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piratefalls · 3 months

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this time i finished a book and wrote some psych au and caught up on a shit ton of fic, and yet i still almost put the wrong banner on here. happy reading!

masterlist.

Set In Platinum by cricketnationrise

“So,” Alex says, plopping down on Henry’s couch. “You said some things on my channel are more achievable with a partner.” Or, The camboy!Alex sequel.

diamonds are forever by rizcriz

Henry shakes his head. “James Bond is fictional.” Alex raises his eyebrows. “But . . . ?” Gaze slipping to the ceiling, Henry nods once. “It is not . . .” He says, making a face as his eyes meet Alex’s again. “Dissimilar to James Bond.” Alex nods. “So . . .” He trails off, the information still processing. It’s a bit like his mind is buffering as he makes sense of it. It’s so little information, yet so much all at once. Like someone’s thrown an encyclopedia at his head and given him a cliff notes explanation expecting him to know it word for word. “That would mean—I’m dating James Bond?” He blinks, sitting up straight. “Oh my god,” he exclaims with sudden realization. “I’m a Bond Girl.”

Happiness I Seek by MayQueen517

A sick day in the Brownstone === “It really must be serious if you’re admitting you’re sick,” Henry says, grinning weakly when Alex groans, shoving at him.

the clementine thing by saintlynomenclature

And, really, it doesn’t matter whether or not Alex explains it to Liam and the rest of his friends. They’ve never really discussed it between themselves through the years. Slowly, Alex had gone from asking Would you please peel this for me? to Please? to silently extending the citrus without any comment at all, just a soft smile. It’s one of the things that make them Alex-and-Henry; the silent conversations and the contentment in each other’s company. Now, as Alex starts to flourish through his position on the lacrosse team, his slew of AP classes, and his role in student government, getting him to slow down at all is a feat. The only way that Henry can do it, guaranteed, is by one of those innocuous little fruits. There’s nothing Alex can’t do—surely, he could peel a fucking orange if he felt so inclined—but Henry delights in being able to do this for him. - Five times Henry shares a clementine with Alex, and one time Alex returns the favor

(Not) A Cinderella Story by LolaLand

Henry is very much a prince. Alex is very much not a princess. OR Prince Henry isn't a fan of royal duties, and Alex isn't a fan of the monarchy (or their non-disclosure agreements).

our world, mine and his alone (the midnight train to go) by firenati0n

The posh accent hit Alex first, and he felt something curl in his gut. One of his amygdala brain worms did a little wiggle. He was unprepared for what was to come. A pair of criminally long legs entered his vision, effectively vaporizing most of the brain worms (that's a first), except for the ones slowly starting to chant shoulders and thighs and hair and legs and thighs and Alex couldn’t do a goddamn thing to stop his increasingly horny train of thought. All trains had left the station. Or, Alex asks a stranger to crack his back like a glow stick. Or, an overnight train meet-cute.

A Little Space to Think by allmylovesatonce

A surprise visitor sends Alex into a spiral about his future, specifically, his future with Henry.

I kiss the photo every night so you are in bed with me after all by imaginentertain

Following the election, the boys are back on their relative continents and back to their lives. And it sucks. It may only be a month until New Year's but things are different now: they're out to the world, Alex is the official suitor of the Prince, and they're talking about New York and the Brownstone and Law School. Alex misses Henry. Out loud. He's allowed. "Sure you'll find something to keep you busy." Henry will regret saying that. Probably.

of hubris and fowl by maxbegone

"The bird fucking bit me," Alex tells her before she can get a word out. June blinks. "What?" "And I'm bleeding." "What?" She repeats. Alex just holds up his hand, the bundle of tissues now somewhat sticking to his wound. "Alex," she starts, exasperated, "what the actual fuck?" On the evening of Wednesday, November 27th, 2019, the First Son of the United States, Alexander Claremont-Diaz, sustained minor injuries after contact with a wild turkey. Out of abundance of caution, Mr. Claremont-Diaz was transported to Walter Reed Medical Center for evaluation and treatment, as is protocol after contact with a wild animal. Or, Alex is dramatic, (definitely) antagonizes a turkey, and everyone thinks he's overreacting.

Trying My Patience (Try Pink Carnations) by chamel

Unfortunately for him, the only things more beautiful than Alex himself are Alex’s cakes. He’s the most in-demand cake artist in the city, and as such he books a lot of weddings. Many of the very same weddings that simply must also have Fox Florals arrangements for their centrepieces. Weddings like, apparently, this one. (Or, Henry the florist and Alex the cake artist are forced to collaborate last minute at a wedding job, make a mess, and learn some things about each other in the process.)

Balls to the Wall by inexplicablymine

“He looks kind of like a cross between a sickly Victorian orphan and the personification of the bubonic plague. I feel like I should be walking in with a Medico Della Peste plague mask and a stick,” Alex says into the phone while wearing his version of a hazmat suit (last week's sweats that need to be laundered expeditiously). He looks out into the carnage of his sleeping bedridden roommate in dismay. So maybe he doesn't need to rob a bank, but robbing a Starbucks for Henry’s happiness might be in order. He rips off the rubber gloves and grabs his shoes. “Fuck it, we ball.” Or Alex is willing to go to great lengths in order to make Henry happy, great lengths indeed.

We'll Get Together Then by absoluteaudacity

5+1 times Oscar was a good dad to Henry (ft. Abuelo Oscar)

cherry shampoo and a kiss or two by viciouslyqueer

“You underestimate my stubbornness,” Alex says defiantly with a small smile. “Plus, I really need to wash my hair because it’s downright filthy, I just... can’t bring myself to actually leave the bed and do it.” Henry hums thoughtfully, a plan forming in his head; he can do something about this. He leans down to press a kiss on Alex’s forehead. “I’ll be right back.” — Alex is on his period. Henry takes care of him.

i'm in the back seat (of my body) by stevefuckingharrington

He pulls out his phone for a moment. Google’s “voice fine but can’t make myself talk” and then adds ‘ADHD’ on the end for good measure. He scrolls and few moments later he finds it. Going nonverbal is like walking barefoot on pins and needles when everyone else but me came prepared with steel-toed boots. Alex clicks off his phone and tosses it on the bedside table. Maybe, he thinks, he should’ve got that autism assessment. (or, sometime between christmas and new year, alex goes nonverbal during a party.)

Room For Rent (Sex Dungeon Not Included) by everwitch

When Alex comes, he only knows two things: that he’s good, and that he’s Henry’s. And that’s all he needs to know. Alex’s housemate has a sex dungeon. It’s pretty much exactly what you’d expect; whips and bondage gear and a chair that looks like something a gynecologist would have use for. Alex, being the chill, sex-positive guy he is, is of course extremely cool with this. Totally normal about it. Enthusiastically supportive, even. But as Alex watches Henry invite a steady stream of men into his dungeon, he develops one tiny little issue with the arrangement: he desperately wants to take their place.

love's a game (wanna play?) by theprinceandagcd

“Fuck, marry, kill?” Alex suggests, mostly joking. Nora kicks gently at his thigh. “That could be fun.” “Wait, I was ki-” “Celebrities only or are we allowing real people?” Probably-Samantha poses. “Celebrities are real people, Samantha,” Pez says. Alex pushes down the rush of satisfaction that he had remembered her name correctly. “Non-celebrities should be fair game,” Alex insists, and Henry’s gaze meets his before quickly darting away. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks, like maybe the drink in his hand isn’t his first. Or second, even. Jesus, his face is pink. --- aka, FMK as a plot device

Palatial by floatingaway4

With a smirk, Alex holds out his other hand, palm up. “I’m not giving you twenty dollars,” Henry says with a laugh. “We had a bet, sweetheart.” Henry grabs Alex’s outstretched hand and pulls him in for a quick kiss. “You had a bet. I ignored you.” “I really thought we were gonna get all the way through this one without her saying ‘palatial’ but she pulled it out right at the last minute.” He slides a finger into the belt loop of Henry’s jeans and yanks him close. “You know, I really do forget, every once in a while, that you’re a prince. Good thing I have the New York real estate market to remind me.”

Seven Minutes in Heaven (Reversed) by TheAmberFox

'Tell him, you idiot,' Nora mouths at him, and Alex grimaces. He’s been over it with Nora so often and somehow, she is convinced that there’s a 99% chance that Henry would react positively. Alex can’t see it. He can’t even see 1%. Ever since they’ve started college together, Henry’s not dated at all. He has talked about the women his family has tried to push on him as “reasonable matches” though. Alex, on the other hand, has tried distributing his attention equally throughout the dating pool and failed miserably. How can he focus on anyone else when Henry – the sole object of his heart’s desire – is right there? If Liam could see him now, he’d probably laugh his head off.

Once I get a taste by clottedcreamfudge

“Please,” Alex begs, on fire with a clawing desperate need. “Fuck, please, I’ll do anything. Henry.” Henry, entire body rigid with tension, slowly shakes his head. Alex sees his mouth – red from where Alex has been kissing him, biting him, well on his way to eating Henry alive – form the word no, even though he can’t hear it past the blood rushing in his ears. Then Henry turns and leaves, and Alex digs his fingers into the cheap plywood of his own desk as he tries desperately not to fall to the floor. Which is not, as it turns out, where this story starts.

Sweet Dreams of Holly and Ribbon by villageidiot

He falls asleep on the loveseat, Nora and June curled up on the couch across from him, as a terrible Hallmark Christmas film plays in the background. It’s the fourth night of sleeping alone—Henry taking care of some business back in the palace—and he’d rather wake up cold and cramped across from the two of them than alone in his own bed. That’s how Alex falls asleep. That is not how he wakes up.

maybe take me into your room by smc_27

“This is kinda boring, ma.” She pats him on the cheek, leans in a little closer, and says, “Find something to do, darlin’. You live here. You can’t leave.” She’s not exactly right, but he isn’t going to argue. Plus, her main advisor, Zahra, comes over. Alex is already a little afraid of her, so he doesn’t feel the need to draw attention to himself by smarting off at the mouth. She’s still talking to him when he spots this really beautiful guy about his age, and fuck, wow. Okay. “Not him,” his mom says into his ear, and he doesn’t even… Look, if she knows about the few guys he made out with at parties in Madrid last year when the opportunity arose, this is the first he’s hearing of it. “His dad is the British ambassador. I can’t have you breaking hearts and causing an international incident.” OR: Ellen Claremont is the US ambassador to Canada. Arthur Fox is the British Ambassador to Canada.

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers by @kiwiana-writes

“That floor doesn’t look like it’s very comfortable on your knees, is all.” Henry leans forward, scooping out a piece of brownie that got under the counter, somehow. “I wouldn’t worry about that—my knees are quite used to it, I assure you.” A ringing silence follows this pronouncement, during which Henry focuses very hard on opening a trap door directly into hell with the power of his mind. Or, five times Henry puts his foot in his mouth in front of his customer crush, and one time he puts his dick in his customer crush's mouth instead doesn't.

treading water in the deep, just waiting for the tides to meet by anincompletelist

Alex can’t remember his first words. He can’t recall the melody to the lullaby his parents often sang at his bedside to get him to sleep, nor the name of his sister’s imaginary friend that they had tea parties with on the floor of her bedroom. But he knows they existed. That it all happened and that each of those little, seemingly insignificant moments had built him up and formed him into the person he is today, even if he can’t recall every one of them perfectly. But he can remember, as clear as if it’d been only moments ago, the day that he found out what the red band around his wrist meant, imprinted underneath his skin with a small gap right over his pulsepoint, waiting for the day the ends would meet.

Dream a Little Dream Of Me by affectionatelyrs

They’re no longer in the garden. There’s no grass, no flowers, no fireflies. Only stars—hundreds upon hundreds of them in an otherwise vast sea of darkness, dazzling and twinkling and here. “How—” “They came here for you,” Alex says, his voice light. “It’s what you desired. So, I asked them to come and shine. Just for you.” “But won’t the world need them?” Alex shrugs and simply says, “You need them more.” - Or, Five times Alex visits Henry in his dreams during his dark days, and one time he does so in the real world (and stays)

love left a permanent mark by HypnosTheory

Henry clears his throat and answers again. “I’m a bit nervous. About the needles.” “Thank you for telling me,” Alex says, voice dipping low. Henry wouldn’t move from his spot on the couch if the apartment was on fire. “People aren’t afraid of the needle. They’re afraid of the pain. But you’re not scared of that, right?” -- Henry decides to get a tattoo. It comes with more than one kind of aftercare. (Finale to the only thing on my mind series)

say you'll see me again (even if it's just in your wildest dreams) by coffeecatsme

“You should ask her to dance.” She nudges Alex, and Alex pretends there isn’t a flush rushing up to his face. He opens his mouth to mention every single fucking reason dancing with the blonde is a bad idea—she looks about a foot taller than Alex, objectively uncomfortable for some fucking reason, and Alex is against royalty on, like, principle—but then June nudges him again with widened eyes. “Come on. You know you want to, and I’m sure she’d appreciate it. None of the other fuckers are asking her because of how tall she is.” For a moment, Alex glares at her. Then, he downs his champagne, shoves it in June’s face and tries to smooth his jacket. “You fucking owe me, June,” he says and ignores the brilliant smile that appears on her face. “Don’t act so fucking upset about it.” Or, 5 times Henry is too scared to come out to Alex and 1 time Alex gives him the courage. Or, 6 times Alex slowly falls in love with Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, for exactly who he is.

as always, let me know if you want me to tag you, and see you next week!

tags: @starkfridays, @stilesgivesmefeels

#rwrb #rwrb fic #rwrb fic rec #rwrb fanfiction #firstprince #firstprince fic #red white and royal blue #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz

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saytrrose · 4 months

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Someone reblogged your Kinger and Queenie comic and I saw your reblog on curious anons, so here I am.

Anyways, dunno if ya have done this before but ya got headcanons on Kinger's relationships with everyone on TADC?

Like, besties with someone in specific, we get along even if he doesn't know we get along, that kind of stuff.

Ooh!! I really love this question eee

Kinger Headcanons! With.. EVERYONE! (Im including the abstracted characters, they are so so silly in my brain rn and i have a strong perception of them)

—————

Queenie:

- Queenie and him started out with a mutual.. dislike? Dislike from Queenies side, and general uncomfort from Kingers side.

- From the start their relationship was more so small bickering, mutual pining even, They both possess a sarcastic side to them, (I personally believe before Kinger went crazy that he used to be rather analytical and in control, a lot smarter yk.)

- They both were constantly compared for their likeness, which of course gave them a sense of need to.. prove themselves better? To stand out? Saw eachother as an obstacle until FINALLY they tried actually having a conversation.

- Their relationship dynamic is very much golden retriever x black cat.

- Once they actually were in a relationship, Queenie definitely keeps her sassy personality but she’s very soft spoken around Kinger.

- Kinger also changes, they act more differently around eachother than anyone else. Their general idea of “we are different” changes to “we are the only ones that truly understand one another”

- Oh they bickered SO MUCH it’s so silly, Queenie loves to tease, seem like she has a large ego but in private around just him she’s very very vulnerable and relies on him for comfort. She doesn’t feel like she needs to act a specific way around him or ever get really defensive.

- Kingers personality doesn’t change as much as Queenies does around people, however he does lean into feeling more vulnerable around her as well. He tries to seem calm and mostly friendly, but in private with just her he feels like he can actually rant and get emotional.

—————

Wriggle:

- Kinger and Wriggle have a very funny dynamic, as Wriggle is Queenies “best friend is the whole wide world” (quoted by Wriggle, not Queenie)

-They often like to wriggle in between Kinger and Queenie, (hahaha look at me I’m so funny I love puns please don’t unfollow me) they are bit clingy towards Queenie which Kinger doesn’t particularly mind in the slightest.

