#feel free to reblog to spree the word
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adorablehoshi -> lilboobear
The moment is here, and I actually take the step to re-create my svt blog. I figured that only changing my username will not change a thing about how I feel to be on this blog. So, for that I make a new side blog to start new. Adorablehoshi will stay up as my archive. It’s weird to let go of this blog as I had been on it for so many years. But for my own good, it’s time to let go.
If you want to stay with me, come to @lilboobear to follow me again :D
I hope a new start will do me well and I stay more active.
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further guidance for newcomers coming from reddit
hi arriving redditors. here are some things i don't see most posts mention. this is for people who conquered the baby steps of joining the site. i think they're pretty important! also me clarifying on some stuff i've seen people word very vaguely consistently in their guides
under the cut because it's a chunky set of bullet points! with a few that also discuss how to keep yourself in a safe and fun browsing environment for yourself and others (mostly quality of life)
if you have any questions either send me an ask (anonymously is ok too) or reply to the post
you can enable a custom theme that shows on the web in your blog settings, if you so wish (blog settings > visibility) and then (custom theme toggle to on) this is the classic tumblr experience, but it's ok to want to hide your blog from the public. however you won't be able to link stuff on your blog to people without tumblr accounts
you can find custom tumblr themes by searching resource blogs like theme hunter or just in the tags in general (like "tumblr theme" or just "theme" and see where the other tags you may find to refine your search takes you)
tumblr is currently trying to enact changes to appeal to "new users" that make the website less friendly to its current inhabitants, such as fucking with quality of life and muscle memory and even stuff integral to the culture of the site. if you see people complaining, i highly advise against going "this sounds kind of nothingburger" and assisting in sending tickets to support the drive against such changes
there is a 250 post per day limit. you probably won't hit it though.. maybe? but people used to make post limit blogs (seperate email) for that. but that is for heavy usage users.
you can make as many sideblogs as you want. you are free to divulge whether or not it's you. of course use common sense to gauge whether or not it matters. but side blogs can be anything: maybe you want to categorize things, maybe you wanna make one into a huge fan page/blog for a specific hobby/celeb/show/game/etc, maybe a quieter space, maybe posts you feel don't belong on your blog, maybe even a blog where you reblog resources to exclusively. the possibilities are endless! (maybe not for porn, it's a little harder to skirt by these days even with muh community labels)
a lot of posts are incredibly vague about whether or not you can leave comments on reblogs. i think it truly depends. for example, if it's praise for artwork, i feel like it is truly best left in the tags. the artist can see it still! it shows up in their notifs when you reblog. in comparison, when it comes to funny text posts and pictures, you can comment as you like, but consider TPO (time place occasion). it helps to check the notes (comments only filter) to see if the quip or comment you wanna make has already been made or if OP made further comments later. again, it's a call to use your judgement and everyone has a different tolerance for this kind of thing
i see many people or perhaps most came from LGBTQ+ centric subreddits so i am surprised i'm not seeing this mentioned often: there are unfortunately a lot of terfs here. please stay safe. install shinigami eyes and engage in blocking sprees whenever possible.
in account settings, not blog settings, there is a section called "content you see". it has filtered tags and filtered post content. the difference is filtered tags is specifically for tags, for example, if you want to hide a certain show you don't like, you can have the site apply a peek-a-boo filter on it (this content contains #TAG, as in click to view). you ask, what if the person on my dash doesn't tag it as that? that's fine! it also takes into account the original poster's tags. the OP didn't tag it? then filtered post content might help. MIGHT. it's pretty helpful and unlike twitter's mute list, as far as my experience, it is not broken. for example, if you write [SHOW NAME THAT YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE] in plain letters (with aliases as seperate entries just to be safe) it will filter any post that has the words in the body of the post. pretty useful! use this to curate your dash further or even filter out triggers.
speaking of tags. a lot of people are also vague about this. i'll say it clearly. you can add whatever tags you want to a reblog. there's no limit (aside from character lim per tag)! there's no social faux pas, unless you're being backhanded at someone's creative work, like reblogging just to dunk on it or going "i like the art but not the character" etc. when it comes to your own posts, try to avoid tagging irrelevant tags (for example, if you're making a lot of posts that are tangentially about cardcaptor sakura, think about if it belongs in the tag or not. think of it as whether or not it deserves an OC flair on reddit). again, people's tolerance differs, but especially on older media and slow tags people do not appreciate random tangential text posts (for example "i wanna watch ccs!" and nothing else)
in terms of culture, tumblr has a weird balance between "you can ask for context" and "lurk for 10,000 moar years". i would not know myself. i've been here for 12+ years *shrug* you'll have to gauge it for yourself. most things you can google "[tumblr user] callout" and figure out from there LOL (yes that's usually what happens). i DO encourage trying to garner it from context, especially for terms.
due to the looser moderation(?) on here, LGBTQ+ and other minorities use their own discretion reclaim slurs freely. join in, or put the slurs in your filters. it's fine not to join in as that's your personal comfort, but this is a heads up that the culture is like this since i'm not sure how the moderation is in places like r/196 are. (sorry i used reddit for entirely different things ><)
DO NOT TAG D0NATION POSTS WITH #D0NATION OR ANY OTHER VARIATION. this is SO important. it's best not to tag donation posts AT ALL. tumblr internally flags them and suppresses the post. just reblog silently (d0nate if you can) and move on (censoring just in case lol)
search is useless for finding specific posts. give up before you even try. your best bets are google, asking for help on the dashboard, or just hoping it shows up on your dashboard one day (it probs will, maybe not immediately when you need it though)
i called old tags "slow" but not dead earlier: tags Do Not Die (though some just kind of randomly get wiped or lose posts, idk, it is some post-2018 indexing weirdness) so you can find fanart and posts from 2012 and it's ok to reblog! the essence of tumblr is the continued circulation of people's creations
please do not repost screenshots of tumblr posts unless they are no longer accessible (reblogs locked for example) 😭 i am seeing this happen already. this is the one thing from reddit you're gonna have to let go of. twitter and other place screenshots are OK (probably, some people don't like them). but don't let your page look like one of those r/(etc) post aggregate bots on twitter is what i'm saying. once you explore a tag enough times you'll know what is usually appropriate to post (usually derivative meme templates are OK, but don't overdo it (tho this just falls under "dont spam") (also this is MY personal preference, so if the climate of the tag houses a lot of memes, go ahead!)
in general reposting content that isn't your's is kinda eh. especially reposting people's art without explicit permission. there are art reposters who in the modern day usually ask for permission, of course there are internet spelunkers who repost content from old web and dead sites. there's a lot of nuance, but i highly discourage reposting things you didn't make yourself unless it's stuff like official art and whatnot. photography and other stuff from other people, use your judgement. and as an aside i know "stolen memes" are r/196 and other meme subreddit cultures but it's not exactly appreciated here and i feel like if the reposting gets out of hand tumblr users might get real tired of it. the humor isn't really the same here in that sense, i suggest posting them in a sideblog that archives such things so they aren't lost and/or keeping them in your community tags. ofc no one can stop you!! but the whole highly derivative fried meme thing is very reddit. the culture could not be more different even if we are similar in many ways. i mean this in the nicest way possible >_< if you're not sure, DON'T REPOST.
this is just advice from me, but when liveblogging a show, it's nice to tag it with a unique tag, such as #[your name/nick] plays [game]. i find it's ok to tag series name to some posts that are more substantial, people are happy to see others enjoy what they love, but using a unique tag also helps people track YOUR liveblog since they may save the tag to look at :)
put your age or whether or not you're an adult somewhere where people can see, (and your pronouns too or lackthereof). whether or not if it's on your bio, or an about page, or a carrd. please. it's a matter of curation and safety. some people don't wanna follow minors by accident and vice versa, just as a means to curate their space
people write alt text and image descriptions in the post bodies pretty often. yes it's built into tumblr, but either some people forget or the feature... refuses to work that time. yes it's BROKEN. if you feel like you can contribute alt text for an image in an adequate fashion, go ahead!
try not to reblog people's personal posts. asking people never hurts!
you can restrict non-followers from replying to your posts, or turn off replies all together. as far as i know it's not possible for seperate posts unfortunately, just a blog-wide toggle. when replying to someone specifically, be sure to @ them so they can see it!
for a long time, only the first 5 tags you used in an original post mattered. a lot of people still repeat this, but in my experience this seems to have... changed?? i can't say for sure, but my posts appear in tags beyond the first five. just to be sure, tag the most relevant things first! (or not, if you have your own strategy LOL)
you're free to not tag trigger warnings (it's nice to do it for others tho especially if they ask) but please tag flashing images as such. #epilepsy warning, #flashing, #flashing image, #flashing, etc.
REPORT BOT BLOGS. it blocks them for you anyway. just blocking doesn't do anything for anyone
you can add other people to a sideblog to make it a group blog. this is how blogs with mods work, or even collectives, it has a lot of uses in general so have fun with it! be wary it requires getting someone's email so be safe about that and try to do it with people you trust.
this is advice from me since i noticed after publishing this post that a lot of reddit users don't tag things. you don't have to btw!! but my advice that brightens up the website: if you reblog cool art, writing, music or photography (taken by OP) and you like it a lot, i highly recommend leaving compliments in the tags. we live in an age where creative creation is increasingly unappreciated and people are quiet silent— creators get no feedback therefore no encouragememt to keep creating. this is more like a personal plea, but like to reblog ratios have become DIRE. people are apathetic and scared to interact with people's creations even though on here they are actively ecouraged to. if you like art or fic etc i even more highly recommend you reblog it. likes don't do anything! reblogs = more eyes on it. let's support each other's creative endeavors 🩷
don't fall for the trap of trying to make tumblr into reddit, or trying to recreate the feeling of a subreddit. it's not gonna work. try to adapt. it's easier said than done but lol. rome wasn't built in a day. operate your blog like your own space rather than trying to recreate a hub. the tolerance for trying to change tumblr culture is super low and a lot of people who are much meaner than me will probably try to bully the idea into the ground. and people DO get mean. (like playground namecalling, but people have no reservations about it, so it's stuff that would probably get you banned on reddit)
if your post gets traction and the note notifications annoy you, deleting the original post will make the notifs stop coming. a lot of people reblog the post to keep it on their blog then delete the original to effectively "mute" the notifications permanently.
#196#r/196#reddit#r/tumblr#r/curatedtumblr#curatedtumblr#reddit blackout#reddit boycott#reddit migration#r/traa#i hope this reaches people bc i feel like some of this stuff is important#traa#r/ftm
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mickey altieri x reader where she starts getting suspicious of him but ignores it cause he’s her boyfriend (and she’s in denial) until one day she accidentally catches him still in costume without him knowing. Reader then starts avoiding him and is super upset and doesn’t know what to do until one day he shows up and asks her why she’s been avoiding him. She tells Mickey that she saw him in the Ghostface costume and knows that he is the killer and he tries to explain himself and tries to calm her down. She’s very upset about it and is scared that he might hurt her but he reassures her that he won’t. She loves him so she eventually decides to stay with him anyway and promises that she won’t leave him or tell anyone abt him being the killer… I hope this made sense lol I feel like I put a lot I’m just in desperate need of mickey fics 😭
Mickey Altieri x Reader: Please.
Warnings: swearing, manipulation (mickey manipulates the reader to stay by his side), lack of morals from reader's side, mentions of blood and murder.
Word count: 2160
Author's note: i'm living for these requests! with this little piece, i was able to answer two of them, that's why i added the other one. i love mickey, but i actually struggled with writing this one because my moral alarm was going off everytime i tried to think of a reason for reader to stay with mickey after finding out... that's why i went down the manipulation path! hope you like it, and remember, no matter how 'unoriginal' or 'boring' you think your reqs may be, i love getting them and will most probably write them <3
also in here mickey is a little dumb dumb because he goes into his dorm with the ghostface costume on, something that i don't think mickey would actually do... but anyways! no more spoilers :)
graphic by me! also, i'm leaving my mickey altieri playlist, if anyone wants to take a look at it, feel free!
comments and reblogs are always appreciated! requests are open, especially for scream! hit that anon button and tell me your ideas. in the scream fandom, i write for billy loomis, stu macher, mickey altieri, chad martin-meeks, mindy martin-meeks, tara carpenter, anika kayoko, laura crane
The pounding of your heart was the only thing you could feel as you shut your eyes close and try not to make a damn sound. You knew you hadn’t been meant to witness what you had since the moment your mind had been able to connect the dots together, just some minutes ago, and now you were just trying not to discover yourself.
The sounds of someone moving around Mickey’s room had woken you up from your heavy sleep, the coldness from your boyfriend not being by your side anymore easing you up to reality. You had barely opened your eyes, a quick flutter that registered the small lamp in Mickey’s desk shedding its light in the figure next to it. Your heart had stopped at the sight of the figure who, even though had its back turned to you, you could recognize everywhere after last week’s news.
Someone was on a murder spree on campus, dressed with the same costume the figure there was wearing, so it was natural for your first thought to be that you were the next victim. You even saw the knife in the figure’s hand, blade stained with blood that meant you weren’t about to be the only dead of the night. But, before you could even think about moving to try and save your life, the figure had taken the ghostly mask off and you had recognized Mickey, your dear and loved and lovely boyfriend Mickey, in less than a second. That was when you had stopped breathing, your eyes closing as you tried to wash the sight of the bloody knife off your mind, and your heart trying to escape from your chest.
You waited in silence, trying to control the thoughts that raced through your mind, and not making a single move that could expose you to Mickey. Luckily enough, he got out of the room with a towel on his shoulder, to go and use the communitary shower, and that allowed you to breathe deep before trying to control the panic trying to take over your body.
Was Mickey really the killer? When you opened your eyes again, the costume was nowhere to be seen but it was not like you had the imagination to make that up. And if you were true to yourself, Mickey had been shady as fuck. Oh, God, were you really suspecting your own boyfriend of being a killer? The evidence had been right there, in front of your eyes — that wasn’t suspecting anymore.
When some steps could be heard outside the door, you forced yourself to close your eyes, trying to focus on anything other than the sick feeling messing with your stomach. You kept yourself grounded, hidden between the pillow and the sheets, and your body stilled terribly when Micky got himself on bed, like nothing had happened. He smelled sweet, the scent of his shampoo surrounding you.
Quietly, you held your breath as his arms surrounded you, lovingly, and you waited for something — anything — to happen.
You waited for the whole night, but nothing other than Mickey swiftly falling asleep did.
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The days passed by, and your mind couldn’t help but bring back the image of Mickey on the costume with the bloody knife whenever you were around him. And that was terrible, because you spent an incredible amount of time with Mickey, which quickly brought you to avoid him.
At first it was rather small and subtle — made up group projects, very real homework, studying. Then, the need to be on your own, which triggered his suspicions of something else going on. You were inevitably jumpy around him during those times you ran out of excuses, laughing less than usual and sometimes even zoning out on him. The thought of you losing your feelings for him was nearly driving him insane.
Mickey couldn’t stop thinking about you during his film history course, and not in a good way. From college, his murder spree and now you acting up, he had received a ridiculous amount of stress — enough to make him space out in every single class of his. In the middle of the lesson he had already made up his mind about having to talk things out with you and figure out what he had said or done to upset you that much.
When the class ended he was the first one to get out, without even saying goodbye to Randy, and heading towards the classroom he knew you’d be in. You both had learned each other’s schedules after spending so much time together, and that hour was perfect, since his class ended a little bit before yours and both were the last classes of the day.
Oblivious to his presence outside the classroom, you calmly gathered your things once the class came to an end, agreeing a date and hour with the partner you had been assigned to for your next project. Attending your classes and focusing on your schoolwork kept your mind off things — things being Mickey — but as soon as you crossed the classroom doors and saw him there, it all came back.
Mickey smiled at you, even if you didn’t smile back, and walked towards you with that easy going manner of doing things he had. You waited for him with your fingers drumming against your side, which he caught on — weren’t you happy to see him? Even if he had verbalized that question, he wouldn’t have gotten an answer.
“Hey.”
“I didn’t know you were coming.” You said, forcing a smile that, surprisingly, hadn’t felt so forced. Maybe you had been slipping lately, but your objective was not to be killed, and you didn’t know how far he was planning on going. “I have to go to the library, do you want to hang after—?”
“I just wanna talk to you for a minute.” Mickey interrupted you, grabbing the hand you had use to lightly gesture around.
Your heart started pounding so loudly you were afraid he able to hear it. He wasn't, but you didn’t notice his fingers pressing on the pulse point on your grip, checking that, indeed, you were pretty nervous. “It can’t wait?”
