Seelah nodded. “If it was just one of those things. But all of them?”, she clicked her tongue and chuckled. “Who knows, maybe ol’ Seelah will rub off on you.”

Minovae didn’t deign the unintended insult with a response, save for reminding her that she was most likely the older of the two. If there was one thing she knew for sure about herself, she most definitely had not been a paladin. The thought of serving the gods filled her with disgust, and it took another invitation of that cool restraint to keep the outrage of Seelah insisting on such a thing from gaining too much of a foothold. 

But it did do one thing, at least. Thinking more on it, it wasn’t just the gods that the thought of serving sent her reeling. It was any divine power—demon lords included. 

Meaning, she absolutely had not been a cultist.

The relief carried into her previously uplifted mood from before. She felt herself grinning again, and as she nodded in approval at her handiwork of the cleaned and polished armor reassembled in her hands, a mischievously dark thought crossed into her mind.

“Hmm, you don’t think it’s infectious, do you?”, she purposefully held the armor aloft, turning it around as she examined herself in the shine to catch Seelah’s attention. She felt the paladin’s questioning gaze alight on her, and continued before she could speak. “I won’t be struggling to spell the name of my ‘Lord and Savior, Baphomet’ like the cutlists we ran into when we picked up Nenio the second I put this on, right?”

Her gaze flitted past the armor to Seelah’s, who now looked at her with scrunched-brow concern over an uncomfortable half-smile. Minovae had learned pretty quickly in the paladin’s company that while she had a sense of humor, it wasn’t nearly as dark nor morbid as her own. She appreciated lighthearted jokes and optimism. Her own strayed way closer to gallows humor.

“Are… are you joking that you’ll become a cultist just because you salvaged some armor they had probably stolen themselves?”

Minovae pursed her lips, and pointedly returned her focus to the armor in question. “You never know, Seelah. What if the previous owner was the original cultist? And the guy we killed earlier had just been some bookmaker or something looking for some protection? Then, bam!—”, she rapped her knuckles across the polished breastplate for effect, “—suddenly cultist.”

She saw Seelah’s jaw drop out of focus. “What!? No! That’s absurd, Minnow! People don’t just start serving demon lords because of something like that!”

“Is it? Well where else do all these cultists come from, then?”, she challenged, leading Seelah along to the line of thought she hoped would make her choke on that insistence that she’d been a paladin, or would be, enough so that she’d never think it ever again. “You don’t think they just talk to would-be prospects? ‘Hey! I saw you’re a right backstabbing son of a bitch. You’ll make for a great champion of Baphomet! Want to enlist?’ ‘Sure thing! I’m so glad you asked! I will adopt an entirely new way of life now, just like that!’”

Seelah’s mouth opened, about to retort, only for realization to halt the words before they could come out. She grumbled, pressing her lips together with an annoyed expression before breathing a deep sigh.

“I get it, sheesh. You don’t have to compare me to a cultist recruitment scheme just to get to drop the paladin talk, though.You could have just asked.”

Minovae merely leaned forward and clapped Seelah on the shoulder with a wry smirk. “This leaves a much more lasting impression.”

#oc: minovae arangeir #seelah #pwotr pals #owlcatober #owlcatober 2023 #pathfinder wotr #wrath of the righteous #silversirenwrites