- Putting Queenie aside, those two I’d say are good friends too. Wriggle loves to ramble on and on to Kinger about things they enjoy or made or did- the list is endless and it’s usually Kinger when it comes to this because atleast Kinger looks like he’s paying attention, whereas Queenie has that.. blank stare.. (autism, your honor)

- Think of Wriggle as a wingman also, They know Queenie well, and things she wouldn’t tell Kinger? Thats Wriggles job. For example, Queenie talks about how it’d be cute to receive flowers but doesn’t want to outright ask for them, Wriggle goes to Kinger and keeps jabbing him in the side with their tail until his attention is gained, and tells him “you know what you should do!!” you get what happens fr

- The wingman job was specifically asked of by Kinger, to which Wriggle, being the snooty little “hmmm idk if I like you enough” worm they are.. obviously decides not to share Queenies private words. (I’m still deciding if Kinger persuaded Wriggle into the idea that it’d make Queenie happier in the long run or if he just dropped to his knees like PLEASEPLEASEOLEAZEPLEASE-)

—————

Slinky:

- Slinky and Kinger have a good relationship, they aren’t really friends that hang out on their own time, but if they are ever in a group then they’d interact.

- Slinky loves to knit and crochet, and she made a task to knit everyone a tiny plush to have. She gave Kinger a tiny stag beetle plush, and he adores it so much, it’s right on his bed. ☠️ (perhaps I could make another post listing all the plushies Slinky made for everyone but idkkk only if it’s inquired about)

- They are the two shyest? Of the whole group, not inherently shy but the most quiet unless spoken to and definitely most anxiety filled. They have an unspoken code of certain looks they give eachother that they can instantly understand.

- In Kingers full honesty, if he was given the chance to choose a person to be in his team for an adventure and Queenie was taken, he’d choose Slinky. She’s just a very patient individual and he thinks he goes well with someone like that.

—————

Kaufmo:

- Their friendship is like trying to combine oil and water.. they don’t mix easily… They have respect for one another, an extent of it and Kinger probably has more than Kaufmo but they have very different conflicting personalities.

- Kaufmo is prickly and pessimistic most of the time, however I do want to think around Kinger he hold back a little. These two ended up being the last of the old cast, they’ve been through alot together…

- Kaufmo hates lovey dovey stuff, god forbid Kinger even rests a hand on Queenies side or something- he WILL point it out like a toddler grossed out by seeing their parents kiss.

- I think after Queenie abstracts it really changes. I want to assume that is when Kinger finally fully lost every marble he was hanging onto and Kaufmo.. well he realized how much he really missed those two together.

- Post Queenie, I think their relationship evolves from annoyance to much more understanding, not knowing eachother too personally as one would hope, given their circumstances but they would still go out of their way for a quick “are you okay?”

—————

Peepo:

- Peepo is a super sweet guy, and I’d say he was a good acquaintance of Kingers just for the fact there wasn’t too many guys and they were both very friendly.

- Peepo was the first to arrive of this old group, so he was much like in Kingers place with the current crew. However he’s not crazy because this is likely to beginning of when people started to get trapped in the game still, and not too much time had even passed. Aka, more people were entering than abstracting most definitely.

- Anyway, to touch up on the above one, because of this he has a sort of natural leadership over everyone, people seem to seek him out on information about the world just because he’s been there the longest. This includes Kinger! To Peepo, if he needed a right hand man he actually really relied on Kinger.

- There’s a small place by the digital lake that no one knows about except Peepo. When the sun starts to set he almost always likes to just.. go outside the tent and walk to it, and the only person he ended up showing was Kinger. It became sort of a spot for just them to talk, which is likely what made them closer. Kinger later would use this exact spot to ask Queenie out…Jumping to canon, the only person who knows of the spot now is Kinger, and he often goes there to seclude himself.

—————

Moppsy:

- Even though I put her here, I can’t really come up with anything! I use Moppsy as the first abstraction Kinger would witness, and likely didn’t really know her or have a relationship with her. Putting her here to include this though!

—————

Pomni:

- Woo!! Og cast now!! I think Pomni and Kinger will get along well given time. While Kinger is certainly.. eclectic in his personality at this point in his stay in the circus, I think Pomni would be comfortable talking to him about things more than Jax or Zooble, who knows! Just based on what I know from the pilot.

- Kinger used to invite anyone and everyone into the pillow forts he made, but once majority of the old cast abstracted I’d assume he stopped completely, instead using it as his own safe haven. However, Pomni is the first one that he very awkwardly asks if she would like to come inside, which leads to him feeling more inclined and comfortable to invite the others.

- Kinger notices and thinks Pomni is very different than the others, anyone he’s known so far infact and he probably outright tells her this because he lacks the ability to really filter his thoughts anymore. She doesn’t quite understand the nonsense he babbles out about it, but in the series if Pomni finds the exit or changes the circus for the better or WHATEVER goes on as she’s the protagonist, I’m just gonna say Kinger had a gut feeling from the start.

- Pomni seems to care the most when Kinger wants to show someone a bug, and that can be left up to the interpretation that the others just got tired of him doing it all the time and Pomnis not used to it yet, or she genuinely just tries to nod along and it makes him very happy to get a response.

—————

Ragatha:

- I think during the whole old cast abstracting and being replaced, if we look at the lineup of how everyone entered, I think Ragatha was the only one to actually know Queenie. Atleast see in person for a while, perhaps.

- I think those two would have gotten along SOOO well but!! This is about Kinger,, and I think Kinger and Ragatha also get along very well. She reminds him of Slinky…

- They both know they don’t talk or vent about their own problems at all, atleast anymore for Kinger. They are both bad at keeping it bottled up inside and while they both understand this about eachother, they don’t pry.

- If anything they have tea together often, and only they know alot about tea and really really enjoy it so it’s like their own bonding thing in a way.

- Ragatha came out to him first as a lesbian for some interesting strange reason, though if we follow my beloved trans Queenie hc I like to apply to things sometimes then she likely did it because she knows Kinger isn’t judgmental on lgbt topics.

—————

Zooble:

- I enjoy thinking of Zooble as an angsty teenage child compared to Kingers senile old dad energy

- I think in Kingers eyes they seem to get along a little bit but he’s just a tad intimidated. In Zoobles eyes they wouldn’t let anyone know how much they really like Kinger, afterall he’s nothing but sweet when being spoken with. It’s a nice break from.. Jax or Caine, even the others who are very emotional. Yes they can be kind too, but it’s like you don’t have to try with Kinger because he’s so finicky that he doesn’t remember every detail of your interaction to judge you on it anymore.

- I like to think whenever Kinger needs help with something Zooble lets out a dramatic sigh and goes to help him (no one asked them to and anyone else could’ve volunteered but okay Zoob we know you just genuinely like his company)

- Zooble gave him a weighted blanket as a gift to include in his pillow forts once and he had a panic attack while under it once because he couldn’t move (he loves it so so much I promise)

- Again hhh Dad Daughter vibe I really enjoy it I think Queenie would’ve adored Zooble like a mother too plsplsplsolsolsols

—————

Jax:

- Jax would call Kinger a boomer a lot and it stresses Kinger out so much because he doesn’t know what it means and when he asked Zooble to explain it to him they convinced him it was slur and so Kinger got Caine to censor the word boomer

- Kinger is like genuinely terrified of Jax and how much of a menace he is, he’s never known anyone that acts like this mf its insane

- Kinger does infact has some pet bugs in a large terrarium in his room and because Jax has keys to everyone’s rooms he with steal Kingers bugs (an example, the centipede he put in Ragathas room? Probably Kingers..)

- Kinger honestly tries his best to avoid Jax hhshs

—————

Gangle:

- Kinger is probably the closest to Gangle of everyone in the current cast.

- Gangle likes to draw and write and ramble and everything to Kinger, even when she has her tragedy mask on, he seems to cheer her up a little just by hanging out near her. Kinger really enjoys it.

- When Gangle does have her happy mask on, it irks something inside Kinger. She really reminds him of Wriggle. And he was much closer to Wriggle than Slinky so.. it bothers him a bit unlike Ragatha being similar to Slinky in few ways.

- She introduced him to anime and while she has a giant ass list of ones she enjoys he’s.. just quite fixated on ghibli movies… he finds them neat.

- They are.. autism buddies.. More so it’s well aware with everyone that Kinger is diagnosed with Autism but Gangle isn’t diagnosed, and Kinger is the only one staring HARD like “hhh ik what you are” fr fr anyway because I hc them both as autistic that’s another reason they tend to group together and get along more.

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tiny-sassy-aggressive · 3 months

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I am living blogging my reaction to the second watch through of WDAPTEO 4 bc the first run through was so much

00:00- I screamed when I saw the notif. I was alone in the car. Just pulled up to my apt looked at my phone and screamed “ no way “ I still can’t believe we got it

00:01- hi, they are SO BEAUTIFUL I’m squealing. I cannot stop staring it’s embarassing

00:27 what’s going on here? “Nothing” my heart. The smiles

00:50 oh I am LOVING the feature wall. And fish tank reveal project??

01:00 how dare they throw THAT japhan photo up there like it’s just some example. Who the hell do they think they are- also I want that doomed hoodie :( he is snug as a bug in a rug

01:50 terror not even 2 minute in and crack

02:03 I’m sorry Dan asking Phil about TikTok stuff is precious

02:13(What is cba)

02:39 I CACKLED. Phil’s sarcastic ass omg

02:44 dans little pat

02:58 phivorce

03:05 I know the ft, they are friends of course. But seeing the messages really warms my heart. Like it’s so normal why am I emotional

03:52 of course Phil sends millions of memes

04:10 how in the fuck did Phil catch his phone what??? Ft dans face during the whole interaction.

Ad time —— 04:25. Im sorry Dan looks fucking amazing, his hair is so curled and pretty? And he looks so comfy cozy and soft??? My Dannie side is really coming out rn

04:59 handsome devil, damn straight. Love this man he’s too precious for this world

05:23 ��

05:55 are the Brits okay??? Bone daddies?? I’m too American for this

06:30 perfectly encapsulated Dan and Phil energy

06:35 Dan saying dude scratches a weird itch in my brain

06:55 again! Totally normal to call a friend in a taxi. But this moment makes them so real in my mind like yes. Call that friend. In that taxi. Make it less awkward. Why did I like this moment so much

07:05 A PRETEND CONVO OF COURSE HE WOULD. He’s so real for that

07:34 “these are very dan and Phil”

07:42 I’m in pain. Koala content and ouch I can’t even put into words

08:44 three days without a text sounds exaggerated. Or lie. Like cmon. All those messages and convos and yall went 3 days without a word?? Sounds fake

08:58 asking what he should do for his nails!!? Again totally normal but UGH I love their friendship

09:01 also Phil coming in with a STELLAR idea, hope to see it happen

09:11 Phil’s a little shit OMG he hated the nails Dan got.

09:38: dans precious little selfies

09:44 also who tf is that that does not look like Dan

09:52 wtf do you mean that they had the same weird Swedish bakery???? 10 years apart???? WHAT THE HELL??????

10:35 fuckin nerds ft cute ft selfie

10:52 Dan in Phil’s glasses hi what the fuck? Precious. Phil loves to take photos of Dan sleeping.

11:02 jump. Scare.

11:28 PHIL CALLED HIS MOM. NURSE LESTER.

12:11 Dan stalking the ring doorbell is not something I expected?

12:20 glad to know Phil and I share that we can’t hear someone saw our name bc it’s too intimate

13:16 ordering a roast dinner is so cute idk why

13:35 jump. Scare.

14:26 I hate them :( i so long for what they have

15:04 they didn’t see death note the musical!! Haters!!!!

15:20 HOT

16:00 Phil papping Dan>>>>>>

16:20 I rewatched this part so many times. Thsi entire sequence. This whole. Dare i say SCENE. Disgustingly familiar. Disgustingly cute. I- karaoke game???? What??? It was for them

17:06 omatone :(

18:22 hot? Worrying? Hmm???

18:45 Phil is so dramatic I love him

19:01 genre to dinner? I don’t get them

19:10 DAAAAAN AHHHHH

19:20 SCRIPTS AH???????3@2/9/@/9@22929 more writer Dan

20:17 this is so familiar

20:50 this has “would you still love me if I was a worm” energy? Can’t explain

22:53 “we dan and phil-ed it” we have to steal that! Asap’

23:24 when Dan sits up he is soooo much taller than Phil but he constantly slumps down and looks up to Phil. It’s very cute to watch.

24:30 oh they are fully embracing the joint channel and slowly moving away from gaming and honestly. I’m alright with it. They look so happy

Guys this was too much. So I just started reading fanfic and these conversations were right out of what I’ve been reading which is very odd tbh? But we were fed. This was amazing content and I can’t wait to see what the writers do with this. Cheers

#amazingphil #dan and phil #daniel howell #phil lester #dnp #philip lester #dan howell #danisnotonfire #dan and phil renaissance #Daniel and Philip #Daniel Howell and Philip Lester #Wdapteo 2023

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ladyduellist · 3 months

Text

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Astarion makes an offer to Tav, later succumbing to his hunger.

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Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 3: Thirst

Ao3

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Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 7k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Sexually Explicit Language, Blood, Act 1 Spoilers

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

He loved her right away. Her smile. Her creativity. Her heart most of all. He told her he used to have dreams about a woman before he met her, one fitting her description. It seemed like fate when they finally met. They both shared the same affinity for music. When he wrote her a love letters in the first few months of their courtship, he knew she would be his. She thought someone finally understood her. 10 years of a life together. 10 years of the dual natured beast that would wound. 10 years of love and honey of the cycle in between. Until she was numb.

— Evenlit (mother of Tavelle), diary entry 523

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“Ah, my favorite traveling companion, do you have a moment to, well—chat?” Astarion’s voice was less theatrical—more thoughtful—than usual as he saddled up next to the bard.

The crew had been traveling on foot again since early morning, deciding not to veer from their previous path. Searching for any signs that could point them in the direction of a healer that could excavate the worms inside their brains.

Tav nodded to Gale and Shadowheart, gesturing them to travel ahead, sensing Astarion needed privacy. The wizard shot her a prudent look under the guise of respecting her quarry to speak with the pallored elf alone.

Astarion didn’t strike her as the kind of man that would revisit a situation once he was rejected. No, he didn’t even seem wounded. Presumably, he would continue to carry on—his pretty lips sheen with dialogue prepped for the next casualty.

Sure, it seemed suspicious enough, but if he had already moved on from their ordeal in the temple, there was no reason she should continue to dwell on their—misunderstanding.

Still, there was an awkwardness Tav buried behind her faint smile and neutral eyes. The want to restrict the memory of a foretoken graze of his willowy hands.

As Tav finally regarded him—her thoughts still flickering back to their time in the ruins—she met the garnet of his vision with caution, a gasp stuck in her throat as he stepped closer. The sun’s beams creating a halo around the feathery wisps of his curls, presented Tav with the imagery of an angel that had flown down from the heavens to gather her into his arms. Back arched, pecking along the top of her bosom: a holy sacrament that could convert her to him.

Thy will be done.

Her mouth felt dry. “Of course.”

Their boots slowed, equally matching each other’s footsteps in the dusty loam of the earth. Astarion stared ahead of them, his vision fixed on their two companions, likely watching their distance.