“It’ll be just a min.” Mickey promised, insisting oh so charmingly. He squeezed your hand once. “Please?”
How were you supposed to say no to him when he asked so nicely, with his head cocked and his eyes shining? You nodded softly and sighed under your breath, letting him take you wherever he wanted as you tried not to think too much about it.
He led you outside and to the side of the building, a not so hidden place that equally allowed you to be seen by the students walking through campus but not be heard unless you raised your voices. You found yourself terribly afraid of noticing all these things, but Mickey letting your hand go and placing himself across from you got your attention too fast.
“What’s gotten into you?” He finally asked, head cocked.
It took you a second to catch it. “What?”
“You think I haven’t noticed?” Mickey pursed his lips slightly, then shook his head. He truly looked worried. “You can’t avoid me forever.”
“I’m not avoiding—”
“Oh, please.” Mickey waved his hand to make you stop, diminishing your ridiculous attempt to fool him. “Don’t lie to me like that. Just… tell me what I did wrong so I can undo it and—”
You started shaking your head, nervous. “It’s not— It’s not like that.”
The look in Mickey’s eyes was so helpless that you felt how your heart started to crumble. “Please?”
You looked away from him, feeling the fast way your heart was pumping blood. If you had been seated, you would have started to bounce your leg up and down — Mickey couldn’t be more confused at your nervous-wreck state.
“Are you the murderer?” You asked in a whisper, almost not daring to look up to see his reaction.
But his face didn’t tell you anything. Mickey was completely emotionless as he stared back into your eyes, his brain processing very slowly those four words that had just left your mouth. How could you know? He was sure he had been really careful, trying not to let his mood after a kill or planning affect any scenario between you. Mickey knew you were smart, but how?
That was not the right direction to go, though, he realized as you waited for him to give you an answer. You had been acting all weird around him because of being scared of him, and that feeling didn’t make him feel entirely good.
“Listen…” He started, coming a step closer to you, but you instantly backed away.
“Don’t.” You hissed rather abruptly, still not believing he hadn’t denied it completely and put an end to your delusion. You were right. “If you get closer I’ll scream.”
“Sweetheart!” Mickey exclaimed, surprised, his eyebrows shooting up as the pet name he reserved for your softest moments slipping past his lips in what was an improvised plan of manipulation. The seriousness in his voice and face was the only thing you could pay attention to, though. “I wouldn’t hurt you. You know that, right?”
You hesitated and he almost hissed right then. Falling for you hadn’t been on his plan, but now that same plan was being threatened just because you had found — and he couldn’t have that happen. Mickey wouldn’t kill you, no, but his partner easily could if you did something stupid, and he also did not want you to go to the police saying things about him and the murders. He needed to think of a solution, and fast.
“Then why would you hurt others?” You said hastily, then your head looking around you to really make sure no one was listening. “You’ve killed people, Mickey. I knew some of them—”
“You have to trust me.” He interrupted you instantly. There was only one way out, as he saw it: manipulation. Mickey needed you by his side. His acting skills were enough for you to stop looking so nervous, watching closely how his eyes fell to the floor in fake defeat — but you didn’t know he was acting. You didn’t even know he was a star. “I can’t tell you but you have to trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you.”
His hand reached out to grab yours, but you dodged it, rather defensive. “And why would I trust you?”
“Because I’m not a liar.” Mickey frowned slightly. If you didn’t let him convince you of staying by his side, he would have to… The way he called out your name was rather heartbreaking, this time managing to catch your hand and pressing it against his chest. “Please. I wouldn’t hurt you, and you know that.”
He was making you doubt, he realized, as your eyes fell to your hand on his chest. Mickey seemed desperate from your eyes — begging you to stay. But it wasn’t right… “It just… this changes so many things.”
Mickey shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. I still love you, and I always will.” His promise sounded genuine, and it was. There was no denying that, Mickey truly loved you. If he didn’t, you would already be another number on his back, after those little four words you said to him.
But there he was, playing tricks on your mind without you noticing. “I’d trade my life for yours.”
“Mickey…”
“I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” He insisted, more strongly now. His eyes continuously searched for yours, knowing you wouldn’t be able to deny him if you were looking right into his eyes. “Please, please, you have to trust me. Don’t you love me anymore?”
The question shocked you, and if you had been in your right mind, you would have realized the length of the manipulation. But in that moment it only made you gasp, surprised that he would actually question it with such a real expression.
You were quick. “Of course I do!”
“Then…” A sigh interrupted Mickey, who looked down, letting your hand go. He didn’t need that much dramatism, but now that he had actually gotten used to the part, why stop? “Please.”
There wasn’t much thinking from your side. Mickey had asked you to please trust him, and that was what you were going to do. He had also promised not to hurt you, and you knew him too well — or so you thought. There needed to be more behind all this, and you had to be by his side.
“I trust you.” You muttered after some seconds, and he looked up instantly. A soft smile blossomed in his lips as you nodded. “I won’t tell, I promise.”
Mickey leaned closer to you, with the swiftest movement, a hand cupping your cheek. “I love you.” He whispered softly.
“I love you too.” You replied against his lips.
#mickey altieri#mickey altieri fic#mickey altieri fanfiction#mickey altieri x reader#timothy olyphant#scream#scream 2#scream franchise#ghostface#ghostface x reader#scream 1997#angsty#lu writes#my writing#writing#mickey altieri imagine#anon asks#manipulation at its best#PLEASE BESTIES ALWAYS REMEMBER NOT TO FALL UNDER MANIPULATION#if your boyfriend is a killer please get the hell away from him#im always worried for the scream fandom in case someone takes fiction too realistically#scream fandom#yall stay safe
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KILL ME LIKE A LOVER
Durgetash | explicit 18+
Enver Gortash x f!Durge / Halsin Silverbough x f!Durge
smut, sex, p in v sex; homicidal urge, light bondage in a non-sexual setting, graphic threats of violence; prolonged emotional/physical hurt, comfort, fluff, love confession, 2 romantic relationships (separate for now, hinting at possible future poly f!Durge/Halsin/Gortash)
❗ Closely follows events of the first fic: I Don't Like You (Tumblr | AO3)
Read on AO3 for more context and comfort
(I'll be very grateful if you toss me a kudo there as well, even if you read and reblog here ♥ - remember, fic writers share their work for free!)
13,795 words in 10 chapters
My Spotify playlist for this couple »
“You’re back,” he whispers, and an almost maniacal glow radiates from him. “And something in you is drawn to me, I can see it. It makes me hopeful.” He tilts his head to the side and brushes hair away from my neck. “Did you really not expect me to use every resource at my disposal to convince you to stay?”
I gulp. Gods, I should never have gone to see him. Some things are best left buried, some fires best left extinguished. But I poked a bibberbang and now my world is ablaze.
01 She walks escorted.
The Watcher walks beside me the whole way to Wyrm's Rock. I try keeping my head down, but any hope of not being noticed is lost with every thundering step the Watcher takes. People hold the Baldur's Mouth gazettes and point at the hallowed hero as she walks escorted to the City's would-be savior for an audience.
I wish I could just open up a portal to the Hells in the sidewalk and jump in. Gortash is going to pay for this one.
We finally reach the elevator to the audience hall and the stupid clanker squeezes in with me. I bulge my eyes, just about ready to go on a murder spree.
"Seriously? It goes straight up into the tower, where else do you think I could go?"
"There is no need for alarm, citizen," the Watcher assures me monotonously, not moving an inch. "I was instructed to deliver you safely directly to the Archduke, Lord Gortash."
"Would you chill with the 'Archduke' already?" I groan, head lulled back. "You know he's not one yet, right? No matter how many times you repeat it."
The Watcher doesn't respond. Perhaps Gortash expects such quips from people and instructs his hellish machines to not react. Or—perhaps if I was other people the metal hulk would just smash me on the spot for such a comment. Fucking tyrant.
What was even wrong with me when I willingly worked with this man, having just as deprived plans for the Sword Coast myself? Did I accidentally get lobotomized into a sane person? That would be one Hell of a joke on fate. And on Bhaal.
I imagine he must be simmering in his own rage, watching his prized child run around helping refugees. That little fantasy cheers me up. I lean on the side of the elevator and just chuckle to myself through the ride, mocking Daddy dearest in the relative privacy of my skull.
The Audience hall is deserted once more. The Steel Watch form a line in between the columns from the entrance to the dais on the other side, standing at attention. It's like some sort of welcoming ceremony, but just for little ol' me.
I reluctantly scale the acres of red carpet over stone flooring, feeling my chest tighten.
Gortash watches me as I approach, the remote-control suit of armor still stomping next to me. This time, he sits on the throne in all his grimy glory like the shameless usurper he is.
Except... he doesn't look grimy. Did he bathe again? What in the Hells does he think he can pressure me into doing?!
... again.
If there's a term for how his face simultaneously brightens and darkens, I can't recall, but that's exactly what happens. He's happy to see me and has very unsavory thoughts about it.
The Watcher only peels off my path once I'm literally at the lowest steps before the dais. I cross my arms over my chest and give Gortash my most unamused expression, even though my heart is racing with both fear and excitement.
He smiles as if he didn't notice it and opens his arms wide in a grand welcoming gesture. "My dearest assassin," he exclaims, voice warm like sunshine.
"Yeah, right, whatever," I roll my eyes. "So what, do I just stand here, like a pleb before their master, or did you have something civil in mind?"
He leans back in his seat and pats his thigh, a smirk playing around his lips. "You can always come sit on my lap."
Indignation and an unwelcome spark of lust flood my chest. I let out a bestial growl, not quite sure if I mean to intimidate him or my inner demons.
Gortash chuckles and, to my surprise, actually stands from his throne and steps down, until he's face-to-face with me.
It's hard to say whether he made it better or worse. I try to keep my gaze from wandering down his ridiculously low cleavage, but looking into his eyes is not much safer. They gleam with both smugness and affection and my stupid heart flutters.
"How lovely to see you, Nara," he drawls, sight approvingly gliding up and down my body. "I love how you chose to wear your custom made version of my gauntlet."
I sigh. I should've known he would bring it up.
I woke up on the nautiloid wearing that thing. I didn't remember anything about it, but it looked badass and was also quite useful. I store a healing potion in the socket and even the claws have come in handy in a pinch.
I didn't feel like getting rid of it when I noticed him wearing the same thing in Moonrise, because I grossly underestimated the significance. I just thought he set off a new trend among Baldurians and I wasn't immune to the allure. Happens to the best of people, right?
After I made the mistake of having sex with my ex, I figured ditching it won't help me anyway—if I do it now, it will only show him that I care.
"I didn't exactly have time to change for you, Gortash," I sneer. "You had your metal munchkin threaten me into coming here. It paraded me through the town, taking the busiest route. What do you think I am to you? Your lapdog? Your fucking mascot?"
Despite my derisive tone, he chances a step closer and my heart jumps up into my throat.
"You came to see me yourself first, remember? No one forced you."
"Well, at least no one saw me then," I bitch.
"Too bad," he bites his lip, coming closer.
He slowly, cautiously reaches out and runs the backs of his fingers along my jaw. I grit my teeth in an effort to not show it, but I like it too much to make him stop. He smiles contentedly and keeps lightly touching my face.
"You're back," he whispers, and an almost maniacal glow radiates from him. "And something in you is drawn to me, I can see it. It makes me hopeful." He tilts his head to the side and brushes hair away from my neck. "Did you really not expect me to use every resource at my disposal to convince you to stay? Nara?"
I gulp. Gods, I should never have gone to see him. Some things are best left buried, some fires best left extinguished. But I poked a bibberbang and now my world is ablaze.
"Do your friends know what you did the other night?" he smirks, smarminess making its comeback in his voice. "Does your druid know?"
"I tell him everything," I say equally smugly, finally gaining some leverage. "He's the most wholesome man I know. He's not trying to own me or isolate me like some."
A shadow of irritation and disappointment dims the self-satisfaction in his face. Point for me.
"Karlach wasn't so understanding," I continue, narrowing my eyes. "She's worried about me falling for you. I told her it's a ridiculous notion, but she proceeded to make me feel better by describing how she's going to disembowel you if you hurt me."
He scoffs. "I can imagine. She always was a crude weapon. Effective, but crude. Nothing like your refined style." His gaze softens again when he gently combs the hair on my temple with the claws of his gauntlet. "You never used brute force, yet there was no one you couldn't break. I wouldn't have been an exception, but you stayed your hand. Against your father's explicit wishes, apparently."
"I'll break you right now if you want," I say in a trembling voice. His tone and touch are doing things to me. I'm getting scared and the Urge in me is trying to respond to the stress with violence.
His mouth stretches into a delighted smile. "I'm sure you'd like that. But so would he. I thought you were done being his good girl?"
My throat goes dry as I recall the night it all went awfully wrong. When I failed to do my duty one too many times. When I got my reward for disobedience.
"What Orin did to me," I croak, "was Bhaal's punishment for my refusing to kill you."
Once Gale understood the predatory patterns of his former lover, he got eerily good at interpreting gods' behavior. He gave me more answers than even Gortash managed to. Knowing this lifted a certain weight off my mind; I wasn't just discarded for being useless—I was being a bad murderer to Daddy and he decided to teach me a lesson.
Gortash's face goes slack for a moment, before darkening with realization. He didn't know. Or he didn't want to. It was easier to blame Orin's ambition.
"So, yeah, I'm done being his tool. If I do kill you, Enver," I'm the one to reach for him this time, running a fingertip down that enticing window of his shirt, "I'll be killing you for myself."
He gulps, fumbling for lost balance. "Incorrect, sweetheart. It was punishment for loving me. Not calling it what it is doesn't make it any less true."
"Did I, though?" I've had a long sleepless night thinking about it. "I was a naive, brainwashed cultist. Did I really choose you? Or were you just convenient? The only man around with enough balls to risk it with me, maybe? Or worse: the only one who figured how easy it would be to use me?"
I'm hissing by the time I finish the last sentence and I can see how close to home it hits. His chest heaves and he takes a few steps back, turning from me. I can't see his face, so I assume he's looking for a way to refute my accusations.
"I don't know."
His voice is so small I can barely hear it. Small and vulnerable, filled with insecurity. I'm once again reminded of the image I created of the little boy Gortash treated to neglect and betrayal instead of love, and I feel the telltale stinging in my eyes.
He slowly turns back, his expression a pure emotional chaos.
"I... don't know if you chose me," he says a little louder this time, but still sounds so... lost. "One day we just... were and..." His eloquence bends under the heft of his uncertainty. "It was so easy to be with you, so... natural. I..." He closes his eyes against the turmoil raised by the memories. "At first I figured you were just having a bit of fun rebelling against Bhaal, but... You were so amazing. So warm, when your Urge was satisfied. I've never... no one ever made me feel like you did."
The only things I knew of our relationship were what he told me. I imagined it a lot different than what it sounds like now, after he suffered a sobering blow to his ego. I can't know how much of this is genuine... but he suddenly painfully reminds me of Astarion, the way he fumbles in the dark as soon as his winning act falls apart.
I know he's not a good man. I've heard plenty about the things he's done—and is still doing. But how much of his flaws can I blame on nature when I also know what he's been through? He's a survivor. No one is inherently evil—not even me.
The people you surround yourself with have a profound effect on you. Even Astarion's worst traits are being slowly worn down in the unexpected acceptance he's receiving. If it had been Gortash who was betrayed, almost killed and taken, and then found by such a wholesome group of similarly afflicted weirdos, would he have remained selfish and cruel? Or would he have chosen a better path, like me?
"I thought I was a 'horrible influence' on you." I swallow hard. I shouldn't believe a word he says... but I do.
"You were," he shrugs casually. I find him a lot more pleasant without the air of fake grandeur. "We did wonderfully bad things together, things I wouldn't have thought of myself. But that was your heritage." He studies my face for a second, longing in his eyes. "No one taught you to be silly and fun. No one taught you to be gentle. No one taught you how to appreciate more than blood and guts in people. You bloomed with all colors like a flower, when we were alone."
I blink the tears away and hug myself. No wonder Bhaal got mad. He wasn't raising me to be gentle and fun. He wanted a devoted follower. He wanted to own me. And yet I seem to have found myself in someone else instead of him.
He couldn't smite him, so he took it out on me.
"Then why can't I remember any of this?" I whisper. "My murdering days keep coming back to me. But the picture where you should be is blank."
