#and I feel so behind the ball but at least I'm trying and seeing progress

[pix3lplays]

I have an oc to pair with Dr. Ratio and it's simply because they are chaotic together

Imagine a mysterious person within the Guild, hopefully you know if they are a man or a woman because their name is neutral, they do not appear in public

It is known that he has countless doctorates and titles in all kinds of things, they were even selected for the Society of Geniuses but that person rejected the invitation

Veritas Ratio knows about that person and asks for their collaboration on a project, they receive a letter of elegant calligraphy apologizing for not being able to satisfy their request and having to decline

But Ratio is not known for giving up, after many attempts, he reaches his limit of patience

He arrives at the place that is his office, almost no one passes through that hallway and knocks on the door to enter

On the other side, various sounds of objects falling and a person running towards the door are heard, the small viewing slit opens and a computer voice speaks

"Excuse me, are you Dr. Ratio? I'm sorry I can't work on your project if you come for that reason, is the letter with the answer still not in your hands?"

"I came to talk, can you open the door?"

Ratio insists for several minutes, and finally after pressing the door it opens

The person behind it is completely different than expected. He has prominent dark circles under his eyes, a short stature, visible health problems and the entire "office" is a mess with many inventions and books scattered around

She was a rather nervous and shy woman at first glance, beginning to stutter and tremble.

"W-well... W-what do you want to talk about?"

Ratio soon sees that this person, despite being incredibly prestigious, can hopefully hold a conversation and at the slightest hint of aggression she almost begins to cry

It's strange

Ratio says he understands a little of what is happening, trying to soften his words and tones of voice to talk to her

And it doesn't take him long to understand that she doesn't work with him because she sees him as unworthy, but rather that she is afraid of his reputation and doesn't want to bother him

"I-I'm so sorry! I don't want to bother your advances, how could I help you with my annoying personality?"

And Ratio realizes that maybe... He can teach that genius who seems like she could die of fright to live

That way, he tries to get her out of his office every day, he doesn't force her to reveal her identity to the rest, but at least he makes her look decent and not like a disaster

She nervously eventually manages to go to some conferences and not just watch everything from her office, the progress is so slow but satisfying that Ratio applauds himself

Although of course, seeing the acclaimed Veritas Ratio without his mask, cheering a girl who seems like she could die of nerves over an extremely complicated topic... It draws attention

Oh, now the gossip of the entire Guild is to find out who can accomplish such a feat

"It seems that some idiots in the Guild are interested in knowing your identity after seeing me around you."

"Uh!? N-that can't be it! I must hide! Ah, go to the bottom of the mines in the mountains where no human can find me until half a century passes, no one will be able to recognize me!"

"No"

"Okey... Not with that tone of voice"

"…"

"Do not look at me like that! Uhh..."

"(And to think that this is progress)"

Ratio pats the woman on the shoulder, hoping she doesn't turn into a ball in the corner AGAIN

Oh, but... Ratio thinks that, in the end, she is very pretty even if she has a hard time talking to anyone else, it feels like talking as an equal

—📦

(Huohuo without Tail and with a mysterious genius background, but it was social problems instead of something interesting and intriguing)

See that’s the fun thing about Ratio lolol…personally he really does strike me as a…“I’m only interested in my intellectual equals,” kind of man. Like. As long as they’re smart he’ll adjust to most personality types…but honestly imagining him with someone kinda goofy and dumb is cute too lol…

Sigh, Ratio is SO-

But also okay hear me out on this one…Ratio with a reader who seems goofy and silly but then can just randomly say something incredibly profound and thought provoking. He’d have such mixed feelings haha…he’s just waiting to hear something smart. It gets to the point where he realizes that you’re actually intelligent…but nobody else knows, and he FIERCELY defends you if anyone should question your intelligence.

Idk…R a t i o…

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Dr Ratio #Dr Ratio x reader #hsr Dr Ratio x reader #honkai star rail Dr Ratio x reader

[oneatlatime]

Atla season two predictions

We're halfway through season 2! I did a post on my thoughts on the show and its characters when I reached the halfway point of season one. My thoughts are mostly the same, and there's only one new character of note (all hail Toph!), so I thought this time I'd mark the halfway point by taking wild stabs at predicting where the rest of the season is going to go. I'm going to try to do at least one prediction per character. This is entirely guesswork. Once the season is done I'll come back to this post and see how prescient/stupid I was. Without further ado...

The season finale will have Azula as the Big Bad and introduce the Fire Lord as the Big Bad for season three. This is exactly what happened in the finale of season one: Zhao was big bad and Azula was introduced. So less prediction, more extrapolating based on existing data. It was a winning formula in season one, so I'm hoping the writers will do it again. I'm also hoping that Azula will follow Zhao's fate because quite frankly I don't like her very much. Tl;dr, Azula and her crew will get swallowed by a giant badger mole spirit.

Toph is getting a subplot. She feels like a character with nothing left to work on, and now that Aang can earthbend, her purpose is accomplished. So she needs another purpose in the story. That, or they're going to leave her behind at some point. I wonder if she's in season three? She'd better be. So either Toph is going to remain a character with no need of an arc, in which case her subplot will revolve around something she already excels at, or the writers are going to throw a curve ball and reveal a heretofore unknown weakness that she's going to have to work around. If it's the former, my money is on one of the idiots from the pro-bending tournament hunting her down to avenge their humiliating defeat at her hands. If it's the latter, my guess would be something intellectual that plays on her high society background. Political intrigue? Spy work? A cult? Maybe she finds out that her parents are colluding with the fire nation? Tl;dr SuperToph, somehow.

Appa comes back. This is not a prediction, this is a DEMAND. He breaks free of his captors (seriously, he went down way too easy), runs away into the wilds of the earth kingdom, and following some innate air bison sense, stumbles upon a lost colony of his fellow bison who escaped Sozin's genocide. (and have somehow remained entirely undiscovered for a century despite being each the size of a house and able to fly to boot well the earth kingdom's got a lot of empty spaces just go with it) They spend a few weeks chilling until Appa gets found. Season three can end with Appa's Air Bison Hunny showing up with a baby sky bison. Tl;dr Papa Appa.

Project Make Zuko Decent gets a new CEO. The current one sucks. Some new character is going to be introduced to provide Zuko with both the motivation and the guidance to become a decent person. Iroh's had a season and a half and made pretty much no progress; Zuko's spent all of season two trying, and has made himself somehow worse. Maybe not worse, but certainly more worn out. Time for new blood. I'd like to think that this show is above cliche, but let's be honest, it's going to be a love interest. They tried it with a kid brother in Zuko Alone and it didn't work. So some nice earth kingdom girl. Like Song, but with more backbone. Maybe she's really good at swords. They can bond over that. I feel like Zuko would be easier to connect with over something he knows he's good at. It would be less fraught than bonding over bending. She also lost her mother to the fire nation; they can bond over that too. The writers laid the groundwork in Zuko Alone, might as well use it. The more Zuko can empathise, the faster he'll get decent. I hate to see a character who exists solely for 'Man Pain' or 'Man Growth,' but let's be honest, Zuko is not self-aware enough to grow without some major hand-holding, and Iroh isn't volunteering. I know that Zuko is on the cover of my season three DVD so his 'get decent' arc has to be complete by the end of season two. Tl;dr Zuko gets schooled.

Sokka has been underutilised this season (as has Katara), so he's going to get something major. The Library set him up to lead the gang to that Earth Kingdom town who's name I forget so they can share the date of the eclipse with the king, but you know Aang isn't budging until they get Appa back. So for the next few episodes, Sokka will be in Master Tracker Mode, using all the skills he learned at the South Pole and more to rescue Appa. There can be flashbacks to him learning the skill from his dad/grandfather/uncles/Bato, then flash forward to see him applying that skill successfully, adapting it to a different climate and incorporating insights he's gained since the show started. We had Zuko Alone, now I want Sokka Alone with the ghosts of his family. Although I don't think Aang would be willing to sit out on Appa retrieval, so Aang's going to have to be urgently needed for Avatar reasons right when Sokka stumbles on the clue that is the key to finding Appa. The group splits and reunites to see the earth kingdom king, Sokka triumphant and Appa in tow. Tl;dr Sokka channels Liam Neeson with probably a lower body count.

Momo is going along with Sokka for aerial reconnaissance.

Katara needs something juicy too. She's mastered waterbending, so her growth has to be personal rather than skills-based. Maybe she gets her world view challenged? Maybe she meets an evil earth kingdom or water tribe person? Evil to the core; she's already met bunches from both nations who are stupid/malicious. Hang on - I forgot about Jet. So she meets an evil water tribe person. In the earth Kindgom. Somehow. Maybe she meets a good fire nation person? How about a fire nation healer/doctor/army medic? Someone who can show her that firebending isn't all bad. Can you heal with any element other than water? I have no idea, but it would be cool if you could. If you really want to challenge her, a fire nation firebending healer who is genuinely compassionate to people of all nations, but who is also proud to be a fire nation citizen and fond of their nation. That would REALLY confuse her. Doubly so if there's some healing technique that she desperately needs to learn from this person. Katara seems like the type to think that one person = one opinion, and that there is only one right opinion, ever, in all things, and that is hers. Show her someone complex, hypocritical, layered, but still a force for overall good. Tl;dr let's torture Katara.

Aang! It's been a while since his duties as Avatar have conflicted with his personal convictions. Actually, it's been a while since his duties as Avatar have come up at all, apart from training and getting chased for being the Avatar. Aang is going to encounter some problem that can only be fixed by an Avatar, likely something like the giant panda from season one. Maybe pissing off the Owl spirit causes unrest in the spirit world? Maybe Aang's going to have to fight a war on two fronts: fire nation v. other nations and spirit world v. physical world? Or maybe Aang's going to have to mediate in a spirit world civil war? Aang's got enough friends in the spirit world that maybe the giant panda and his friends take offence to the owl mouthing off about the avatar and it snowballs from there? It seems to me that pissing off a spirit is the kind of mistake that should have consequences beyond that spirit's episode. And this need for the Avatar comes up just when there's a solid lead on Appa, so Aang has to learn to delegate the Appa-finding to his friends while he's off saving the world. Tl;dr Aang has to do some Avataring.

Iroh needs to get his act together and come up with a better plan than following Zuko at a safe distance. This is more of a wish than a prediction, because Iroh's still very much a big old question mark to me. It's easier to predict what the child/teenage characters are going to do, because apart from maybe Toph, they have limited and already defined means. But Iroh's lived decades. He could very easily have resources, skills, connections, knowledge etc. that viewers haven't seen yet that he could call on at any time. He could pull anything out of the blue and I'd believe it, because that's how the world works when you're a sociable person who knows how to talk your way into things and has spent decades doing so. There have to be some earth kingdom collaborators around from his invading days who could be blackmailed/flattered into helping Iroh and Zuko get back on their feet. Tl;dr Iroh phones a friend. I can see the plot for the rest of the season ending in three ways:

A)Sokka's news about the eclipse causes the earth king to arrange a direct strike on the fire nation capital, killing Azula in the finale. The fire lord escapes, Azula gets promoted to fire nation martyr, and the war enters a new, worse, heightened, far more scorched earth/bloodthirsty state at the start of season three.

B) The Earth King says "yeah kid, we've had star charts for millennia, we know about the eclipse, they know about the eclipse, it'll be the one time their defences are at their absolute highest, this plan is dumb as hell, go away." This is the one I think is most likely.

C) News of the eclipse never reaches the earth king, because it turns out that unless the local king is your nonagenarian former best friend, getting a royal audience is hard if you're a water tribe nobody, and maybe his friend is the Avatar, but he's also twelve, and even in a kid's cartoon letting twelve year olds have a say in national policy is a bit of a stretch. The eclipse nonsense remains a one-episode occurrence that was just the set up required for Appa's Appa-napping, and the rest of the season is spent de-Appa-napping Appa, until a surprise appearance by Zuko jr. and her girlies in the finale.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #season 2

[dulltoned]

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

It's dark. Not in the way that's familiar like the dreary shadows of the bunker. He knows that darkness, those shadows that he wraps himself up in like a blanket. No, rather, it's dark like he's lost. Dark like when he'd wandered into the forest when he was a trolling and he had no one to come look for him so he'd stumbled hopelessly through the pitch black praying that he'd find his way home. It's dark and he can't remember why.

He doesn't call out or feel around for someone else. He's not an idiot. He knows that more likely than not he was alone. He wouldn’t dare alert anything that could be out here. Instead he carefully moves forward, arm extended in front of him in hopes to keep himself from stumbling into anything while his feet silently drag across the floor to prevent himself from tripping. It's slow progress but no matter how far he goes nothing changes. The floor is rough but even beneath him and he doesn't run into anything. Not a wall or a tree or even a table. It's like the world itself has disappeared and left him behind in its shadow.

Despite that he feels strangely calm. There's no panic rushing through his veins or anxiety clogging his mind. He just moves slowly and silently through the darkness like something will change. It doesn't. Not until it does.

A long stretch away a ball of light is birthed into existence. It doesn't come into view or appear from around some invisible corner. It simply just is in the same way that before it simply wasn't. He startles at the small ball of orange and yellow flickering a forever away. At this pace he'll never reach the pinprick of fire dancing slowly closer but he was far too cautious to just make a run for it. The burst of flame was all there was. It didn't illuminate a world he couldn't see. It just sat in the center of the black, its glow absorbed into the vacuum of nothingness that consumed everything.

"Branch?" Poppy? "Branch where are you?" She sounds worried. Scared. There's a tremor in her voice that shouldn't ever be there and it sends a spike of ice through his chest.

"Here!" He calls, looking around frantically like suddenly he'd finally be able to see. Poppy broke his calm. The false sense of ease he'd felt was ripped away from him in a moment and suddenly he could feel his heart pounding a desperate rhythm in his chest and anxiety curled around his ribs and squeezed the air from his lungs. "Poppy, where are you?" He screams into the void but there's nothing there. Nothing but the fire. He throws caution to the wind and runs for it.

"Branch?" She sounds so small, so meek. She sounds so close but she's nowhere to be found. The fire, the light, it's his only hope. "Branch!"