“To be quite frank, I read our little predicament wrong yesterday and took advantage of it without due respect to you. I’m sure that seems a bit odd coming from the likes of someone like me—considerate as I am—but I think we got off on the wrong foot." He absentmindedly scratched his neck. "I suppose even a charlatan like myself can get it wrong sometimes."

Tav was skeptical of his accountability that seemed less than straight-laced. But, it did dawn on her that she may have misjudged a few circuits that intersect within his heart. That, yes, while he seemed to live submerged in coquettish self interest, in this moment of letting her walls down just enough to scramble through some of the thickets of his inner mechanisms, he may be showing an ounce of authenticity.

Yet, there is an element to the contrition of her heart that she dare not speak. To utter it with a covetous breath would mean to give it truth. That while she seduced her thoughts of being filled in ways she had never known within the margins of a romantic relationship, that she was terrified to completely expose herself to another.

Astarion was indubitably beautiful, charming, and humorous. But, beyond those surfaces, she sought connection—maybe just enough to avoid more conflicting emotions to sow. In the minutes, hours, weeks she could stand, she knew love could be cutthroat and messy. Its afflictions: hail and brushfire, a constant bickering. She was unsure if she could ever love or be physically intimate in the way of it crossing the universe again.

The risk was so very grave. No matter the man present in her life, her interests must remain just that—interests.

For she, too, spits the saliva of the devil’s lies to guard the silly thing that is her heart.

“It isn’t as if I told you to halt as soon as it happened. I think we were both caught up in the moment and lust can be a powerful drug.” Her voice was so sickeningly gentle and candid with him.

“Is that a confession?” The man teased.

The songstress jokingly rolled her eyes. “Pfft. Hardly! Astarion, I am 91 years old. You are scarcely the first to try and seduce me.” She looked at him earnestly. “I’m sorry I let it go as far as it did; I have no desire to lead you on. I am attracted to you—gods, how couldn’t I be—but I...”

A silent awareness of their near intimate rush within the dank crypt walls hung thick in the air. Of the primal urge that can arise during traumatic events. The need to rake nails down another’s back. Foreheads slick with sweat. The smell of salt and sex in the air. To live inside one another’s flesh.

The impact of surviving: release.

He crossed his arms. “Enlighten me then. What is it that you’re seeking?”

Tav stayed silent. The truth crippled her heart. She didn’t even know if she believed such a concept existed anymore, belonging solely to romantic folklores of lovers supping droughts of poisons—to meet one another again in the afterlife.

Astarion searched her face. “Something you think I’m incapable of?”

“I think it is something you’re not accustomed to,” she answered flatly.

“Then, it wouldn’t hurt to aid me with a hint. At the very least to prove you correct.”

Silver tongues belonged to silver serpents. And, this may be a game for him. But, self preservation could be the royal quandary of boundaries and she had already revealed enough. The vulnerability was there, ripe for the winnow of another’s cup, but she couldn’t bear it. Not yet.

A quietness slipped between her lips, the storm of her optics solemn. “…we do not know each other adequately yet.”

Astarion held his chin between his fingers, deep in thought. He reminded her of a scholar that endlessly agonized over scripts with his rumpled skin set amidst two silvery brows.

“Hmm. Tav, you’re really overthinking this. What I am offering—and desire, mind you—is a distraction. A short term fling to take us away from all this madness we’ve found ourselves in. But, if you prefer a less invasive course: what about friendship?”

“Annnnd, if you find yourself wanting that distraction, the offer will always be available,” he added amusedly with a quick wink.

The bard couldn’t help but laugh loudly. “You’ll be the first gentleman I’ll call upon in that case then! But, as for a friendship with you…I’d like that. A lot, in fact.”

Astarion ceased his steps, placing a hand on his hip, while the other crossed over his chest. He narrowed his eyes, mouth perfectly molded into that of the trickster.

“This whole conversation has been enlightening. In the spirit of ‘friendship’ and since we have gotten those unpleasant decrees out of the way, I believe this requires a bit of a reintroduction. My name is Astarion. I was a magistrate back in Baldur’s Gate. I enjoy a needle and thread, gilded chalices, and whatever other indulgences I can sink my teeth into. And you?”

And there was that darling blush creeping up the tenderness of her neck anew.

With all that hubris, Tav was amazed his head didn’t inflate thrice its size. Still, she played along, not discounting the potential for this being a gateway for better camaraderie.

A huff accompanied a subtle smile. “My name is Tavelle, but Tav is generally preferred by most. I was a traveling bard. I lived in Baldur’s Gate for the past year before the mind flayers came. I enjoy reading, a fine glass of bourbon, and the art of sword-fighting.”

“A bard? My, my. I’m sure the patriars just adored you, darling! To live in the Gate for that amount of time without winding up on the streets with folded hands begging for coin or between the sheets of some foolish braggart that doesn’t deserve your affections, warrants much more credit than I afforded you earlier,” he appraised her wryly.

Tav giggled coyly. She observed the high elf momentarily permitting himself to study the lifting of her own crinkling vision, down to the demure smile she flashed him.

“It seems you’ve misjudged me sir magistrate. A lady never reveals how she’s managed to work the entire city fawning over her! Though, I will say, it surely isn’t because of anything I’ve worked towards. I shudder to think I have any actual real prowess worth speaking about,” Tav bantered back sarcastically.

Bantering was not her typical forte. She had a quirky sense of humor about her, albeit a bit dark at times—she certainly wouldn’t consider herself to be an expert in the art of wit—but Astarion was bringing this side of her to light out of the blue. It was fun. Playful. An escape of sugary and sour amusements reserved for them alone. She couldn’t get enough.

“And where, my dear, has all this surprisingly sharp humor clawed its way out of? You’re typically so quiet of nature. Who knew our songbird had so much to say!” The way his mirth emerged itself when he bared his teeth to her in a dashing simper, caused her heart to skip a beat.

He tilted his head and grinned more broadly, as if there were an inside joke he had immediately recalled. Like he had heard the hiccup of her bloody organ.

“I may be introverted, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy talking to others. Especially if it’s someone as charming as youuuu.” Another melody of a titter, her eyes so exceptionally spirited.

They both laughed.

Stepping closer to him, her fingers twiddled with the thrown plait of dark ash brown over her shoulder. She casted her steely blue gaze downward before raising them to his face, the lower portion of her lip bitten in thought.

“Thank you for speaking with me and trying to understand. Truly.”

Bong! The bell’s toll striked and the hunt began. With teeth real sharp and a charming grin.

Tav noticed his pupils tracked her teeth wedged into the soft plush of her lip as he swallowed gradually. ”Hmm? Yes, of course. Now as much as I’d enjoy teasing you relentlessly for the rest of the day, we should probably get moving.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

As eventide washed over the land, the party decided on a night of respite before their visit to the Grove. Now aided by the addition of Lae’zel, the githyanki warrior, their dreadful circumstance had become notably strenuous. Two wary tiefling guards from a place called Druid's Grove, had captured her in a cage, frightened of the havoc she may cause. Her claim to have access to an apparatus that could rectify their tadpoles was a chance they could not all agree would be worth investigating, but Tav insisted they listen to the information she volunteered, offering her space within their elusive band.

However, she did not mince words once they were around the comforting light of their nightly fire. The flames cast a glow of saffron and tangelo reflecting onto the group’s complexions, bathing them in balmy heat. The cleric and warrior were standing, their voices irritable. Arms crossed. Round green eyes narrowed on darker buttery skin. Razor teeth gritted—ready to spit.

“My people possess a cure for this infection. We will interrogate this Zorru at the Grove about where he saw my kin. Unless you wish to sacrifice yourself to ghaik?” She was irrefutable in her credence, hellbent on reaching the githyanki crèche she deduced was nearby.

“Tav, she sees your kindness as a weakness. She will exploit it,” Shadowheart warned, pointing a finger at the gith.

Astarion slid past them, finding Tav sitting atop a massive piece of driftwood log by the fire. Her doublet was unbuckled, revealing a thin cream linen shirt underneath, tied lazily near her neckline. Relaxed and humming a whimsical tune, she had been pulling the last of her plait out while she ignored the two women arguing.

She did not greet Astarion, instead, resigning to a serene smile with a faint sprinkling of pink upon her skin as he watched her focus on running her fingers through her tangles. Even when his lissome form sat down beside her, her fingers unknotting a snag, she still held the same expression.

Until out of nowhere, her voice caught him off guard, puncturing through the air between them. “Good evening, magistrate.”

Oh, did he ever bask in hearing the use of his former job title as if he still held a position of power. A fantasy of Tav pecking the coolness of his knuckles in reverence. “You’re not a monster, Astarion,” she’d whisper. The sly minx. He twitched in his pants.

He bent down, his breath brisk against the point of her ear, inhaling the scent of natural oils from her hair. He was automatically taken back to their short affair inside the temple as he watched her skin prickle. Part of a plan failed, but not lost.

“Lae’zel is delightful. In a very ‘look at me twice and I’ll dismember you’ kind of way—of course,” he whispered.

Tav dramatically scoffed. Her hand drifted next to his bicep, placing it reservedly on him. She was climbing, climbing, climbing up, spreading her warmth over the sleeve of his jacket. It was seeping through—she was seeping through. Her lips were a mellow heat and soft hush near his lobe. “Sounds like a challenge, Astarion. You have my support. Don’t let her get away!”

He modestly turned his head at the precise moment she descended from his ear to see her bottom lip swiftly bitten in a carefree beam. The same as she had done during their earlier conversation.

But, if he lifted the frail veil over her face, would he find her lips murmuring in prayer for him? For his cuspids to glide across her soft flesh. Mouth open and wet. On your knees, sweetheart. I will save you.

Then, there was a hunger present. A vivid thought of his teeth, latching onto that same part of her lip. Licking. Sucking. Kneading. His cock half erect. Until he bites into it and…

He cleared his throat, forcing the impure fantasy to subside, begging whatever divine beings that would consent to listen to not let their mind worms connect at that precise moment. If he didn’t gain momentum on the aching thirst he felt, everything would be lost.

Astarion leaned in closer, one of his longer curls unfurling, brushing against the side of her forehead like a feather landing in a dusting of snow. He delivered another punchline within distance of her temple. “You wretch. How could I ever say no?!”

Then, his voice was a purr. A final insert, one that neither the gods nor he can help himself but to taste on his tongue. “Though, quite recently, I’ve found my attention has been fixated on the enjoyment of wordplay with a friend.”

He could feel Tav shift nervously at his side, removing her hand calmly from him, folding it with the other in her lap. She turned her head halfway, peering over towards where Gale had been cooking their evening meals. There was a plume of flush resonating from her neck to her cheeks, contrasting against the ivory tone of her skin that sent a devil’s smirk on his lips.

All was not lost, after all, he thought.

“Gale appears overwhelmed. I should probably offer my help,” she muttered considerably, without acknowledging Astarion further.

Tav stood, placing the length of her wavy locks to hang like a waterfall down her back. She drifted towards the other side of the flames. Astarion watched her stroll towards the wizard, hips swaying like branches in the night’s breeze. Those same hips that were only inches away from him a few moments ago: inviting and wide.

Astarion leisurely rose, walking back to his tent to procure a bottle of a long forgotten red and a dingy goblet. He could overhear Tav and Gale discussing plans to prepare a suitable meal for their entourage with items from the packs they had picked through.

Gale appeared quite accustomed to cooking, skilled in frying meats to that perfect amount of crisp—or at least he had boasted. He passed along an enticing grin with a wiggle of his eyebrows towards Tav when he flipped a piece of sliced sausage midair and it landed right back in its starting position.

Tav beamed, "I see you are a man of many talents. Please never ask me to cook food so acrobatically for you. I promise it will not end well.”

“I fear, after this, I may have unofficially put myself in the position of ‘Camp Cook’ for our group. Food tricks and all. Though, let us resign from asking Lae’zel to help with food prep. I fear she’d insist on using that massive sword of hers on a poor tomato.”

“Not to worry, Gale. We’ll be sure to find you an apron and embroider your new title upon it so that everyone knows what you’re truly here for.” Tav appeared at his side, teasingly patting his arm.

Astarion cocked his brow, casting a sneer towards the two chefs before taking a large sip from an matured cup of wine. He disappeared behind the flap of red linen to change into a set of clothes that were more casual.

Folded neatly on his bedroll was an old ruffled shirt. Beloved and cared for over a long period of time. Multiple tears were visible, but each was stitched up with such precision, one would have thought they were graced with the surgical deftness of a doctor. Removing his intricately detailed black coat, he carefully put the shirt over his torso and rolled the length of his sleeves up to his elbows—a particular piece of flair he added over an age.

This shirt was one of the few things that belonged to him in some fashion. When it was handed over to him as a “gift,” Astarion was aware that he would receive no other unless his behavior was considered favorable. For he would never be glorified for his contributions to his “family.” No, his tears were the sapid dessert that he demanded.

"Ungrateful boy. Your sobs will serve as my music tonight. Now bend over and cast your eyes to the hells for want of a contract with a hellion that will never save you from the flay."

Astarion crossed his arms over his chest, holding himself. A chilled sweat trickled down his forehead. Four walls baked in musk and blood: the kennels. His usual practiced breaths, gasping and erratic. He felt light-headed, needing to escape. His head started to scream louder than a harpy’s screech.

Yet, her mellifluous voice was sneaking into his ears, smoking out the curse that haunted him. Swirling around his body, protecting him, tugging him towards the source.

“Astarion. Astarion? Are you okay?!” Tav called out to him in concern.

He ran his fingers through his curls. Steady. Slow. The fabric walls of his tent come back into view.

Then, the roguish rake scratched its way back up his throat. “Ah, my sweet songbird! To think you left your handsome wizard to come sauntering all the way over here to look for me. You must be looking for refinement after all!”

He opened the flap to his tent dramatically like a ringmaster inviting patrons into a circus.

Only, when he stepped out to face the bard whose voice granted him redemption, her appearance was perturbed.

Tav appeared sickly, like the blood had been drained from her upper body. A visible worry inscribed into the fine lines by her nose. She stood still. Lifted her arm. Then, opened and closed her hand several times as if she wanted to reach out to touch him before deciding to rescind it entirely.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought you were hurt. Your breathing…I thought I heard you in pain.” A tiny bit of breath left her mouth as if she were relieved. “Dinner is ready. I’ll give you time to collect yourself and head back.”

The spawn bowed his head in her direction. “I assure you, I am fine. Run along; I’ll be right behind you.”

And then her smile was suddenly the first day of Spring. “You better or I will drag you over there!”

Precious angelic lark. Do not despair. Your wings will serve as the gateway for those that capture you.

Astarion wondered if he had chosen wrong.

No. He was rarely—if ever—wrong about his targets. Tav just presented more of a challenge. Had he not succumbed to the numbness he enacted to conserve what was left of his mental state long ago, guilt may have plagued the bits of humanity he plummeted away from Cazador.

She did possess a certain loveliness to her. Not in the way of grand belles he’d bedded in the past, but one that’s described in poesy passages of endearing semi-guileless women, whose beauty shines through beyond being skin deep. Anyone would be a damned fool to think otherwise. But, an intangible hole existed inside her beating elvish heart that had not yet fully healed. Only, the path to her is strewn with meteors and fragile stars. An unanticipated detail overlooked, one he did not predict as he tried to lure her in the ruins with the aphrodisiacs' of his actions.

He sighed. Had this been one of his usual haunts on the streets of Baldur’s Gate, with less time to devote to his victim, he could easily capture another with memorized lines and rehearsed “fuck me eyes.” All he knew were the instincts of a man that seduced centuries worth of people, using his body to be the prostitute his master commanded.