I don't expect it and certainly don't wish for it, but Gortash notices my discomfort and rushes to me. He takes my shoulders and squeezes them reassuringly.
"You are his creation," he says grimly. "He has the power to restore everything within you. It's clear why he chooses only the parts without me: for the same reason he had Orin attack you. You were a different person with me—a person he didn't like and didn't need. He won't let you remember me as long as your blood belongs to him."
I'm getting overwhelmed. I feel used, manipulated, trapped. I feel my fear and smell the scent of my blood as Orin's beating the life out of me, calling me slurs I've never heard of. I feel as if someone's invisible hand presses on my windpipe and I sense a dreadful but familiar presence.
"NO!" I'm shaking my head wildly, trying to push him out. The world seems to blacken around me, but I keep fighting. "I'M DONE WITH YOU, YOU HEAR?!" I yell blindly at the ceiling, pulling on my hair.
YOU CAN NEVER BE 'DONE' WITH ME, CHILD.
I gasp when his voice thunders in my brain without having gone through my ears. It's deafening and it's all around me, smothering me.
YOUR CONTROL IS AN ILLUSION. GIVE IN. OBEY. BEFORE YOU FORCE ME TO END YOU.
I shudder and shrink into myself, falling to my knees, cradling my head. I'm suspended in agony for several impossibly long seconds... then my vision goes black.
02 Daddy sets an ultimatum.
"...Talas... Talas!"
My head is pounding and feels like it's stuffed with cotton. Someone's calling out my name... but it's not really my name.
"Nara!"
There it is. But it feels wrong. I feel movement, but can't tell what's happening.
"You know what," I grumble and I'm surprised to hear my own voice, "I've changed my mind. I hate the way you say it."
"Thank the devils," I hear Gortash snort. "As names go, exchanging 'Talas' for 'Nara' is a pure downgrade."
I open my eyes. Red mist is clouding my gaze. I feel thirsty and hungry. A rough palm cups my chin and a violent jerk runs through my body, making my teeth snap and try biting it. But the hand is strong and its grip tightens enough to hold me still.
"Easy now," Gortash hums, unbothered by my little attack. "You're safe. I'm safe. Let's work through it slowly. We've got all day."
I look up and find his face and it's the only thing I can clearly focus on. Everything else is muted, but his features are so sharp I squint at the intensity at first. But I understand. I know what I want now.
I want to kill him.
I grunt and try to reach for him, but I'm restrained. I look down through the red haze and see myself kneeling on red satin sheets. I'm still wearing all my clothes, but my boots, armor and gauntlet are off. The ties right above my elbows creak like tough leather as I strain against them, but I can clearly feel soft padding pressed against my skin. My wrists are bound in front of me. I can move, sit back, relax...
...but I need to KILL.
"Let. Me. Loose," I filter through my gritted teeth, almost foaming at the corners of my mouth like a rabid animal. Then a maniacal giggle gurgles in my throat. "And I'll show you something fun!"
"For fuck's sakes, you're beginning to sound like Orin," Gortash shakes his head in disappointment. "I'm sure you'd have fun, my dear, but if I'm not completely off my game, I believe you would regret it later. Maybe you would even cry for me?" His brows form a hopeful little arch, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I'm not keen on finding out, but I'd like to think you would."
I growl, pulling on my binds with all my strength.
"Don't be a spoilsport, Enver, come on!" I tease, baring my teeth, my tone dark, rough, vulgar. "I know you like the pain. I will cut you and slice you and bleed you real nice. You'll love it, I promise."
"Ssshhh," he soothes, caressing my face, skillfully evading my bites. "You can cut me when you calm down, Talas. You won't get to kill me today."
Anger jolts through me, hot like a branding iron. I lurch at him, uselessly dangling on the ends of the thick chains tying the leather cuffs to the bed frame.
"You will let me loose! And I'll tear you to pieces." My voice scratches like sandpaper. "I will slit your throat... and as you bleed out, I will lick blood off your soft skin." Growls turn to hisses. "I will drink blood from your sweet lips. I will shower in the thick stream of it as the last pathetic bubbles of your breath emerge and burst at the edges of the fresh cut. Then curl against your struggling chest to listen as your heart stops."
Gortash smiles as he listens, infuriatingly misty gaze softening his features.
"That sounds almost romantic," he purrs. He holds my hair firmly in his fist to keep my head steady and nuzzles my neck, slowly kissing a line from my shoulder up to my lobe. "I always thought the Urge was purely homicidal," he hums against my skin, "but is it possible you're mixing in your love and lust for me? Would you kill me like a lover?"
A chortle escapes my lips and I realize he's given me back a sliver of myself. I don't have the capacity to analyze if it were his words or his touch, but a tiny, heavily suppressed part of me suddenly knows what's happening. It knows this is not me. My Urge is spreading through me like a malignant growth, filling every inch of my torso, of my head, and that little piece of me is watching in horror.
No....
I let out a tortured moan and my head lulls back for a second. I can feel my body spasming and the agony is making it hard to keep my thoughts remotely clear. I hear my blood thrum in my ears, and a low voice speaks inside my skull:
It is wise to obey me. Yet you resist. You did not kill the Moonmaiden. You did not kill the druid. But you WILL kill the Tyrant's Chosen.
Or you will DIE in his place, child.
I feel tears trickle out of my eyes, even as my mouth is making raw, animalistic noises. The pressure in my temple grows so much I feel like my head is going to pop. It's excruciating, but I have no intention to submit. I fight with all my will, defiantly flipping off the god I didn't choose till the bitter end.
"En... ver," I squeeze through the teeth I grind so roughly my jaw hurts. My voice is but a wet wail, a desperate plea—but it's mine.
If I could focus on anything beside the blinding pain, I would see the alarm in his face. I register his hands on my arms, holding me upright. The sound of his voice carries over my head, but I can't distinguish the words. A high-pitched whine fills my ears. My vision fades to black again.
And I fully expect to not wake up this time.
03 We are still alive!
A chunk of void. A big skull in the center of it. Flames dancing in its eye sockets and around it. Almost playful.
I don't understand its meaning. Who am I, anyway?
Even though the skull is clearly before me, I can feel it surround me. It presses on my temples and squeezes my chest. I feel a headache of the century crush my head in its metal jaws.
A creature slinks from behind the skull. Hideous, covered in blood. Long body with a thick tail and four clawed arms. It hisses and chitters, spreading its toothy mandibles. Its beady little eyes are flashing with malice.
I cover my head with my arms as it jumps at me.
But it's not there anymore. I try to gasp, but a sick clicking sound comes out of my mouth instead. I hear rumbling laughter—the giant skull is pleased, it's mocking me.
I reach forward and instead of hands I see claws coated in fresh blood...
.
...and I wake up screaming.
There's water everywhere. I thrash and splash and heave for breath, but my arms are wrapped tight around me and my wrists and ankles bound. I accidentally splash water into my mouth, breathe it in and start choking.
Someone's big, strong, incredibly warm hands fish me out and steady me, patting my back, helping me cough. I hear a soft rumble, but this time it's not eerie and foreboding—it's familiar and soothing. A broad palm strokes my wet hair, humming comforting sounds in my ear.
"You are safe, my love. I'm here."
I lift my heavy eyelids and look up. Halsin's beautiful face is in my view and my heart is uplifted. He puts a cold compress over my forehead and I feel a little better.
"Halsin," I squeeze out of my burning throat, failing to make it sound as loving as I felt.
He smiles anyway and his eyes sparkle with affection.
"You will be alright, my heart. I will take care of you."
"I will too," I hear another voice and Gortash steps into view, obviously annoyed by Halsin taking all the credit. He's hugging his chest, nibbling on the ends of his gold claws, looking anxious and worried.
I finally realize where I am. It's Gortash's study. The flames roar in the fireplace next to the bathtub and all lamps are lit: it's dark behind the tall windows. Through the finally calm water I see my body, completely naked.
But none of those things are important right now.
"Come closer, Enver," I croak, failing to produce a seductive voice, sounding like a hag instead. "Untie me, let's have some fun. We haven't finished what we've started."
Halsin and Gortash exchange glances. It only ticks off my Urge. I flail back and forth in the tub for a second, trying to loosen the binds, but they were put on by someone who knew what they were doing. It infuriates me, tearing a ragged scream from my lungs.
"COME CLOSER, BABY, AND LET ME GUT YOU!"
"Nara," Halsin pleads softly, stroking my hair again, putting back the compress I shook off and adding one to the back of my neck. "You will get through this, I promise. The tepid water and the cold compresses should help lower your blood pressure, so you don't suffer an aneurysm. You popped many blood vessels before you passed out. That's why Gortash called me here."
I feel the Urge let up just a smidge when the cool rags press on my aching head and Halsin's voice and touch give me comfort. I try to breathe deeply and steadily. But no matter how hard we both try, it's no use. I take one look at distressed Gortash and the pull is back in full strength.
"Have you experienced this before?" Gortash asks, doing his best to ignore my rabid growls.
"She woke me up in camp several nights ago," Halsin nods somberly. "Refusal to kill Isobel redirected the Urge at the person closest to her heart, as punishment. She came to me before it overtook her and put her trust in me. It lasted the whole night, but she won in the end. But it was not this bad..."
"He..." I try to utter words that are not permitted to leave my lips. I fight my own muscles to continue. "Said... He... Dies or... I do."
Halsin's brows join in surprise and he glances at Gortash again, whose face darkens even more.
"Sounds like we really pissed Bhaal off this time. She screamed at him, defying him, before the Urge took over. I was just an outside observer, but I figured he was communicating with her. Seems like we know the gist of the conversation now."
"What were you doing?" Halsin wonders.
"Nothing much," Gortash shrugs evasively. "Talking. Talas was learning more about our past, about how and why she came to such an unceremonial end in the cult. Said none of her memories of me returned to her. Clearly Bhaal's job."
"Nhhhnnnhhhng!" I add my gold to the discussion, thrashing in the tub again. I'm glad I'm at least able to follow their words, even though I can't contribute. Sweet images of me running my hands through Gortash's spilled guts flash in the back of my mind, but they're just white noise.
Halsin wipes my upper lip with a troubled expression. He lets go of me to touch the air in that divine way of his, to call upon Silvanus, and pulls healing energy out of nowhere, pressing it to my head with the broad palm of his hand. I breathe a little easier for a few moments.
"If this goes on for much longer, I'm afraid even I might not be able to help you," he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut, pressing his forehead to mine. I gulp and just moan in response, hoping my intonation will convey my thanks.
"I don't suppose we could trick the Urge somehow? Have her stab me a couple of times and then knock her out, and when she comes around I'll be lying in a pool of blood and... You get it."
Halsin chuckles in amusement.
"You would just let her stab you? Are you a masochist, or just so in love?"
"What kind of question is that?" Gortash growls defensively. "We have a problem. I'm offering a solution. If I had to die, I'd prefer it to be by her hand, but I plan no such thing just yet."
"I do not think it works quite like that," Halsin shakes his head. "But thank you for the offer."
"It's... my fault she's like this." Gortash's discomfort at admitting responsibility is evident. "I don't want her to die. So if you have ideas, I'll do anything to help."
"You can help me right now, Enver," I screech, failing to restrain myself. "Come here! Come and make love to me. But don't forget to untie me and bring me a knife. I'll show you a little trick! You'll be positively drained after I'm done with you."
"Perhaps the best thing you can do to help is to get out of her sight for now," Halsin suggests and only a touch of derision reaches his tone.
Gortash frowns and grumbles something under his breath, but takes his leave. There's only Halsin's broad form next to me now, effectively shielding me from seeing Gortash. My Urge immediately eases up and I lean back on the headrest, exhausted from fighting my own muscles.
It doesn't last long, though.
"Halsin?" I coo, swallowing hard as I feel another crushing wave of twisted need.
"Yes, my heart?" He bends down to kiss my forehead. It doesn't work as well as before, but I manage to hold back the instinct to bite.
"I love you," I tell him while I can still form words of my own choosing. "And I'm grateful for everything you do for me. Don't take this personally, but now that you're getting in my way of killing Gortash... I'm beginning to want to kill you, too."
He pulls away, but not far, and studies my face. I can see so much compassion in his eyes, but they're tired and he looks older. He wipes my upper lip again and sighs.
"This is going to be another long night, isn't it, my love?"
.
"Halsin, stop," I mumble weakly as he prepares another spell, looking more and more sapped every time. "Please. Just... let me go."
I'm so run down. The pain is debilitating. In the rare moments of peace, all I can do is float. My mind is fried, my organs struggling to keep running. I've had enough.
But the worst is the thought of accidentally pulling Halsin under with me.
"Do not even start," he growls. His voice sounds dry and spent, but he collects the healing energy and once more fixes some of the damage the high blood pressure has done to my vessels.
I want to cry, but I don't have the strength to do it. But I notice something: it's been really quiet for some time.
"Where's Enver?"
"He is... off trying something else."
The evasiveness would normally make me inquire, but the Urge lashes out again, spasming my body, forcing more horrible words out of my mouth.
"I WILL SKIN YOUR LUSCIOUS PELT, LITTLE BEAR! I WILL WEAR IT ON MY BODY AS I WATCH YOUR PATHETIC ATTEMPTS TO PUT YOUR GUTS BACK IN YOUR BELLY. I WILL—"
04 Unbearable lightness of unprecedented fluff.
I feel like I must have died when I open my eyes and nothing hurts anymore. The world is soft and quiet, the water around me like a blanket, the dim flickering lights enhancing the peaceful silence. Perhaps this was the afterlife.
"Welcome back."
I don't recognize the voice at first. I slowly turn my head to find Halsin—
—but I look into Gortash's worn out face, languidly blinking at me. I see a giant bear slumped on the rugs by the bathtub, exhausted from keeping me alive.
I watch Gortash in fear for a little moment. But there's no tug, no agony this time. I only feel... slight elation. My weary heart flutters, tapping into its last reserves of power.
"Enver," I whisper, letting my eyelids fall. I feel his palm cup my cheek and his lips plant a soft kiss on my forehead. Tears stream down my face, but I can't gather enough strength to sob.
It's over. It's really over. At least for now.
"Sshh," he coos quietly, combing my hair. "Do you feel like you can handle moving to the bed? I'm afraid you'll melt if you stay in that bathtub for much longer."
I take a few breaths and nod. The instant I move, I can feel all my muscles scream in protest, but I push myself through it. He's right, my skin is getting tender from soaking so much, I can't just sleep here anymore.
He unties me and that's when the ache in my arms and hands joins the party, making me whimper. I've struggled against my own body for hours and hours with only short reprieves of unconsciousness. It's taken a heavy toll. But I'm alive, and so is everyone else.
My legs are so wobbly I slip back into the water a few times, splashing around, sprinkling sleeping Halsin. His snout twitches and I hear a grumble, but he doesn't wake up. Poor thing.
Gortash is trying to hold me upright, but his angle is all wrong, standing next to the tub. But on my fourth try I manage. I just lock my knees and hope it'll be enough for a minute. I notice the water in the bath is surprisingly fresh after housing me for so long, but it's already draining—someone must've changed it several times during the night.
I gasp in surprise when warm drops start raining down on my head and shoulders.
"Another handy technological marvel," Gortash smiles. "Just try to keep yourself on your feet. Let me wash you."
He takes a sponge and a bar of soap and begins slowly rubbing my skin under the gentle, refreshing shower.
I'm too busy keeping my knees locked and staying awake to have any deep opinions on why he's being so caring. My foggy, tired mind is simply enjoying his attention.
He's gentle and thorough and doesn't shirk from any part of me, but doesn't linger for longer than necessary. I mistily welcome the muted rush of excitement his touch gives me and close my eyes, fully trusting him like I only could with my marbles scattered all over the floor.
"Mmm," escapes my lips. I don't know words, but apparently I can make sounds.
"Sit back down, I'll wash your hair," Gortash commands softly.
I sit curled up, my eyes shut, jaw slack, little mewls of pleasure coming out of my mouth. His fingers caress my scalp in circular motions, coaxing some blood back into my skin. It melts away my tension and feels so good against the leftover headache that still throbs in my skull.
Gortash picks up the shower head and rinses the shampoo foam off my hair. It finally hits me that it smells like him. I let out a quiet chuckle. Doesn't he have a special flower scented bottle for his feminine conquests? Maybe he just likes marking them this way.
He helps me stand back up again, dabs me with a towel and then wraps me in a robe.
"Come here, princess," he murmurs and pulls me into his arms.
And he carries me to the bed. I don't think I would protest even if I had the energy. I may be a strong independent woman... but this is nice.