"I'm coming!" He's trying, please, he's trying. "Just stay where you are!" She doesn't respond, just sobs, and he can't breathe. She's crying, she's scared, he can't find her. He's supposed to protect her. He's getting closer. The small speck of light is growing alarmingly fast. The fire has to be gigantic, a large ball of flame at least four times the size of him. "Poppy, please." He begs. He's still not close enough. He's still too far.

"Branch?" His heart stutters and stops and lurches into his throat. That's not fair, this isn't fair-- "I don't know where I am." Floyd. Floyd's here. Why are they here? Where are they? What is this?

"I'm coming," He swears. He's getting closer, the fire is almost as bright as the sun and somehow there's still nothing but darkness. There's no warmth, no heat, only all-consuming shadow. He feels the weight of it now. It presses in on him and slows him down. "Just wait for me."

"You're taking too long," John Dory. No. No no. He's coming. He's moving as fast as he can. "We can't wait forever." His voice is unsteady, eager to escape the unknown that makes him uncomfortable. The knee-jerk reaction to get away before something terrible could catch up to him.

"I'm almost there," He promises. He lies. He doesn't know where they are. He doesn’t know where he is, either. He can't lose them. He can't lose her. "Just wait for me."

"We're waiting," Bruce's soothing voice cuts in. He sounds sad. Patient and bittersweet and it feels dismissive.

They're lost. They're scared. They're asking for him, searching for him, and he can't find them. The fire is there. It's right there. It's the only beacon in this terrible, vacant nothingness. He's getting close enough that he can see it's raised high in the air. He has to look up now to keep it in his sight.

"Come on, Branch, you can do this," Clay urges, using his anxiety to fuel his support. He can imagine the green-haired troll wringing his hands together and he wishes that he could see it. He wants to see them. Please. He can find them, he can do this, please--

The ball of light is directly above him now and he cranes his neck to look up at it. "I'm here," he breathes, panting less from exertion and more from the weight of emotion crushing his chest.

"Branch?" Poppy whimpers. The light goes out and he's plunged into the suffocating nothing--

Branch jerks awake, eyes snapping open as he scrambles up against his headboard. His chest is heaving with each breath and panic courses cold through his veins. A dream. Of course it was just a dream, it was unrealistic and ridiculous and… haunting. It couldn't have been anything other than a nightmare but he can still hear the tremor in Poppy's voice and JD's false bravado and when he looks down at his paws cupped in his lap he can see them shaking even in the low light. Damn it. He really figured he'd be better by now. At least about this. He'd been riddled with nightmares most of his life, ever since Grandma Rosiepuff died, but he'd gotten better after he got his colors back. Until his brothers started staying with him at least.

The dreams had started back up with a vengeance after that. Some of them were completely unrelated, the Bergens betraying them or Poppy's bubbly friends ridiculing him again, but some of them hammered home just how deep his issues ran. Sometimes it was his brothers sitting him down and explaining in painful detail how the band breaking up had been his fault. Other times it was waking up to the bunker empty and all of his brothers nowhere to be found. Every once in a while the dreams would twist and morph into something unreal but no less painful, like it had tonight. Usually those ones are easier to brush off. They should be easy to pick apart and see for what they were: fake. He couldn't make rhyme or reason of the nightmare that's left him drenched in sweat and trembling like a leaf in his bed. It's infuriating that something so fantastical could shake him to his core. Sitting here alone in his room he can admit to himself that he was still scared. The terror lingered heavy over his head and he pressed his back harder against the headboard like it could protect him from some unknown evil trying to sneak up on him. He felt pitifully unsafe in his own home and the shadows he usually found soothing were quickly becoming oppressive.

Branch leaped from his bed and turned on his bedside lamp, taking a few grounding breaths when the warm glow gently spread across the room. He needed to calm down. He was fine. The others were fine. With the darkness pushed away he feels a little more at ease but his chest still feels tight and there's still a chill between his shoulder blades. He's still pitifully, achingly afraid.

Running a hand down his face and counting slowly to ten in his head he makes for the door. Always, without fail, he was the last up and the first awake. He hated the idea of being caught off guard, especially in his own home, and the constant hypervigilance kept him up and focused until he just couldn't be anymore. Ever since his brothers came back into his life he'd gotten maybe five hours of sleep every night, rarely uninterrupted. He didn't mind the routine but there was an exhaustion in his day-to-day that hadn't been there before. It was starting to catch up to him, his energy and focus were waning more often than not, but at least he knew with a fair amount of certainty that no one else was awake at this hour.

He steps silently out into the open space of the bunker and moves swiftly towards the stairs. He doesn't want to make any noise and wake anyone up so he avoids both the elevator and the lights despite how his anxious mind insists that the darkness is nipping at his heels, eagerly reaching out to drag him away from the light--

He makes it to the kitchen faster than he should have.

He speed walks down the hallway and flips on the light the second he crosses the threshold, bracing his hands on the table the moment he's close enough and just taking a few minutes to breathe. His whole body is wracked with fine tremors and his knees feel weak. You're fine, He seethes to himself, Get it together. His heart is racing beneath his ribs and he feels like it's only moments away from bursting. He pries his fingers off the edge of the table and forces himself to take measured steps over to his fridge. You're fine, he insists as he sifts through the bottles and jars tucked into the fridge door, You're fine, he chants as he selects a bottle of homemade strawberry milk Poppy had gifted him.

He lets the fridge door swing shut behind him and turns on his heel to grab a mug from the cupboard. He pointedly ignores how the bottle visibly shakes in his grip and grits his teeth when his fingers clumsily miss the handle of the mug the first few times he tries to grab it. His heart stutters and stops and aches sharply and he's fine. He snatches the cup with a violent anger that's stirring to life deep in his stomach and slams it onto the counter. Immediately he winces, cringing at the loud sound that echoes ruthlessly through the space, and when he places the bottle down beside the mug it's with a much lighter hand. He goes through the motions subconsciously, grabbing a small pot from a cabinet and pouring a generous amount of milk into it before placing it on the stove. He barely even registers that he's turned the stove on, staring blankly into his empty cup and wondering if it would be overstepping some unspoken boundary if he were to show up at Poppy's pod right now. Maybe, if he was quiet enough, he could slip unnoticed into his brothers' rooms and make sure that they were okay. Assure himself that, against all odds, they were still here. He knows it's a ridiculous fear, they were adults and they all seemed fairly happy with the arrangement, but a small part of him pleads with him to check anyway. A terrifying what-if that persists despite his best efforts to squash it with logical thinking.

He startles from his stupor when the milk boils over, hissing and spitting when the liquid dribbles into the flame. He scrambles to turn off the stove and pull the pot away from the heat, sucking in a sharp breath when the milk almost sloshes over the side in his rush to avoid making a bigger mess. Like he hadn't already been on edge before. He quickly goes about pouring his drink into his cup and setting the pot into the empty sink to cool. Haphazard clean-up complete he gently cradles his warm drink in his hands. Immediately the warmth seeping from the mug begins to soothe his nerves and a trembling sigh falls from his lips. It's a small comfort, one that does very little to calm his heart or stop the tremors wracking his body, but he's never been one to take the small things for granted. He hadn't been for a long, long time.

You're fine, he closes his eyes, focusing on the weight of the mug in his paws. You're fine, you're fine, you're fine, he chants it like a mantra inside his head. The shaking doesn't lessen. His chest still aches. He still feels like he can barely breathe and his heart is desperate to escape. You're fine, he tries in vain to convince himself, messily leaning back against the counter and sliding down until he's curled up on the floor. You're fine. They're fine, it was just a stupid dream. Nothing happened, no one left, they're all still here, His thoughts sound desperate even to himself, he knows that he's working himself up but he's helpless to stop himself from spiraling.

He sets the mug aside before he spills the scalding drink and instead wraps his arms tight around himself, drawing his legs up to his chest and burying his face into his knees. "You're okay," He chokes out just to fill the silence. His voice is strained and choked and his breath is warm against his face, "You're okay." It sounds like an empty promise, one he's tried to keep for decades. He thought he'd gotten better. Maybe he had just gotten better at fooling himself. He sobs, clenching his jaw in a futile attempt to keep his cries at bay. His eyes burn and he squeezes them shut like that would make the tears go away. "You're okay," He pleads, arms tightening around himself in a poor imitation of a hug. What's wrong with him? Why is he like this? It was just a dream, he knows that!

Another cry bursts from his lips and he gives in. He shakes apart on the kitchen floor, muffles whimpers into his arms and jerks with silent, full-body sobs that leave him gasping for air. He tugs at his hair and bites his lips to keep quiet and he falls apart because he can't possibly keep himself together anymore. Instead of some sort of catharsis, he only feels worse. He feels tired and broken and still so agonizingly frightened. He feels like he's lost himself to these empty rooms, like they've gutted him and left him hollow and alone. He cries and cries and cries and all he feels is empty and haunted. Alone, the way he's always been. Branch doesn't move for a long, long time. When he finally uncurls and peels himself off the floor he picks up his mug long gone cold and dumps the milk down the drain.  

#| Game Plans | #{ isolationist } #trolls fanfic #trolls band together #trolls branch #dreamworks trolls #angst #hurt/comfort

[latenightsimping]

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff, there will be a happy ending

AN: Chapter three is finally here! Many thanks to my lovely boyfriend @mantorokk-writes for test reading and making the header, I'm forever in love with you <3 This series is gonna be a slow work in progress, but thank you for reading so far! Really excited to see where it's gonna go, and how we're gonna get these two out of this pickle. Enjoy!

Taglist: @edsforehead, @idkidknemore, @harrys-tittie, @gaysludge, @smileygoth

A congealed lump of what was apparently mac and cheese, boiled to death vegetables and bitter orange juice. Eddie had become used to shit food long ago, thanks to a lifetime of only buying the cheapest non-brand groceries to try and save costs. But this… This was something else. Fuck, he was surprised it even passed the mark for being fit for human consumption. It reminded him of the stories his old man used to tell about prison food, about how the trick was to eat it without thinking too much, barely savouring the taste before you swallowed. The similarity getting stuck in his throat.

But at least he wasn’t eating his meals in silence anymore. With you sitting opposite him, filling any dead air with talking about the hospital gossip, though he’d given up on trying to follow along after the first apparent affair taking place. But the content didn’t matter. For the first time in so long, maybe even longer than he realised, you had offered him a seat to get out of trouble with no motive behind the action. Had given him his own pack of cigarettes after swindling one from an orderly just before lunch started, the one that seemed to stare at your chest more than your eyes, putting yourself at risk for no gain of your own. It was exceedingly rare to find people that would do something out of the goodness of their hearts, and the question was rattling around his head with such a velocity that it tumbled from his lips before he even realised. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Even he internally winced at the lack of warmth in his tone, making it sound more like an accusation than a question. But if it offended you, you didn’t act as if it bothered you. Instead, the corners of your lips twitched upwards, eyes drifting from your tray to his own as you tilted your head. 

“What’dya mean?”

Giving himself a few needed seconds to reframe the words in his head with taking a sip of his drink, he swirled the contents of the paper cup, deciding to stare down into it rather than look up. “I mean, why are you helping me? You don’t know me.” 

From the very quick glance upwards he chanced, there seemed to be something there that was bittersweet. Eyes slightly widened, mouth downturned, yet an ever so slight huff of a laugh as you balled up a serviette in your hands. “Trust me, I know how it feels to be the new guy on the wing. The way the others look at you like you’re a fuckin’ chew toy?” 

He’d noticed the way the other patients stared, when the steel door behind him slammed shut. Some didn’t even look over, too caught up in their own internal world. But there’s a certain feeling that can overcome a person when they’re accustomed to having to be on high alert at all times. A certain flash of the eyes that makes your stomach churn, blood pooling to your feet and your mind telling you to run. You studied his face for a moment, a sympathetic smile briefly twitching at your lips. 

“I had someone look out for me too, when I first got here,” you explained, the paper in your hand now being twisted and toyed with as you spoke. “She uh… Her name was Patty. She was this take no shit kinda woman. Taught me the best way to curb the hunger was smoking cigarettes, which orderlies would give pretty girls special treatment, which patients to never go near. That sorta useful shit.” 

Though you smiled, it didn’t reach your downcast eyes. “She got sick last year. Didn’t say much about it, but it took a toll on her. It finally got her a couple of months back. And you know what the worst thing was about it?” 

Plenty of what you were saying was ‘the worst thing’. Being caught on the wrong side of a power dynamic, having to go hungry because nobody cared, patients having to be caregivers because God forbid those that actually got paid to do it actually did their fucking jobs for once. All of those answers dying on his tongue, replaced with a slow shake of his head.

“Nobody came to see her in the end,” you muttered, brows furrowing as your voice cracked. “She told me she had a son, told me the doctors called him and told him, but he never came. I get it, I mean, not many of us have the luxury of seeing people from the outside… But she was on her fucking deathbed, y’know?” 

When your eyes finally met his, glossy with unshed tears that you seemed so determined to never let overspill, there was a look to you that made all the pieces click together. Made the parts of him that he’d kept buried away for self preservation start to rise back to the surface. Taking a firm grasp of his heart and squeezing for good measure. 

The look of pure fear. 

The fear that one day, both of you would end up like Patty. Untethered to the world outside, cast adrift with the other lost souls. Taking the last few rattled breaths with nobody around to hear them, looking up to the sky and the view still blocked with bars. Nobody with spare change for the ferryman, forever stuck. 

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could think to say, no other words seeming quite right. The tone as hollow as he felt, as shaky as the tremors in his hands that never quite seemed to go away. All he could think to say, but the truth. He was sorry you were here, if your proclaimed innocence was to be believed. He was sorry for himself too, deep down. 

“It’s whatever,” you replied, clearing your throat as you tried and failed to staple the look of nonchalance back on your face with a half decent result. “Anyway, don’t worry about your first therapy session, alright? I got it covered.” 

He shot you a small look of incredulity, head tilted to the side as he followed your lead in piling used napkins and cutlery onto his meal tray. “What’dya mean?” 