Where Tav was involved, simply uttering honeyed speeches or licking an oath of exiled pleasures she had never experienced in a stripe along her slit, would not be enough.

But, what of trust?

Ah. Now trust carried power. However, the caveat to such an assured reliance was the privilege of obtaining it. Trust gleaned through lust was manageable. But, trust through measures of safekeeping another’s hope and beliefs came with greater transactions.

If this songbird meant to be Astarion’s silver lining, then he would make her sing.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Their lifeblood waits for you.

“Astarion, I don’t believe I’ve seen you eat a single morsel since you’ve been with us. You must be hungry? Here, there’s plenty to go around.” Gale brought the skillet over, sliding a portion of the food onto the remaining plates as the high elf approached.

You’re hungry.

He peeked over at the food sardonically. “As scrumptious as I’m sure—whatever all that—probably is, I will have to...decline. I have other sources of food stowed away. Regardless, you have my thanks.”

Starving.

Gathered around the campfire, they finished their meals while listening to Lae’zel speak about her crèche, K’liir, in the Tears of Selûne. Astarion couldn’t be less interested. He had no real family to speak of anymore—not that he remembered them—probably perishing many moons ago as it were. And the only place he called home, was the necrotic palace encased in stone towering over the lower city of Baldur’s Gate: where dreams of a life go to wither.

”Your path is paved in blood. Your body does not belong to you. It was created to tempt. It is food created for anyone that craves it. Fuck your prick into anything that wants it. Your lips to press to whatever rotted or young flesh that desires it. You will never be anything more.”

Astarion refocused, nursing a goblet of wine as he leaned back against the log he had previously sat on with Tav. He caught the jovial expression on her face as she focused on each of them as they spoke—primarily that obtuse magician. The fucking gall of that wizard. I bet he gloated about his ‘mage hand’ all evening.

Blood. You need to feed.

He needed to distract her. To cull her affections and isolate them on this farce of a relationship, ill-conceived by his want to survive.

Her. Your fangs want to be inside her, tearing at her throat. To taste the aurora of her voice as her blood warms you.

“Tav, dearest, why don’t you sing us a song from that arsenal of ballads you keep in that pretty little head of yours?”

The bard perked up, turning towards Astarion, her blue-gray depths wide as a doe. She was one of the moving pieces on the chessboard he satiated himself with.

Take her.

Though his request seemed innocent enough, the slithering leer of his gape seemed to make her feel abashed by the way she regarded him with her stare. This was all part of his cunning gambit of word wrestling they had begun to establish. And she knew what he was doing—of course she had to know. Astarion had the gumption to detect that she was conscious, but still uncertain, if he had only meant to tease her—to see her nonplussed in the moment—or if there laid an alternative motive to the glint of his impish smirk.

Her rosy lips parted slightly, a paltry excuse upon her tongue. “My lute perished in the crash.”

“Come now, it is not your lute that beguiles your audience with its voice. Do not keep us waiting, friend,” he winked, ushering her forward with a flamboyant wave of his hand.

Hunt her.

Tav does not argue. Perhaps to avoid further complications of the night or maybe because she recognized her talents had the ability to bring about a halcyon wave to their troubled comrades.

Though, as the first few notes she gifted to them uncurl like clear bells on silver tinsel, decorating the reticence of the camp, her audience was now hers to command.

Taste her.

Her voice was ethereal, knitting together a story through the eyes of a traveler discovering fealty to happiness itself. She sang as if she were a holy entity within a chapel alone. The poetry of her words, the flames that would light the candles to the gods.

The winds spun around them, carrying her tune in ripples. Confidently, her eyes passed over to Astarion with a radiant warmth; he was motionless. As she reached a fluttering note, the bluish vein of her white satiny neck—a visible interference—caused an unexpected delirium.

Yes. Her blood will be the sweetest.

She had managed to do the impossible and hypnotize him entirely.

He had to have her. Just a taste.“Magistrate, please bite me.”

She’s yours. She’s yours. She’s yours.

The thrumming of his soul mate mark was a tittering of butterfly wings behind his ear. Astarion touched the sensitive area, crimson view darkened. Tonight. Tonight he would damn himself and be set free.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

”I love you, birdie,” he breathed into the nape of Tav’s neck.

The sunlight had just broken through with the dawn, casting illuminating golden beams onto their naked bodies. They were entangled with one another. Limbs thrown over limbs. Algos, her lover, spooning against her back. Pale and ruddy against his farmer’s tan.

He moved her cool brown locks away from her neck, placing a tender kiss near her hairline.

“Mmm. You spoil me,” she sighed lovingly.

“Not nearly enough.” He grabbed her chin, pulling it towards him.

Tav turned onto her side. She trailed her fingers daintily up his arm, then to the soft skin around orbs of near obsidian that were his eyes. If only she could freeze this moment. Collect it in a bottle and bury it within herself so the details, this exact moment, would never shift.

She scooted closer to him, the weight of her breasts hanging off to the side squishing them together. Her lips so soft, pliant, pressing to his own. They were slightly chapped, but doughy. The dreamiest of exhales left her nostrils.

He leaned in to kiss her back. One peck after the other, along her jaw, her chin. An amorous embrace accompanied by the heat of his breath kindling her neck again.

“Taste me, Algos.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Astarion hovered over Tav as she awoke. His mouth wide open, crisp air caressing her neck. His lips receded past their gums with teeth a pearly sheen in the light of the candle she had lit inside her tent.

“...Shit.” He cursed.

Her eyes opened wide in confusion, watching Astarion swiftly backing away from her. She was furious. “What the FUCK are you doing?! Explain. NOW.”

Tav grabbed the rapier she kept at her side while she tranced and brought her wobbly self up to nearly her full height without hitting the tent's ceiling. Her body’s temperature was still cool from resting, leaving her partially disoriented. She was dressed in nothing, except her smalls and a gauzy linen shirt that barely reached past her bottom.

“No, it’s not what it looks like! I swear. I’ve never killed anyone—at least for food. I wasn’t going to hurt you!” He was crouching, his hands up in surrender.

There was a disbelieving scoff she hissed out. “No?! Do not play these games with me Astarion! I am not an idiot. It looked like you were either going to bite me or assault me. I will run this rapier right through your ribs if you don’t leave immediately!” She pointed it towards him aggressively.

His voice was an octave above a shaking whisper, rounded eyes staring at her shamefully. “Wait, please! I just needed—blood. For food. I’m far weaker than I’d like to acknowledge. It’s pathetic.”

Then, when he altered his weight onto his other hip, the fine lines around his mouth having grown from their stressful interaction—she finally noticed. His lustrous teeth had sharp fangs, one on each side in place of a human’s usual canines. His pallid color looked even more unnatural than she paid attention to previously. The bluish hue bags of his eyes, a bit darker—presumably from lack of food.

A slave to his sanguine hunger.

Her voice was suddenly breathy. And then, as quietly as she could manage, she fanned out an unsettling laugh. “A vampire. Of all the things…why didn’t you tell me?!”

Astarion opened his mind and bid Tav to connect with his tadpole. She saw it unfolding. He held back some of the pieces that fit into the jigsaw that was him, but then there was something hungry and on edge removing parts of himself he’d never get back. His mind opened further revealing quaking, ruptured memories of tyrannical eyes commanding him to eat the only creature he was allowed: rats. The connection dissipates.

“You were forced to eat them or else you would have to starve? By the gods, Astarion,” she heedfully replied, lowering the rapier and propping it against one of the tent walls.

Tav registered she’d wept a few tears when a salty one dipped into the cupid’s bow of her lips. The raw mental images he shared with her were intense. This was not what she had expected from him, regardless of him being a vampire or a mortal. Her heart ached for him and if she knew he would have allowed it, she would have pulled him into a hug, muttering that he was safe into the crown of his hair.

“I—yes. Whatever disgusting vermin my master picked. I hope this explains why I was slow to trust you,” he hesitated awkwardly, adjusting his stance to try and relax his arms at his side. “But, right now, I do trust you. And you can trust me too. I may be out of line in asking you to trust me further, but if I only had just a little blood, I could fight better and my mind would be clear. Please.”

Tav considered his proposal, the desperation in his presently softer accent. If she consented to him feeding from her, she ran the risk of him killing her—either on purpose or by accident if he cannot control his hunger. However, she cannot deny this may be one of the first times since they’ve interacted that he was being ethically truthful with her. That he is aware of the risks if he does take her life. There will no longer be the presumption of his security nor the help of removing their worms.

The decision to be made was dangerous; she would not have much time to decide for the sake of herself, Astarion, and their sordid companions.

“You wish to feed from me, correct? But, not my neck. Not yet, anyways. Not until I know you’ll abide by your words in the future. Because you know as well as I do, that you certainly have a way with them,” she unexpectedly jested. “Will my wrist suffice for now?”

Astarion nodded quizzically. “I would only need a taste and not a drop more. If I wind up with a stake in my heart, well, I probably had it coming,” he chuckled. “That being said, your wrist is more than fine. Shall we make ourselves comfortable?”

Tav shook her head to reaffirm her consent and proceeded to sit on top of her bedroll in a cross legged pose, her shirt resting high above her pale thighs. The rosy buds of her nipples had pebbled, poking through the shirt’s fabric. Her areolas, a delightful crepe pink, faintly visible in the light.

She scrunched up the left sleeve of the shirt revealing, not only her wrist, but the beginnings of a full tattoo from her forearm up the length of her bicep. There were a couple of birds resting on branches, chirping happily, surrounded by flowers and laurel leaves. A beautiful woman's face with a rapier in her hand, sat further up. The style would have been considered feminine by how delicate it appeared. All of the colors were muted reds, greens, and earthy tones that seemed to suit her—only adding to her natural beauty.

Astarion bent down to rest on his knees in front of her, the smooth leather of his pants tantalizingly grazing against her shins. She could feel him studying her figure, the ink on her arm. Then, he lingered on the shape of her breasts through her shirt, and back up to the flush that was spreading over her cheeks. He held out his arm towards her, his hand facing up.

“Whenever you’re ready.” His voice was soothing, humble even, gently inviting her to sacrifice herself to him.

May your blood be consecrated, the sacrament fulfilled. Waste not, want more. For you give yourself willingly for his power and nourishment. The gods be with you.

She extended her arm, first dropping her index finger into his palm, then tip-toeing the rest of her digits until her hand fully rested on his own. The glacial temperature of his skin flowed through her body entirely like titillating electricity. Tav bit back a moan when his other hand covered hers and moved up to the inside of her wrist, caressing the silky skin.

It had been years since she was touched so intimately by a man. The sensations with each movement of his fingertips rubbing circles into her skin, caused her to swallow down a gasp. Every instinctual nerve inside of her was at war, either to push him away to the far reaches of Faerûn or to offer her blood to the man that somehow made her feel virginal by the swipe of his lithe fingers across her palm.

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m nervous and you're cold,” Tav uttered with a shudder.

“Hmm.” Astarion continued massaging, occasionally feeling the throb of her pulse. “Where are you from originally? Your birth place.”

“Wha—the Dalelands,” she managed to answer.

“And which of your parents is a high elf?” He continued.

“My father. My mother is a wood elf. How did you know?

He smiled tenderly. “I could tell by your fair features.”

She tilted her head towards him. Was he trying to distract her? The efforts were working.

He lifted her wrist to his faded pink lips, placing them airily on the stretch of her visible veins. A chilled breath exhaled through his elegant nose. “Why did you move to Baldur’s Gate?

Arrhythmia started overtaking the organ in her chest. She fisted the edge of her shirt in her free hand, sighing heavily. “I needed a change of scenery: to start anew.”

Astarion pecked her wrist. A shallow gravel of his throat vibrated against her skin when he lightly started to suckle on the outline of her vein.

She cried out sweetly. Her chest swelled in tandem with the swift movements of her breathing, but not from the nervousness she thought would plague her stomach with knots. No, it was from the longing ache of skin to skin contact he had unknowingly granted her.

"Shhh. Shh. We wouldn't want to wake anyone now would we?" He lightly bit her finger in warning and then slid his tongue back up to her wrist.

Tav was wet. Considerably so. She felt the petals of her cunt drench in want the longer he prolonged his desires for her blood. It occurred to her that he may be waiting for her to give him the final confirmation for him to bite her, but oh hells, when she noticed his bulge straining in his pants, she conjured up a reverie of her climbing into his lap and grinding herself up and down his length begging for him to take her.

Astarion moaned into her wrist. He had trailed his left hand up to hold her elbow, while the right still held onto her hand—waiting patiently. Her clit was throbbing; she would have given anything to move even the slightest bit to feel pressure placed upon it. Any sort of relief to wash over her to abate the shivers of her flesh, to shake the image of him biting and sucking on her breasts.

Eyes half-lidded, she willed herself to speak. “Astarion?”

Rubbing the point of his fangs in contact with her flesh, his tone was huskier. “Yes, Tavelle?”

Dear Oghma grant mercy on this woman!

It had been the first time he had mentioned the full length of her name. And it was as clear as a magical forest revealing a trail to honeyed fruits she should not partake. What kind of man could be capable of appearing as both a divine creature and one that could lure her into the shadows?

Burning, burning, burning.

“Bite me.”

The sting of his fangs entering her wrist was like two icy shards stabbing her. Her blood filled his mouth in short spurts and he had trouble containing it all. At the corners of his mouth, two streams of her red essence dribbled down towards his chin.

Astarion gripped onto her arm tighter, involuntarily pulling her closer to him. Greedily, he gulped her down, sometimes stopping to lick at the puncture wounds before wrapping his maw around her wrist once more to swallow her down. He hummed in pleasure the longer he drank, possessed by the taste.

Tav felt lethargic. “ ‘Starion.”

He didn’t hear her. The scarlet of his eyes had grown foggy with a glaze of something voracious and abysmal. Guttural sounds accompanied slurps of her blood as his fangs dug in deeper.

Tav’s head fell forward meekly. She grasped onto his silvery curls with the strength that was slowly being depleted and tugged. “Astarion you must—NO MORE!”

All at once, he released her, falling backwards onto his elbows. He licked his fingers with a pleasing noise, as if he’d just treated himself to an extravagant feast.

“You were—you tasted amazing!” Breathing in quick shudders he added, "I feel…happy. Strong. My mind isn’t clouded.”

Still slumped over, she attempted to placate the vertigo that was causing her head to swim by regulating her breathing. She sounded raspy. “Could you please help me to lay down?”

“Ah! Yes, but of course. It’s the least I could do after that invigorating experience.”

Astarion crawled over to her. Cradling her against his torso, he considerately brought her down to rest on her bedroll. It was flattened, probably uncomfortable, but to Tav and her ailing situation—it felt perfect.

“Are you alright?” He asked, leaning over her, wiping her sweaty bangs from her face.

His scent rolled over her, lulling her to enter a trance. She hadn’t noticed it earlier, perhaps from her adrenaline spiking, but it was pure heaven. Bergamot, rosemary, and smokier warm notes.

“Mmhmm. A bit weak is all.”

She reached up and wiped the drying blood from his chin and lips with her sleeve, providing him with a tired simper. “Astarion? Thank you for trusting me tonight.”

He tensed as she touched him. Jaw tight. A furrowed brow. His eyes moved back and forth, searching hers. Something uncharacteristic briefly showed behind his inspection of her, then just as swiftly, faded away.

Strange.

Standing upright, Astarion turned to leave her tent. He looked over his shoulder, his voice a serious temper. “Rest well. I still need to hunt to fill myself completely, but this was a gift you know. I won’t forget it. ”

Snuggling into her blankets, she recalled the events of the night. The bizarre appeal of his icy breath. The arousal she felt when he stroked her. The pain mixed with carnal desire as he bit her. The weight of truths they shared. His unforeseen concern for her comfort. A veracity of his soul, bared to her before he left.