He pushes a tray of food and drink to me and we both eat in silence. I can't force much into my wrecked throat, but I thirstily guzzle all the water and wine. The slight buzz is not helping my overused veins, but it does wonders for my cramped muscles.
Then I lie on my side, watching him freshen up and change. I finally have plenty of time and no capacity for shame; I take in every detail of him I can spot. The toned muscles of his legs. The line of fine dark hair on his chest going to his groin. The way his thick hair softly reflects light when it's crisp clean. The pleasant, earthy color of his skin. Every glance he tosses over to check up on me.
My heart flutters again. I gulp hard and convince my eyes to close, so I can't see any more of him.
Suddenly the mattress beside me sinks and I can feel him next to me. The warmth from his body envelops me, his scent fills my lungs and I find myself looking into his dark eyes. My poor blood pressure spikes again and I try making my gulps for air subtle, but I can see the delighted amusement deepen his crow's feet.
"Sleep," he sighs, studying my face. "You need to rest to get your strength back."
He runs his fingers through my damp hair and kisses my temple. His skin is soft and warm, but his short stubble and rough palms leave a tickling sensation that's driving me wild. I inhale a lungful of him and press my mouth to his jaw, testing the scratchy surface against my lips.
I can hear his breath quicken and feel his hand move to my shoulder and rub the silk of my borrowed robe. I take his face in my hands and bite this time—just a little, letting my teeth graze the stubble, enjoying the sweet scratch—and I hear a moan.
I forget myself. I forget who he is. I just want to keep tasting his skin.
His mouth is on mine. I hungrily welcome him in. His hand roams my body, kneading my flesh—mine frantically search his every surface, unable to decide where to stay. Perhaps I'm just cold from exhaustion, but I feel like he's radiating more heat than an average human being. I bathe in the warmth, pulling myself as close as possible.
The way he pulls air in through his teeth when I bite his lip is like music to my ears. How is this man so edible? He drags his fingertips across my face and I suck his thumb into my mouth. The low rumble of his chuckle travels right to the knot in my lower belly and my eyes roll back.
He presses me flush to his body, molding my flesh, and I let out a feral groan, grabbing fistfuls of his thick hair and pulling. I need him. I need him now.
His mouth moves to my neck, but he doesn't kiss and nibble like I want him to, he takes me by the nape and immobilizes me. I can hear his ragged breath in my ear as I blink in bewilderment.
"Talas," he exhales desperately. "I know your opinion of me has taken a sharp dive... but I don't fuck mentally compromised women."
He lets me pull away and I stare at him in doubt. He snorts, shrugging.
"Alright, I guess sometimes I do," he admits, "but I just know you'll wake up in the morning with your wits intact and hate me for taking advantage of you."
The hum of blood in my ears quiets down as I swallow my disappointment. Tears sting in my eyes; I can't tell why, but I feel robbed. He sighs and pulls me closer again, but only to hug me.
"I've missed you so much," he whispers into my hair. "I don't want to ruin this." Running his fingers through my hair once more, spreading soothing tingling over my skin, he rocks me gently. "Sleep. I promise I'll make it up to you later... if you still want me to."
I can barely hear his last words, but I sense the uncertainty in his tone. The pressure around my chest tightens and I wrap my arms around him and hold on. The pleasurable hormones surrender the stage to the exhaustion in my muscles and bones. I feel myself falling asleep even before my consciousness drifts off.
05 Warm bodies.
The soft light creeping in through my closed eyelids rouses me gently, but I'm so tired everything still feels like a dream. I cling to my drowsiness and try to go back to sleep again.
Then I feel a warm palm on my hip, stroking the silky fabric covering me.
I shift slightly, moving into the touch, and the hand slowly travels across my back. Another joins it, caressing my thigh. I moan quietly, reaching out for a body to hold—
—and I find two. Both are very warm and my hungry touch is ecstatic to feel each pressed to one side of me. I gently squirm between them, rubbing myself against soft muscle that eagerly responds in kind. Their musky scent is both soothingly familiar and enticingly erotic. I can hear two breaths and two sets of soft sighs as I let my palms feel my way across their skin.
I open my eyes and meet Gortash's sleepy eyes watching me. My heart jumps up into my throat and I jolt into a sitting position. I turn to find Halsin on the other side—probably crawled onto the bed when he felt strong enough to move again.
"Shit," I mumble under my breath, quickly removing myself off the satin sheets.
"And it was just getting good," Gortash laments wistfully, a tone of amusement coloring his raspy voice.
"Seriously? Jokes?" I pull my robe tighter around my body, suddenly self-conscious about being completely naked under a thin layer of translucent fabric, and prop my hands against my hips. "Did you even realize you were groping me right next to my partner?"
"As I recall, you were enthusiastically groping me back, sweetheart," he smirks. "A few hours back you didn't mind making out in front of him."
I gape mutely at them both for a second.
"I was out of my mind!"
Halsin groggily drags himself off the bed and holds me close, patting my back comfortingly.
"I'm sorry," I hum into his chest.
"There is nothing to be sorry for, my heart." He kisses the top of my head.
I push away to look at him sternly. "Yes, there is. You've spent your whole night taking care of me at great cost to yourself and the first thing I do when I'm finally okay is this? Not even my mental state is an excuse. I only want to make you feel loved and safe, not uncomfortable and uncertain. I don't deserve you."
Instead of appreciating my commitment, albeit failed, I see pain flash in his eyes.
"Halsin?" I sniffle, my chest filling with dread. "Please don't leave me."
His expression melts into a touched one. He cups my face and smiles softly.
"I'm not going anywhere, I promise," he rasps. "Not until you decide otherwise, my love. You have nothing to fear. I will always be by your side, for as long as you'll have me."
I feel tears trickle down my face, the relief mixing into my terror tapping a generous stream.
"Now I'm sorry," he sighs, futilely trying to wipe my tears away with his fingers. "I misunderstood. I thought..."
He didn't have to explain. It didn't even come to mind at first, but I figured it out.
"You thought I would replace you with him?" I chuckle through the turmoil in my chest. "Not in a million years."
"Yes, don't mind me," Gortash growls and removes himself from the bed as well. His face looks like it's carved from stone, cold and hard. We both watch him as he locks himself in the next room, leaving us alone.
"I think you hurt his feelings," Halsin says quietly and I can hear commiseration in his voice. "He really is in love with you, sweet thing."
"Well, I'm not in love with him," I snap. "I don't want to have anything to do with him."
I'm still raw from the suffering Bhaal has inflicted on me, and the realization of just how much my heart has softened towards Gortash puts me on edge. The possibility of hurting Halsin through another bit of my unfortunate past just piles on top of that.
"Far be it from me to push you towards another man," he smirks, mild amusement creeping into his expression. "But I don't want you to limit yourself on my behalf, Nara. I thought you understood that I don't wish to own you." He takes my hands and kisses my knuckles. "If that is what you need, you are free to be with anyone else to any extent you deem necessary for your happiness. I only want you to be safe and happy by my side. That is my only goal."
I close my eyes and let him lean his forehead against mine.
"You know that's my goal too, right?" I mumble.
I can sense he doesn't believe my words—never have. But I haven't figured out why. I really mean it. He's the ray of sunshine in my bleak days. I want him to keep shining at all costs, even if I'm not the one basking in the beams.
"You deserve all the joy you can get, my heart," he whispers. "Do not make me the one to stand in your way. I will always wait for you to come back home to me."
I swallow a new wave of tears. "Then let's go right now."
"No," he sighs. "I will go. You seem to have unfinished business here. When you are ready, find me in camp. I believe you are safe here, at least for as long as you don't try to kill him first," he chuckles.
"I just might," I grouse. "He's playing a dangerous game here. I didn't think he'd be so bold to try to seduce me in front of you. Didn't he notice how big you are? Doesn't he think you'd rip him to pieces if he pisses you off?"
"I think he knows he has a chance." Halsin gives me a slightly patronizing glance, likely getting tired of my refusal to acknowledge my weakness. "Doesn't he?"
"I don't want to have anything to do with him," I repeat, but my voice falters.
He smiles, presses his face to mine and inhales deeply. "I can smell your arousal, little duck," he chastises softly, combing my hair with his fingers.
"That's for you, too," I frown, a little embarrassed, recalling the unexpectedly pleasant first moments of my morning.
"I know," he nods and this time I can tell he's certain. "But you two have history. Unless you explore this road, you might spend the rest of your life wondering 'what if'... I don't want that for you. I don't want that for myself. Whatever you do, I would like you to be sure that you're not missing out on something. I will be here if you decide to come back to me."
I have no more to say. I let him press a kiss to my lips and watch him exit the room. I don't follow. I keep standing where he left me, hugging my shoulders.
"I can't believe you actually stayed."
I whip around to find Gortash in the doorframe, dressed and tidied up, shaved and smelling fresh. He's leaning on the doorframe and though his face is still grim, his swagger doesn't seem to have suffered irreparable damage.
"Don't congratulate yourself just yet, Enver," I sneer.
"Oh, don't be crabby, baby," he purses his lips in mock comfort. "You landed such a perfect boyfriend. I'm jealous, now I want one, too. Hurry up and break his soft heart—maybe he'll be interested in me instead."
"I'm not breaking his heart," I spit. "I love him."
That sentence makes him wince, but he recovers in record time, smirking like the bad boy he is.
"Then maybe I'll break it for you. When he's no longer there to enable you, will you run back into my arms?"
I don't realize I'm moving before I have his stupid tall collar bunched up in a fist, pushing him against the door. I bare my teeth, my nose a hair's-width away from his. My tortured muscles protest against such treatment, but the rush of adrenaline outvotes them.
"Touch him and I'll kill you," I hiss into his face. "Stone or no stone."
The initial flash of surprise, even fear, is quickly replaced with a seductive smile.
"Gods, I missed this fire," he grunts, grabbing my waist and pulling me flush to his body. "Too bad your devotion belongs to another now."
I tear from his grasp, gritting my teeth so hard they squeak. I don't know what else to do; hurting him only gave him twisted pleasure. So I stomp off to the bathroom, looking for my things, so I can leave this cursed place already.
06 Payback is a bitch.
I dress up in my clothes that feel like they've been freshly cleaned and pressed, and complete my morning routine with the conveniently offered supplies left in the bathroom for me. As I put on my gauntlet I have to stop and lean against the sink. My thoughts are spiraling.
Remembering all that I've done since I arrived at this tower is making me hyperventilate. Gods, I really did nearly jump Gortash's bones. My reason was clearly damaged, but... Gathering my wits didn't erase the desire. I still want him. I hate everything he stands for... but I can barely resist him.
I stare into my scarred face in the mirror, hoping to understand my own mind. Even if I really used to love him in the past doesn't mean I should now. It physically hurts me to imagine Karlach's probable response to that. And Wyll's. And everyone's, really. Apart from some of my companions who would prefer to take control of the Brain, or even to actually team up with the Tyrant's Chosen, none would approve.
"Oh, fuck me," I mumble.
I close my eyes for a few long seconds, trying to get a hold of myself. It doesn't help; my mind is serving me memories of Gortash's gentle, respectful touch, in blinding contrast to what I thought I knew about him. How does that happen? Was he just that good at playing me? Or was it genuine?
Poor Halsin. Perhaps the thing that scares me most is his disapproval. Would he stay by my side if I succumbed to my twisted desires? Would he be open to sharing me with a man who doesn't care who he abuses as long as it serves his power-hungry agenda? Even he must have a limit to what he's willing to tolerate.
I slam my hand against the mirror and growl. I feel like I'm being split in two. One part will not let go of the beautiful, peaceful vision of what life can be with Halsin. The other... the darkness in me, one that has nothing to do with the Urge, craves to be nourished, to be recognized and utilized, to be accepted.
Can I have both? Or is that just a mad hope of a lobotomized freak?
I need to get out of here, now.
I rush out of the room, then into the Audience hall. I'm hoping it's deserted and no one will notice me leaving, but Gortash is once again comfortably seated on the throne, his alert eyes on me the second I come into his field of vision. I slump my shoulders and frown, turning to him.
"Hey, look," I choose a neutral tone, nonchalantly hooking thumbs in my pockets, "I gotta go. We have lots to do in the city. There's a vamp that begs to be staked, a pregnant hag on the loose, and also Orin's not gonna kill herself."
"Ah, yes," Gortash drawls, getting up and slowly sauntering towards me. "You're very busy. The slayer of Ketheric Thorm. The hero who's lifted the Shadow Curse. Pretty impressive."
I purse my lips, glaring at him. Of course he figured out it was us who exchanged his planned article in Baldur's Mouth for a puff piece on us.
"Yeah, it would be a shame if we were slandered instead of celebrated, don't you think?" I nip sarcastically.
"Why do you think I made you come here, my dear," he tosses me a sour grin. "You get in my way, I get in yours. You'd do best to remember that."
I roll my eyes, folding my arms over my chest. I actually considered thanking him for what he'd done for me tonight, but I'm not in the mood to do that anymore.
"Yeah, yeah. If you're done threatening me, mind letting me go? Like I said, lots to do. You want the netherstone, or not?"
Gortash stops maybe an inch from me and leans in to whisper in my ear: "You're not a prisoner here, sweetheart."
A powerful shiver runs through me, so strong I can't possibly hide it. His gaze slides down my body and lips twist in a delighted, sinful smirk. My breath hitches at the sight of him and his scent makes my throat go dry.
He pulls back to a little more respectful distance. "But I thought you might want to have that brunch on the balcony I planned for us yesterday. Don't worry," he chuckles, "I had my cook make us fresh food—birds seem to have eaten the last batch, anyway." His gaze lingers on my eyes, gauging my thoughts. "It's sunny outside. I want to sit with you, talk and enjoy the view from this tower."
Still reeling from the mind boggling reaction I'm having to his closeness, I swallow hard. 'What's the worst that can happen' isn't even a question here. I know what can happen. I know what my body, my own treacherous body, wants to happen. But maybe... just maybe... if I spend more casual time in his presence, this assault of hormones will stop.
After all, there's nothing more off-putting than really getting to know the horrible man you're attracted to. Could be just what I need to get over him.
07 What's the worst that can happen?
I let him lead me onto the balcony. Any thoughts get knocked out of me as soon as I lean over the stone wall and stare at the city stretching below us.
I've only spent two weeks here since we arrived, and from up-close it never quite seemed as grand as people tend to describe it. It's big and loud and overcrowded and smelly... But it seems gorgeous from this high above. No wonder Gortash wants to settle up here permanently.
I don't appreciate the thick atmosphere of this place. I miss the clean waters and animal white noise of the picturesque location the nautiloid crashed in. Even the Underdark is breathtaking in its menacing way.
This doesn't feel like home anymore. It's familiar, but I'm a different person.
Much like what I could say about Gortash. The fact that we used to be a thing shouldn't mean that we have to be it again.
I have so many questions it feels like a chunk of anxiety is balled up inside me—I don't even know what to ask specifically, I just know I need a lot of answers. I want to understand what happened between us and how. And how can a man so callous, so cruel to everything else be so gentle and sweet with me.
I have to know what game he's playing. Is he hoping to weaken me? Stab me in the back as soon as I kill Orin and take both the netherstones off my cooling flesh? Was any of what he showed me real?
"Heavy thoughts, Talas?"
I sigh and turn away from the view to see him comfortably sprawled on an actual rug stretched over the stone floor.
"Couldn't get a blankie?" I quip, shaking my head. "Your ass get too soft?"
"Well, since I don't have to live rough anymore, I just don't do it," he chuckles, tapping a spot next to him. "Come have some comfort, too. I imagine you're not used to it anymore, being on the road for so long."
"I think I pretty much forgot what comfort felt like when that Myrkulite bitch of a torturer got a hold of me," I say dryly as I make my way to the picnic. I immediately see the change in his expression and his fists clenching.
I sit down and stretch my legs in front of me. "Do all your Absolute lackeys respect you this much, or was she special?"
"That's still under investigation," he growls darkly. An image of his most loyal soldiers beating information out of the slightly less loyal soldiers crosses my mind. "The nerve on her. The nerve on Ketheric. He should've told me."
"I guess plotting to take over the world doesn't make for the best bonding time," I smirk, picking up a chalice of wine.
"True," he nods, deciding to wash his rage down with some wine as well. "This is not a circle of trust. I even had to kill a number of my own for being too ambitious. Mostly when they tried to assassinate me to take my place. Or get to me through you."