The smile you gave him next was finally a genuine one, a glimmer in your eye that could only mean mischief. 

“You’ll see.” 

~

You could see the stress levels that you tried so desperately to lower over lunch to begin raising as you and Eddie filed into the day room for group therapy. How his jaw clenched so hard you were surprised he didn’t break enamel, a shortening fuse near a naked flame as he took his seat next to you. Leg bouncing with beats akin to a hummingbird’s heart, chewing at the skin around his ruined nails with eyesight dancing around the room to end up on the tile right in front of him. You couldn’t blame him; he was walking into the unknown, with no idea where the hell he would end up. You remembered the feeling well. 

Others clad in the same off white uniform as you took their respective seats around you, the energy in the room a palpable, frantic buzz. Nerves, apathy, distaste and mocking. You could feel it all, see it in the faces around you that you’d come to know in the years that you’d been imprisoned. Small naked flames, that could be as harmless as a match or as intense as thermite. The day could go either way. And it would depend on the questions posed to them.

Dr. Madden made his way through the doors, adjusting the thick horned rimmed glasses that permanently perched on his beak-like nose as he took his seat. You’d never liked him; he was nosy, even for a psychiatrist, always putting two and two together to end up with an equation that made no fucking sense. Nothing could ever be simple, in his eyes. Someone’s violent outburst had some convoluted reasoning to do with Daddy issues and not being hugged enough as a child, rather than someone just needing a fucking cigarette and not being given one. It took everything within you not to roll your eyes into the back of your skull as he cleared his throat to begin. 

“Good afternoon everyone,” he began, eyes settling over each patient for a brief second before focusing on Eddie. “We’re welcoming a new person into the wing today. Have you had any sort of therapy like this before, Mr. Munson?”

Eddie’s reply was a brief shake of his head, glance not leaving the cracks of the floor as he fiddled with the split ends of his hair. Madden’s bushy eyebrow raised a fraction as he sat himself slightly forward. “Well, we start with a brief check in. How we’re feeling, what we’d like to talk about in today’s session. Perhaps you could start us off? You seem nervous today.” 

You couldn’t hold back a scoff, the psychiatrist’s beady eyes narrowing on you as you fished through your pockets for your pack of cigarettes. The look on his face evident that he wasn’t amused at your perceived insolence to his ‘therapeutic process’. He could shove that process where the sun didn’t shine, as far as you were concerned. 

“He’s a newbie, of course he’s gonna be nervous,” you shrugged, waving over an orderly with a lighter, who seemed to be watching you with ever so slight trepidation as he ignited the flame that you used to puff life into your cigarette. Huffing out an exhale of smoke that was aimed in his direction. “Bit of a redundant question, isn’t it?” 

Madden was a tough nut to crack, but you’d managed to get the veins in his neck bulging a couple of times. You just needed to know which buttons to press, and it seemed you hit one with a jab to his reasoning. “I don’t find it redundant at all,” he answered with a smile slightly too smug for your liking. “But if you think that an example of a check in could help, maybe you could go first instead?” 

You took a sharp inhale as you gave a grimace of indifference, face scrunched up as you jerked your head towards an older lady that seemed on the edge of her seat to talk. “Why don’t you get Miriam to do it? From what I remember, she was just starting to open up about her fucker of an ex husband.”

Was using another patient’s anger, something you knew got them started into an hour long tangent until they were red in the face unethical? Maybe. But it was every man for himself out here, and you didn’t have anything akin to backup in the process. As expected, the woman launched into a tirade, screechings which contained the words “useless bastard” and “should have divorced him before he did it to me!” melding into the background as you shot a smug smirk in Madden’s direction. To his credit, he was hiding his distaste well, his only giveaway the slight flush creeping above his collar.

For most of the session, you managed to evade the heat from coming towards you and Eddie. A few more prods to Miriam, staying silent when the psychiatrist asked if anyone else had anything to add. A question to old man Hardy about the house he got kicked out from before being transferred, each person being used like a shield to hide from the questions you knew Madden had for you. You knew you were fucked from the moment he put his hand up to cut off Duane about his teenage trauma prematurely, eyes fixed on you as he sat back in his chair. 

“Does Duane’s story resonate with you?” he asked with a heightened pitch of voice, head slightly tilted as his lips twitched upwards. It caused your back to straighten, knowing full well where he was going with this. Somewhere you swore never to go back to, ever since the nightmares ever so slightly decreased and the flashing images weren’t permanently burned into the back of your eyelids. 

“No.” 

The words reverberated around clenched teeth, knuckles turned white as you gripped the cracked pleather of the cushion you sat on. Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Eddie staring at you with a slight questioning to his glance, and it made your gut twist even more. You hated how suddenly the tentative power dynamic had switched. How your already lacking control was going to spiral even further, if Madden willed it. 

“I think it might, though,” the good doctor continued, the slight smirk being poorly hidden as his head tilted to the side. “You had a lot happen when you were eighteen, didn’t you? When you made the choice to-”

“I’m not going to talk about it,” you snapped back, folding your arms as a poorly constructed buffer between you and the man opposite. Your eyes glanced at the clock on the wall, a slight ease of tension as you realised the time. “Not with only five minutes left of the session.” 

“But you’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later,” he countered, daring to look slightly sympathetic as he regarded you. “You’ve been here two years, and you’ve never talked about that night. It doesn’t show much progress, now does it?” 

You wanted to stand up, pick up your chair, and crash it over the top of his head. How the fuck would he know what ‘progress’ you’d been making? How much work you’d had to put into yourself, rationalising and justifying everything about the night that changed the path of your life, so much that you probably could never step foot on the original trail if you tried. How you still tortured yourself with what you could have done differently, the actions that you did take haunting you like spectres? Madden knew nothing of how often you’d dragged yourself off the precipice time and time again, nothing but bloody fingernails and a quickly ebbing will to live, as you weighed up the decisions of falling asleep to never wake up again against staying alive to do everything in your power to clear the stain on your name.

To Madden’s credit, he didn’t push further. Letting the silence hang in the air, perhaps a non-verbal push that might get you talking. It might have worked, once upon a time. When you had no secrets to hide, too worried about what others thought, wanting to please people so much that it deprived you of happiness. But that was before you were branded a psycho, tossed into this place with the key thrown away. Now, you couldn’t give a shit about what others thought. 

Except, there was a way your stomach dropped when you looked over to see the way Eddie looked at you. Not with disgust or horror, which you were used to by now. There was slight concern in his eyes, mixed with empathy, the combination making you want to squirm in your seat. You didn’t even know each other, yet his humanity seemed to still be intact for now, seeing another person clearly struggling and not being able to do anything about it. 

You decided to stare at the clock on the wall for the rest of the session, filtering out all other noises and focusing on watching the minute hand strike closer and closer until time was up. 

As you put away chairs, you expected Eddie to ask you about it. Maybe try to pry, or get answers for questions that could be in his own mind. But he didn’t. He stayed silent as you both wandered back to the table you met at, sitting down with him wordlessly reaching for the deck of cards in the middle and starting to shuffle. And silent you stayed. Going through the motions of a routine you knew too well; free time, ‘music’ therapy - as if listening to the same vinyl of Bach twice a week for two years would do anything other than make you want to smash your head against the chipped white walls. Dinner consisting of a brick of so-called ‘meatloaf’ that you knew well enough to avoid even attempting to eat, settling for tasteless vegetables and vaguely lime flavoured Jell-o instead. 

Even silent when the orderly Nguyen told you to haul ass to the laundry room for work placement, and to take your new ‘friend’ with you. You were brought out of the routine of folding sheets when you heard Eddie clear his throat, looking up to see him slightly rattled as he sorted various clothing into separate piles. 

“Hey uh… You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wanna, but… Thanks. For today.” You saw the corners of his lips twitch upwards, a ghost of a smile as his eyeline landed on the messy stack of undershirts. “Didn’t have to stick your neck out of me, but you did. Appreciate it.”

You mustered the leftover social energy you had to lift your shoulders into a slight shrug, rubbing the back of your head whilst the other hand took your weight as you leaned slightly on the table. “It’s nothing. Sorry for not being so talkative I just… Still don’t wanna talk about why I’m here, y’know?” 

A curt nod was his reply at first, lips a narrow line and eyes darting around as if he was thinking hard about something. Finally glancing towards the door, then around the room, as if to make double sure that what he was about to say wouldn’t be overheard. He looked panicked; either a deer in the headlights or a lion ready to defend itself, you weren’t sure. 

“They said I killed people.” 

It was so quiet you barely picked up on it, and you had to admit, it took you aback. There was an initial flight or flight reaction that doused your autonomic system, as if his words set off a red light in your head and you had to start looking for an improvised weapon. However, that was pure instinct, only for a second before logic took over. For someone who was apparently a killer, he certainly did look hollow about it all. Besides. Those in glass houses…

“Did you do it?” you mumbled back, eyes leaving his to take the pressure of both of you, hands busying themselves with folding the now grey sheet in front of you, toying with the frayed corner to try and conceal it in the fold somehow. 

“No.”

You found yourself at a precipice. He had stuck his neck out to tell you his charge, not knowing if you’d stick around or bolt and leave him on his own again. It was a sign of trust; an olive branch, that you could either accept or leave hanging between you. You had only known Eddie a day. Less than that, maybe seven hours, tops. But so far, he seemed to have his wits about him. He didn’t strike you as the judgemental type. He didn’t pry, and he tried to distract you when you were at your lowest, instead of offering useless advice or forcing you to open up. When you looked up at him, there was no hint of deceit that you could tell. He was staring at you with those intense eyes of his, an expression reading both ‘I’m telling the truth’ and ‘dear God, I hope you fucking believe me’. 

For so long, you had wanted reinforcements in this place so badly. To not fight alone, to have backup. In the outside world, no way would you trust someone this fast. But this was Pennhearst. A place with different rule sets. You needed to take the help wherever it came from, and hope it didn’t blow back in your face later. 

You needed to give him something in return. 

You didn’t falter with eye contact as you said the words you thought you’d never say. The words that made your stomach churn, made you want to flinch as you said them. “They said I killed people, too.” 

You saw the look on his face to be one of bewilderment, eyes scanning you up and down as if he’d never seen you before. You wondered if that’s what you’d looked like not five seconds ago, mirroring each other as you confessed your sins. “Did you do it?” 

“No.”

The crease between his eyebrows seemed to smooth, after what felt like hours of staring at each other, the only other sounds the rhythmic knocking of the decrepit industrial dryers. It was you who finally broke the silence, busying yourself again with grabbing the pile of undershirts near you by the bottom and pulling it towards you to begin folding. “I don’t expect you to believe me. And if you don’t want me to know about what happened, I’m not gonna push it.” You shook your head as you frowned at the fabric in your hands.

“Why do you believe me? When I say I didn’t do it?” 

You glanced back up at him to find a worried expression on his face, staring at you like he couldn’t quite believe you. As if it was too good to be true, to finally be believed. You wracked your brain for an answer, only to shrug and say the first thing on your mind. “Because guilty people don’t look so frightened of their consequences. I suppose on a subconscious level, they know they deserve the hell they created for themselves.”

You heard a sound which you figured to be a sharp exhale of air through his nose, most likely an attempt at a wry laugh. “You don’t look frightened.”

Your lips turned downward as you frowned again. “You get good at hiding it after a while, I guess.”

You heard your name being called, so softly that your heart nearly shattered. Not your last name being barked out with disdain, or in a patronising tone like a shrink would. It was said like somebody actually gave a shit. You looked up to be met with a look that was one of genuine concern, his eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted as if he was wondering what to say. 

It was getting too intense for your liking. 

Shaking your head as you cleared your throat, you flashed a tight smile as your folding became hurried. “Finish that pile quick, yeah? Orderlies hit the roof when you don’t finish your chores on time.” 

To his credit, Eddie didn’t push it. The rest of the time being filled with small talk and comfortable silences, until your names were called to be taken back to your room for the night. The motions of getting ready to bed had become mechanical a long time ago, on autopilot as you brushed your teeth and changed clothes. Hearing the call for lights out, and getting plunged into darkness against your will. You knew that first checks were in an hour. 

You had sixty minutes to cry to yourself about finally being seen, about not being treated like a criminal that deserved the way you were being treated. Hugging the pillow to your face and willing yourself not to be making a sound, clutching the cheap cotton between your fingers as if your life depended on it. Sixty minutes until you needed to shove the emotions back down, and face tomorrow, same as you always did. 

Same as you always did, but at least you had someone on your side. 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #eddie munson self insert #stranger things self insert

[dramioneasks]

Hi, do you have some ff recommendations which are exclusive on Fanfiction.net and not crossposted on AO3?

my tbr-list is filled with AO3 stories but I'm sure there are some gems on FF.net too :)

Thanks!

On the one hand, I'm like: I came back at the perfect time to answer this question, because FFN got me into fanfiction. It's my first love. But on the other hand, I'm almost exclusively an AO3 reader now (FFN got too spammy).

Your best bet is to honestly just google something you're interested in and see if it's cross-posted. There was a big push a few years ago for authors to move or at least cross-post their fanfiction. And then there's a lot of fans who have moved older stuff over when it looks like the author is no longer active. So googling is the only way to tell.

But I'm happy to share my personal Dramione FFN favorites list, and I'm 100% sure some of our followers will post theirs in the comments.

-Shirlyn

The Request by redhead414 - M, 39 chapters - Astoria was never a fan of Hermione Granger, but pretty soon, she would be gone, and Draco was going to need all the help he could get. Rated M for future chapters.

The Fine Line Between Love and Hate by Short-circuit-Soulmate - M, 30 chapters - The Silver Marauders are the most popular group in school, consisting of Ron, Harry, Blaise and Draco. Hermione is the most unpopular girl in school. Blaise wants to discover the motivation behind Draco's constant bullying of Hermione. AU. Violence. COMPLETE!

Vibrations by Craft Rose - M, 6 chapters - After three years of a mundane, sexless existence and far too much wine, our favourite brunette happens upon the magic equivalent of a sex line. There, an intriguing, deliciously devilish caller manages to pique her interest. It's all fun and anonymous

Wrong Life by camnz - M, 25 chapters - Hermione wakes up in the wrong bed, with the wrong face, and with a husband that hates her.