And as her lashes laid in long weaves along the edges of her closed eyelids, her last thoughts as she drifted off to enter the dream realm, were about the closeness Astarion unintentionally gave her that she hadn’t felt in years.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion acunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #bg3 #baldur's gate #epistles of saints & sinners #bard tav #spawn astarion

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fandombandomfics · 1 month

Text

Fates Intertwined (Noah Sebastian x Female!biker!Reader)

This work is entirely fictional involving real life people. Situations and feelings do not reflect the individuals involved in real life. Simply work of fiction and brain worm that came about after my aesthetic I made.

Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Tag list: @darkmxgician@jilliemiw86@littlefoxkota

Chapter One

Y/N’s POV

I decide to take my bike down to the Pier since it’s nice out. I text my biker friends to see if anyone is free to join me. I get a text from Leo and Cleo Aetos, the twins who have become my close friends since I moved to LA over a year ago. I walk out to my bike after dressing in proper clothes and grabbing my backpack. I turn on my bike and rev it up before texting them the meeting spot. After driving for a few minutes, I spot their bikes in the distance and I pull up next to Cleo.

“Y/N there you are,” Cleo says with a smile. I smile back and turn off my bike.

“Ready for a ride?” Leo asks and I nod.

“Always ready for a ride,” I say with a chuckle. We start our bikes and put our helmets on.

“Race you both to the Pier parking lot,” I say and drive off. I hear them chuckle through our shared com channel and race after me. Once we get there, we park in two of the empty spaces near the front of the parking lot. Once we turn off our bikes, we take off our helmets and make our way to the Pier. I love coming here, especially on days I just wanna relax and not worry about creating content for my TikTok and YouTube. Leo, Cleo, and I make our way towards different small shops on the Pier and eat some food.

“How are you and Sara doing Leo?” I ask

“We’re doing good, planning on proposing to her soon,” He replies with a smile. I smile back at him, excited to have Sara as part of our family we have formed.

“That’s so exciting,” I say

“Plan to do it during date night tomorrow,” He says

“I helped him make the reservation since he was busy,” Cleo explains and I nod.

“Always having your sister do the phone calls I see,” I say with a giggle. He shakes his head and punches my arm playfully.

“Oh shut up Y/N/N,” He says and I laugh.

“Do you make Sara do it for you?” Cleo asks, teasing her twin. He makes a face at us and we all laugh. After we finish our food, we continue our walk on the Pier. I spot the Ferris Wheel and look over at Leo and Cleo. They make a run for it and I follow them laughing.

“Last one there is a rotten egg!” Leo exclaims. I run faster and run past Leo but I can see that Cleo is catching up to me. I somehow manage to get there first with Leo behind me and Cleo last. She laughs and shakes her head.

“Damn Y/N you’re fast,” She says and I laugh.

“Did track in high school so I know how to run pretty fast,” I explain and she nods.

“So Y/N do you like anyone?” Cleo asks

“Nah I don’t. Never really found someone that has caught my eye,” I say

“You think you will find someone here?” She asks

“Maybe but I don’t know. Guess only time will tell if I find someone here or not,” I say

“Well if you do let us meet him so we can see if he’s a douchebag or not,” Leo says

“Don’t worry, I will,” I say and we get on the ferris wheel.

Small time skip

We decide to call it a day when the sun was setting. We spotted at a spot on the pier and watched as the sky change colors. I smile and take out my vlog camera since I’ve been recording clips here and there throughout our stay here.

“Beautiful sunset at Saint Monica Pier,” I say and Leo laughs.

“Always vlogging Y/N,” He says

“You can always tell me to not record you,” I say

“I know just teasing,” He says with a chuckle. I laugh at his antics and shake my head. After turning off my camera, we all agree to head on a night ride to close the day. As I turn to start walking back, I collide with a brick wall. Looking up, my e/c meets brown ones and I can notice that they have a story to tell.

“I’m sorry, should’ve been looking up and not on my phone,” He says with a small smile.

“Told you Noah that would happen,” His companion with brown hair and white streaks at the front of his face says.

“Oh shut up, Davis” Noah snaps back and shakes his head. I giggle and shake my own head and smile at the two of them.

“So your name is Noah and your friends name is Davis? I’m Y/N,” I say and he smiles.

“Nice to meet you Y/N,” He says and I smile back.

"Nice to meet you," Davis says

“Likewise,” I say

“Nice tattoos,” Noah says and I smile.

“Could say the same thing about you,” I say and he chuckles.

“Well give me your number so we can talk about them,” He says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Is this your way of asking me to hang out?” I say with a smirk. He nods with a small smile and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah,” He chuckles and I shake my head laughing.

“Alright as long as you don’t murder me,” I say and take out my phone. We exchange numbers and make more small talk until Leo calls me over.

“That's my cue to go,” I say and walk away from him.

“I’ll text you!” He shouts and I laugh.

“You better!” I yell back and catch up with my two friends.

“So Y/N got a guys numberrrrrrrr,” Cleo coos and I feel my cheeks heat up a little.

“Oh shut up Cleo,” I say and she laughs.

“Come on, let's go on that night ride,” Leo says, rather annoyed. We laugh and get on our bikes, going for that nice long night drive.

#bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noah sebastian #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah x biker!reader #biker #bandom #ao3 fanfic #fanfic

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stardustizuku · 3 months

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Forgive me for transposing my tags on my reblog to the ask box but I totally agree with your post about Myne's age and her perception of her “peers”! And then THE VERY SAME PEOPLE turn around and say “ohhhh Sylvester is so terrible for not parenting her not treating her like a child!!!” Like. Dude. PICK A LANE.

I think it's insanely interesting how she views people in relation to herself because it's not so simple as “oh she sees her peers as children because she's mentally an adult” when it's just. Not true?? I don't think we get concrete proof that she does. She sees Eglantine for example as older despite Myne+Urano combo age being most definitely elder.

FerMyne is a very good ship but I think people (especially on Discord, my fucking god) shut down other ships in an instant using this as a bludgeon.

Anyways I hope you don't mind me sending this ask, I've been following along your posts about AoB's trope/genre subversions and the breakdown of Yurgenschmidt's hypocrisies. You're so big-brained for it, whenever I see a particularly rancid take from somewhere else I come back to your posts to cleanse my brain.

Im glad you feel comfortable enough to share that!

Rozemyne is an interesting character bcs, If you’ve noticed, she rarely states who she loves and likes until it’s absolutely necessary for her to do it.

Even with her family, she starts showing affection but it isn’t until she has a near death experience that she becomes very vocal about how much she loves them. With Ferdinand, it isn’t until he’s set to leave for Ahrensbach that she vocally states how much he means to her. Even with Lestilaut, she states that his sudden proposal was opening a can of worms she didn’t want to open.

While she doesn’t lie when she has noted someone is important to her, she takes a while to admit it.

Also, her way of defining “love” has very little romantic connotations, and oftentimes just falls in an ambiguous “family”.

Saying that age is the only reason why she wouldn’t consider someone as romantic interest, is greatly reducing her character. There’s like at least five things that would come first than age - hell Ferdinand checks all the boxes and she STILL doesn’t see him in a romantic light (as of now at least)

Also, and this more important to me, is fucking rude.

People are allowed to ship whatever they want, regardless of what canon says. So pulling the “but they said x in canon!” is like spoiling the fun for everyone for the sake of a rigid moral compass that blocks you from even exploring the characters in interesting ways.

Fandom is about having fun, exploring rships and encouraging others to have a say in what they think of characters!

If you have a genuine insight into characters, sure! Share it, expand on it. But using the tired and useless “she said x therefore she won’t see them as romantic therefore shut it all down” is just, stifling. It screams horrible fandom etiquette

That said, I’m very happy that you like my essays! I try to put my thoughts in order and sometimes I take days to write them, so it means a lot to me.

#ascendance of a bookworm #loli speaks #ask loli

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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 1 year

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I sent an ask earlier and I am so sorry for spamming but I've been having brain worms for the Kaiju!au.

Like we sad Vargas and Kalim being all friendly but imagine little baby Cheka playing with Yuu.

Also, just imagine Cater, Vil, or Rook doing dancing from some music player that Yuu found. Which also makes me ask if they get their own little hideaway for their human buisness. (God Crowley when his hatchling leave the nest...)

And finally, when Yuu finally gets to cook, meat or fish, are the Boys gonna try to demand they have some. I just imagine Yuu giving a piece to grim and his pupils blow out from how good it is....and then words goes around and it's all over for any peaceful cooking with Yuu.

I'm actually in the process of answering that one! I just gotta figure out a few scenarios for it to make it fun~! >v< And please don't worry about spamming me with asks if you have ideas or thoughts you wanna share about my AUs! I love receiving these kind of asks! :D

Putting under a read more because I got a little carried away 😂

----

Oooh my goodness, someone teach lil’ kaiju Cheka to be gentle with the tiny human! X’D To be honest, I almost didn't put him or Falena in the AU...buuuuut now that I think about it, that would be a crime against adorableness, and I will not stand for this! Ò.Ó I shall rectify this~!

In the AU, Cheka would be a little bigger than Grim would be in terms of height. Not quite twice his height, but still pretty big! Now imagine the lil’ ragamuffin sweetheart just trotting along with Yuu perched on his back, playfully marching across a log bridge with Grim trotting behind singing “Hakuna Matata” while Ruggie and Jack have to keep an eye on them (because we know Leona would be taking a nap and hiding from his nephew even in this AU). The only difference between this version of the two is that whenever Cheka pounces on his uncle in a play fight, Leona actually will react as though he got hurt to encourage the hunting instinct.

Hey, he may not be happy having his nephew bugging him, but he knows it’s important to know how to survive (and he’d never hear the end of it from his brother or his brother’s mate)!

When it comes to doing “human business”, it’s agreed that there is a need for privacy even amongst kaiju, so if the human disappears for a short time behind a rock or in a bush, it’s not going to be questioned by curious kaiju. Luckily Yuu won’t have to worry about poison oak or poison ivy! Most of the poisonous plants that can cause an itchy reaction are too high up for them to reach, so it’s mainly the kaiju who would experience the terrible itchy curse. Good thing they’ve got Crewel to mix up some natural medicine for them—good luck making most of them take it though! XD

Anyway, moving on: music! One of the best ways to soothe the soul and calm the savage beast. When Yuu manages to get near one of the other abandoned facilities and gets to explore it with Grim (who is literally the only one small enough to fit inside with them), it was actually Grim who stumbled across a music player. He thought it was some weirdly shaped snack or chew toy.

This resulted in a bit of a tug-of-war between Yuu and Grim, and now Yuu has a new (slightly chewed) music player! Let’s see how it transpired and what resulted afterwards, shall we?

“Let’s see…junk, junk, trash…wow, did they really even leave anything worth using in this place?”

Digging around in the pile, Yuu sighed as they sat back and stared at the room. Of course, this place had been ransacked already…though by who exactly was unclear, but it seemed like things had been torn apart and whatever components or guts the tech had before was now gone. But there had to be something they could use in this place, right?

Crunch!

“Pleh!”

“Grimfang, no! Stop trying to eat the plastic you lil’ gargoyle!” Yuu scolded, sighing as Grimfang spat out a few shards that got stuck in his teeth. “Ugh…one of these days you’re going to eat something you shouldn’t, you know that? Don’t come crying to me when you get a tummy ache.”

He shook his head with a snort, giving Yuu a look that suggested he was offended by the very notion that he might get a tummy ache…or at least, that’s how Yuu interpreted it. It was odd how expressive the kaiju seemed to be, seeming almost…human-like in a way, though sometimes Yuu wondered if it was just their mind humanizing them to have company.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Turning back, Yuu scanned the wreckage to try and find something they could at least bring back. Even a writing utensil would do! “Okay…maybe we should try the next room and see what we can find.”

As they turned to go, they heard the familiar sound of tooth scraping against metal and sighed. What has he found this time?

“Grim, if I have to pull another pipe out of your gullet again, I’m gonna-” Yuu began before freezing, eyes growing wide at the familiar shape between Grim’s paws as he tried to gnaw on the corner: a music player. “H-hey, hey! No! Grim! Drop it!”

“Rrraowl!” he rumbled in response, his paws pulling the player into his chest fur protectively.

“Grimfang, no! That’s not a chew toy—hey! Get back here, you malevolent little gargoyle!!”

“Nyaarr!!”

“GRIIIIIM!!!!”

//Later//

The sound of static filled the den as Yuu sat in the nest, using Grimfang’s side as a pillow while they fiddled with the large and heavy music player. It had been one helluva chase around the facility, but eventually they triumphed and claimed their prize! Aside from a slight chewing on the frame, the kaiju’s fangs hadn’t really penetrated the shell and everything seemed to be in working order. To their disappointment though, they couldn’t get a radio signal no matter how many buttons they pushed or how much they turned the dial.

“Hey, MIRA? Does this island have any sort of radio signal or something?” they asked the computer around their wrist. “I can’t get anything on this player.”

“Greetings, Uhm Yuu. Answer: negative. This particular system cannot receive the signals from radio transmissions. Due to the nature of the island and its inhabitants, it is difficult to build and maintain any semblance of a tower to transmit signals across the terrain, requiring different methods to communicate with other facilities.”

“Darn it! So that means I can’t do anything with this hunk of junk?”

“Negative. As it is in proximity, I am able to access the system wirelessly and play music from the database.”

Eyes growing wide, Yuu asked, “There’s a music database…?”

“Affirmative. I have access to a wide selection of music from all manner of media pre-downloaded from the Dark Mirror Server. Dr. Willows was an avid enjoyer of music and always kept an up-to-date selection for her playlists to aid in her work. Would you like to create your own playlists?”

“Yes!”

“Mrr…?”

//End Scene//

And thus began Yuu’s task to set up their musical playlists…much to the kaiju’s confusion even when Grim tried to explain what he could translate. For the most part, they just figured it was a weird human thing…until Yuu played the first song. Was it some beautiful, soothing song, or an excitable bop that made them excited? Nope. It was neither: what was meant to be a fun introduction to a song turned into what essentially boils down to a warped death metal demonic screech and garbled static. The sound was so terrifying that Grimfang looked like a puffy ball of daggers, and Nevermore flared up his wings like some puffy shield in a panic.

That’s why it’s important to check the volume of the music before you play it first!

It was after that when Yuu noticed a difference in the kaiju when they played certain songs—namely instrumentals. For some like Pridefang, they noticed how much more relaxed he was when harp music was playing, while when it came to wind based music like flutes or chimes, Crystalflayer/Vil would croon and sing along and the more canine-like kaiju would practically fall asleep.

Then there were the silly moments with the music.

When Goldmaker/Kalim was visiting, Yuu was playing the song “Cus I’m Happy” at random…when they noticed the shiny beetle/dragon kaiju doing the tippy-tap dance like a dog on all six legs, bouncing here and there in time to the music like a kid jumping on the bed.

And then there was the time that Bruiser/Deuce and Feralfang/Epel were tugging on something that looked somewhat like a giant leather ball that had been popped (or at least, they thought it was a ball, though it could be a bit of carcass too). It didn’t seem like they were fighting over food and more like they were just…playing. It wasn’t until they had stood frozen in place for a moment that Yuu played the song “Cotton Eyed Joe”—

And they both tugged in time to the beat. (A/N: click link for doggos in reference to the song/scene!)