"Hm," I grimace, not ready to believe I was so important to him that he wouldn't sacrifice me in a blink of an eye if it brought him enough reward. "How do you know I won't kill you? Bhaal sounded pretty determined. He'll try again. You might not get so lucky this time."
"He won't. Not until you get rid of Orin."
I raise my eyebrows at him and toss a few grapes in my mouth. "How would you know?"
Gortash pauses, looking away, squinting at the sky.
"Last night I told her what was happening, got her properly pissed off. I promised you would come to her, which is what you want, anyway. She went to talk to him, to convince him she's capable of defeating you. I hoped she had the pull—and it looks like she does, because it worked. Bhaal wants you to ritually combat her at the Temple just a smidge more than he wants me dead—and can always make either of you do it later."
He says it in such a matter-of-fact tone as if he didn't just confess to virtually saving my life. I gape at him mutely, wine forgotten half-way to my lips.
"Well," I chuckle in disbelief, "I'm stunned that you didn't brag about it immediately."
"I knew you would see it as bragging, no matter when I told you," he rolls his eyes, chugging his wine. "So I wasn't going to. Until you asked."
I shrug and nod, admitting that's true. I'm always ready to believe the worst of him. Just in case.
"But you should know." He turns to me, face serious, gaze intense. He takes my hand and squeezes. "When Orin is dead, he will sic you on me. It won't matter what you feel or what your agenda is. This time he'll have no reason to relent, he will have one of us dead."
He sighs and tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear with the same tenderness I tasted last night. His eyes are warm and gentle.
"If nothing else works... I will let you kill me," he whispers and my breath catches in my throat. "Which is why I suggest you keep your word and we finish our plan together. If we're successful, we might have enough power to keep him away from us."
I watch his hair flow in the breeze around his face. He lets go of my hands and looks to the sky again, as if the endlessness of it helped him feel like he has more options, more freedom.
"So, at the least, we have until you kill her."
His voice is so heavy, raspy, wistful, I shiver again. He doesn't even suggest that we actually stay together or anything... he's just contemplating the near future, counting down days until he might not see me again. Or live.
"You would just let me kill you?" I ask, suddenly reminded of Halsin's similar question from last night. Gortash brushed it off then and I was too busy trying to survive, but it hits differently now.
I see his throat jump as he gulps. He seems to mull over his answer. Then squeezes his eyes shut.
"I began hatching the Absolute plan for my sake only. I wanted power and control. But then you came..." He flashes me a glance, almost shy. "And things changed. So slowly I didn't even notice at first. But I started to work towards a different goal. I wanted to make this work for us. Make the world the perfect place for us to be happy in. To do whatever we want, to have all the comforts, all the fun."
He pauses for a long time. I'm wracking my brain to try to remember something, anything, so that I could confirm his words, but the memory of him is still as incorporeal as before.
Before I figure out how to react, he speaks up again:
"I didn't know how differently it could end," he rasps and I'm in shock to notice his eyes getting somewhat wet. "How someone could hate me, hate you, so much that they would tear us apart and destroy everything." This time he looks at me steadily, though I can see how much effort it takes him to not let his sight run away again. "I love you, Talas. We were having so much fun I hadn't realized it... until I lost you."
I rapidly blink in utter bewilderment. My heart squeezes hard. I feel tears fighting their way out of my eyes. I can taste bitterness in the back of my throat. As if the only thing I could remember about our past is how heartbreaking it was to be separated from him like this.
And I realize that I believe him. It makes sense. Bhaal's ultimatum revealed one thing: this murder was personal to him. I really must have been in love with Gortash before my disappearance. Enough to make the Lord of Murder feel threatened and want our bond broken.
And I'm beginning to see why—to see past my initial impression of him, past his flaws and sins. It makes me scared. What happens if I give in to it, even if just for a little while?
But just how much time to decide do I really have?
08 Innocence of a guilty man.
Turns out, I don't need much time at all.
Gortash's confession was so raw it's impossible for me to stop thinking about it. He's quiet as we eat our breakfast, and so am I, but my head is buzzing. The alcohol doesn't help hold my walls up, but I don't think being sober would save me now.
'We only have until you kill Orin.'
That could be mere days. We've only just arrived, but already met her more than once—sniffing around, gauging our weaknesses, snickering maniacally and giving us the creeps. If we don't strike first, she will. Not to mention the ticking clock that was the tadpole wriggling in my head, threatening to turn me into a tentacled monster the second the Brain breaks free of Gortash's and Orin's control. We are all screwed if we don't find her soon.
My mind ambushes me with slightly fuzzy memories of last night. The way Gortash washed me, the way he carried me to the bed like royalty, the way he cared. I don't have to run away and marry him in secret to enjoy him. I don't have to make any promises at all.
I can just have him one last time. Whatever happens next.
"Well," I peep, nervous about what I'm going to do, "since we're full, alone and have the time... maybe we can... uhm."
Gods, I'm awful at flirting. I'm so lucky Halsin decided to approach me first. We would still be hungrily circling each other if he hasn't.
To my utter dismay and embarrassment, Gortash laughs out loud. "You haven't improved one bit," he shakes his head.
"Shut up," I grunt, trying to hide in my hair.
He props himself on one elbow, reaching for my jaw, caressing me and pulling me down to him for a kiss.
"Your best line so far was 'I would love to carve you up real slow,'" he smirks, coaxing me to look up. "Fortunately, that worked like a charm on me."
My brow crinkles and I burst into vivacious laughter. It makes me feel better, more at ease. I guess I didn't change that much.
"Gods, it's been forever since the last time I heard that laughter," Gortash sighs, stricken.
He attacks my mouth voraciously, making me gasp into the kiss.
It's different than before. It's not libido that drives him this time. There's pain behind the layers of need. Pain of long separation, of deep grief, of lost hope, of impending death. He's virtually inhaling me, as if he would love nothing more than to blend into me.
I feel dizzy and compelled to return the kiss with the same intensity, even though I'm running out of breath. I don't want to hold back anymore. What good would it do me to fight my feelings when this is the last time I get to have him.
His skin is much smoother after the morning shave, but I can still feel the faint remnants of stubble gently scratching me. I run my fingers all over his face, trying to imprint every shape of him into my damaged brain. I come across the scar on his chin and the sensation feels more familiar than ever. I know I've touched this scar before.
His hand copies my movements, tracing my scars. They must be new to him; Orin left them on me when she tried to kill me. He remembers my face when it was still flawless, yet his fingers are feeling my new imperfections with reverence.
"Bleed that bitch slowly," he rasps against my skin. "Savor the kill. You deserve a sweet revenge for this."
"I wish I could do the same to Bhaal," I reply breathily.
"So do I, my love. So do I." He pulls away a little, skin flushed, eyes misty. "Let's go inside. It's chilly here, you might catch a cold."
I squeeze my eyes shut, half wanting to laugh, half crying. I feel him get onto his feet and the next thing I know I'm in his arms, carried like a princess once more. I hug his shoulders and hide in his neck, nibbling hungrily, making his breath catch as he's walking towards his study, gait a bit wobbly.
My legs are weak too—I nearly buckle as he puts me down by the bed. I steady myself holding onto him, while he's doing his best to keep my armor and clothes intact as he's pulling them off my body in ragged, desperate moves.
He pauses with his hands hovering over my offered gauntlet.
"What?" I wonder. "Think you won't be able to enjoy it without me hurting you?"
He tilts his head, squinting in the distance. "I don't think we've ever tried that."
"Just take it off," I say and put his fingers on my wrist. "If it's not enough, I can always use my nails."
"To be honest," he raises his eyebrows pensively, "I don't think I even care. I just want to be with you."
He shakes the metal off my hand and tosses it to the floor. Then his eyes find his own, with the glowing netherstone adorning it.
"I promise I won't steal it," I chuckle. "At least not until I have Orin's."
He doesn't seem to appreciate my teasing. He takes the gauntlet off, but quickly puts it in a small, sturdy looking metal box and locks it inside.
I roll my eyes. "Still don't trust me, Enver? Did I use to fuck people just to get their precious stuff and favors? I thought that was more your style."
"Just a precaution against whomever else might be sneaking through the tower," Gortash smirks and returns to me. "You weren't even interested in fucking until you met me," he touches my face. "Granted, you didn't have many eligible choices around you, with your father keeping you in dark tombs among abominations. But I taught you everything, little lover."
My breath hitches a little at the realization, but I gulp the shock down.
"Well, then I guess I'm glad you've been sleeping around with so many of your noble conquests. Would hate to be taught by someone inexperienced."
He laughs with his eyes shut, then sighs and pulls me into his embrace.
"Oh, Talas, don't be jealous. There's no need to drag nobles into my bed anymore. I did try to drown my grief in a few... but it never helped. You were my first in months."
I blink at him, stunned by his words yet again. "Explains why you looked like you hadn't bathed in weeks at your inauguration." I swallow hard, distressingly aware of his enticing scent now.
"I've let myself go a little, yeah," he admits with an amused grin. "My company didn't mind. I thought Ketheric smelled like death, but then I met Orin." I snort and he joins me. "That faint stench of rotting flesh makes me want to gag. You, though..."
He buries his nose in the crook of my neck, pulling off his clothes. "You." He inhales a lungful of me, groaning. I shiver, closing my eyes, running my fingers through his hair. "The sweetest thing I've ever tasted."
I yelp as he suddenly picks me up and lets us both collapse onto the bed. Our limbs tangle, skin grazing skin, our mouths lock in a thirsty dance of tongues. It's a strange feeling, like being with him for the first time, even though it's far from it. I'm not fighting him, not resisting unwelcome desires, not trying to pretend this isn't what I want... I give myself to him willingly and eagerly.
09 Your fingerprints all over me.
He pulls us higher and flips us over, so he could lean on the head of the frame with me on top. The unexpected exposure makes me flinch. I'm still getting used to showing all of myself even to Halsin, and this... I haven't had time to decide how to feel about it. But the way he watches me makes me shudder. His gaze worships every inch of me, his fingers following closely after. So I lean into his touch and close my eyes, letting my mind rest in the soft waves of pleasure.
"How are you even more breathtaking than before," Gortash whispers so quietly I'm not sure he even meant to be heard.
I look down at him, using the rapidly depleting brain capacity to study his face some more. I didn't think he was capable of such adoration. I'm trying to hold onto my healthy doubts for the sake of everyone who's put their trust in me, but it's getting truly difficult.
So I choose to focus on the rest of him instead. On how he makes me feel.
I let my hands wander over his body, enjoying the inexplicable electric sensation of touching his deliciously mocha skin. Making him shiver as I run through the fine hair on his chest he so likes to show off. His muscles are defined just the right amount, well hydrated and comfortably soft. The little love handle on his tummy makes my mouth water and my hips grind against him wantonly.
He groans and grabs me by the nape to pull me into a ravaging kiss. I lift off his lap just enough to help him slip inside me. I cry out softly, unable to hold back the sweet tears of ecstasy.
My needy mouth devours him. He holds my hip in a firm grip to help me ride him. The fingers of his free hand dig into my back, desperately pressing me to his chest, but the hurt they cause isn't physical. I don't want to look into his eyes, I know they will bewitch me.
But I fail and let his gaze swallow my soul.
I can't focus on kissing him anymore. I just lay my forehead on his shoulder and keep rolling my hips. I feel the crushing orgasm closing in when he rakes my hair and starts murmuring in my ear:
"I love you, Talas. I love you."
I let out a sob as it hits me like a wall. I'm not screaming or moaning—I'm crying. My heart is breaking, my soul is splitting... Yet, in the midst of my torment, there's mind boggling ecstasy shooting through my body like lightning.
He caresses my back, letting me ride out the last of the tremors, while I latch onto his mouth again, mixing his intoxicating taste with the salt of my tears. He doesn't seem bothered, drinking my inexplicable sorrow eagerly, thirstily.
I collapse onto his warm chest and keep softly sobbing into his flesh.
I remember now.
"Are you alright?"
I don't respond for a long while. I just keep slowly rolling my hips, not letting him stop making love to me. He listens to my intentional body language, running his fingers gently all over my skin, and lets me deal with it in peace before I'm ready to speak up.
"I love you too, Enver."
The leftover reason in my brain gags its mouth in horror. But I know that it's true. It's been true the whole time, I just didn't know, being stripped of all my memories of him.
The memories didn't return per se. Only feelings. I was a drooling mess, and still my heart yearned for something I lost. Someone I lost. I doubt I could even recall his name or his face... but I knew I needed him.
"Please," I sniffle, finally dragging myself up to look at him. "Make me forget how I know this. It hurts."
That strange sucking feeling in the center of my chest suddenly makes sense now. I've had it since the crash. My head was empty, but my heart ached for him.
"Talas," he whispers, cradling my head. I watch his eyes well up like mine.
I kiss him, letting him tangle his fingers in my hair. He presses my face closer to his and drowns in my mouth. When we're out of breath, he leaves my lips to travel up to my cheeks and eyes, kissing away every tear.
He wraps me in his arms and smoothly rolls us over, pressing my back into the red satin sheets. He holds my hands above my head and I expect him to get rough—I wouldn't mind having this gnawing emotional anguish knocked out of me with a delicious pounding I know he's keen to inflict.
But his fingers lace with mine and his eyes watch me with tenderness I didn't think he was capable of. He's not done fighting for me.
And I'm not done being loved by him.
I hold his gaze, studying the specs of color in his irises. I let out soft moans as he languidly moves inside me and kisses my mouth without breaking eye contact. And when my body begins buzzing, building up to another mind-shattering climax, I whisper his name. The first one slips from my lips accidentally, but as my mind clouds I get bolder. When my body spasms and my toes curl, I scream it over and over in between waves of ecstasy.
His gaze never wavers—up until his own finish catches him unprepared, drawing a surprised, tender whimper out of him. His body quivers, uncontrollably shooting hot seed inside of me as he holds me close, encasing me in his arms like something fragile and precious, moaning my name into my ear.
Mind blank, I just lay, limbs wrapped around him, not willing to let go. We stay like this, gently caressing each other, panting, cooling off. It's not until we start getting uncomfortable that we're finally forced to let go.
"How would you feel about having a bath together again?" Gortash suggests, his roguish smirk gracing his lips once more.
I'm all sweaty and sticky and full of his load, so I nod.
I don't want to leave just yet. Going back into the real world means being faced with responsibilities and morality. It means remembering what a menace this man is to the city. It means considering losing him forever if he decides to stand in our way. I'm not ready for that. Not after I had an emotional charge the size of an extinction-level catastrophic event go off in my chest just minutes ago.
10 One last chance.
Gortash fills the tub with hot water and takes me by the hand. But it seems like I'm not quite ready for this, either.
Come on. It's just a bathtub. The only place that's actually filled with horrors is your own head.
And I recall all the tenderness and care that happened around it, as well. Two diametrically different men doting on me, sacrificing their strength and favors for me. The thought further eats away at the walls of my poor heart.
"Need some help?" Gortash glances at me, evidently understanding my hesitation. His arm snakes around my waist and he kisses my temple. "Come on. I'll be in there with you. Promise not to tie you up this time—unless you want me to," he chuckles into my hair.
I snort and relax a little. There was really nothing to be afraid of; Bhaal was taken care of for now, there was no reason for my Urge to come out this soon. But my legs won't work.
"Yeah, I do need help," I sigh, draping myself over his shoulders.
He tosses me a wicked grin and picks me up. "You're getting used to this fast."
"It's a nice thing to get used to," I shrug innocently.
"You know you got heavy?"
"Maybe you got out of shape," I narrow my eyes at him, then we both laugh.
I almost don't notice how he submerges both of us in the pleasantly hot water. My heart thrums in my throat for a bit, but then Gortash starts rubbing my neck and shoulders, massaging the tension out of them. I let him do it for a while, then close my eyes and lay my head in the crook of his neck.
"Thanks for saving my life last night," I mumble and I really mean it. "I was ready to beg Halsin to mercifully end me. Wait, no, I did actually beg."
I feel his palm run along the side of my face, then his fingers combing my hair back in soothing motions. "It's the least I could do after putting you in danger. I'm so sorry, Talas."
"It wasn't your fault," I sigh. I know what he means, but... when two people fall in love, neither of them should be held responsible for the disproportional reaction of their relatives.
"I still can't believe how close you were this whole time," he rasps and I his hands ball into fists. "Bloody Ketheric. What a low, petty revenge for making him feel uncomfortable and redundant during our Absolute meetings."
I snort. "How were we getting on his nerves so much?"