Crimson with a Silver Lining by Lady Cailan - M, 78 chapters - It is six years since the fall of the Ministry to Voldemort. Those other than purebloods are deemed less than human. When Ginny's daughter ends up in grave danger, Hermione sells herself to the Death Eaters to save her life. Draco/Hermione. Not fluffy.

Burbage High by Charlotte Bird - M, 27 chapters (abandoned) - 14 Years post war, Hermione has become Head of the progressive, yet failing Burbage High. Handling right wing politics is easy, but working out why Malfoy is insisting his son start there in September is not. 10 years spent in Azkaban and 2 years isolated in the muggle world may have changed Draco, but surely not that much? Is something more sinister going on?

Forget Me by Emara88 - M, 26 chapters - The war ended over two years ago, but Hermione still feels the echoes of strange memories from that time, as though something is missing or has been taken from her. When she sees Draco Malfoy at a Ministry ball and collapses, falling into a coma, the truth about their past together is revealed.

Once More with Feeling by Kyonomiko - M, 20 chapters - Sometimes taking a second look can give you a new perspective on someone. Hermione has difficulty analyzing people once she has made up her mind, especially in regards to herself. Circumstances what they are, she might not have a choice but to try again. Dramione EWE. Granger Enchanted Awards 2018 Winner

Who Needs Friends by camnz - M, 47 chapters - Friends prove difficult as Hermione and Blaise start dating, especially his friends. Malfoy is particularly offended by Hermione's presence on the scene.

Simply Irresistible by bookworm1993 - M, 30 chapters - Draco gave a cocky grin. "I am going to give you a makeover." "I'm sorry what?" "You heard me Granger, I'm going to give you a makeover that will make every man want you,and make Weasley die of regret. You will be simply irresistible."

Pride, Image, and Reputation by Fanofbooks.Harry Potter - M, 28 chapters - They hate each other. Plain and simple. But he's Draco Malfoy, and no girl escapes his charm. Even if it is stupidly smart Granger. But what happens when progress is actually made...from both ends, and a certain little bet between friends gets in the way?

Of Kings and Queens by galfoy - M, 26 chapters - Hermione has a bad habit. Draco has a big problem. The universe has one heck of a plan.

Little, Fragile Toys by Bex-chan - M, oneshot - "That incident, their first kiss, always reminded her of a car crash; people often described how they could recall every moment before and every moment after, but the impact itself was lost or hazy, like when you find a new bruise and can't remember where it came from. And Hermione could genuinely remember every detail that followed the impact. Every detail." Dramione. One-shot.

It's All Uncharted by redhead414 - M, 38 chapters - "Are you ready?" she asked. Draco brushed the back of his hand against her forehead before tracing it down her cheek. "I was ready the moment you came back into my life, Granger. Are you ready?" "With you," she whispered, "I'm ready for anything."

It's Just Me by jehszs - M, 32 chapters - After a night of mistaken identity Hermione finds herself unable to stay away from the mystery man from the darkness. How can she stop herself from falling for him when he's doing everything in his power to make her his again? M. HG/DM. Warning: some non-consensual sexual themes

Heir Brained by diagonally - M, 42 chapters (abandoned) - The war witnessed Draco managing his way into the Order's fold & the trio's cramped boundaries. Years later, they are quasi-friends. Does Hermione want more? Want to bet your copy of 'Hogwarts, a History? Flashbacks/action/post HBP

Utterly Despicable by camnz - M, 24 chapters - The death of both Voldemort and Harry Potter let the pureblood elite build the world they wanted. One that leaves Hermione in a vulnerable state, which Draco Malfoy is prepared to take full advantage of.

The Bracelet by AkashaTheKitty - M, 103 chapters - Hermione has everything she could possibly want... Except a life. People are getting sick of her superior attitude, especially Draco Malfoy, who schemes to get her down, once and for all. And then there's the thing with The Bracelet... 7th year AR. COMPLETE SINCE 2009 XD

Forbidden by Darkest Dawn - M, 17 chapters - He hated her...but he would have her. After all: Forbidden fruit always tasted much sweeter. -Being revised-

Sweet Caroline by gingercat0319 - M, 43 chapters - He was rich, single and disgustingly handsome. Learn how a four-year-old will turn his world up-side down. Sequel now posted - My Darling Caroline.

The Passion Of Hate by XorderlyXchaosXnXconfusionX - M, 17 chapters - It's a known fact to the entire population of Hogwarts that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy hate each other with a passion. But what happens when that passion turns the hate to lust? Winner for He Had It Coming Dramione awards

Valentine Encounter by Kyra4 - T, 24 chapters - READ ME! Draco and Hermione are Head Boy & Girl, but do NOT share a common room and see as little of each other as possible til a fateful encounter on Valentine's night leads to a gradual, reluctant romance. Starts 7th year goes postHogwarts. NOW COMPLETE

Never is a Promise by LoPotter - M, 45 chapters - HrD fic, they're head girl and boy and having an interesting year. June 19! I finally updated! It's been a year, sorry. But here's Chapter 45. Oh nelly :

#favourite fics #ffnet

[unreadpoppy]

song as old as rhyme - chapter 14

{Beauty and the Beast AU - Raphael x OC (Elize)}

chapter 13

Read on AO3

A/N: i hope the dress description made sense because i'm terrible at describing clothes even if i'm looking at a photo reference.

Taglist: @littlemoondarling

@desenhosdebolso

@shyminnie07

@lemonandhoneytea

“This is not going to work.” Elize sighed, letting go of Haarlep, after stepping on their toe for the umpteenth time. She quietly apologized to him, again.

“Oh dear.” They said, sitting down to rub their aching feet. “In other times, I’d say not to lose hope, but this is indeed a dire case.”

“I’m going to embarrass myself.” Elize groaned and laid on the ground, looking up. For two weeks, she had been getting Haarlep’s help, but it was going nowhere. The ball would happen later tonight and, at least in the dance department, she felt she made no progress.

While she stared at the ceiling, she kept wondering: why did she care so much about this?

In the past, she would have avoided Raphael to hell and back, and now she kept looking forward to talking with him. Every time they had dinner together, she ended up learning more about him, discovering he was not all that she had previously thought.

Raphael intrigued her. And she didn’t want to embarrass him or herself in front of others, but in her head, Elize kept thinking of multiple scenarios where everything went wrong. The urge to bite her nails was getting stronger but she resisted.

She came back to reality when Haarlep said “Don’t worry about that. If you keep thinking about what you’ll do wrong, you won’t get to enjoy anything. I mean, Raphael is -”

“If you’re going to finish that sentence by saying he’s awful in bed, I already know it.” Elize cut the incubus off. She did not need another reminder from Haarlep about how their master was a selfish lover.

“Rude.” Haarlep said.

Before Elize could reply, the sound of a portal opening made her sit up and see Raphael walk in. She sighed and once again, laid on the floor.

He raised an eyebrow at the scene. “What in the hells is going on?”

“Elize is stressed because-”

“I can’t do it!” She shouted, suddenly. “I stepped on Haarlep’s feet like ten thousand times by now, my arse is hurting from the two falls I took, this is going to be a disaster.” She sat and looked up at Raphael.

The cambion analyzed the scene for a moment and then let out a laugh. Elize looked at him quizzically.

“If you are having so much trouble, dear.” He walked towards her and offered his hands, helping her stand up. “Maybe I can help.”

Raphael took one of her hands, while she put her free hand on his shoulder. He then placed his other hand on her waist and pulled her close.

Elize blushed and tried to look down but he said “Ah ah. Eyes up.” He started moving them, two steps forwards, two steps back and so on and on. “If you look at your feet, you’ll only get lost.”

Raphael’s gaze was intense and she felt as if he was looking beyond her flesh and seeing all her insecurities. She tried looking at the other people in the room, Haarlep and Mol, but that only made her more nervous.

Almost on cue, he leaned closer and said. “You’re doing good but you need to relax.”

“I just…I’m feeling very vulnerable.” She sighed.

Raphael nodded and stopped, turning towards the others.. “Haarlep, Mol, give us some privacy.” He demanded. Mol tried to protest but Haarlep pulled her along. He snapped his fingers, and music could be heard.

“Let’s try this again.” He approached her again, and bowed slightly, one hand behind his back while the other was offered to her. Elize took a deep breath and placed her hand in his.

“Do not worry about others. All you have to do is follow my lead and enjoy yourself” He said and then they began dancing. This time, Elize focused on the music, allowing it to wash over her. They eventually got to a rhythm so calming that it made her close her eyes momentarily.

When she opened them again, he was smiling at her. “Good.” He whispered and she smiled back.

Eventually, the song came to an end and with it, Raphael dipped Elize, which surprised her. She held onto him, and Raphael forced himself to just look at her face and not downwards.

He pulled her back up, still holding her hands. “I believe you’ll do just fine.” He said, leaning closer. “I left your garment in your room. Go ask Korilla to help you.” Raphael let go of her and then snapped away.

Biting her lip, she quickly walked to her room.

…

The dress was gorgeous.

It was mainly a dark blue color, with golden and red accents,and embroidery. It was long sleeved and the shoulders were slightly puffy. To finish it off, it had a sweetheart neckline, which, Elize quickly noticed when she put it on, accentuated her breasts.

Along with it, there were a pair of earrings, a necklace, shoes and a hairpin.

Korilla had also helped her do her hair, and when it was done, she nodded and said. “You look good. The master will like it.”

Elize blushed. “Thank you.”

There was a knock on the door and Korilla opened it,, revealing Raphael from the other side. The warlock asked her master to leave and she did so, leaving the two alone in Elize’s room. She smiled at him, noticing the way his breath hitched. She also realized that he was wearing the same colors as she.

“I believe everything is to your satisfaction?” He asked.

“It is.” She gave him a small turn. “You have good taste.”

“That I do.” He smirked.

Elize grabbed something from the vanity, her glasses, and walked up to him. “Although, I don’t think these exactly match with the rest.” She finished it by putting them on.

Raphael snapped his fingers. “Look in the mirror.” When Elize did so, she noticed that her sight was the same but she couldn’t see her glasses.

“Did you make them invisible?”

“Clever girl.” He smirked, and then offered his arm. “Now, let us go. I do not like tardiness.”

She grabbed his arm and he snapped both of them away.

#raphael x oc #raphael x elize #not tav oc #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #beauty and the beast AU #my writing #haarlep bg3 #korilla bg3

[tgmsunmontue]

🌿 ⇢ (give some advice on writer's block and low creativity) and  🏜️ ⇢ (what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?) <3

Hi! 😊

🌿 ⇢ (give some advice on writer's block and low creativity)

Oof. As someone who has taken years of writing breaks here and there due to being unable to create/write this hits hard. I didn't find a magic cure or anything, I was just suddenly inspired by a weird ass film (i.e. TG:M).

While I haven't been writing, I was creating in other ways (patchwork, drawing/painting and paper crafts). I think it works in peaks and troughs. I know I am much happier when creating something. In terms of feeling a lack of creativity, that is normal. We aren't machines. Our brains need time to mull over ideas - I will go and do something else and then come back to the thing.

My biggest barriers are procrastination and indecision (and then using my indecision to procrastinate).

My weekly 'tell me what write weekends' stop me from dithering and trying to figure out WHAT to write. I know I want to write, I just can't decide which WIP to do. I also manage many of my day-to-day tasks/chores like this by writing them all down, numbering them 1-20 and then rolling a dice to again force me into action rather than wasting away with indecision. This works for me. It may or may not work for other people (I have several friends for whom this idea makes them recoil in horror).

I have two fics I have no motivation to finish (not sure if that counts as writers block and/or lack of creativity?) In my head I know how they finish. However all the people subscribed to them DO NOT. So a thing which I will be trialling this weekend, as I attempt to finish these two DECADE OLD Glee AU WIPs, is re-read the fic, makes notes, read through what I have already written for both fics, and then make myself write at least 250 words on Friday night, Saturday and again on Sunday. I find 250 words generally easy to bang out in 15-20 minutes (30+ minutes if I am really struggling or am getting easily distracted). Will it be sequential to the story? Probably not. But just the act of forcing myself to write a little means the creativity starts flowing... again 250 words often ends up closer to 400, and 750-1,200 words toward a fic is great progress!

I'm not happy with about 30-40% of the stuff I share, I'm outright despairing of some of my older stuff, but for every fic I put out there, there is usually 1-10k of off-cuts/notes that never see the light of day.

I have a "PROGRESS NOT PERFECTION" sign to remind myself that I am my own worst critic as well.

🏜️ ⇢ (what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?)

The cliched but true 'all types', but FAVOURITE is nearly always questions - ones where I can answer and ramble and share my weird little head canons for that particular little fic. I like engaging with other people in fandom and spit-balling ideas back and forth, creating something organic that grows. It happens less and less now as people don't engage with WIPs as much due to fear of it never being finished (*cough cough* see above 10-year old WIPs), not realising that they could be the driving force behind it getting finished (or taking it in a whole other direction).

#SunMonTue answers

[soil-just-needs-water-to-be]

Chapter 4 I also forgot to mention the fic is called

HEART OUT

Word count 2953

Still angsty atm , mention of possible panic/anxiety attacks , I swear it does get better (many typos )

I get into my class and sit down. I've been placed in a seat that is the closest to the teachers desk as this class is my least favourite so I tend to mess around so I've been moved were Mrs Greer can see me. She's already sat in the class waiting for us all to come in and get out books out. I don't really have many people in this class to talk to as I keep to myself as well as quite disruptive. So for the most part I start on the starter task which takes me almost all of five minute to get frustrated over tearing my page out of my book and throwing it into the bin missing slightly. She spotted me throwing it and asked me to go pick it back up. I skulk over to where I missed it then turn around to the person behind me "hey watch me basket this from my seat ". After returning to my seat with the balled up peice of paper I try again to get it into the bin. I get it in this time and cheer loudly in faux excitement "look what I just fuckin did ".