Aaaah, the joys of music!

Now as for the food, as good as fruit and the vegetables were, it was a little harder to find sources of protein that were safe for human consumption on the island…or at least, sources that didn’t want to eat or swallow them whole or were out of reach. Plus, they had a continuous source of fresh meat brought to them and Grimfang throughout the day with no hassle. They just needed a way to…prepare it.

When Yuu manages to light a fire in a makeshift firepit (guided by MIRA’s survival database), Nevermore was certainly surprised to find that his hatchling had finally accepted the meat offering and confused at what they were doing with it near the fire. It’s incredibly rare for any kaiju to actually “cook” their meat, and whatever constitutes as cooked meat would be little more than chewy charcoal, so if it turns out that’s what the little human likes then so long as they eat their fruits and veggies, he’ll allow it.

“Aaaaand…done!” Yuu uttered, tugging one of the sticks bearing individual chunks out of the ground. They could feel the juices from the meat that had dripped down the makeshift skewer, forcing them to take care as they adjusted it in their grip to avoid the hot parts before they took a tentative bite.

Just like the fruit, the meat was tender and full of flavor as the juices dripped down their chin with each bite. It wasn’t perfect, but it was so good to have a cooked meal again that Yuu didn’t care. They’d even been lucky to find a wall of salt when they’d gone exploring with Grimfang, so at least the meat had a little extra flavor to it! MIRA had mentioned before that the island had many herbs and spices that could be used for cooking. If they could get a hold of some of these, then their meals would be so much more fulfilling!

Curious sniffing caught their attention as they turned to see Grimfang, cerulean eyes staring at the chunks still cooking on the sticks around the fire. He’d long since finished his portion, so there was no way that he should still be hungry…right?

“Mrrlh?” he grumbled, carefully pawing at the dirt near one of the sticks but not actually touching it before giving Yuu a look.

“No, this is mine. You had yours already,” Yuu told him, turning their attention back to their food.

“Prrrrrr…”

‘…oh no…’ Slowly they turned their attention back to Grimfang…and immediately they found themselves struck by the biggest, brightest pair of kitten eyes they’d ever seen, the kaiju’s forelegs curling up to his chest as he rolled over onto his side to reveal his soft, fluffy tummy. ‘…darn it, why did I have to watch those kitten videos around him!?’

His paws began to open and close, mimicking the kneading motion that the kittens in the video had done earlier.

“…augh! Fine! But just this once, got it?” Yuu said, heaving a sigh as they took another stick out of the ground and—after playing hot-potato with the cooked flesh—tossed it into Grimfang’s waiting jaws with a snap. He was purring in triumph, giving Yuu a smug looking grin…

Before he froze, pupils growing so wide that they nearly engulfed the blue of his eyes. His whole body began to shiver, jaw slack as drool began to drip from his maw. Then—rearing back on his hind legs—his paws pressed against his cheeks as he swayed almost in pure bliss, a series of trills and chirps coming from him.

“Huh. Well, uh…glad you like my cooking, Gri—hey! Hey, hey, hey, hey! NO! Grim! You had yours, the rest are mine! Stoooop! Nevermore!!”

//The next day//

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to cook some of this meat using the ingredients we just picked from the forest, and while the big hunk cooks on the spit, we’ll snack on the smaller pieces. This side is yours, and this side is mine. Got it so far?”

“Mrp!”

“Good. Don’t even think about stealing my share, or I’m never cooking anything again. Got it?”

“Myah!”

Shniff-shniff…

“Huh…? Wha-!? Scrapper, no! This is mine! I-wait, I-! What are you all even doing here!? Guys!”

//The next day//

“……did you guys know that Scrapper, Shellshock, Ashsong, and Heartbinder could even cook, or is this new?” Yuu asked, watching as Ashsong’s tentacles moved the herbs and spices across the cooking meat, Heartbinder’s claws and teeth ripping chunks off and handing them to the clover-marked Shellshock as he put them on skewers. Ashsong’s wings would occasionally flap, causing the flames to flare up with new life. Scrapper used his jaws to turn the makeshift spit that one of the kaiju had carved to turn the meat in a slow circle.

“Nyawr.”

“Thaaaat’s what I thought…more please!”

As it turns out, once the kaiju learn the secret to amazing food, it becomes one of the few things that keeps them from bickering and fighting and even have them cooperate together just to get a taste. It was a strange sight to see, and even MIRA commented that this was highly unusual behavior that hadn’t been recorded by scientists before. This raised far more questions than answers. Sure, the kaiju were dangerous, but they were intelligent.

Too intelligent…

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland kaiju au #twst kaiju au #twisted wonderland kaiju au worldbuilding #twst kaiju au worldbuilding #oh how I love playing with this AU~!

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bloodsuckingfiends · 3 months

Text

Of Blood & Stars ~ Prologue

AO3 Link

A/N: The prologue is short, as it's just kind of setting things up to be a little more interesting. The actual chapters I plan on being at least 2K words each. Anyways... I'm so excited to be writing about my Tav and sharing her with people!

Surrounded by a wreckage of flames and metal, Elendil pulled herself up from the scraps. A warmth bloomed across her forehead, just beneath her hairline, and slowly trickled down the bridge of her nose and then cheek. She smudged a hand across it, and pulled away to find crimson staining her skin, her face contorting into a grimace at the sight. She’d have to take care of it later. The crash was intense to say the least, she was bound to have a few extra scars in the end. Thank the Gods this one felt quite minor in comparison to some wounds she has borne in the past. Elendil’s eyes scan the wreck around her, searching and quickly finding an exit that opens up to a sandy beach.

Elendil’s head pounded, a terrible throbbing that only progressed as she approached a survivor, a half-elf named Shadowheart, on the beach, and then again when the two approached the stone sigil that held an eclectic wizard. No doubt, the pain was contributed by the delightful tadpole wriggling behind their eyes, and perhaps that same tadpole explained who she had thought she had seen on the ship. There was an ache in her chest, just at the thought. Sometimes her mind seemed to enjoy playing terribly cruel tricks on her, giving her glances at what she so terribly missed, but couldn’t have. It was too often that she had to remind herself; he’s dead. Gone. Not yet reincarnated. Her fingers immediately went to her pocket, where they worried away at the soft needle work of embroidered flowers lining a handkerchief. It often felt as though it was all she had left of him, the fabric never far from her, just as she thought he would be. How wrong she was.

Short, quick breaths leave her lungs in a panic, and hazel eyes darted around the ship, searching for an escape, a weapon, something to aid her. Rather than something, they land on someone. She must have been hit over the head quite hard if she’s seeing him. Or perhaps she was drugged. A Mindflayer steps into her view, promptly cutting off her thoughts when a nasty squirming parasite is suddenly being moved towards her eye. There’s a moment of pain, before unconsciousness takes its hold on her once again.

“I suppose we should go speak to him then? Looks like another survivor.” Gale muses, shaking Elendil from her thoughts. So the elf she was seeing was indeed real and not a figment of her imagination. She was convinced now that it had to be someone who looked quite similar, or perhaps a trick of the worm.

“ I suppose we should” she says in agreement as she continues toward the male.

As they approached, he took notice, only glancing quickly back at them before swiftly turning back to whatever it was that he was looking at.

“Hurry, I’ve got one of those brain things cornered.” His voice catches her by surprise.

“There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others?”

Still, even as she comes up just behind him, he doesn’t turn. She looks around for whatever it is he’s looking at, coming up with nothing,

“Hm…. you seem pretty capable.” Elendil hums, before turning on her heel towards her newfound companions.

She made it merely 10 feet before she felt an arm wrap around her waist, and a leg bringing hers out from under her. Within seconds, she had a dagger delicately pressed to the thin skin of her throat, and burgundy eyes looking into hers from just inches away. Her breath hitches in her and her heart feels as though it may beat out of her chest. It can’t be. It’s not possible yet she would be able to recognize those eyes anywhere, regardless of the color. His eyes. But it couldn’t be. It was completely impossible. He was gone. Dead. She had visited his grave almost daily. Sobbed for hours over the empty space his absence had left in her heart and soul.

“Astarion-”

“Tav-'' he says her adolescent name like a whisper. Softly, like he can’t believe who he has pressed beneath his weapon at this moment. His eyes darted about her features, searching for something to prove wholly that this is indeed her, and finding that proof in the freckle above her arched brow. Elendil’s heart squeezes at the name.

“Tav? Who’s Tav?” Gale questions Shadowheart, effectively breaking the tense silence.

#astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #elendil x astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #gale dekarios #shadowheart

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imagionationstation · 17 days

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Hi! I read your TMNT 2012 separated au that you made with ellestrade and it really gave me brainworms so I wrote a small one-shot for it! The characters kinda ended up writing themselves haha.

anyways, wanted to share it with you and also make sure that you're okay with it. Not sure how you feel about other people taking inspiration from you ideas, so if you would like me to take it down, just let me know!

Thanks for sharing such fun ideas. Here's the post (I've also tagged you in it but sometimes tags are weird and don't always show. Also its on my fandom specific sideblog, but I am the same person haha)

Gotta love those brain worms! (Ironic statement from a 2012 viewpoint, actually-) HOLY CHALUPA, BRAIN WORMS IN THIS AU UNIVERSE, WAIT WAIT ACTUALLY WAIT-

*background rambles and spazzing*

Okay, I’m back.

I’m always a-okay with whatever fan things anyone wants to create with inspiration from something I made or helped make. As long as it isn’t containing some stamp that says “this I deem canon” when neither me (nor my partner) deemed it canon, no one ever has to worry with me getting upset over some story/comic/art.

I’m going to give some thoughts and I want to disclaimer.

When I discuss my thoughts on your POV of events in the AU, I will never, in any way, intend to diss or attack the story. I think the flow was excellent and Raph’s analysis of the events occurring was intriguing. I loved it! And nothing I say will be a statement otherwise.

But, since I have a distinct inability to keep my mouth shut when it comes to turtles and you asked, I have thoughts 🧐

My brain is now turning and ya’ll have to deal.

Characterization:

Donnie: Much distrust. Much sass. A strong sense of duty to defend his brethren turtles who don’t deserve it but he’s doing it anyway.

Very on point. Much approval 👌

Mikey: Could not be more perfect. I love him. Sweet soul ✨

Leo: He’s a bit less… Forceful. Cold and calculating. Than I envision.

I’d imagine that he had to learn to shut feelings down in order to survive. Fidgeting/smiling/visibly hesitating is out of the question. Staying in Shredder’s graces meant learning to play the game. His silence is what earns Raph the ability to be loud. The only times that he’s himself is when him and Raph are alone, outside of the sight of cameras, or when someone in is danger and fear/fury overwhelms all else. He seems bland to outsiders and it takes the Hamato brothers a while to see that that he’s just a scared little boi at heart that’s just trying his best in a cruel world.

He’s also set in his beliefs, so he’s going to assume that they’re being tormented mentally, if not physically. There’s no place in his mind that wonders if they were actually safer elsewhere.

I do like your POV, though. Plenty for me to play with.

Raph:

He’s ABSOLUTELY the first to question the differences between how Shredder treats them and how Splinter treats their brothers. He doesn’t jump the gun, but as devoted as he is, he’s never really liked Shredder. I love the implications that he’s been filing away concerns subconsciously and his brain keeps poking him like “HELLO?!”

He’s very deep. I can’t decide how I feel about that 🤔

Shredder would have wanted to fan that temper into something unforgiving and vile. Or course, that doesn’t mean he stops being a sensitive soul. It could… Have something to do with Shredder manipulating him into being angry when he wills it (basically all the time) and solemn and still when he doesn’t (such as during lectures, punishments, etc).

His brain registers this situation as one where he’s not meant to be loud and angry, and so he’s kinda… Shut down. Sassy, but mellow. Processing. Adapting. Letting what happens happen because he’s not meant to stop it.

It’s a reason that Leo gets so defensive when punishments come into play. It forces Raph to feel small. It make him vulnerable.

HOLY MOTHER OF MUTATIONS- I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS NEW TAKE ON THE AU @ellestrade TELL ME IF I’M ONTO SOMETHING

Anyway, commentary:

“in one of Takeō's strategy books he couldn't care less about”

It’s like Space Heroes. He claims so and YET he read, recalls, AND clearly has DEBATED the passage so I call sus vibes.

I get giddy when I think of Takeō discovering Space Heroes-

“Junkō and Kōta— or Donnie and Mikey, whatever false name they’d been given—”

My brain made connections. I don’t know if it was intended, but I always believe that they knew them by Shredder’s names through the beginning of season one, end of season one/beginning of season two they were associating them as both, and then by the time that the City is under attack, they’ve adapted to using their real names. (But the Saki brothers still keep their Foot names.)

So, now I assume this is somewhere in that middle plot.

Fun little Easter egg~

“Takeō and Akihitō were the offense, and Donnie and Mikey were the defense” “They held their own. In fact, they dominated.”

I’m in love with Raph’s simple acknowledgment of their roles in battle. It’s a very practical outline of exactly how their dynamic on the field plays out and he's so certain of his place.

On the other hand, I’m a bit uncertain about whether they’d dominate. I do believe that they are trained and can hold their own, but I don’t know about them being as impressive as Raph&Leo, simply because Splinter trained them to defend and Shredder trained them to kill. The Hamato brothers haven’t had much time to practice in the offensive, especially since that’s Leo&Raph’s job. (In non-AU canon, they are all offensive/defensive.)

I think Mikey might learn that kinda strength at the farmhouse after being taught by Leo&Raph, and Donnie will step back from that, finally finding his place not as a fighter/leader, but as a scientist.

Definitely an interesting take, tho 🤔

“Only now does he think that, perhaps, there was a reason their master made their primary weapons blunts and not blades.”

I am chewing on this line so hard. It’s so powerful.

I can’t even tell you why. It just is.

“Akihitō knows that Takeō isn’t lying. He’d already tried to take tonight's blame all on his own shoulders, spare Akihitō of the punishment. But Akihitō knows all his tricks and he won’t let his brother suffer alone. Again.”

100% behind Raph learning to butt in when Leo tries to take the fall as they get older and punishments get worse.

“Seeing the situation, the evidence glaring at him, Akihitō cannot deny that this wasn’t exactly a great sell. Takeō and him are tied to the ground, trying to convince these two strangers that they would be safe with them. That their clan would not hurt them while that same clan was just about ready to beat them to a pulp.”

I was thinking the same thing 🤣

Leo, dude, seriously. Look around. Think for a second. You are not selling your point. You are doing the opposite.

In the end, it doesn’t even matter. Sensei will always find them no matter where they run. It was better to follow than be chased.

SOMEONE NEEDS TO TEACH THESE KIDS THAT THIS IS A TOXIC RELATIONSHIP. YOU SHOULD NOT FEEL MOTIVATED TO STAY WITH DAD BECAUSE HE WILL FORCED YOU TO REMAIN OTHERWISE. BRUH. RED FLAG.

These were Foot Ninja binds made specifically to hold them. Mutant strength and all.

It makes sense that Shredder would make these. But.

But man. He made those. For them.

Takeō tries to take control of the situation again, the bossy oldest sibling coming out in him.

HA. Got him. Leo is Leo in any universe.

“His name is Mikey.” Donnie glares. “The rat is lying and he has—” “Donnie, its fine.”

Absolutely how they view things. Mikey doesn’t care what they think or do as long as no one he cares about is paying the price. Donnie feels it is a manner of principle that they accept logic and truth.

Leo talking over both of them is valid. This kid, I swear.