I feel his chuckle reverberate into me through my back. "You used to like sitting on my lap and making out while he was speaking. And whenever you spaced out during discussions, or simply didn't have an opinion, you would always back me up, not even listening to his arguments."
"Oh," I grimace. "We were very dismissive of him. I'm not surprised he felt affronted."
"Oh, Talas." I hear exasperation in his voice. "He kept you in his dungeon as a toy for his deranged 'scientist' and let me believe you were dead. He deserved to get his tongue ripped out and be beaten to death with it. Would you really just forgive him?"
"I'm kidding," I turn to him, eyes still closed, and plant a kiss on his chin. "I hate his fucking guts. I'm just sad I wasn't able to make his death proper fun."
"There she is, my Bhaal-babe."
"We've met all of his children," I growl. "All cursed and deranged, almost begging to be put out of their misery. The man couldn't give two fucks about any of them, beside precious Isobel he raised from the dead in exchange for their lives, with thousands of innocent souls on top. He didn't deserve redemption and he knew it."
There's a long pause and I can feel Gortash tensing up.
"Do I?"
That knocks the breath out of my lungs. My eyes open wide, but I only stare into the distance.
Why would he even ask that? He didn't seem remorseful of his many, many sins. He looked straight in Karlach's face and looked pleased with himself. He tadpoled Wyll's father and shipped him who-knows-where the minute he got him to surrender his title. He subjugated a whole city and prepared to wage a fake war on it, just so he could pronounce himself its savior.
And those were only the deeds we knew about so far.
"Do you think you deserve it?" I deflect the question back at him, unsure how to respond. Suddenly I'm aware of how naked and defenseless I am in his presence again.
"Shh," he rubs my arms, noticing my discomfort. "I didn't mean to make you bristle up. In the end, Ketheric was left with no one who supported him out of their own free will. I know how depressing that is—I was in the same position before you returned. There's a big difference between doing things because you know you're alone against the world, and doing things for someone you love."
I scoff. "Well, if that's how you operate, how about you give me the stone and help me clean up this mess? Because that's the only way this," I gesture between him and myself, "is going anywhere. You know that what we just did doesn't really change anything between us, right?"
I can see the hurt in his eyes—but no surprise. He knows. He's just probing for another option. Or trying to manipulate me. Whichever.
He decides to abandon the topic. "We've never done it like this before," he studies my face. "You changed so much."
"Enver," I sigh, feeling almost bad for him. "How do you still want me back, when I'm not even the woman you remember?"
Silence. He evades my gaze, watching the sunlight behind the tall stained glass windows. He doesn't seem to understand it himself.
"I guess you've given my life more meaning than anything I've ever done before."
My heart and eyelids flutter, touched more deeply than I was willing to admit.
I know what that feels like. I could've let my Urge dictate my path, succumb to the thirst for blood and death, do what I knew to do best. Instead, I've found myself in people around me, people of varying degrees of 'good' who sometimes struggle as much as I do.
I've found purpose in keeping them alive. In helping them denounce their gods, avenge their traumas, fix their mistakes, save what's important to them. In loving them as much as they've grown to love me. They healed me in ways medicine and magic could never have done on their own.
They saved me, and now I would rather choose death than let a bloodthirsty god take control over my life again.
Perhaps Gortash would do the same...?
I don't dare to guess. Not until I see the change with my own eyes, in action, when I present the choice to him with Orin's netherstone in hand.
Because I've just decided that I will do just that. Despite everything he's done, everything that deserved grave, and likely final, punishment, I will allow him one last chance to do better.
Thank you for reading ♥
Remember, if you liked the story and want to support me as a writer, » please REBLOG «. We share our work with you for free.
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I welcome comments and discussion on this topic!
Constructive criticism is not unwelcome, I'm not a native English speaker, so if something sounds strange to you, I'd like to know ♥
I was just on my way to tag when both of my lovely moots already read and reblogged xD. Anyway, thanks for being here for this, guys! ♥
@thoughts-of-bear @starfleetwithhorns
#durgetash#enver gortash#the dark urge#bg3 fanfiction#female Durge#good durge#resisting durge#love story#lord gortash#bg3 gortash#gortash#durge#bg3 durge#durge x halsin#durge x gortash#halsin#halsin silverbough#bg3 halsin#halsin bg3#gortash bg3#dark urge x gortash#smut#violence#whump
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Enjoy The Silence
Summary: You and Dean are both possessed. The two of you learn very quickly that demons crave more than just souls and killing sprees.
Warnings:(18+)(minors dni!) smut- you know the drill ;)slight begging, pet names,
Note: Thank you all for showing my last post so much love. It means a lot to me. Feel free to like or reblog if you enjoy, thanks! :)
Dean and I just finished slaughtering a handful of people who got in our way. I looked over at Dean. He just got sexier and sexier. A shit-eating smirk grew on his blood splattered face as he ran his tongue across his teeth.
“That was fun.” I said, stepping over one of the bodies. Dean and I now stood side by side, staring down at our victims. Dean hummed in approval as he wiped his blade clean.
“It was. Though, I have something that’d be a lot more fun in mind.” He gripped my jaw, jerking my head to face him. He blinked, his eyes now jet black.
A smirk grew on my face as I copied his action, showing off my own eyes. I stepped closer to him, my chin still tilted up to look at him. “And what would that be?” I asked with a smirk, my core already heating.
He lowered his mouth to my ear, his stubble gently tickling me. “Oh I think you know babe.”
Without another word, I planted my hands on his shoulders and hoisted myself up. My legs wrapped securely around his waist. His large, calloused hands quickly found my ass as he held me in place.
I quickly lowered my mouth to his, kissing him roughly. Dean occasionally nipped at my bottom lip.
Our tongues fought for dominance as he carried me into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He threw me down on the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. I watched as he began undoing his belt buckle, his eyes burning into mine. I could’ve sworn his eyes darkened even more as I began to shed out of my own clothes, keeping my bottom lip stuck between my teeth.
“Too slow.” He growled as he tugged at my pants, ripping them in half. I could care less at this moment. I kicked the shredded fabric away, tugging him in by the collar of his shirt.
Our mouths moved quickly against each other, his tongue plunging past my lips. He sat back, straddling my thighs as he ripped his shirt open. Buttons hitting the walls and floor.
I ran my hands down his toned chest. His hands slid up my thighs, stopping at my breasts. He tugged the bra cups down, grabbing at and massaging my breasts. I moaned as his mouth found my right nipple. I tightly squeezed my thighs together as he began to roll my nipple between his teeth.
I couldn't help but squirm underneath his touch. It was no longer a want- but a need. His rans slid up my back, stopping to swiftly undo the hooks of my bra. I lifted my arms, quickly tossing the bra aside. An even more mischievous smirk appeared on his face.
"I need to taste you." He growled as he began to leave a trail of wet, sloppy kisses down to the waistband of my panties. He gripped me by the ankles, propping my legs up. I pinched and twisted my nipples as I watched him force my legs open. He was taking his sweet time, and it was killing me. He lowered his face between my thighs, kissing and sucking the flesh all around where I wanted him most. My hips bucked, I was growing impatient.
"Let me have my fun sweetheart." He purred, pressing a kiss against the wet spot that continued to grow on my panties. "Dean-" "Use your words baby. What do you want?" I felt him smirking against me, his lips still kissing my inner thigh. "Please taste me. I need you to taste me."
His mouth was hovering over my core again, breathing his hot breath on it. My back arched off the bed, thrusting my peaked nipples in the air. "Please." I begged once more. "I love hearing you beg." He spoke as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my panties, tugging them down. He waisted no time, burying his face in my soaked pussy.
I moaned as his tongue swiftly moved in and out of me, his nose pressed against my clit. "Oh fuck." I moaned out once more, speaking in a breathy tone. He raised his head, some of my wetness spread across his chin. "You taste delicious." He continued to stare up at me before sliding two fingers in. My back arched off the bed once more, that familiar feeling building in my stomach. My pussy clenched around his fingers, warning him that I was close.
He withdrew his fingers from me, sucking my juices off of his fingers. "I wanna feel you come around my cock baby. Get on all fours." I nodded, flipping over to my hands and knees. I swayed my ass, making sure to show off every curve of myself as he quickly finished undressing himself.
The bed dipped down as he knelt behind me, pumping his cock. He let a droplet of spit fall onto his shaft before giving himself a few more good pumps. Without another word, he thrust into me. I was extremely wet so he slid in no problem. My eyes rolled back, my hand fisting some of the duvet beneath us. The both of us moaned as he continued to pound into me. The room was filled with sounds of panting, moaning, and his skin slapping against mine as he fucked me. "Fuck baby- I'm gonna come." I moaned out, causing him to pick up his speed. I saw white. I came, and I came hard. My throbbing walls clenching around his thick cock, my face and chest flushed. I slightly twitched as he continued to fuck me at a fast pace. I could tell that he was close.
He moaned loudly as he pushed his cock in as far as it was go, hot ropes of come shooting inside of me. I moaned in satisfaction, looking over my shoulder at him. His eyes shut, brows furrowed, slack jaw.
"I'm not done with you yet princess." He grinned, giving my ass a good slap before pulling out.
#deanwinchester#dean#winchester#sam#samwinchester#deanwinchesterxreader#supernatural#supernatural fic#supernatural fanfiction#deanwinchester smut#dean winchester smut#dean winchester#smut#spn#thecwspn#the cw supernatural#oneshot#thecw#the cw#the cw tv series#dean smut#winchester smut#x reader#x y/n#x y/n smut#deanmon#demon dean#season 9#season 10#demon dean winchester
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Do you ever think about life - Kim Seokjin
Summary: lazy, comfort time with Jin who deals with your romantic existential thoughts
Pairings: Jin x yn (female)
Warnings: none, just love and comfort
Words: 731
All rights reserved
Hello! I am back again for a drabble about my sweet man, Jin! It's just a silly comfort one I wrote for the times we feel like we need a little bit more love:) Feedback and reblogs are appreciatable!
The soft light of the long-risen sun was reflecting on your face as you stretched your arms a little, snuggling better in your bed. You felt a familiar scent back on your nostrils, a scent that reminded you of home. It was no other of your boyfriend, Seokjin. In your teddy matching pajamas that Jin highly insisted that you both buy on a random shopping spree on a free day, you laid peacefully in bed, your head safely tucked under Jin's jaw. His hand was lazily drawing circles on your back, slowly as he touched you between small naps that the both of you occasionally got. Your breath was even from the comforting scenery and the fact that not you nor your boyfriend had nowhere to go. You were thanking great heavens for Jin's well earned vacation given by his company. The soft scent of Jin's earthy aroma mixed with the remaining of his always worn fragrance was intoxicating to you, making you feel as if you were flying at the sky during a midnight dream.
"Baby?" you asked quietly, breaking the comfortable silence covering the both of you. The thing with Jin was that you didn't need to be talking or feeling anxious about finding any topics to start a conversation, your mind and heart was at the same ease while being silent. "Hm?" his raspy voice echoed against your ear, this being the only thing audible in the room, "what is it sweetheart?" a small smile appeared on his face, the kind of the ones you loved that were full of comfort and love. "Do you ever think about life?" you looked up to meet his eyes, placing your head against his shoulder. Seokjin made sure to place his arms differently so he'd still be engulfing you in his embrace. "Hm I'm not sure what you mean there" he chuckled lightly while fixing his position against the pillows so he could lock eyes with you. "Do you ever think how life would be if we didn't meet? How the smallest of events actually mean so much to the people we become?" you frowned on your own thoughts. "Hm" he tilted his head slightly, an also puzzled look on his face as he seemed to be thinking about it deeply. It was amazing how he'd always seem to be minding you and your worries no matter how small or stupid they seemed.
"It seems you've thought about it quite well" he humphed, his long fingers twirling the edges of your hair. "I've starting to realize how important this is. For moments like these. Where I can be myself" your grip became a little bit tighter around his torso. Jin turned down to you and smiled once again, sitting up, so his back was against the bed board. Swiftly, he passed his hands under your waist, placing you on his stretched out legs. Your arms naturally found their way around him as your front was against Jin's chest. Quietly, he rocked you just a tiny bit, your cheek squished against his broad chest. "I've been starting to get life more seriously now that I'm with you hm?" he looked down at you as he placed his finger under your chin encouraging you to meet his sight. "I do think of stuff like that sometimes. I don't know how or why, but we ended up together. And I'm so grateful for those series of events. Cause those have changed my life for the better" he said placing a small kiss on your lips, smiling.
"You are indeed the best part of me" you smiled back. "I'm not" Jin nodded negatively, grinning. "Hey" you frowned, pouting. "I don't want you to discredit yourself even a tiny bit. All this awesomeness comes directly from you. I don't play any role. I believe every different people bring out a different version of ourselves. And I'm happy to know that you bring out mine. My love, my darling" "Jin, what you said was so beautiful" you giggled, kissing his cheek. "Do I get more kisses for stuff like these?" he giggled back at your cuteness, before planting one on his own. "Hey, I'm the rewarder here" you playfully told him. "What about a change of roles?" he frowned teasingly before starting to pepper your face with kisses. He was indeed the one. The one for you.
#bts#bts jin#seokjin#bts fanfic#bts x reader#jin imagine#jin scenario#kim seokjin#bts scenario#jin drabble
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Hi there! We received an ask but Tumblr has decided to eat it before our very eyes. The gist of the question was:
What's the best way to support creators of color in the fandom & the efforts of this blog, as a person who is not of those demographics themselves?
Here are some answers. Feel free to chime in with answers of your own, if you are someone served by this blog!
How to help Thedas in Color:
Reblog our mission statement post.
Reblog our calls for submissions to queue.
Share our blog in friendly discord servers and suggest people share as well!
Participate in #splash of color saturday, no matter who you are!!!!
Encourage friends to submit to us!
This blog exists to boost the fans whose creativity and voices are often overshadowed due to systemic biases in fandom and society at large. We want to share content that our creators want to be shared. They a) need to know we exist, b) need to know we're a friendly space so they aren't afraid to tag us, and c) want what little extra visibility we can offer them.
Through the mods' friends and organic connections, we know a lot of people who fit the demographics served by Thedas in Color. However, checking everyone's blogs and catching all the creations and content that deserve more attention could be a full time job in and of itself. There's really only one or two of us who curate the blog and it's just not possible for us to queue things on our own very far in advance. The best thing for the blog is for fans belonging to ethnic minority groups who are writing, making art, making videos, making art resources, making cosplay, gifs, meta, and more, to feel comfortable tagging @thedasincolor on their work!
It's a free reblog! Please, please tag us!
How to help the creators more broadly:
Obviously this is a huge question and we can only make the most surface level suggestions. Common decency suggests making it clear through actions & words & content that you host on your own blog that you are a safe space and an open minded ally, for a person-to-person way to make fandom kinder to us. If your blog is absolutely sterile and wiped clean of anything to do with issues pertaining to minority groups, it's unclear if you are paying attention, or care--or worse, perhaps you think that issues pertaining to minority groups are Not Suitable For Your Blog. It can be a real reddish flag for some people to not see anything.
Listen to and speak up for (but not over) fans belonging to ethnic minority groups who are highlighting weaknesses in the source material, but don't be an attack dog or white knight. Those two things go kind of a long way to making the environment a little more open to dialogues, a little more trustworthy, a little kinder, for all.
But we're talking about creators specifically:
Reblog art.
Go to an artist's page and see if they have a commissions sheet; reblog it (or share on twitter).
Make lists of creators you like and share them to your followers!
Send them kind messages (or just leave kindness in the tags of reblogs of their art) about the elements you love in their art.
Reblog writing. Tag it appropriately for your followers.
Bookmark & subscribe to fic writers. Leave kudos if you can!
Make fic rec lists!
Go on an old-fashioned Reblog Spree on a creator's blog.
Share commissions sheets, and fics, and gifs, and cosplays, and meta, that you like, in discord servers and on twitter (linking back to the creator; if they are ON that platform, reblog/retweet/reshare something they've posted their, don't repost their own work yourself).
Commission artists, writers, gifmakers.
Give donations to Ko-Fis and such just when you're thinking of them, even if you're not buying something, even if it's a few dollars. The random amounts add up :)
Be a friendly face! Every creator big or small gets to know the names in our notes over time, and the steadfast support of just consistently interacting with posts of ours is a huge creative and emotional boost.