"Mr Healy have you started the task on the board "

"Yes I have but it doesn't make sense "

I can hear her trying to explain the question to me but I'm just not in the right headspace to listen to her. So I turn around and start talking to the person behind me about utter nonsense

"Mr Healy I'm trying to help you ...are you paying attention

"I am paying attention I just don't get it " I raise my voice a little. Which on my behalf not the brightest idea

"Am I going to have to remove your from the class ..,your being very hostile right now "

"Oh am I , we'll what do you know Matty Healy not paying attention in math class " I know I'm winding her up but I really do just want to be removed from the class today maybe go home early even

"Right I don't think that's anyway to be behaving right now...please go wait outside and I'll talk to you once I've gotten everyone settled

"Nah there's no need I'll just go" and with that I pick up my rucksack and leave slamming the door in my wake. That was very much not my worst encounter with this particular teacher but honestly she knows it's just going to get worse as the class progresses so throwing me out was a better idea.

I go back outside for another smoke and snap George "I'm not staying here today I really am not " . While I'm in the process of lighting my cigarette I hear my head of year behind me "Matty what do you think your doing with that..."

"Oh uh nothing " it's not fully lit yet so I just drop it back into my pocket

"And what are you doing out of class "

"I just walked out I can't be there right now ...I'm not feeling great today and maths is just messing with me head "

My head of year gestures for me to sit down and she sits next to me "so you really think it wise to be skipping on lessons this close to your GCSEs especially maths when I know how much your struggling "

"I just can't not today" I place my head in my hands as my breathing become ragged "I just wanna go home ....can I phone my dad to come pick me up "

"How about you just come back to my office with me and we talk for a bit ...I know you struggle talking about feeling but we can sit down have a biscuit and some tea and just relax ...have you been taking your medication...I've seen a decline in your behaviour the last week or so " she knows me pretty well and I do feel safer in her company so I just nod my head yes to coming with her to her office but then reply with a "no I haven't taken my meds they just make me feel so sluggish and slow ...like a zombie ...I don't like it ...so I stopped " . We rise from the cold grey step at the front and make our way back inside . I stuff my hands into my pockets as we walk.

"You know that's not wise Matty " she looks at me sympathetically as she can hopefully understand what I might feel like

"I know but I'd rather just be jumpy and hyper than feel like I being held back and stuff " I pull my rucksack around me properly again as it was slipping down my shoulders due to my slouchy walk

"We'll we can see what else we can do about that another time , in we go " she unlocks her office door and pulls up a chair close to her desk and I sit myself down basically curling myself into me

"Now if we may start , would you like to tell me what's been wrong lately. If we can maybe have a little chat and later we can get you back to class "

"No! " I accidentally shout "sorry Miss , sorry I just don't really want to go back , if you won't let me go home can I just stay in here and do work please "

"We can discuss that later yeh , just let's have a chat , tell me something good that's going on and something that you need to let out "

I let out a long sigh deciding to start with the good thing i suppose "we'll uh the boys and I have written a song for the school production and Mr Hardy said that if we get him a demo in by next Friday he might consider letting us sing it , that's quite exciting. It's not set in stone yet but we'd really like to do it , the boys are quite pumped really "

She smiling at me contently "that's very impressive Matty, and what's plaguing you ?"

I can feel my eyes start to well up and sting before I even begin to describe it "uh, I uh , just fuckin really miss Janey like a lot " tears start pouring down my face "and she only got into the wreck like 3 months ago and no one's talking about it and I understand that people don't want me to be upset by it but I just wish people would at least seem like they care and it would make me feel less like it was my fault which I feel like that anyway cuz I was the one messing around in the car while we were driving and obviously a little intoxicated , and ....l" my breath hitches "I just can't stand not having her around she was my closest friend miss and I can't do any of this without her " I breakdown right there and then and it just doesn't stop.

Miss Conner's came over to me quickly and wrapped an arm round me and kept telling me everything would be okay and that its out now and it should hurt less now.

I don't calm down for at least ten minutes that's when I get my breathing back to a steady pace, my eyes now puffy and itchy. "Can I please just go home Miss".

I can sense her really pondering it for a minute "alright , I'll let you off today but try and come in tomorrow and if you really need to I can get some work from your teachers and we can try work on some stuff together, Can we try that ?"

"I can certainly try Miss".

"So, who am I calling, your mum or dad "

"Dad, please, He's at work so you'll have to call there, can I speak to him just so I can explain"

"let me just call him and you can talk once I've spoken to him , please just stay in here quietly for a second while I go get a phone "

"alright "I watch her leave the room then get my phone out and text my mum letting her know ill be coming home so to not be surprised that I'm home when she's home I go to snapchat to speak to George he's replied few times since my last message

"I'm sure that's not the case right "then not long after there's a video of him and what I assume to be his friends all huddled outside smoking captioned "finally getting my smokes "

I snap him back instantly trying to plaster on a fake smile even though my eyes look terrible and my hairs a state as I've wracked my hands through it a million times since reaching the office "that's amazing, I'm sure you've got to feel a little better now for sure".

I get an immediate reply of his face and god does he look good when he looks free and at peace "yeh man I feel way better, how about you, what's wrong you look upset?"

Another message comes through but just texts "I'm here and I know we barley know each other but I'm here"

"I don't really wanna talk about it right now , I'm just feeling the worst today, I'm going home from school early, so if I don't answer its probably because my dad is trying cheer me up or I'm napping but I'll talk to you later. Thank you though "

Just then Miss Conners comes back in the room, on the phone to my dad. I only catch the end of the conversation.

"Matty would like to talk to you, I'll hand the phone over", I jump up and get to the phone.

"Hi Dad"

"Hiya son, what's up lad".

"just really not having the best day, don't feel great "

"Im at work right now lad, but I go on my break at 12, I can pick you up then, can you hang on that long son, Its about an hour yeh?"

"If I have too , then I will, I love you Da".

"I love too son, I'll see you soon alright"

I hand the phone back over to Miss Conners "He's coming to get me at lunch time". After a small look around the office I notice a small sofa on the back wall "Do you mind if I rest for an hour?"

"I know I should be trying to be getting you work to do but if you really need it then ill let you today" she gestures to the sofa behind me "just have a rest there it might help you feel a little better"

"Thanks Miss". I drop my rucksack on the floor next to the sofa next to me once I've sat down and try to get somewhat comfortable. Once I've closed my eyes I let the world around me die down and quieten trying to ignore it all.

I must have drifted off because the next thing I realise Miss is shaking me out of my slumber "Matty, your dads here, he's just waiting outside". It takes me a good few minutes to get myself together, wracking my hands through my hair and rubbing my eyes "Thanks for listening". She takes me through reception and lets the receptionist know where I'm going. Then I say my good-byes and make my way to my dad's car and hop in after throwing my rucksack in the back

"Hiya". I strap myself in as my dad takes off

"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong then son?"

"I told you I just feel really ill". I don't want to look at him as I know I'll just breakdown again, so I pull my discarded cigarette from my pocket and roll the window down quickly lighting up and relaxing a little.

"Have you had anything too eat and no before you start those don't count", He means my fags "No not yet, I was gunna get something at break, but it totally skipped my mind". He's looking at me like I've just killed the pope now. "Dad come on I'm sorry"

"I know love, but honestly you really need to work on eating right. your bloody skin and bone as it is"

"I know Dad I really am trying; I just can't find the time for something as menial as eating right now, I know its important but I'm so busy and forget so easily". My dad knows the struggles I had when I was younger so doesn't push me with it

"What about sleep, how is that going now that you've stopped your meds?"

"Yeh that doesn't seem to be going as well as id have liked it to, my brain just won't stop running, everything is just blur then its time to sleep it doesn't work, I got a few hours last night and had a nap at school. It's just hard to settle down".

"I know your busy and they make you tired and you don't like them all that much but are you sure going off the meds was the best idea".

"We've already done this dad, I know you and mum didn't really agree with it but I don't feel like myself on them, I'll learn to cope without them I promise". My head is pounding at this point and my ears were ringing "Can we stop and get a coffee?"

"sure we can but first I need you to promise you'll get something to eat and have a proper sleep when I drop you back home". He's looking directly at me I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my skull. I turn to look at him after dropping the remanence of my cigarette onto the ground below me "I can get something to eat , but I've got work at half three and if I go to sleep now I wont wake up in time , but ill try to get an early night".

"That I can live with". The rest of the car ride goes by quite quietly even after he goes through the maccies drive through to get us both a coffee. The warmth of the cup momentarily stopping the tremor in my hands. "Thank you, Dad, I love you". I really do adore my dad were remarkably similar in many ways and my dad has always been my biggest supporter in anything I do "I love you too son."

He drops me back at home just after 12:30 after saying a quick goodbye I unlock the front door and slam it behind me as I watch my dad leave for work again. I drop my bag at the front door and quickly make my way upstairs to my room. My haven. After setting my record player up I put my Joy Division record on and lay down on my bed staring at the ceiling. I feel like I've laid their ages, but I think it's only been about ten minutes as I'm only on the third track on the record, but my head starts to spin more, and my stomach feel weird "ah shit". I get up quickly and run to the bathroom nearly tripping over the mess scattered around my room just making it to the bathroom as I throw up violently. My whole-body shakes as I retch as there is not much to come out of my stomach this is a quite common occurrence these days, but I don't hate it any less. I sit next to the toilet with my back against the cool tiles on the wall trying to catch my breath. This part of my day is never fun. I sit there for another 20 minutes just to make sure I don't need to throw up again and let the shaking subside.

I take out my phone, I go to message Ross to ask him for help, but I think twice about it he's already worried enough as it is, so I see myself hovering over George's name. He doesn't really know me so it shouldn't be too bad. I message him "Bro I'm so sick, I can't deal with today". He doesn't have to help me or really know how to but telling someone might help a little. I get a text through not much longer after

"Why what's wrong love?" Love? where did that come from? It takes a minute for me to think of a reply to him that doesn't make me sound like a mad man.

"Just been a tough day ay, my whole body is against me right now, my brain is fighting a losing battle with itself and I just wanna disappear, also love?" I catch myself staring at the sentence for a little longer than I feel I should have, and my cheeks start to flush, and the reply startles me a little "sorry I didn't mean to say that, I'm just so used to saying that , I didn't think but seriously mate that's seems like a lot to be dealing with is there anything I can do to help?" . He's so damn sweet "I don't think anyone can help at this point G". That's the honest I have been in a while the only person that can help me is me but I've no idea how to do that. "Well, I'm going to do what I can to help, no matter how long it takes." I just throw quick thank you back because I don't really know what else to say at this point.

I get back up off the floor and begin to strip my uniform from my body a shower might do me good

#george daniel #adam hann #ross macdonald #matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic

[royal1asset-if]

Mini Update 1

So updating you guys in regards my progress so Chapter 1 is a little bit slow due to writing many variables because I want you guys to know the RO's on a deeper level and of course show some a little hints in their background story not to mention coding is being a pain in the ass.

So as reward for reading this, I put a little snippet here the scenario is where you and the team will go to the market and I chose Conrad for these one.

The day is still early but you feel many hours have passed by.

When you and the team arrived on the town the people were very excited to see you and the gang not to mention your mouth ache from smiling and waving at them.

At least now reaching the market the people's attention died down and just giving you a simple wave.

You heard a familiar voice.

"Allright kids, I want you to explore a little and buy you want but don't get to far from use because the enemy might be lurking around the corner!" Leon says and acting giddy like all of you are in some kind of field trip.

Your team upon hearing this scattered and went to stall which interested them.

You to went on your way until someone called your attention.

"Hey kid so which one are you gonna accompany?" Leon inquires you with excitement glinting in his eyes.

You looked to the direction where your teammates went to and you picked Conrad.

Leon chuckled at you.

"Haha, that's why I'm so impressed by you kid either you like the challenge or your just a glutton for pain!" he says and patting your back.

You just smiled at Leon.

"Maybe I'm both!" you grinned at Leon

Leon giving you one last pat on the back.

"Well kid I gotta go somewhere Lisa's gift is not gonna buy itself you know!" he says in a cheerful tone giving you a wink.

With that done you see Leon depart from your presence and see him go to one of the stalls heck you can even hear him haggling a price you think is a expensive necklace.

"That's expensive I seen many better pieces than this one show me what's so special about it!" you hear Leon shout.

Then the merchant went on telling Leon the special properties of the necklace like the quality of the material and how it's so smooth and such.

Shaking your head and laughing at him Leon is many things and seeing him a negotiator is did not you expect.

So you depart and went to look for Conrad you looked around looking for the blond hair and those gray calculating eyes.

Then you see Conrad standing on the side with his arms crossed and staring intently on one particular store.

You saunter towards Conrad and stopping behind him and upon getting closer you see that the stall is offering fortune telling services.

Looking at Conrad you see that he is focused intently on the stall and not sparing you a glance.

"So fortunes huh?" you ask Conrad to get him to noticed you.

Conrad still not looking at you.

"Yes fortunes!" he says nonchantly and nodding his head.

Still trying to decipher Conrad's intentions you see him walking towards the stall.

So you follow suit and trying to keep up with his pace.

"I thought you don't believe in fates or destiny!" you asked Conrad.

Conrad doesn't spare you a glance and keep walking towards his objective.

"I don't!" he says flatly

Then you looked at Conrad.

"Then why are you going to the stall!" you inquire him bewildred.

Then finally Conrad looked at you and stopping from walking.

"For research!" he says and walking towards again to the stall.

Shaking your head.

"Research huh?" you say and smirking thinking how lame that lie was.

You started following Conrad again getting closer to the stall you see it's like the rest the stall from the market.

It's cloth that is covering top a mix of red and blue, you see a sign that tells what service their offer and you see a crystal ball on the desk and other assortments of objects.

The one who is operating the stall is a woman and dressed in some clericky robes, she has dimples on her cheeks, her hair color chestnut brown and her eyes are black.

She has a smile that highlights her sharp cheekbones still appraising her you heard her speak up.

"Welcome, you're here to have your fortunes foretold am I right?" she ask the both you and Conrad.