“Then tell your older brother to shut up about—”

LEO IS IT OFFICIAL YOU HAVE BEEN DISOWNED

“Sounds like a you-problem.” Donnie stands. “Mikey, we saved them. It's time to go.”

Donnie would die for them <3

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he recognizes it. Takeō always knows when to give support. He’s a good brother. He hopes Donnie and Mikey will know that one day too.

OH. OKAY. WELL. 🥺

THOSE FEELS CAME OUT OF NOWHERE-

He loved his big bro sm hjkhkjhkjhjkkjhkjhkjhku

If Akihitō didn’t know any better, he’d say it was longing.

Oh, don’t worry, he is dying to have other people in his life who genuinely care for him, but as long as you guys are with the enemy, you’re a threat to his baby brother and daddy and not to be trusted

And, just maybe, it could be their world too.

Oh, so that’s what pain feels like. Glad to be reminded.

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crankyfemme · 1 year

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Please talk to me about Joel and Tess I’ve been thinking about them all weekend

I don't even know if I have any coherent thoughts about them it's all just a wriggling mass of worms in here, screaming about their dynamic. (Update from after writing out the rest of this deranged essay: I did not mean for this to get so long and go off on so many tangents. I am insane. Thank you.)

I'm utterly obsessed with the way Tess is the one who calls the shots - just reblogged a post the other day about how Joel looks to her for decision-making, which mixed nicely in my brain with that quote from the podcast about Joel being "a little bit of a Frankenstein monster" that Tess is leading. This fermented in my brain with Joel's consistent characterization as someone who can't live for himself, only for someone else. As joking as it is, people are absolutely on the nose with the "acts of service being Joel's love language" posts. He doesn't know how to be a person unless he's orbiting another. (This also neatly parallels Ellie's greatest fear of ending up alone, but that's a whooooole nother essay.)

For a long time, Sarah was the axis around which he orbited, and that is why losing her led to a near suicide. Tommy managed to shift Joel's orbit around himself, to save his brother, which led to "all the things we did - the things you judge me for" from episode 6. This next bit is speculation, but I think it's fairly well supported by evidence from canon. I think that Tommy wasn't able to properly handle how Joel's trauma changed him, not okay with the level of violence Joel was willing to reach to keep Tommy safe, but utterly unable to lose the only family he had left.

(Continuing this Tommy tangent, sorry): he absolutely feels some level of responsibility for how fucked up Joel is now. If he had arrived just a little sooner, he could have saved Sarah, and Joel wouldn't be the way he is. Every time Joel does something morally reprehensible for Tommy's sake, Tommy thinks this is my fault. At least at first. They met Tess later, so there was no one else for Joel to orbit, so Tommy was the only option. And he was definitely there during and in the wake of Joel's suicide attempt, so he knows Joel cannot be alone. But the way they're surviving is fucking with him.

It's not until later, when Joel and Tess have become close enough for her to be Joel's new Person that Tommy can leave, which he does, of course he does, because seeing what's become of his brother makes him sick with guilt and anger. He couldn't leave until he knew for sure Joel had a Person to keep living for, but once that's a sure thing, he leaves. (There's another whole essay in here about Joel and Tommy being foils, where Joel must be devoted to a single person and Tommy must be devoted to some greater cause, but I've digressed enough. You came here for Joel and Tess. Sorry. I swear these thoughts are all related.) Back to Joel. Everything about him screams "experienced parentification as a child" and I know I'm still in speculation land but come on. He's several years older than Tommy and he became a father at a young age, and it's implied that he was a single father from pretty early on in Sarah's life (moreso in the game, but there's no indication they changed that for the show). Joel and Tommy's parents are never so much as mentioned.

Adults who were parentified as children have a hard time expressing and meeting their own needs, particularly emotionally, and have a hard time turning off their "caregiver" mode. Just for fun, I ran a quick search about parentification to refresh my memory, and I'd like to share a few sentences that made me insane: "A parentified child does not learn to distinguish their own needs and feelings from those of other people." Here's another: "In certain cases, some degree of parentification may have positive effects, such as building resilience and competency."

Who does that sound like? Joel "you were never gonna do it for yourself" Miller, that's fucking who. (For added derangement, rewatch the breakfast scene in episode 1, starting around 6:50 when Tommy comes through the door. "Awww, he loves you." "He's dependent on me. It's not the same." But I digress. Again.) ANYWAY: Enter Tess. Tess is fucking smart and ruthless about survival, Tess shares Joel's deep trauma of losing a child, and Tess doesn't have Tommy's angst about how Joel has changed from Before. She's exactly someone whose psychological profile can mesh well with post-Outbreak Joel's. She's resourceful and great at social engineering, and she quickly picks up on how Joel's mind operates. As the audience, we never get to actually see or hear how they met and grew close, but given how they are as people, I think it's likely that Tess initially saw Joel as a resource to use, then figured out more about him, and grew to actually give a shit - until she ended up giving a lot of shits. Too many, maybe.

She definitely knows she has power in their dynamic, that she can make the decisions and Joel will follow her lead, that Joel cares about her. The scene in their apartment kitchen where he sees her swollen eye and she already knows he's going to react the way he does, has her first sentence prepared so he'll sit back down. The casual way she allows him to tilt her head and pat at her face with the cloth? She knows his need to caretake, and she allows him a few moments to meet it, and then she gently redirects him and breaks the bad news about the battery to him.

She handles him emotionally like a fucking master pianist at the keys. (Follow along at about 53:25 in episode 1 if this next bit makes no fucking sense.) She starts gentle, reassuring, telling him "nothing's lost" after dropping the fact that Robert sold the battery. She matches Joel's energy when he stands, upset, saying "okay, fuck it, we get our money back and the battery" so he doesn't feel like she's being condescending or too calm about something that's a big deal to him. She approaches, makes physical contact with her hand to get him to meet her eyes, and lays out the logic - the goal is not out of reach, but will be unless Joel listens to her. And then she says "I need you to take a breath" and there's a quiet moment where you can see her exaggerating a breath for Joel to follow. (I think this is where I became unrecoverable, by the way, if it wasn't already back where Joel rolls over at her hand on his back to be her little spoon.) Notice the energy level in the room after that breath? They both continue speaking in lower, calmer voices. Even when Joel says "Well who'd he sell it to?" his tone is irritated without being loud and abrasive.

And then my favorite thing ever. "Now I promised Robert you wouldn't hurt him. But I would very much like for you to hurt him." Because Tess knows that she is Joel's Person, and what things Joel will do for his Person. She knows because she saw it back when it was Tommy. And Tess has no problem weaponizing Joel, unlike Tommy, who'd been driven away by that very thing.

The saddest part, to me personally, is that while Tess was able to understand that she was Joel's Person, she didn't let herself believe that meant love. Not the way she wanted it to. She figured that he had to revolve around someone, psychologically, but that didn't mean he had to love them. And Joel couldn't ever say it to her, because he loses everyone he loves. It's even more obvious with Ellie, later, when he so clearly loves her as a daughter and just cannot say it in such plain words. He loved Sarah, and she died in his arms, and he loved Tommy, and Tommy left him behind. So there's no way Joel was ever going to be able to be clear with Tess that he loved her, even though he so clearly did. Especially since Tess died before Ellie's presence in Joel's life started to heal the wound - "it wasn't time that did it."

God. I have no idea if any of this makes sense, I just had a million thoughts and feelings and went off on several tangents, but I've finally run somewhat out of steam and I did, in fact, talk about Joel and Tess like you asked. So I'm gonna call it a success.

Anyway, how was your weekend?

#this is a goddamn mess lmao #dilf-din #my asks #tlou #joel miller #tess servopoulos #i guess i gotta tag the rest too. shit.#sarah miller #tommy miller #joel and tess #ellie williams #sorry if this pops up in the main tags but i'm not redoing it now god bless

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corpse-a-diem · 28 days

Text

Dancing With Death | Anita & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: Anita (@gossipsnake) & Erin (@corpse-a-diem) LOCATION: Anita & Metzli's Home (Mansión Mexicana) SUMMARY: Anita teaches Erin how to salsa. It's a perfectly normal, uneventful date. Until it's not. CONTENT WARNINGS: wrspice (touching, kissing)

Anita was great at distractions. One might even say that most of her life was just bouncing from one distraction to the next, never allowing herself time to think about the space in between. So when a beautiful woman online mentioned a dire need for dance lessons… well that sounded like an exceptional distraction. A lesson out on the packed dance floor of some seedy downtown club would certainly be more lively, a private lesson at home would hopefully be a bit more intimate. Besides, both locations had ample tequila.

Fortunately, her brooding and even-more-annoying-than-usual roommate wasn’t going to be around to bother them. After clearing an impromptu dance area by moving around the couch and coffee table from the main living room, Anita changed into a flowing but short red dress and went to the kitchen to pull out a crisp bottle of Casa Dragones from the freezer. In a house where both occupants had … unique diets, there wasn’t much else taking space in the freezer.

Just after she had cut a fresh lime into thin slices, Anita heard the doorbell ring and smirked.

Every intelligent thought in Erin’s brain was screaming at her not to go to some stranger’s home for dance lessons. Her mother had taught her better and Netflix documentaries had taught society better. But there was a growing, overwhelming need for something other than constant death gnawing at her insides. Anita seemed lovely and lively and alive. Something Erin had to remind herself she needed more of, now more than ever. So she donned a simple, silk black dress and some courage to possibly (definitely) embarrass herself in front of this total stranger. It was fine.

She’d found the address simply enough, thankful not to have to navigate around the mess that was Worm’s Row area right now. But the mansion she found herself at was definitely unexpected. How much did college professors make in this town? Footsteps drew closer after she rang the doorbell, and in the midst of briefly questioning her own career choices, the door opened. Erin’s eyes widened in delight as she set her eyes on Anita for the first time. At least if she was going to get murdered tonight, she’d be okay if it was by the woman in front of her. “Anita?” She cleared her throat after a second, remembering herself and holding a hand out. “Erin. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” She smiled, shaking her head slightly, glancing around the exterior of the home. “Am I still in Wicked’s Rest? Because you and your home are just—stunning. We don’t get nice things like this here.”

The look on Erin’s face as Anita opened the door made her smirk widen. It was rather refreshing to be around someone so expressive. It was a lot different than what she had been getting from her roommate. It was also nice to know that this woman, who was undoubtedly stunning in her own right, clearly found her attractive. That would surely make this night that much more interesting. “I am,” she reached out to meet the extended hand, “It’s equally a pleasure to meet you, Erin.”

The question genuinely made Anita laugh and the blatant compliment caused a soft, satisfied blush to spread across her cheeks. “Well, see! That’s exactly the point. Wicked’s Rest deserves some fun and flavor in town. So I’ve done my best to bring a bit of Mexican beauty to town. Both with the house, and with my presence. After all, we all deserve nice things every now and then, no?”

“Come, I’ve got some more Mexican beauty to share with you.” Turning with the comment, Anita walked further into her home leaving Erin and the open door to sort themselves out. Making her way through the initial foyer and heading towards the bar situated between the kitchen and dining area. “And by that, I mean the best tequila you’ve ever had.” The open-floor plan let the rooms flow into one another, and they were mostly decorated with vibrant (slightly suggestive) artwork and bold colors. There was also, however, a sprinkling of more macabre decorations. Some art that Metzli had brought home from their gallery. Some skulls or other bone fragments situated between vases of flowers and warm candles.

Anita was just as charming in person as she was online—not that Erin doubted she would be. It was infectious and drew her into the home and after Anita. She pulled the door closed, trying not to think about how Ted Bundy’s victims had thought he was charming too. But her hand was warm and the blush on her cheek from her words didn’t feel even remotely dangerous. She was worrying for nothing again. Erin smirked, considering her words. “You know what? We sure as hell do,” she answered enthusiastically, eyes drifting around her home. Definitely a varied taste, the style and semblance of pieces only reinforced the mental picture she was building about Anita. No complaints yet. “You know, something tells me you might be from Mexico.” A grin broke across Erin’s face and she peeled her attention back to Anita. “How did you end up here of all places?”

She watched the other woman, leaning against the back of a nearby chair. “The best? Wow. That I’ll have to see for myself.” She said with feigned arrogance, straightening out her blazer as if she was preparing for the ordeal. “And I’ll have you know, I did do my dancing homework. Turns out practicing alone in your bedroom the night before doesn’t make miracles happen. Hopefully you and that tequila will though.”

It was always exciting when there was a quick chemistry with whomever Anita invited over on a given night. Some people were all talk where others followed through with action. Erin seemed like the ladder. “No? What gave me away?” Anita teased in response with a smirk. “But yes, I am. I take it you’re from here? The way you said we don’t get nice things here,” she offered as her explanation before the question was even asked. She poured out two shots of the tequila before reaching over to grab the limes and salt, talking while she did so, “I moved here for the teaching job and a desire for new challenges. I came to the US for college, down in the southwest. After I finished my PhD,” she shrugged as she looked up at Erin, “I study insects and their environments, I guess I just wanted some new material.” It was an oversimplification of reality, but that was what Anita excelled at. Luring people in with enough honesty to seem vulnerable without any of the actual risk.

“Ay, warming my heart! A woman who does her homework,” she said with a smirk as she slid one of the shot glasses across towards Erin. “Well lucky for you, here’s your chance to see that for yourself.” Preparing for the drink with the lime and salt, Anita licked the back of her hand while keeping her gaze focused on the other woman before putting a shake of salt on her skin. “I promise me and the tequila will be far more thrilling than anything you’ve done alone in your bedroom.” With that, she licked the freshly placed salt off her hand, shot the tequila back, and then placed a wedge of lime in her mouth. The drink was smooth enough to take on its own in her opinion, but she liked the foreplay.

Anita poured herself another drink, before shifting her focus to the pretense for their meeting. “What music did you play when you practiced? Music sets the tone you know.”

“All my life,” Erin nodded. Her brows raised. “PhD? Shit,” she laughed softly, watching the apparently very well-read woman prepare the shots as she spoke. There was something so carefree about Anita, in the way she moved and spoke. And she was smart? It’d almost be annoying if Erin wasn’t so drawn to it. “A beautiful woman who studies bugs and their homes, on a PhD level, huh?” She responded, taking the shot glass offered to her. “I knew you were more interesting than Wicked’s Rest deserved.”

Erin appreciated the light and playful energy Anita brought, emphasized with every smirk and teasing lilt. She knew exactly what this visit was about, as did Erin. The promised reprieve from the shadows and hard, dark tones making themselves home in her mind felt like a true beacon in the night. Erin knew she needed this but until she felt her own cheeks burn pleasantly and turn up in a bright grin, she wasn’t aware just how badly. She kept her eyes on Anita’s, mimicking her motions with the salt and lime, knocking her drink back, which went down so much smoother than expected. “Oh, yeah.” She nodded, pushing her shot glass back towards Anita. “That’s good. You were right. Of course you were. Hit me with another while you’re at it?”

Right. The dancing part. She smirked and moved around the table, phone in her hand until she was closer to Anita. “Well, don’t laugh at me but I started off with some classic Ricky Martin. Because he’s great, you know?” She laughed and felt the flush of the liquor shoot through her chest, then motioned to her phone again. “But then I wisened up because I could just hear you mocking me in my head and found a popular latin dancing playlist on Spotify.” She pressed play, letting the music fill the room and she looked to Anita’s gaze for approval. “Good? Yes? No?”