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OMG YOUR ART IS SO GOOD! Gonna go on a reblog spree tomorrow or something <3<3<3
Anywho, care to share some (more) of your opinions on Wammy's House? Saw a few text posts and they caught my interest 👀
Like, how do you think L feels about his successors or something. Or just rant about why you hate Watari and Roger (omg or more BB talk LOVE that). I dunno I can just ell your opinions/takes are *chef's kiss*
i'm so sorry this took so long but!! i had no idea where to start lmao
i spend so much time just thinking about L in any capacity,, i mean it, he occupies a scary amount of my waking thoughts (blame the autism)
so for starters, as much as i shit on wammy's and its terrible negligence, i find myself putting L & the successors into little found family scenarios & i often draw them all together
(eg. here's some older sketches of L & the kids)
now i know that canonically they probably (definitely) weren't like this but,, i want them all to be loved
i can understand why/how other people would have a different interpretation of their dynamic, but portraying L as a mentor/brother/father figure is very near & dear to my heart :'))
(this is also partly projection as i'm an eldest son who loves their sibling & wants the best for them, who also deeply relates to L so do with that what you will haha)
most of my wammy family art is for comfort! and maybe it can comfort other people too :')))
maybe one day i'll come back & explain the extent of my hcs about this dynamic but i'm not confident in my ability to like. word my thoughts coherently yet so !! for now u get art & some surface level stuff :)
but anyways, sometimes i question what being at the centre of a program like that must feel like. i try not to overanalyse L's backstory and dictate what he must have thought because i know that he's a complicated character and a lot of his morality/actions are up for debate but like,,,
having your guardians look for a replacement for you while you're still alive? that's like saying 'we're just waiting for you to die/mess up/become useless to us and then when that happens, we can instantly replace you with a new & improved version'
even if they were trying to do a classic 'heir' system where a person inherits L's position and this wasn't meant to send that kind of message,, the environment that was produced is still incredibly toxic. that still isn't good. they used children. malleable, vulnerable orphans. that's no coincidence.
and idk that's a little messed up to me.
i don't really know how else to word my thoughts on this situation rn? i just acknowledge that that's no way to treat a person and move on bc,, what else can i say? :'/ it's a terrible situation for everybody involved and watari (& roger) are fucked up for creating a cycle of abuse and putting L right in the centre of it.
and a prime example of how damaging this system was is B. he wasn't born hateful and vindictive and violent, something made him that way. we are all products of our environments, and his was inhumane by definition.
this post is getting long as fuck, jesus,,, okok i'll wrap this up by saying that i'll expand on B at a later date
and reminding u that this is my interpretation and you're free to disagree! we all read into characters & their relationships differently
but yeah a lot of my thoughts about them tend to be really sad so i pad it out with sweeter stuff like above!
#asks#death note#LONG POST#so so long#im so sorry#i hope this was worth the wait haha#i might redraw those 2 imgs and post them separately#we'll see :'))#v wammyposting#wammy house found family fic recs when#let them all have some comfort in that shithole#thats what i think
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okay so your trans art binge-reblog spree yesterday kinda synced up with me having Intense Gender Feels so please allow me the liberty of gently knocking at your inbox again bc I feel a mighty need to unleash some trans!Eddie headcanons on you >.>
imagine the sheer emancipation of Eddie growing out his hair again after he had cut it short when first moving in with Wayne but this time long hair feels different and so, so much freeing bc it's no longer a stupid social expectation rooted in sth that isn't even true about him but instead a personal choice, one deeply connected with the music that comforts and inspires him like nothing else
imagine the freedom of him first realizing he's trans and how things — maybe not all things but at least some of them — suddenly fell into place from just knowing who he is, even if back then he had no opportunity and no safe place to as much as think about trying to socially transition. just feeling like his authentic self for once, without the weight of others' preconceptions about all the arbitrary ways he's supposed to be. he might've been unable to tell anyone at that time but simply having that knowledge to himself was liberating from the years of having felt like there's sth wrong with him. liberating bc now he knew for a fact that there wasn't. how can this be wrong if it made him feel like himself for the first time maybe ever?
imagine him hesitantly knocking on his uncle's door in the middle of the night when he had no choice but to run away from home. imagine the surprise on Wayne's face and all the unyielding unquestioning trust and comfort he's got for him, so thorough and genuine that it only takes him a few days to come out despite the fear. and then Wayne's silence breaks into a question of what name his nephew would like to called then. the words startling soon-to-be-Eddie into a impulsive hug, which is returned with utmost care and with quiet thinking-out-loud rambling of whether Wayne's got any clothes that would fit his nephew and that he would feel comfortable in
imagine the joy when Eddie gets a fake ID from Reefer Rick one day
imagine him making friends with the rest of Corroded Coffin guys and, when he gathers the courage and trust to come out, being met with support, ranging from confusion and a promise to eventually get how any of it works and to respect Eddie's pronouns etc, to deep understanding that hardly needs words bc you know you're being seen for who you actually are
imagine Eddie working on his voice and ending up achieving some success partly thanks to singing along to his favorite songs and trying to learn harsh metal vocals and at first scaring everyone around by going over the top with them until he figures out ways to train his voice to be more masculine sounding without resorting to that kind of harshness (and developing multiple fun vocal stims on the way)
imagine Eddie getting together with Steve and as a bonus gaining the perfect person to get advice from when it comes to figuring out a workout routine for his purposes
imagine the relief of knowing there are multiple people who you can be your authentic self with and who love you for this and would never change a single thing about what makes you yourself
oof well, I kinda carried away "a bit" (meanwhile the Feels have only intensified further whoops) and these are in no particular order but I really hope you'll like this humble offering. have a restful fulfilling weekend💜
LIAM!!!! LIAM!!!!! I am always ready for transing the narrative (been in some gender struggles too so let’s be in this together 🤝) I’m going to be running commentary replying so if it’s incoherent or accidentally cover something said later I’m sorry!!
- the hair!! YES!!! I feel like he had long hair before and felt pushed into have short hair in order to be taken seriously in his identity but what he always really wanted to be was ‘just a boy with long hair’ and the more it grows the happier he gets becuase THIS!! THIS!!! Is who he feels like he should have always been!!! This feel RIGHT! When it gets past the length of being ‘acceptable’ for a boy and starts brushing his shoulders he hasn’t never felt more strongly that he is Right. That this is Who He Is, this is Eddie Munson and Eddie Munson is a societal expectation-dodging BOY
- THE ACCEPTANCE AND REALISATION!!! What if he was going around as a child saying kid stuff like ‘when will I grow a beard?’ And being hushed by his elders (before Wayne). Going along with what was given to him, be it toys or clothes because his family didn’t have a lot so he’s not going to ask for more but knowing that they didn’t feel right. That he was performing a character for these people and hoping it would be enough for them, for himself. It’s not, something still feels wrong and he can’t figure out. But then, then he gets the keys to the kingdom, he moves in with Wayne and Wayne gives him some money and sets him loose in the thrift shop. At the start he sifts through the girl’s rails but all of the sizes are wrong for him. So wayne just suggests the boys racks because hey it’s just T-shirts and we need to get you stuff that fits. He guides eddie to the plain T-shirts, not thinking much of it. Not thinking it’ll be a Realisation in the young mind of his nephew. Eddie goes home with 2 boys T-shirts that day and from then on gravitates to exclusively wearing them. Next thrift shop visit eddie makes a beeline to the boys section and doesn’t look back.
- AHHH WAYNE AND COMING OUT I LOVE YOUR VERSION!!! What about Wayne passing a couple of shirts on to Eddie? A hat too? And a belt because god knows Eddie’s buying the jeans that hide his hips and needs something to hold them up. Wayne starts calling eddie ‘son’ and ‘boy’. Every time it’s like Christmas lights have been turned on behind his eyes. He feels dizzy with it, can’t contain himself, has to clench his fists to stop himself from shaking becuase this? This feels right. It fees Correct and knowing Wayne is here with him is the ballast he needs to secure himself on this unpredictable ride.
-CORRODED COFFIN SAYING ITS SO METAL OF HIM. (I personally also hc Gareth as trans so I like to think that Jeff and Freak are always ready to be Boys and show them Boy Stuff. Like alongside band practice they had Boy Practice at the start and now they can burp the alphabet in harmony and can armpit fart guitar solos and play fight and are just GOOFY)
- eddie going to a gig or band practice and then the next morning waking up with a slightly wrecked voice that he /loves/. He surreptitiously tries to maintain it, shouting lyrics in his room and just screaming sometimes but it starts to get painful and he accepts he has to find a different way. He listens to the radio with Wayne, asks to go with him when Wayne’s work friends plan a couple of drinks in one of their yards. Eddie gets to go to a couple, gets to listen to Wayne’s country and rock radio stations. Gets to hear these men talking and tries out phrases he hears when he’s on his own, records them on a tape deck he found in the thrift by luck one day. Records and re-records until he gets it right. Until he can prank call principle Higgins and get shouted at down the phone ‘I’ll find out who your father is boy! He’ll have your hide!’ The peak is when he goes into scoops and gets everything he wanted ‘hey man, how’s it going?’ From the offensively cute sailor with the big hands and strawberry sweet smile
- WORKOUT SUPPORT STEVE. YES. YES ABSOLUTELY!!! Steve showing him that he can’t just hit upper body every day, that he has to get everywhere. That he needs to make his core thicker if he wants that boy look. That working on his quads and calves will help, he promises it won’t leave him a big butt and tiny waist. (Not unless he wants Steve’s routine, that boy is going to work on his ass-ets okay?) eddie doing his first full push up with Proper Form and feeling the muscles in his back move and thinks yes. This is Good. God knows he’s not great at sticking to it but when it serves a purpose and it means he gets to ogle his boyfriend? Kind of a win win
- TBE LAST POINT!!! Yes!!! Eddie living in subconscious fear for so long that he pushes the very notion of being a Boy down. so far Down and Away that he won’t ever let it see the light of day. Or so he thinks. He tells himself that he is fine, that this is fine. But it isn’t and he doesn’t know what feels wrong. Until it slowly starts to change at a glacial speed. He tries different things. Starting only in his room, makes jokes that he thinks he can get away with in front of Wayne. Pushes it further, does more Boy things with corroded coffin. Sees that it’s okay? They are okay with it? With how he is? Sees that Wayne just nods at him and doesn’t make a fuss? That Wayne’s friends don’t bay an eye somehow? (Sure some guys at work do, but Wayne makes sure they know where their opinions aren’t wanted. That Wayne and his group aren’t to be taken lightly on the topic of Wayne’s nephew)
Eddie experiencing so much acceptance and love and there being so venom in it. No ‘waiting’ for it all to pass and Eddie to go back to ‘normal’. Eddies never been normal and that’s a badge he starts to wear with pride. With defiance. Knowing that he has everyone he could ever need how could be not?
#LIAM !!!! if you got carried away then you swept me up with you#I LCOE THIS SO KUCH I LOVE IT!!#I love everything you said YHE FAKE ID!!! I JUST!!!#hed try so many things and practice and go over movements and voices that it starts to FLOW#and eventually he doesn’t what he sounded like before how he moved before#HE!!! DESERVES THR WORLD!!!!!#LIAM!!!!#thank you!!! thank you SO SO MCUB for sending this!!!#I am SO LUCKY to have received it!!#im so sorry my reply is messy you just got me so excited#oh wow I love him#I have been having increasing gender thoughts about multiple things and doubts and blehh but this is soothing me!!!#ALSO!! I got your other ask but ummm I want to keep that in my ask box so that it can’t possibly be misplaced#im so doubtful#of tumblrs tag system and I’m not being funny I’d genuinly would hate to lose that message#I’ve been having a Time with work and friends and life (just like Everyone else) and you just made me feel#like somebody cared or at least Noticed Me so yeah I’m sorry I’m#keeping it and saving it for the really and days becuase rsd and doubt and everything else is awful but you#said somethings that I cannot coherently express my gratitude for#becuase I am#bad with words 🫲🤡🫱#but all this to say thank you and you are just wonderful and incredible and thank you for sending me this and I’m#so in love with it#you are a kind and smart and interesting and funny and please don’t ever doubt that#okay oky sorry I am mushy with trans posts and Sunday scaries I’ll#just go to the boring tags now#eddie munson#trans eddie munson#transmasc eddie munson#ask
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howdy, world!
my name is second (although given my icon and general presence, i don’t mind being called bee). i am 25 and i use they/them pronouns. i’m mainly a hermitcraft fan (i main joe hills, a fact that will become immediately obvious if you follow this blog), although i’m also a big fan of empires smp, the life series/traffic smps, and am at my heart a technoblade main. i also watch a decent amount of vault hunters when it’s around.
my fics:
my ao3 is bee_4. the thing you’ve most likely heard of on there is either “the inner mechanism of a black box” or “this is about a stuffed bird”. if i could make you read one other thing on there, i would probably currently choose either “to convey a certain brilliance” or “cura te ipsum”, although if it’s on my ao3, as a general rule, i think it’s very good and you should read it.
#a bee fic is my fic tag. in it you will find a fairly consistent stream of ficlets because the ability to put whatever i want on tumblr is one i frequently abuse. there are a lot of these that aren’t currently on ao3, and may never be (as i tend to only transfer over my favorites). enjoy this access to my brain!
as a general rule, in addition to the above: you have my permission to do fanart or my fic, write a fic of my fic, write a fic using the concept of one of my fics or an au i’ve talked about, or in general transform my work however you see fit. we’re all writing fanfic here! my one request is that, if you are using my plot or au as i wrote it, you credit me somewhere, and that you never take my exact words and copy them. other than that, feel free to do as you will! (i’d also love if you tagged me in it so i can see it and fanboy about it, but this is not a required step, lol.)
some other common tags:
#answered: the tag i use on all of my asks. good to go through if you sent me an ask and want to see if i’ve answered it (although my askbox is often the place things go to die so don’t be offended if i haven’t, i’m at 1.8k asks at the moment i think haha i’m so sorry) or if you want to block it when i get on an answering spree. i’ll also tag asks with the name of the asker, if i’m provided one.
#stream liveblogging: the tag i use as a catch-all for silly liveblog things. good to block if you don’t want constant random insistent joe hills posting, lol.
#hermitcraft, #empires smp, #double life smp: the place to find my original content about a given series i’m watching! these are currently the ones i’m most likely to post about, although in general you can find original content for a particular creator or smp under what i think their most common tag is. this is not always an ACCURATE assessment, but what can you do.
#stuffed bird art: specific tag for fanart of stuffed bird. this tag largely exists because you all are insane and i love you and i ran out of characters in stuffed bird’s endnote to link all of it there.
#magical girl scar: this au is taking over my blog and i am going insane but also it’s very fun so it probably won’t stop taking over my blog. click this tag to see stuff for it.
in addition, i will do my best to tag original content with any trigger i have been asked to tag it with. however, i am often bad about both spoiler and trigger tags, as i personally have very wide and flexible boundaries and therefore can be bad about judging other people’s. let me know if i need one on something there isn’t one on and i’ll do my best to fix it. in addition, i do not guarantee i will tag anything i reblog. i make attempts for major spoiler tags or things i think need a tag that op didn’t put on there, but even that is very very spotty, and i don’t want people to assume i will tag to a level of consistency i don’t and get hurt, so i generally refuse as a rule to guarantee that. sorry!
anything else?
i don’t typically answer asks that are about discourse-laden topics. this includes stuff like shipping or dream or other things that are guaranteed to make at least one person mad. this is less because those topics make me upset (they don’t) and more because i hate getting in arguments on the internet, so if i actually do a discourse its normally because i’ve actually been really annoyed by something. otherwise i will politely pretend your question didn’t exist. (this does unfortunately include when you are not trying to discourse and are just sorta chatting about one of the topics i decide i don’t want to answer - i’m sorry! i promise i don’t care, i just am hyper-aware of the fact i have over five thousand follwers at this point.)
my queue is normally between two and three days behind the current day because i shove so much stuff in it. despite this, there is no consistency to how i decide if something goes in the queue or i straight-up reblog it. as a result there’s a pretty high amount of content just constantly on this blog. my current queue is at 36 posts a day but by god do i do more than that anyway. in addition my likes are from my main, as are my follows and replies, so it can be really hard to tell if i’m around sometimes, lol.
please don’t send me an ask advertising your thing unless i’m directly involved in it in some way (IE it’s based on one of my concepts or fan stuff from one of my things). it just makes me sorta uncomfortable and then i delete it because i don’t know whether or not to post it especially given that i don’t post that stuff from everyone, haha, so i end up posting none of it. similarly, don’t send me things asking for me to reblog your thing, i go through the tag and reblog low-note stuff a lot but the moment i’m asked to i get really uncomfortable. the one exception to this is if you know me outside of tumblr and we’re buddies in which case i don’t care.
uhhhh... beyond that, if any really common faq question comes up, i’ll try to put it here!
as always, thanks for enjoying my silly little brainspace!