Looking at Conrad you see him giving the woman the death stare and you feel a slight change in the wind.

"Yes, that's why were here!" you say hurriedly afraid that Conrad will say something horrible.

The woman smiled even wider.

"Oh thank goodness I thought you're just gonna ask for directions!" she says in relief and putting her hand in her chest.

Then you heard Conrad speak.

"You're a liar and a scam you know that right?" he says in a cold tone.

This is the drama you want to avoid and you looked at the woman to see her reaction.

"I can understand your skepticism but I assure you I'm an honest fortune teller." she says unphased and her smile did not falter one bit

The fortune tell proceeded to sit in front of the table and offering her hands.

" And as a sign of good faith I will read both of your futures for free and my name by the way is Claire." she says and waiting for both of your hands.

Without any word you see Conrad approached Claire and put his hand atop hers.

You see Claire tracing the lines on Conrad's palm and her eyes close.

"Hmmm I see you have a joyful and troubled past you're running into the fields and holding someone by the hand she is looking at you and she said "I love you Conrad" and you say back to her "I love you too" with all your heart" Claire says and sounding distant.

You looked at Conrad and you see his expression is wistful and his stoic mask broken, in front of you is a vulnerable man and listening intently on his fortune.

Then Claire speak once more.

"Oh yes both of you were very happy but what is this? I see a man and a woman arguing with a boy and the boy enraged, fire came out of his hands and consuming everything around him, I hear the screams of the man and woman, the boy scared he--" she did not managed to finished her story, Conrad yanking his hand of her.

Conrad is shaking and starting to sweat profusely, he did not say a single word and cradling his hand it's been burned.

Then he left without any word.

You started to follow then you hear someone called your name from behind.

"Player name how about you would you want your fortune to be told" she says in a sing song voice.

Turning around, you looked at Claire bewildered how she knows your name the king did not announce your names to the people he only told your and the team's insignia.

"How did you know my name!" you ask curious and your nerves at edge.

Claire smirked at you.

"It's my job as a fortune teller to know." she says and gesturing for you to come close.

You guess that maybe she heard your name from someone else or someone in your team is a blabber mouth so you put her to the test.

"Do you know the name of my friend earlier who's fortune you read?" you ask her.

Claire eyes shines like a child.

"That's easy his name is Conrad." she says and waving her hand in the air.

Hearing her say your peer's name made you wary of her.

"Alright you got me intrigued!" you say and putting your hands atop hers.

Then like before Claire trace the lines on your hands and closed her eyes.

"Ohhh! I see a bright future ahead of you but be warned your journey is full of hardships and trial.

I see a person holding your hand on a balcony, the two of you looking deeply in each other's eyes and leaning close but an intruder interrupted your moment.

This is peculiar who is this? No, No NOOOOO!" she shouts and slapping your hand away some sort of disease.

You withdraw your hand and looked at Claire worried.

Claire is breathing heavily and sucking in and out the air like she is suffocating. Then she looked at you with a horrid expression.

"No more fortunes" she says between breaths and turning her back at you.

Taking this as a dismissal you too turned back and starting walking when she called your attention once more.

"Wait!" Claire shouts frantic.

You turned around and crossing your arms.

Claire looked at you with sorrow in her eyes.

"Be careful out there Dragon and heed my warning, I saw in your future a brother and a sister who cared for you deeply and the 3 of you were fighting some darkness, you raised your guard to block the attack but you were not fast enough and both of them throwed their selves in front of you and dying in your place!" she says in a somber tone and turning her back on you once more.

Hearing those words put dread in your stomach and your heart became heavy, your throat parched.

You wanted to ask Claire what she meant by that but you see her stall is closed and she is nowhere to be seen.

So you started your trek back to the rendezvous where you and the team will reconvene.

Walking and thinking Claire's words "A brother and sister cared deeply for you and they will die in your place" this words rattle your bones and your nerves shaking.

Then you hear a familiar voice.

"Alright kiddos, I hoped you still have energy left in you because we still have one place to go!" he says in a jovial tone.

"A brother and a sister" you repeat the words.

"Is Claire pertaining to-----"

#royal asset #snippet #suspense

[nintendoraeni]

So uh... it's that time of the decade where I go through my "Keep Reading" posts where I was an absolute depressing sack of shit.

Update:

I graduated university with a Bachelor's of Science in Computer Science. A lot of family came to see me (including my best friend who flew down from Kansas in secret to surprise me).

I had written this past January about getting two internship interviews. I didn't get either one. The local internship was nice enough to let me know but I was pretty sure I wouldn't get it when they told me they would only be hiring one person. The second internship, however, I was 100% confident in. They didn't even let me know that I didn't get it, I found out when the internship started because uh... I would've been there if I got the job. Probably one of the biggest letdowns of the year. Nevertheless, I kept applying for everything I could find. Had maybe 3 or 4 programming-related interviews that I didn't get (suprise!).

My weight is at 206. There was a point where I was at my highest weight of 216. I had started a low-calorie diet back in August of 2022 and got down to 199. I was doing so well and then....

I got a new job. Unfortunately, not related to Computer Science but as an admin with Progressive that Emily gave me a referral for! They feed us at least twice a week and I get paid $19 an hour and being totally drained from learning a shit-ton, I ate out. Alot. Back to being over 206 but we'll get back down!

Even though I said that I got a new job, I'm still employed with HEB. My lead said that he would schedule me on weekends but he's only been scheduling me one day a week. Was salty at first but I'm actually blessed that he did that.

So with alot of new stuff happening, I looked back at a few posts from the past. I have new feelings about them that I feel like is worth addressing.

Moving on from work family is normal. I remember when leaving Popeyes, I felt like I was leaving behind a family. I would visit very often to say hi and would feel loved when they would greet me back with the same energy. I remember applying back and trying to work both at HEB and Popeyes. I made a post about regretting it wholeheartedly because of how it fucked with my self-esteem. The only thing worth it was that it motivated me to get together with my then-boyfriend, now-fiance. Other than that, I'm no longer connected with my past co-workers save for one or two. No ill feelings towards them but it was just time to move on. I should feel the same about HEB but I've grown so close to a few of them that I'm not quite ready to say good-bye for good. HEB is a whole different ball-game than Popeyes. You don't just leave behind a small crew, you leave behind people from all different departments. I wouldn't be leaving a family, I would be leaving a community. I'm slowly working up the courage to break free and accept that as close as I've grown with them, we probably won't hang out outside of work. ^^;

I see Ram from time-to-time. Maybe three or four times a year. I feel as if I tried too hard to be close with him. We definitely had a father-daughter relationship but not seeing each other as often definitely watered that relationship down. I would still often send him Happy Birthday texts but that's it. I saw a post from his daughter that he's going through back surgery. Might throw in a donation in the GoF*ndMe and wish him well. I do still miss him, but not enough to make an effort to see him.

Fuck Joel. Fuck Mariah. I have dreams about them sometimes where we reconcile but I've officially moved on. Joel was nice and such a good friend back then but I should've left him alone after he was deployed in the army and shouldn't have contacted his wife to ask for HER PERMISSION to be friends with a grown-ass man. Good riddance to the both of them.

I don't know a single person who still works at Popeyes except Ram (who works a good 20 miles away) so I have absolutely no ties with them anymore.

I was a stupid 20 year old who was attention-starved. A guy 7 years older showed interest in me for a good week and I was desperate to keep our interactions going. I should've gotten the hint and stopped messaging him. We sorta stayed friends afterwards but he's no longer active on Facebook and seems like he dropped off the internet.

The people who've been the nicest to me are the friends I cherish the most. Funny enough, when COVID hit, one of my group of friends made a discord so that we could still hang out and social distance and that was the most I've ever talked to them. They still come into town and ask if I'm down to hang and even though I'm not able to 70% of the time, I have the best time with them!

I originally planned on writing down more but I think thinking about all this has drained my brain so I'll probably come back to this at a later time. I need to end this nostalgia episode before it spirals too deep.

#sut #shut up tori #personal

[evesaintyves]

Writing challenge: Remus/Tonks, 1 Behind the scenes: 3, 4, 19

that was the prompt I was most worried about, tbh! i wrote about it recently (but briefly) in All the Bricks in the Wall. but I'm still gonna try to write something and post it tomorrow! thanks for the request!

For the behind the scenes asks:

3. Do you write fics from start or finish, or jump around?

i often write scenes as they come to me, at least in rough draft form, and set them aside while i'm organizing my thoughts about the entire fic. a lot of the time it's a single vignette or exchange that gets the ball rolling and the rest of the story is developed around it. and sometimes what i've written gets chopped up and mixed around so it ultimately wasn't written start to finish, but when i set out to get a chapter or a fic done it's straight through before i lose momentum, other than an occasional placeholder.

4. Do you outline before you start writing? If so, how far do you stray from that outline?

extensively! i sometimes do multiple stages of outlining, starting with the general beats of the story and progressing to a hastily-written, typo-strewn, no-caps, low-punctuation story-lite which then gets rewritten for real.

i don't want to give anyone the impression that i'm like a super-organized writer - i'm not. the outlining is necessary to keep me from digressing too much or going down rabbit holes, which i have a tendency to do. and i also just like to have a balanced-feeling story with a structure that's satisfying and make sure the themes and thoughts i want in there get where they need to be.

often in the course of outlining and writing the substance or scope of the story will change abruptly and drastically. i have dozens of abandoned outlines in my notes app. i'm not great at sticking to my own plans.

19. Who is the easiest/hardest character for you to write about? Why?

i had an interesting conversation about this with @turanga4 a while ago, about how as someone who tends to overthink things, characters who tend to under-think things are harder to write. i feel like this can extend to a lot of different qualities, like characters who seem more tactile/kinesthetic than verbal or characters who are arrogant or impulsive.

the example we talked about was Ron Weasley, but i encounter it sometimes in writing Tonks. i see Tonks as impulsive and having somewhat black-and-white ideas about how the world works - she's young, she's basically a wizard cop, etc. the advantage with Tonks, at least, is that i've been a 20-something woman with a complicated romantic life, so at least i get that part?

#writers on tumblr #nymphadora tonks #fanfiction

[wendigonamecaller]

Deadly Kiss.

Desc: Asher wasn't a bad person. She was quiet, well behaved, and had a gentle beauty about her that naturally made people flock to her. Asher was a good person, until she was given a reason not to be. 2002, she's only 22, never willingly been intimate with anyone, when police stumble upon her body in the Tennessee senator's home, a single gunshot wound to her head and a gun in her corpses grasp. She wakes up in hell, with a new appearance and powers, which present her with new opportunities, until she meets Angel Dust and becomes mixed up in Charlie Morningstar's hotel, unevitably becoming mixed up with Alastor.

Taglist: @sparrowrye

TW: Mentions of sexual assault, Angel offers to see if an overlord or Alastor can kill someone.

Pt. 7: Lose The Hat.

Asher huffed for the third time as her phone buzzed annoyingly with another phone call from the one person she didn't want to hear from. It stops ringing and she sets it face down on the bed next to her. She laid in her bed with the blankets tossed to the floor, she wore a red mid thigh length skirt with a light pink button up blouse and a choker with an upsidedown cross on it, her beanie and trench coat by her desk.

Tears welled up in her gold and red eyes, she felt trapped. Her phone began to buzz annoyingly again, and she growled and grabbed the device, throwing it against her wall, grateful her bed was against the wall leading to Alastor's room. She curled up into a ball, wallowing in her despair. At least, until Angel Dust quietly walked in and then shut the door behind him.

"What's wrong, doll?" He asked, rubbing her back.

"H-he won't leave me alone." She said, eyes glowing gold and golden cracks appearing in her skin briefly when she finished the sentence, and the electric in the room flickered.

Despite being spooked by her power spike, he curled up behind her and spooned her, cradling her body close to his.

She rolled over and clung to him, burying her face in his chest fluff.

"Dollface, I wanna help ya, but I can't help unless ya talk to me. Okay?" She sniffled at his words, pulling away slightly from his touch.

"It- it's the polititian I killed before I died.. he's after me like I'm his m-mate and I've rejected him so many fucking times.." Asher whimpers.

"Let's talk to Charlie, yeah? Maybe Smiles or another overlord can get some dirt on 'em or maybe even give 'em a second death." Angel says, attempting to cheer her up.

She nods, allowing him to pull her out of the bed. He doesn't allow her to put on her beanie or anything to cover her tail, as Charlie was adamant she break the habit of covering up.

-♡

Charlie and Vaggie looked horrified, Sir Pentious looked ready to kill, Husker was weary, but still looked absolutely livid, and Alastor was nowhere to be found.

"Wait, so you killed this dude because he raped you, and now he's trying to stick some sick claim on you?" Vaggie asked.

Asher nodded, feeling so much more insecure without her coverings. She laid her hand on her upper arm before she jumped as the door to the hotel opened and closed, and Alastor wandered in. "I have returned!" He said gleefully.

Husker rolls his eyes before becoming concerned once more as Asher jumps once more when her phone once again began ringing.

She pulled it out, seeing the same exact number. "Ugh, what is that blasted noise?" Alastor asked, his eyes giving off annoyance despite his smile being in place.

"It's her phone." Angel says, looking worriedly at Asher.

"Well go on then, answer it." Alastor says.

"I… I can't." Asher says, still staring at the contact.

"Then allow me." Alastor says, taking the phone.

She expects him to answer it, perhaps play nice or talk to the man, but instead Alastor smashes the device without a care.

"There, now he can't cause you anymore panic my dear." Alastor says, booping her small white nose.

She scrunches her nose briefly as he does. "You're making excellent progress, your self esteem will not be hindered by him any longer, understood?" Alastor said, tilting his head as his eyes glowed a darker red, threatening to form into radio dials.

"Understood." Asher said quietly, and his smile beamed as he walked away.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin alastor #alastor x oc

[bivproject]

Hello!

I’m an artist and writer, and this blog is dedicated to a group of original characters that I’ve spent the last 4 or so years creating (at the time of writing this), and I’m very quite excited about them :)

A lot of those four years have just been me building up and tearing apart the world building and plot, and overall just being indecisive and unsure. By this point though, I feel like I have a fairly good idea of the both of them, as well as of the characters, meaning that it should be relatively smooth sailing from here. Probably. Hopefully. Maybe. Eh, we’ll see.