–

“Must be kinda nice, getting to know a singular place with intimacy instead of bouncing from one location to the next.” It wasn’t necessarily a fate that she wanted for herself, not that there was any way to change the past even if she did, but Anita did find the idea of a lifelong community to be exceptionally compelling. “Two, actually,” Anita stated with a sly grin. The clarification was not one she made often, not usually wanting to come off as bragging, but Erin seemed to be intrigued rather than intimidated which made Anita feel like she could perhaps brag a bit without it souring the mood. “One PhD for the bugs, one PhD for their homes.”

“My three favorite words,” Even with just the simplicity of their interactions thus far, Anita felt like she was getting to know the other woman quite well. She wasn’t presumptuous or pretentious. At the request, her fingers wrapped around the cool bottle and refilled both of their glasses. Acutely aware of the closing distance between them, Anita leaned towards Erin as she approached as if getting a glimpse at the playlist on her phone was somehow a necessity. “I mean, he’s an international sensation for a reason. An exceptional place to start if you ask me.”

As Erin kept talking about the music choices, Anita picked up her glass again and shot back the second serving of tequila - this time without the salt and lime ritual. “I would never mock a gorgeous woman playing latin music, of any kind, mami.” As the playlist began, a grin spread across Anita’s face which was followed by a joyous laugh as she heard the sounds of Calle Luna Calle Sol fill the room, “Muy buena!” With the exclamation, she reached over and grabbed Erin’s hand pulling her out towards the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room. “Follow my lead, yes?”

“It has its pros and cons. Just like anything.” Erin answered nonchalantly, eyeing Anita and trying to discern whether that was longing or general curiosity in her tone. She couldn’t help but grow more curious about the other woman from the simple statement though. How much of her life was hopping from one place to the next, like she’d implied? There was a level of anonymity that came with moving around like that and it was a point of note that Erin made sure to keep in her back pocket. “The familiarity is nice, I will say that. But the other side of knowing a place that well is that the place knows you just the same.”

A genuine laugh shook her shoulders. She liked Anita already. “You’re very humble. I like that about you already,” she teased, reaching for the refill on her glass and trying not to think too terribly hard about how close Anita was to her now. The tequila would help. Anita’s infectious energy already was. She watched her down the shot without any assistance and knew immediately she couldn’t back down right in front of her. Anita was already ten thousand leagues cooler than she’d ever hope to be. So, with only the smallest hesitation, she knocked the glass back. Thankfully, Anita was already pulling her toward the living room and she hoped she didn’t see the painful wince that followed.

A flushed warmth spread through her as the alcohol trickled from her chest, into her limbs as she readied herself in front of Anita. “Oh, with pleasure,” she smirked, desperately trying to think through the haze of alcohol and excitement swarming her insides. God, she was going to embarrass herself in front of this beautiful woman and there was absolutely no stopping it now. She kept a firmer grip on the soft hand that led her here, lifting it up into the air while her other hand moved to slip around her waist, resting it tentatively. Her brow raised expectantly and she watched for further cues from Anita, unable to tear the grin from her lips. “Like that, right?”

–

“It’s easy to be humble when you’re so beautiful and amazing.” Anita’s tone and body language were as if she was telling a joke, but in reality she did believe what she was saying. She had been on her own in life for long enough to know that when it all came down to it, you had to be your own support system. She couldn’t afford to doubt herself so she simply didn’t. The night started to fall into place as the salsa music warmed the atmosphere around them as the tequila warmed the two of them.

Anita took the lead, like she had so many times before. If she were focused on teaching true, technical salsa moves it would involve much less prolonged physical contact with anything other than their hands. Instead, she opted to teach her the more casual salsa - the one that wouldn’t be seen on the latin ballroom dance floor but the one that would be found at every Mexican party. “Exactly like that,” she encouraged, moving her left arm up into form while she let her right hand rest gently on the small of Erin’s back.

After getting the hold set up, Anita took a moment to appreciate the closeness between the two of them, the soft blush that spread across Erin’s cheeks, the smallest specs of yellow in her beautiful blue eyes, and that adorable grin. She let the music dictate the dance, letting her feet and hips move along with the beat while she kept them in the basic form, “I know it's a cliche… but salsa is all about the spirit. You let the music take you where you need to be, it’s an intuition.” It didn’t take long before it seemed like Erin was starting to catch on, following right behind where Anita was leading.

As the song began to reach a crescendo Anita applied a bit of pressure to her hand on Erin’s waist and gilded her to spin out, then released that hand while she stepped to the side and spun Erin around with a grin. Without missing a beat, she then pulled Erin back in with her other arm and gently dipped her down as the song began to fade out. Their faces were closer now than they had been all night, and Anita’s eyes jumped between Erin’s and her mouth - silently inquiring about closing the remaining distance between them.

Alright, so maybe this wasn’t as painfully awkward on her end as Erin had built it up to be. People always told her she thought too much. Planned too much of her life out into neat lines that didn’t leave much room for anything else. But as Anita held her close, she remembered how good it felt to let those lines blur once in a while. “Cliche isn’t so bad sometimes,” she smirked, noting - with absolutely no complaint - how close they were now. Her first few steps were a bit of a stumble, but Anita was patient and gracious, taking her time as she followed her lead. Eventually the rhythm started to click, and while her steps were imperfect and more clumsy than her elegant teacher’s, she’d stopped thinking and just moved.

“I absolutely had my doubts…” she started, moving effortlessly into the small spin, breaking to let out a laugh as she twirled back into her arms. “But I think you’re magic. I swear. It’s the only explanation,” she grinned bigger now, only needing Anita’s guidance sparingly at this point of the song. She was even a little disappointed when the music began to slow. Only a little bit, and just for a second, because she was close and looking at her like that after a final dip to end their dance. A chill smoothed along her skin, up her spine and despite the heavy warmth in her cheeks, her skin was suddenly cold. Her brain was fully off at this point and all too familiar signals went ignored.

Another song started playing, softer and slower than the previous one. “This was a cliche I was counting on, you know,” she murmured playfully, moving a hand to cup her jawline. Erin pulled Anita’s face to hers, pressing her lips to hers, finally. Softly, slowly at first. Wrapping her hand around Anita’s back, it was incredibly easy to lose herself in the moment–

SLAM!

A door shut in the distance, slamming so hard it felt like it shook the entire house. Erin jumped, dazed, her head moving to the source of the sound then back to Anita. “What was–is your roommate home?” She asked slightly out of breath.

–

Not to discredit her own exceptional teaching skills, but Anita was quite impressed with how quickly Erin had seemed to pick up on the basics of the salsa. She didn’t seem to get upset or discouraged by small missteps like some might, instead she just moved on through them and let the music guide them from one step to the next. It didn’t take long for the movements to flow with little effort as their bodies stayed closed together as they danced across the living room. “Don’t discredit your own magic. It takes two to salsa,” she said with a smirk as she paraphrased the classic idiom.

Anita was pleasantly surprised when Erin was the one to make a move and close the distance between their lips, something Anita had thought she would need to take the lead on. The kiss had been just as tantalizing as the dance and Anita kept one hand pressed firmly against Erin’s back as her other hand moved to her waist.

But then, suddenly and abruptly, their lips parted and as Anita opened her eyes back up it seemed as though Erin had been startled by something. “My roommate?” She looked around the room and it was just as empty as it had been ten seconds ago. “No, they aren’t. And they aren't gonna be home at all tonight, I promise.” She didn’t know if Erin was rattled at the idea of someone walking in to see them kissing or if there was something else going on. She reached out to grab Erin’s hand to try and pull her back in, “We can just go back to the dancing if you’re more comfortable with that.”

Erin wasn’t sure if she should have been relieved by Anita’s response or not. The obvious distraction was there but the noise had startled Erin enough to pull her out of the moment. Leaving her now trying to discern the nagging prickle it’d left in its wake. Her eyes bounced around the room as discreetly and quickly as she could manage, fully braced for the jump scare that always came when a presence decided to make itself known. “You really didn’t hear anything?” She asked, settling her attention back onto Anita. Doors slamming or small objects falling from tables was something she had gotten used to over the years. As used to it as anyone could be, she supposed. But the fact that Anita hadn’t heard it at all alarmed her the most–those things weren’t just for her eyes and ears alone. The house was still now, silent but for the salsa music still playing defiantly in the background. She shook her head, at herself more than anything, slipping back into Anita’s embrace at her prompting. Not everything was a fucking ghost, Erin.

“Oh, no,” Erin started, her smile returning along with the playfulness in her words. Eager to move on and forget it, the nagging only a small buzz compared to a moment before. “I definitely want to do more of that. For sure. Way more.” Her hand squeezed Anita’s assuringly. Erin moved them now, her other hand on Anita’s hip, pulling her forward as Erin walked slowly backwards in one motion.“We could definitely dance as much as you want too. You saw me out there a few seconds ago, right? I’m basically a pro now, thanks to you. I can hardly believe it myself. But I have one very important request.” A dramatic pause lingered in the air as she tugged Anita closer, as close as they had been dancing moments ago. The shiver returned and she ignored that too. Then finally, Erin gestured towards the tequila with a nod and an imploring smirk. “Can we please make some margaritas?”

–

“No, I didn’t hear anything.” Anita had no idea what Erin thought she heard and while she was glad that it seemed they were moving past it, she found herself slightly more on-guard listening more closely at the happenings around them. “Maybe it was that stupid dog, though,” she offered up as an explanation no matter how unlikely. “My roommate has a small, yappy little thing. Always getting up to trouble.” That wasn’t entirely true about Fluffy, but she wanted to offer up a reasonable possible explanation to ease the mood.

As they got back into a more relaxed dialogue, Anita hoped that whatever had distracted her dance partner before wasn’t going to interrupt them again. With their bodies closer together now, that interruption drifted further and further from her mind. “Oh, absolutely! I mean we could go out to any of the dance halls in Mexico City tonight and you’d fit right in with the baddest of them.” Even though she had no idea what request was coming, Anita was fully ready to comply - she already had her sights set on how she was hoping this evening would go and didn’t want anything to keep that from happening. “Anything for you,” she said as she returned the smirk.

Before pulling away, something that was unfortunately necessary in order to make some margaritas, Anita leaned in and kissed Erin again. Her teeth gently caught her lower lip as she pulled away to head towards the kitchen. “Come, I’ll show you how to make the best margarita you’ve ever had.”

A dog. Right. People had dogs. There were more dogs in the world than there were ghosts (probably - Erin would have to ask Lil about that later). That should’ve been one of her first thoughts to begin with. She graciously accepted her own paranoia, alright with feeling a little silly now if it meant she could focus on the woman in front of her. She laughed. “Sounds like you and lassie are the best of friends then, huh?”

“Only fit in? I’d lead the crowd. An instant overnight sensation,” she teased further, but the smile and gentle tone that followed grew sincere. “That really was a lot of fun though. Especially once I stopped stepping on your toes. ” The way Anita carried herself, how eager she was to please and appease her guest, and the charm that left her as easily as breathing. Anita was very good at this and she didn’t doubt that Anita probably utilized those talents with others just as easily. Good. It made this simpler. Made it easier to know they could have their fun and she would leave without further implications once she left.

She almost regretted her request when it was Anita who pulled away from her this time. Though she wasn’t far behind at all, missing her warmth the second it left. It was freezing in here. “Ah, you don’t say. Because it’s made with the best tequila I’ve also ever had, right? Funny how that–”

A figure darkened the doorway Anita slipped through and past without a glance. The first thing she saw was red–dark, thick trails congealing down the man’s neck, bloodying his shirt and arms. Piercing blue eyes shot through her like javelins, rooting her to the spot. They startled her more than anything. Erin felt her stomach drop. She felt… wrong. He felt wrong. She didn’t say a word, leaving Anita to whatever she was doing now in the kitchen.

“Get out.”

The words were harsh. Demanding. Full of barely contained rage packed into two syllables. She flinched and stood dumbfounded. Afraid to move, afraid to call out for Anita. What would she even say? Fuck. Fuck. Well. So much for thinking she could attempt even a night of normalcy. There was no explaining this in a way she could come back from. When Erin didn’t move, the ghost rushed forward in a blur and she jolted back, feeling like she’d been dunked in ice water. “I said LEAVE.” His voice was no longer calm and the painting on the wall next to her flew at her feet, the glass shattering into pieces.

–

“Eh, the little thing’s grown on me. Don’t tell my roommate that though, they’d never let me live it down.” Anita liked how easy the evening had been. She liked how the evening had just been simple and fun, spending time with Erin felt almost comfortable. As comfortable as Anita let herself get with humans, that is. “You’re absolutely right. We’d be the talk of the town in the salsa community - two gorgeous women dancing like we were born to do it? Unstoppable.” She said with a wide smile and a gentle laugh as she stepped into the kitchen.

“I don’t know where the blender is so I’ll make us some on the rocks,” Anita had noticed that Erin cut out mid-sentence but had opted not to think much of it. She just wanted the night, the ease of it all, to keep going. So she began preparing the drinks, squeezing out fresh lime juice that she would later mix in with the tequila, some simple syrup, and triple sec.

Just as she turned around to ask Erin if she wanted salt on the rim, Anita saw her standing in the living room looking like she had just seen a ghost. That was how people described it, didn’t they? A pale face and an expression somewhere between terrified and horrified. She turned away for a moment to wipe her hands off on a towel before planning to go over to her guest when she heard the sound of shattering glass. Quickly making her way over to Erin, Anita looked around the room but didn’t see anything. “Vaya, are you okay?” She wrapped her arm around Erin’s waist and pulled her away from the shattered glass.

Erin didn’t realize her hands were shaking until she moved to pull Anita’s hands from around her waist. “No. No, I’ve got to–” She held onto one of her hands, trying to implore how serious she was. “We’ve got to go.” The spirit had disappeared when the glass shattered at her feet but she wasn’t eager to wait around to see what else it would do if she didn’t heed it’s warning. Her feet edged towards the entrance and she tried to pull Anita along with her. “Listen, I–I know this sounds nuts and you barely know me–and I can’t really explain without sounding even crazier, but–”

How could she explain this, if Anita pressed her further? She pulled away only to reach for her jacket. Even if she couldn’t persuade her, Erin knew she was getting the hell out of here. The house was quiet again, eerily quiet. She didn’t like it. “We have to leave. We just have to. It’s not safe. You can come with me, or you can go somewhere else, which I get, because I’m ruining what was supposed to be a really good night–” Jacket on now, she paused only to catch Anita’s eyes, her own pleading desperately. A long breath left her lips and she took another step back towards Anita. “Please trust me. Please don’t stay here.”

Whatever was going on, Erin’s reactions seemed truly genuine and Anita did not know how to respond to it all, which rarely happened to her. Cause, fuck, maybe Erin had seen a ghost? Not like she had any way of knowing but it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibilities. It was curious, though, that Erin wanted them both to leave. Maybe if Anita was not so well versed in the supernatural world she may have been more apprehensive, but this was a far more interesting end to the night than she had been hoping for. And, she was offering to let Anita go with her. Playing up the confusion a bit, she nodded along as Erin was pleading with her. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

“Not safe?” There was undoubtedly going to be some kind of conversation about all this later, wouldn’t there? It was nice that Erin’s reaction wasn’t just to flee but to also get Anita out of whatever situation she felt wasn’t safe. Maybe it was just best to go along to get ahead of whatever was happening. As Erin went to put on her jacket, Anita downed another shot of tequila and then grabbed her cell phone and keys. “I trust you,” she lied, before grabbing a jacket of her own and heading towards where Erin was near the front door. When she got over to Erin, she reached out and grabbed her hand. “It’s gonna be okay. Let’s just get out of here. Take me wherever you think is gonna be safe.” Maybe there was still hope for the night being really good still.

#wickedswriting #para #para: anita #para: dancing with death #wrspice

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