#figured it was time to remake this#i still don't know what goes in a pinned post but hopefully. this is what goes there? yeah.
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hi again!! its 1st time cannibal the musical watcher again- i might start signing my asks or somethin cus i keep wanting to talk but like
you're always sharing such obscure random stuff.. DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE THING YOU'VE DISCOVERED OR FOUND?? specific quote of an interview or a particular photo you've found ???
hiii anon lovely to see you back! feel free to tag yourself if you prefer that way, but either way you're much appreciated 🥰
I have so much stuff I found (I'd say it more like... was lucky to run into while researching 😵💫) that I love, but to name a few...
"My lovely wife Matt Stone" aka Trey's BOM speech from Feb 25 2013 at the first west end preview. How I found this: So, sometimes when I'm bored I'll pick a random mattrey blog that's been active for a long time, open an old post from their archive, see if there's old inactive mattrey blogs in the notes, and look through their archive to see if there's any posts I could make resurface that had stopped circulating, right? The funny thing is I'll go on reblog sprees, so I actually hadn't listened to the audio when I reblogged it. I was only informed of what it said when I saw others freak out about it.
Daily Show with Craig Kilborn. Why it's my fav? Well, aside from being adorable and iconic, it landed my youtube channel in the lost media wiki! How I found it is actually quite easy, when you look up fansites on the web archive you can do specific search for the files the web archive has saved from it. Turns out sometimes quicktime files work! Four parts were in canniballovers and one in dtisfu if I remember correctly, I just edited them together and posted it. Still wish someone could find it in better quality though. 😔
I'm gonna list a bunch of pictures now... because there's many. 😭 But my absolute N1 is probably the Halloween Robert Smith Trey picture. How I found it is simple, just looking up random words on facebook. Probably "trey parker", nothing special. This and this from the Ron Jeremy website on the web archive, though I think maybe the second one had already been circulating I'm not exactly sure. Showgirl Halloween Trey. The kiss pictures. Pink haired Trey!! This NATPE (?) picture. These older Trey pics where he's serving absolute cunt. This Lapdance/Sundance (?) pic. And these too. This reverse cap one altho this was from twitter I don't think I was the first to come across it tbh. These three from the "A Million Laughs" fb page... Bowl hat... Trey with the blue umbrella full pic... tho I wouldn't say I "found it" only that I got to it first the day it was posted... Trey in the matching christmas pajama from 2018... I'm gonna stop but my heart is pretty big and I like all pics...
These measly 7 secs of SDCC footage only because of the first mattrey pic included because that pose from Trey is everythinggg.
This oscars clip because Trey does such a graceful hair flip 😭
Le Petit Package pics though all I did was waltz into the lost media thread and see they had been posted...
The forbidden mattrey slides which we may never see... these were all from worthpoint, which is just a website that archives past ebay bids.
Annual Diversity Awards for the Trey serve ofc.
And finally, I'm very partial to "Matt's a cock".
As to how I come across anything... it's lots of free time. Like I'm talking hours daily just picking a random lead and following it. It may be a website you think hasn't been thoroughly searched (I've tried fb, ig, twitter, worthpoint, ebay, wordpress, tripod, weebly, various fansites on webarchive, footage.net, bilibili/baidu, vimeo, dailymotion, flickr, a load of sketchy other websites I don't remember anymore... basically trey parker has brought me to places I wouldn't go with a gun...) a combination of words, a new search engine that may give u different results (I've tried the ones listed in the lost media wiki guide, my favorite is startpage). Using targeted searching like "word" or site:x "word" or "word combo" before:year, basically trying to make google your bitch. I also use gettyimages like a visual wiki of events Trey's been to+the date, it's quite useful... ik you didn't ask the "how" part but aaaa I like talking about it 😭 I have a lot of fun. Even though sometimes I just come up empty handed even after hours of research. More often than not tbh. Also I'm an obsessed weirdo who checks the words "trey parker" daily on twitter, tumblr, ig, fb, yt, web archive and ebay. 🫠
And also the concept of finding is weird because it has happened to me that I thought I had found something and then it actually had been circulating already, so I tried really hard to answer you by only listing stuff I was fairly sure hadn't been circulating before I got to it, but I mean... it doesn't really matter! I'm here to serve, I just like sharing whatever stuff I run into, it'll happen that it's new to me but it really isn't. 😵💫 I try...
I like this too also but I didn't find it, it was pretty available already fjdkg you know Jack Shih was at that dodgeball event?
Favorite funfact that I haven't had a chance to share yet, so now you know!
#trey parker#matt stone#web archive#ask#hope this reply doesnt come across like i like the smell of my own farts LMAO im not claiming any of these are mine!!!!! like#i dont want credit and shit. go forth my children#these r my favs tho!!!!!! im obsessed with them
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$5-10/Pay What U Want fanfic commissions open for a ✨special occasion✨ aka Will Goes To Disney
here's the deal: my good friend is going to disney with his class if they can raise enough money to do so. i want to help donate to the cause. so i'm going to raise money in order to donate to that cause by making 500-1K word ficlet prompt fills!
your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to prompt me with as many things as your wallet can allow, and send it to the paypal linked here ( xoxo ) preferably with a note reminding me that it's for un'kah's [kryptonian for my son] class trip. The prompts will be filled at as fast a turnover rate as possible; you should definitely keep in mind I'm going to college full time but also know that I'm still in love with the gay idiots I write for!!!!! @wonder-never-wander is going to fill some of the prompts too, so feel free to cater to his tastes in terms of fanfic as well. :)
please reblog this post even if you can't donate, just to spread the word!!! this commission spree is open until next thursday, september 21st. that's when i can't donate to the cause anymore. ok? ok. let's get will to disney.
<3
argos &son. [will]
p.s. a reminder of what fandoms and ships i've written for can be found here on my ao3 or in this epic list right here.
p.p.s. does that sound like a law firm in the making or what? dude!!!
#commissions open#ficlet commissions#fic commissions#prompt me#writing commissions#commissions#looking to commission#commission sale#commission info#donations welcome#tagging a few of my fave ships so as to gain exposure#supercorp#rumbelle#superreign#danverarias#reigncorp#superreigncorp#rojascorp#superrojas#superrojascorp#captain beauty
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Okay, I've plowed through NADpod, MBMBAM, WTNV and so so so many others through the course of my job.
Tell me why I should listen to The Magnus Archives next? ;)
Somehow I've avoided spoilers despite your reblog sprees(affectionate), ADHD airhead ftw
Hello sorry for answering this just now i had a tough week (also im back from a concert, it was nice slept thru nearly half of it tho lol)
So why the magnus archives? Because its great, like 95% of the cast is queer, theres horrors, theres unhinged man and woman, theres gross describtions of flesh and worms that make me wanna puke, theres stuff that feels like they digged into my psyche and dragged out. Every villain slaps, everyone is morally grey, it has great banter. If you ignore the horrors its an office romcom, theres a fan song about eating your computer that i found before listening to the podcast and its catchy as hell. There is an eye-pocalypse (i love me some eye imagery escpecially in my fucked up words). The fanart slaps, our main charakter is described as "grubby jesus", he is very nd coded, he makes me sob thinking about him, and like all and all its a great podcast that was really scary when listening at times, but even me whose not great with horror got really into it and it was great. Its all about choices, and free will and the consequence of being watched, and its great.
#tma#also all the voices sound hot#except for jared hopworth cause hes a nightmare to listen to#but like its great fun and i adore it#and i wanna scream about it all of the time#oh also another podcast rep if your looking for any 'sherlock and co.' its pretty new and its great
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Hi! :) You're HOTD OCs are absolutely amazing -- as you might have seen from my reblogging spree.
Can you tell us more about House Oleander's political agenda and their role within the power structures of the Reach? Did they back the Tyrells during AC or were they one of the houses that meant to be Lords Paramount themselves?
Vivienne is a fable beauty and probably sent to court to advance the family's position by marriage -- what's her opinion on this? Is she also ambitious? Is her lighter colouring symbolic of her nature?
Feel free to treat this as a safe space to tell us stuff you wanna share but no one has asked yet. I'd love to hear more details!
And finally can you tell us the faceclaim for Mikael Oleander? I would like to get a better look at him.
Your faceclaims are super well chosen btw, the actors are largely unknown and share the family characteristics.
aww thanks so much for your kind words. i will do my best to answer tour questions below. 💜
house oleander is a house that basically built themselves from nothing. from the get go their motives were all about what could pull them higher and higher socially. they are not as powerful politically as the tyrells, but they do share a long history with them. members of the house married into the tyrell house and vice versa over the years. in the dance of dragons era, house oleander has a fairly large influence in the reach. they have solid connections both within and without the reach. especially once the Hightowers start making moves in the capital, as the matriarch of their house is otto’s sister. juliaena marries into house tyrell during this time period as a show of solidarity between the two houses during this period as well, while her sister’s hand was claimed by rhaerion targaryen. the oleanders never ruled the reach in name but were certainly one of the most well known houses. i certainly think that if they had their way they would’ve taken over as lords paramount of the reach, but opted to keep their enemies close instead.
vivienne is certain a passioned storybook damsel. i based her off of a large combination of fictional and historical characters. her beauty was definitely more of a curse than a blessing as it resulted in many of her woes. it’s what initially resulted in her mother shipping her off to the capital alongside her older sister. vivienne has always been a dutiful woman. thus, it wasn’t difficult for her to go along with being used as a pawn because in her mind it was for the greater good. she never really had ill feelings about it, nor did she hope to gain more from it than what was necessary for her family. the woman didn’t really have any personal ambitions. all she wanted was to be happy alongside her beloved, jaegor. however, even that wasn’t possible for her ultimately. thanks to her family (the Hightowers and the oleanders) she was forced to marry rhaerion instead. while he claimed to love her, the only good thing that really came out of that arrangement that worked in her own favor was that birth of her daughter aeva. also, her coloring is most certainly an ode to her gentle nature and innocence. great eye!
last by not least, mikal oleander’s faceclaim is the adorable giorgio belli. thank you so much for your compliments to my fc choices. i do my best to cast families properly and use people that aren’t as mainstream. 😊
#ask#*answered#misskatiewrites#hotd oc#hotd#*house oleander#oc:vivienne#oc:mikal#oc:juliaena#fandom:house of the dragon#mobile post#thanks for the ask!
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I was being so brave and dived head first in your blog to search the domestic prompts like I was trying to find a treasure from the bottom of the ocean. And I was succesful 😎
Can I have Niko/Olli and
we buy another blanket to stop you from hogging the one we do have, but next morning i still somehow find you all snuggled up in mine
🥺❤️
That was very brave of you indeed! 🥰💗
This is the last one of my domestic prompts and probably the last prompt fic one I'll do for a while, so it's time to thank everyone who sent in their requests 🌹 However, please know my askbox is always open for literally anything, and while I may not be reblogging "prompt posts", feel free to send me your ideas still and I'll see what I can do (or just pop in to say hi, I'd love that too <3)
You can find all the domestic prompts in this tag and all the other ficlets I've written on a pinned post on my blog 😘
(1066 words)
Niko smiled as he watched Olli hugging the new blanket (still wrapped up in plastic) to his chest while they queued for the cash register. If he had known it would make his boyfriend so delighted, he would have taken him duvet shopping in their local Ikea ages ago, even if they had accidentally ended up spending well almost 200 euros on new tableware, a rug for their renovated balcony, a floor lamp to replace the one Rommi knocked over, some decorative cushions for the living room sofa where they liked to nap together, and a frame for that picture Aleksi had secretly taken of them at Midsummer last year and gifted to them as a sizeable print for Christmas. However, Niko had only barely managed to rip the giant Blåhaj out of Olli’s hands under the pretext of claiming they had “no room in our tiny apartment for such an enormous thing, and besides, aren’t you a little too old for stuffed toys?”
Niko’s heart broke when he saw the disappointment and hurt on Olli’s face, but how else was he supposed to cover the fact he had already bought one months ago and was planning on giving it to Olli for his next birthday? (That is, if Tommi would take as good care of the fluffy blorb as he had promised he would.)
Eventually Olli had given in and said goodbye to the shark with a seemingly heavy heart and went on about their shopping spree, but when he heard Olli sigh wistfully as a small child walked past them with a Blåhaj in her tiny arms, Niko’s smile faded.
“Wanna grab some sushi and ice cream on our way home?” Niko nudged Olli’s shoulder. The man turned to nod and smile at him faintly, which wasn’t the reaction Niko was looking for, but he supposed it was what he deserved in that moment for being the cold-hearted bitch who didn’t let Olli walk out of the store carrying a huge stuffed toy in his arms like that lucky little girl who skipped along after her parents.
Niko’s only hope for the evening to not end in tears was that the new eiderdown they had bought would be worth the money and guarantee them both a good night’s sleep with no fighting over the only blanket in the bed any more.
~
“Ahh, best purchase ever!” Olli hummed as he snuggled himself under his brand new duvet so that only his blissful face was showing from under it. Niko grinned as he helped Olli tuck himself in even tighter and mentally crossed his fingers for the thickest and fluffiest duvet they had found to keep Olli warm enough to prevent him from stealing Niko’s again, knowing Olli got cold more easily than anyone Niko knew. He still remembered the time they had been spending the last weekend of August at Niko’s parents’ summer cottage with the guys and how everyone had stayed on the porch drinking and playing card games in their shorts and t-shirts until about one in the morning, while Olli had been curled up in front of the fireplace, having buried himself under all the blankets he could find, chattering his teeth until Niko eventually joined him with an old pair of woolly socks for him to put on.
Of course Niko didn’t wish for Olli to be cold ever – in fact, he had made it his personal mission to keep his boyfriend warm and comfortable at all times – but he did find it ridiculously endearing whenever Olli huddled closer to him to seek warmth, whether it was while lying on the sofa watching a movie or at the metro station after having had dinner downtown. Niko loved it when Olli rested his head on Niko’s shoulder and made these adorable small noises, the tone of which varied depending on whether Olli was more chilly or tired, and Niko could spend forever with Olli’s hands fumbling on his body, looking for a pocket or a crook for him to slip his chilly fingers in until they became as warm as Niko’s own skin.
There were few downsides to it, honestly; however, one of them was definitely the fact Niko himself often woke up cold and uncovered in the morning, only to find Olli holding on to the duvet they shared as if it was a lifejacket keeping him on the surface of a raging ocean.
“Sleep well, sweetie,” Niko said as he left a soft kiss on Olli’s lips that seemed to be stuck in a satisfied smile.
Already half asleep (or so Niko assumed), Olli only responded with a content humm, wiggling under the duvet a few more times before settling. Niko marvelled at the sleeping figure next to him for a little while, listening to his calm inhales and exhales and memorising each sweet curve of his face before turning off the bedside lamp.
~
When Niko cracked his eyes open at 7 AM, his skin was in goosebumps and his feet felt like icicles, which explained why he had dreamed of it being winter in the middle of late July.
And when he looked to his side, he understood the reason for his shivers.
Niko could not imagine freeing his duvet from Olli’s grip, not only because it seemed physically impossible due to how firmly Olli was pressing it against his bare chest, but also because he didn’t dare disturb the man’s slumber, not when he was smiling like a child that had fallen asleep on Christmas Day while clutching his new favourite toy in his arms.
The duvet they had bought had been kicked on the floor, by accident or purpose, Niko could only guess. At that moment, he didn’t know what he had expected.
It was obvious Niko couldn’t have both – a satisfied boyfriend and something to cover himself with in bed at night – so he contented himself with what he currently had and shuffled to meet Olli’s body in the middle of the bed. He touched their noses together, careful not to wake Olli up (even though it would take at least half of an apocalypse for that to happen most mornings), and wrapped an arm around the sleeping man. If Niko had to, he’d happily be the Jack to Olli’s Rose and freeze his ass if that’s what it took to keep Olli’s warm and safe.
#blind channel#blind channel fanfiction#blind channel rpf#not me projecting the fact i'm always cold#currently hiring: someone to keep me warm 🥺#domestic fluff by theflyingfeeling#next on my to-do list: 1) the bc summer fest assignment 😎 2) the gran hotel au 😌#maybe if i get bored enough i'll post this and all the other prompts i've done here as a compilation on ao3 🤷♀️
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