As for what am I planning to post on here, I'm currently trying to get all of the major characters’ designs finished up as that seems like a good place to start. The story has a, uh, rather large cast of characters (of various plot importance) and I'm really looking forward to talking about all of them. But, for the sake of clarity (and to make things less overwhelming for all of us), I'll try to begin with the main characters and work my way outwards in a progression that feels natural.

This blog will include character designs, concepts and ideas (both drawn and written), world building stuff, sketches, finished art, and perhaps some writing snippets (because I do plan to write for these characters, but it's quite the daunting thought so I don't expect to be doing that anytime soon. I wanna make sure I'm thoroughly prepared before I start) and everything else that relates to this little world and it's characters. Maybe some background information of what BIV has looked like in its previous versions, who knows. Wherever the brainrot takes me, I'll go lmao.

I'm mainly just creating this to have a place to unapologetically ramble about my silly little characters. I have a lot of other ocs as well (that will be brought up in my general art blog and on other platforms), but these particular ones are especially dear to me which is why this whole blog is about them only.

Also, I should probably give the name a bit of explanation: BIV is a placeholder name, and is the acronym of an old title I once gave the story, tho, the original meaning behind that name is not at all relevant to the current version of the story. It's just nostalgic (and already all over my notes) so it'll stick around until I feel confident enough in another one.

Just like the title, everything I mention here on this blog is subject to change as I further develop the whole thing. I think a lot of it will stay the same anyways tho as I'm pretty content with most of it, but it's not guaranteed!

As a thanks for reading all of this, here’s some themes and things that you'll definitely find in this project:

Royalty, overprotectiveness and restrictions, family dynamics (both blood family and found family), a constant search of your place in the world, a pub owned by two ex-pirates, at least one cat (and one dog, I think)*, hurting and healing, at least one royal ball and some self-indulgent gayness.

(*Update: One cat, one or two dogs and a horse. Perhaps more horses. Maybe more cats. Perhaps birds. An undecided amount of animals, but trust me, there will be animals)

That's all for now! Thank you for reading :D

-F

#oc #original character #original fiction #wip intro #book wip #I have no idea how to tag dear god idk if I’m using these correctly I’m so sorry #writing project #original project #art project #original characters #story wip

[glassandmetalwings]

Sometimes bravery is little things, like taking on new challenges in video games.

#I'm finally doing stat boost challenges in JWA #even though the creatures are levels 16-18 and my strongest is 21 #and I can't just one shot them all with raptor #and every so often I remind myself that I actually beat Okami #when younger me was too scared to even get past the cursed trees whose fruit you had to hit back at them #and now I'm looking go play HD remakes of LoZ games #and I feel so behind the ball but at least I'm trying and seeing progress #like I grew up convinced that if you don't win first try you're a failure #and I'm still in awe and envy of my friends who seem to go fearlessly into what feel like hopeless challenges in games #and learning it's okay to lose and just try again and it's okay is a huge endeavor #but I'm trying #and I'm proud I'm trying #sorry this probably sounds really stupid #wings does things

[sokovianheadtilt]

Mama's Got A lot to Learn

Bucky Barnes x black!reader

Summary: You and Bucky’s relationship slowly progresses

Warnings: mentions of Brock

A/N: Another part to the My Little Love AU, also, this series isn’t a chapter by chapter story, it’s just one shots that take place in the same AU, incase you were wondering, enjoy! Happy Holidays!!

Word Count: 1.1k

Mama's got a lot to learn. Not much changed between you and Bucky after that day. The smiles and glances were just replaced with "hi" and "hello". You would notice that when you would come home some days, Bucky would stand outside to make sure you and Logan got inside safely. You could tell because even if he happened to be outside when you would go out to do something like taking out the trash, he would stop what he was doing and watch you go inside. It never bothered though, you never got the creepy guy next door vibe from him. Logan seemed to warm up to seeing Bucky all the time as well. When he would come home from school, you loved hearing his little voice say ‘Hi Mr. Bucky!’ it always made you smile and giggle and you'd also see the way Bucky's face lit up slightly. You also noticed something else, he never wore short sleeve shirts, at least around you. Even on the hottest days, he would be donned in a henley and jeans. You were always curious about the story behind that, but you never asked, knowing it wasn't your business. You did want to get to know him better. He seems like he would be a good friend to have. Brock never let you have friends as he liked isolated and all to himself. But now you were on your own, without Brock. You could do whatever you wanted and didn't have to worry about getting yelled at. So you said screw it, you're gonna become friends with someone another man at that. Today was the perfect day to try and get to know Bucky better. Logan was at a sleepover so you had the rest of the day to yourself. When you pulled up to your house, you saw Bucky grabbing his keys to go inside. You got out of your car and took a deep breath before walking over to him. “Hi,” you said in a slightly small voice, suddenly feeling nervous. Bucky turned to face you "Hey Y/N” You stood and thought of what to say next but then Bucky beat you to it “No Logan today?” You shook your head "Oh, no, he's at a sleepover, so it's just me for the night" He nodded " okay cool. I miss the little guy already You chuckled " yeah me too, I always miss him when he's away" "I can tell he's a little ball of energy" You giggled "yeah..." Bucky smiled softly at the sound of your laugh "Um, would you time to come inside? I can make us drinks?" You smiled before nodding "I would love to" He nodded and let the both of you inside as you looked around his house. The walls were bare, no pictures were hung up and you only saw one sitting on his coffee table. It was Bucky standing with a short blonde man and they were both wearing army uniforms. "That's Steve, he's my best friend" you heard Bucky say from behind you as you turned and saw him standing there holding two glasses of wine You thanked him and took a glass “Didn’t know you were in the army". You walked over to the couch and sat down with Bucky sitting next to you, turning to face you. "Yeah, my last deployment was about a year ago and I had to be discharged" "How come?" you sipped your drink and watched him become visibly uncomfortable " Y-you don't have to tell me if its a tough subject" He shook his head "it's not that I just don't want to scare you off" You shook your head "you won't" Bucky looked at you for a moment before he rolled up the left sleeve of his henley, revealing a metal arm. You gasped a bit as you saw it. "W- what happened?" you asked as you kept staring at it "I was captured and they held me, hostage, for about two weeks, taking my arm during so, they had this arm made for me" You frowned as you listened to the story " Oh my gosh that sounds awful I'm so sorry Bucky" He waved you off "Don't be. I'm okay I promise" You nodded a bit before looking back up at him “How come I've never seen it?" "I didn't want to scare you or Logan" Your heart swelled at his confession "Logan and I are tough.it would take a lot more than your arm to scare us off" He chuckled at your declaration "I figured. You seem like a tough woman" You shrugged "I have to be, for Logan. I already messed up once, I can't do that again" " You seem

like you're doing an amazing job " You smiled a bit " I wasn't at first" He furrowed his eyebrows "what do you mean?" " Logan's father... is not a good man and I made Logan be around him until I finally left, and I’ll never forgive myself for that” Bucky frowned and reached out to rub your back “Hey, you’re doing an amazing job okay? Every time I see Logan he’s always smiling and happy” “Guess I’m just overthinking everything” you looked down at your drink “You’re an amazing mom Y/N, don’t forget that. You left that asshole and now you can live a life that makes you and Logan happy” You smiled softly and felt your heart skip a beat. You haven’t heard many compliments about yourself since you got with Brock. It’s nice to be praised for your decisions instead of being bashed for them “Thanks, Bucky” “No problem” he grinned After a couple of hours at Bucky’s place, you felt yourself getting tired and went to leave as Bucky walked you to the front door “I had a great time” you looked up at him. God, he was tall, and his shoulders were so wide. Maybe it was the two and a half glasses of wine you had but Bucky just looked extra delicious at this moment. He smiled down at you “Me too, feel free to come back whenever you want” You nodded and patted his chest “I definitely will” Holy shit, his chest was firm Bucky chuckled “Goodnight Y/N” “Goodnight Bucky” you smiled once more before leaving and going back to your house with a huge smile on your face.

#sokovianheadtilt #my little love au #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #black!reader #black!fem!reader

[grassylampshade]

Fireside

Another @whataboutthebard prompt, inspired by @mayastormborn! I'm a few days late for September 22, but work was shit this week. Enjoy!

Title: Fireside

Prompt: Sex Pollen (potion sex is kind of sex pollen, right?)

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: the inherent consent issues of barely-controlled lust (that's the essence of sex pollen, tho)

Read on AO3

Jaskier has just thrown another log onto the fire when Eskel ghosts back into camp. His eyes flash an eerie green gold from across the clearing and Jaskier stumbles back over a log before he realizes what manner of beast has set its sights on him.

“You scared me half to death!” Jaskier puts a hand over his heart, feeling it gallop under his breastbone. To Eskel’s silent stare, he replies, “You’re done much sooner than expected. Hunt go well?” He heads to their bags to grab the wound kit.

The moment he turns his back, Eskel is upon him, arms as tight and unyielding as hoops on a barrel. He bullies Jaskier forward against a tree and immediately starts grinding against Jaskier’s rump, erection evident even through Eskel’s heavy leather codpiece.

“What are you— Does this mean the hunt went very well or very badly?” Jaskier asks. He cranes his neck, trying to get a look at Eskel’s face, but Eskel immediately dives down to sniff and lick the column of Jasker’s throat. His movements become more urgent and his bites are progressively rougher. Eskel sucks at the delicate skin covering Jaskier’s pulse point and he growls a low, predatory sound that sends a shiver down Jaskier’s spine.

Jaskier hasn’t prepared himself for a witcher suddenly going into rut, and with the way that Eskel has snapped the laces of Jaskier’s pants without his customary respect for expensive clothing, he doubts Eskel has all his wits about him. Jaskier is not in the least bit interested in limping to the nearest town, nor is he in the mood for weathering Eskel’s hangdog face if Jaskier has to pad Scorpion’s saddle to cushion his sore arse.

“Eskel,” he snaps, stiffening in Eskel’s grip rather than hanging pliant. He waits until Eskel grunts a questioning sound. “Let go and step back.”

Eskel pauses then slowly draws his arms away as though doing it physically pains him. He doesn’t put any distance between them, but also he doesn’t pounce when Jaskier turns around. It’s too dark for Jaskier to see clearly when Eskel is backlit by the fire, so he sets his hands on Eskel’s shoulders—mindful of his spiked armor—and turns them sidelong. Eskel is bone white and his eyes are dark pits. Eskel grabs Jaskier’s hips tightly, fingers digging into the muscle. His gaze roves over all the sensitive places Jaskier likes to be touched, and Eskel licks his lips.

“Swords off. Come here,” Jaskier orders, striding briskly to the fireside. He bends down to pile their bags against the end of a convenient log and Eskel's hands immediately find his ass before one sneaks between his thighs to grope his balls from behind. Jaskier hisses with surprised pleasure but bares his teeth as if displeased.

“Did I give you permission to touch?”

Eskel withdraws his hands as though burned, but he settles them both on his own groin instead and rocks into the pressure.

“Did I give you permission to touch?” Jaskier asks again, acerbic. Eskel drops his hands more slowly, appearing confused that he doesn't have rights to his own body. They've played this game before, but the details must be obscured by the fog of lust.

“If you want me,” Jaskier explains slowly, “you belong to me. That cock, and everything attached to it”—he slowly looks Eskel up and down—“is mine.”

Eskel growls but Jaskier stands firm until, after a long, tense moment, Eskel nods. Jaskier unties Eskel's breeches quickly, but Eskel chases the touch and is left panting by the time Jaskier tosses the leather cup aside.

Eskel's prick juts out like the prow of some mighty ship. Beads of wetness glisten like seafoam and Eskel's breath catches as Jaskier reaches out to touch. At the last instant he pulls back, and he's flattered when Eskel’s cock flexes upward as if reaching for him.

“It won't hurt me, will it?” Jaskier asks. Eskel blinks, not comprehending. “Your essence,” he clarifies, “from the potion.” Eskel shakes his head stiffly. Jaskier had assumed the toxins would go out with the waste, but assumptions wouldn't have saved him from a burned hand or worse.

He reaches into Eskel’s unreasonably tight breeches to lift his balls out through the empty space where the codpiece used to be. Eskel groans with relief and Jaskier is glad he noticed so Eskel wouldn't be pinched when he sat. He drags his eyes away from the tempting sight of all of Eskel’s tender bits on display and unfurls their sleeping mats so he can guide Eskel to recline with his legs straight out in front.

“Are we safe?” Jaskier asks, and Eskel goes deathly still, looking for all the world like he is prepared to take on a dragon with his breeches flapping in the breeze. Then Eskel grunts and the watchful tension leaves him. Tension of another kind mounts; Eskel humps the air, desperate and mindless. He makes several aborted movements to grab his cock or to pull Jaskier close but restrains himself.

“Very good,” Jasker purrs, impressed. He lays across Eskel's thick thighs and feels the trembling of his muscles. Eskel's prick jumps at the praise.

“Oh it aches, doesn't it?” Jaskier croons. He licks his lips, so very close.

Eskel stares at him, hunger writ clear in the shadowed angles of his face. He squirms under Jaskier's weight and Jaskier knows Eskel could throw him down if he chose to. The thrill of power is heady and addicting.

Jaskier leans forward and breathes hot over the dusky end of Eskel's prick. Eskel grabs Jaskier’s doublet.

“Gently,” Jaskier chides before taking the plush head between his lips. Faster than he can think, Eskel drags Jaskier down and fucks into his throat. Jaskier retches and the sound startles Eskel enough that Jaskier is able to escape. Reacting on instincts of his own, he hauls off and smacks Eskel’s shaft. Eskel yelps and writhes, moaning. A fat drop of precome rolls over the light mark Jaskier left behind.

“If you're going to behave like an animal you can go out in the woods and deal with this yourself,” he says, glaring. Eskel breaks eye contact first and Jaskier takes that as acquiescence.

He spends some time licking and kissing Eskel’s length, not quite trusting Eskel’s control. The mark he left has already faded. Eskel pleads with desperate, wordless sounds, and he gently pets Jaskier’s hair and neck until Jaskier relents. He takes Eskel in for a few slow sucks, and Eskel minds his manners until Jaskier flutters his tongue at the underside of Eskel’s cockhead.

Eskel grips Jaskier by the scruff of his neck so he can’t keep bobbing his head. Without a trace of remorse, Jaskier sets his teeth to the petal-soft skin of Eskel’s cock and commences to bite with increasing pressure until Eskel gets the hint. Jaskier pushes himself up and backhands Eskel’s cock without another word. The slap is loud rather than hard, but the imprint flushes a little darker than the first. Eskel cries out and bucks his hips against nothing, not a shred of anger in him, only violent lust. Jaskier sits back and ponders what he is going to do with Eskel’s frantic energy if he has to worry one or both of them will be injured.

When he looks up at Eskel’s face again, Eskel has turned away and lifted his chin, baring his neck for Jaskier in apology. Jaskier’s heart melts.

He darts away and grabs two fist-sized rocks from those encircling the fire pit and pries them loose from their spots. The stones are pleasantly warm from the fire and he scrubs the undersides against the grass to dispense with any creepy-crawlies. He places the rocks on either side of Eskel and guides Eskel to hold onto them.

“You’re allowed to spill, but don’t let go of those until I tell you. Understood?” He watches Eskel’s fingers flex around the rocks, and hopes that a simple task and the mimicry of body heat will be enough to ground him.

Eskel squeezes the rocks so hard that muscles ripple all the way up his arms. He whimpers and closes his eyes, face twisting around his scars. His cock stands proud and dark, an odd purplish shade from the black blood in Eskel’s veins. The golden light of the fire helps somewhat, but he still appears vaguely inhuman in a way that makes Jaskier’s guts twist in shameful arousal.

Jaskier straddles Eskel’s shins and begins to suck Eskel’s cock like their lives both depend on it. He’s intentionally sloppy, coaxing thick drool from the back of his mouth forward so he can fist the remainder of Eskel’s length. He uses every trick at his disposal, massaging Eskel’s balls, humming, making eye contact, and more, all in an effort to get Eskel off as quickly as possible. Eskel’s back arches but he keeps his ass pressed firmly to the ground. Jaskier pulls back and praises him for it. As soon as Eskel’s cock is back in his mouth, Eskel comes with a shout, pulsing bitter spend over Jaskier’s tongue.

Jaskier swallows and works him through it, but instead of going soft, Eskel is as hard as he was before. His cries only grow louder the longer Jaskier toys with him. Eskel’s balls tense in Jaskier’s palm and he massages them, fingers dancing behind to tease his perineum.

Eskel grunts and curves around Jaskier, convulsing through a more powerful climax that floods Jaskier’s mouth so much he has to retreat or risk overflowing and making a mess of them both. It seems indecorous to spit onto one of their bedrolls, so he swallows thickly a few times to get it all down, then grimaces afterward the same as if he had taken a large measure of cheap spirits. He’s grateful he ate a hearty dinner while Eskel was away, or he would surely have an upset stomach after all that. Ever the showman, he extends his tongue for Eskel’s inspection, and is well pleased when Eskel dives forward to lick the taste out of his mouth.

They moan and sigh together, kissing deeply with Eskel’s hands still obediently locked on the stones. Jaskier loves nothing more than an audience under his spell. His prick swells to full arousal fast enough to have him seeing stars.

“Yes, ah, you’re so good for me,” Jaskier says, pressing against Eskel’s broad belly to get some friction of his own. “Think you can help me with this?”

There’s some clumsy shuffling as Eskel tries to move down so he can suck Jaskier off, but Jaskier’s not stupid enough to let those sharp teeth near his cock when Eskel is jumpy and lust-addled.

“I have a better idea,” he says, and drapes himself back across Eskel’s lap, his legs curled toward the fire.

He admires Eskel’s tenaciously hard prick, and shoves his trousers down to release his own. Eskel immediately reaches out for Jaskier before he stops himself and puts his hand back on the stone. There's a softening in Eskel’s features and the veins in his face are receding as the potion dissipates.

“Here, darling,” Jaskier says. He guides Eskel’s hot palm to cup him and rolls onto his belly. “Be still. Show me how sweet you are.”

Eskel hums with pleasure when Jaskier takes him in his mouth once more. Jaskier shifts until he’s comfortable, one leg bent and one straight so he can rut down into Eskel's hand. He seeks his pleasure slow and easy, and he gives Eskel pleasure even more languidly. In truth, he mostly rests Eskel's prick in his mouth, only suckling as the mood strikes him, much more interested in his own release.

He gets closer to the edge despite, or perhaps because of, the almost-too-much friction of Eskel’s callused hand. He moans and grinds a little faster, tasting a burst of salt as Eskel huffs in heavy breaths, clearly scenting the air for Jaskier’s musk.

"Good, good boy for me," he mumbles into Eskel’s hip, holding Eskel’s prick tight around the base, distracted by his own looming climax. He feels the coiled tension of Eskel’s desire, and Jaskier proudly holds the reins.

His entire body lights up, instinctive and wanton. He breathes open-mouthed and cares not at all what kinds of sounds he makes. He’s still fully dressed, a binding of his own creation, and Eskel is pinned down by the strength of Jaskier's words, and Jaskier's skin is tight, too tight, until he finally splits, ecstasy tearing him asunder.

He arches up, head falling back as he fucks Eskel's hand. His seed smooths the way and he enjoys the filthy noise his rutting makes. So too, it seems, does Eskel, who groans, nostrils flaring. His cock throbs in Jaskier's fist and Jaskier is too dazed to catch the warning signs.

Eskel grunts like he's been punched and comes, the force of it pushing past the restriction of Jaskier’s fingers. Hot ribbons spray up Jaskier’s neck and across his face, and he flinches his eyes shut just in time.

“Sorry,” Eskel says, through gritted teeth. It’s the first word he’s managed since returning from his hunt.

“Clean up your mess,” Jaskier demands. He sits up, leaning over Eskel so none of the drips will land on his own clothing. Being coated in witcher spit isn’t anywhere close to being clean, but it’s better than nothing.

Eskel laps at Jaskier eagerly, long swipes interspersed with kitten licks that Jaskier is quite certain would go on until dawn if he allowed it. He turns away and Eskel switches to cleaning Jaskier’s release off his hand, rumbling with pleasure.

When Jaskier looks down, he’s not surprised to see Eskel is still ready for more. His cock is deep red now, rather than purple, which Jaskier takes as a positive sign. As he watches, Eskel’s prick leaps and the tendons pull tight in his hips. Eskel’s muscles work rhythmically, clenching around emptiness, fucking into nothing. He leaks copiously, cockhead glistening in the firelight, and Jaskier is transfixed by the possibility of Eskel bringing himself off without a single touch.

Eskel’s face is twisted into a scowl of concentration and Jaskier can tell he’s getting frustrated, though Eskel would never, ever admit it. Perhaps if this had been prior to Eskel’s first orgasm of the night he could have done it, and Jaskier intends to find out someday.

“Next time,” he promises, and shoves Eskel, trying to shift him off the pile of baggage. Eskel almost tips over, but doesn’t catch himself. “Oh,” Jaskier says sheepishly, realizing his mistake. “You can let go now.”

Eskel tosses the rocks back toward the firepit and grabs Jaskier instead. Jaskier starts at the top of his doublet and Eskel at the bottom, and they get rid of it in record time. His shirt goes next, and when he turns to rummage through his pack, Eskel pulls his breeches and smallclothes down.

The cheeks of his ass are pressed into a tight channel for Eskel to run his cock through and when Jaskier finds a suitable balm he’s almost tempted to stay bent over. His knees twinge against the hard ground before he lets that idea get the better of him, and he elbows Eskel away so he can flip onto his back, ungainly with pants still tangled around his shins.

Eskel is sitting back on his heels, watching ravenously, fingers digging deep into his own legs. Fat drops of slick go to waste, lost in the hair on his balls or trickling into the shadowed space behind.

“C’mon, give it to me,” Jaskier urges, thrusting greased fingers between his thighs to illustrate where he wants Eskel. He kicks his feet up, and Eskel catches them, throwing both legs over his shoulder and holding them tight with one arm. His cock rams straight into the valley of Jaskier’s legs, far simpler than preparing his ass for the kind of fuck he suspects Eskel needs to scratch the itch of poison in his veins. Jaskier spares a thought for the silk of his trousers against the spikes of Eskel’s armor before he is folded in half and pinned.

Snarls and glowing eyes lend weight to their beastly mating, and Jaskier teases out a story between them.

“So wild, so fierce,” he whispers, bracing his arms on the log behind him to give some resistance. “If I hadn’t known—if you had come across me in the forest, all alone.” He thought back to his first few years as a traveling bard, startled by every snapping twig. He let his voice waver and spoke with a higher tone, like a younger man. “I would have been trapped,” he gasps in excitement and fear. “I could never have escaped from your clutches.”

Eskel’s gaze flickers warily and his pace slows. Jaskier rushes on, changing tack to find the knife’s edge between shame and eagerness. “It would be obvious you weren’t going to kill me. Once I understood what you were truly hungry for…” He squeezes his legs tightly. “Oh, I would have had my ass up like a bitch in heat.”

That has the desired effect; Eskel pummels him with bruising strength, the strain in each of Jaskier’s breaths only adding to the shared fantasy. “You’d rip my clothes off and take me right there, nothing more than spit between us. Hollow me out and make a home inside.” He lifts his rump, curving up into Eskel’s weight. “Fuck, I’d come screaming, begging for more.”

Eskel turns his head and bites hard over the thick leather cuff of Jaskier’s traveling boots. He can feel the pressure on his calf through two layers of hide and imagines those sharp fangs set into his neck. Eskel’s hips stutter and he shouts through clenched teeth, tightening down further as he spills across Jaskier’s belly.

Jaskier worms a hand between them and runs his knuckles along the underside of Eskel’s cock, his options limited in the cramped space. “You’d take me down to the ground and fuck me raw with my face in the dirt,” he says with a tenderness that would seem out of place if he were talking to anyone other than Eskel. “This fat cock splitting me open, forcing in load after load until I’m fit to burst.”

Eskel keeps slipping through the slot of Jaskier’s thighs, letting Jaskier’s words stoke the fires of his appetite. His eyes are nearly normal, though the pupils are blown wide and round.

“This clearing would stink of us for days, and so would I. You’d leave me dripping with your claim. You could hold me like this so it stayed inside.” Eskel curls his lip in a lecherous smirk, so Jaskier continues. “I’d be soaked in it, sloppy and open. Be so easy for you to slide back in.” He wiggles with delight as his own prick starts to harden. “My ass would be wet as a mermaid’s cunt. Wet like your good little bitch should be.”

Eskel puts his free arm under Jaskier’s back and lifts him so their cocks line up and rub together. They kiss, but only briefly, the strenuous position too much for either of them to hold long. Jaskier closes his eyes and is swept up by the coiling tightness in his gut, by the tingling in his limbs.

There’s a sharp pinch on his thigh and Eskel raises an eyebrow expectantly. Jaskier gasps in false offense. “What? Not enough for you?” He stares down at Eskel’s thick length frotting against his own, dwarfing his not-insignificant offering. “You’re more than enough for me,” he says nonsensically. Eskel smiles and Jaskier tries to spin together the threads of his narrative, though it’s clear Eskel is back to his usual self.

“You’d be stuck with me after that, your own little songbird. I’d perch so pretty on that sapling of yours and you’d make me sing so sweet.” He laughs and runs dirty hands over his face, giddy and exhausted. Eskel laughs with him.

“Jaskier,” he says warmly.

“Give us your fist, darling,” Jaskier encourages. “Make it a good one to finish us off and I’ll weave a bit more.” Eskel eases back and shifts his hand from Jaskier’s legs down to hold both their pricks together. The ridge of his knuckles digs into Jaskier’s belly, but Jaskier considers it a small price to pay for some good, tight friction.

“Yes, ah— yes, just like that.” Jaskier’s mind races back through the story to find the parts Eskel reacted to best. “After every hunt you’d pounce on me, like a wolf in breeding season.” He isn’t sure if wolves have a mating season, but it isn’t important. All that matters is the feel of Eskel shuddering against him. “Wild and lusty, feral and hungry.”

Eskel growls, playing the part of the vicious beast. He speeds his movements and Jaskier burns with love.

“I’d— I’d learn to get myself ready as soon as you left camp, then I’d do my chores, open and aching. Waiting.” He moans, feeling the bowstring draw tighter within his core. “Stripped bare, ass up, presenting for you.” Eskel bares his teeth at the image and Jaskier is rapidly liquifying as he approaches his peak. “Praying to any god who would listen that there were no other monsters or men around to catch me like that.”

Eskel snarls dangerously at the threat and Jaskier likes that protective streak more than he cares to admit.

“But it’s you, only you, and— please, Eskel, fuck. I’m so fucking close,” he falls to begging, unable to maintain a narrative while his cock is being tenderly, lovingly wrecked between the rough heat of Eskel’s hand and the rigid steel of his prick. “I need it, please, I need you so much it hurts.”

He keens in despair when Eskel pulls away, but Eskel moves him like a ragdoll onto his belly. He gives Jaskier a spit-slick hand to fuck into while Eskel thrusts back between his thighs, bearing him down like the brute in Jaskier’s story.

“Show me how sweet you are,” Eskel purrs, echoing Jaskier’s earlier words. “Come for me, songbird. I want to hear you.” He nips Jaskier’s neck and twists his fingers around the crown of Jaskier’s cock, and Jaskier surges underneath Eskel as waves of cold fire crest within him. He vaguely feels the rush of Eskel’s release, but by then he’s too loose to do more than hum happily and let his eyes slip closed.

He wakes up snug and dry in Eskel’s arms, and he wonders wickedly when they will take their next contract.

#grassy writes #witcher fanfic #eskel/jaskier #what about the bard #watb #wreck the bard #pwp #rated e