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toodrasticallydumb · 1 year

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Oh c’mon you knew I had to.

My version of the Barbie mugshot with stricklake because I just COULD NOT get it out of my head:

This is specifically from my Trollhunter!Strickler au solely because of the white streak in Barbara’s hair lol and now that I’ve drawn it I am oh so tempted to have it be an actual scene that happens somewhere along the story…

Little snippet of the would-be scene (it's so long it got away from me, I'm sorry):

*the two are rummaging around in a very much broken into museum to find what may or not be a message from Nomura*

Barbara: Walt...?

Walter: Hm? Yes, love?

Barbara: What's that outside?

Walter, pausing for a second to listen: Oh. That would be the em...the police, my dear.

Barbara: Oh, okay, okay, excuse me, the WHAT.

Walter: ...Em. That is, I- um I suggest you hide the skathe-hrün somewhere, lest the authorities care to investigate further into what exactly it is when they take it from your person.

Barbara: So we're not even avoiding this? You know, getting arrested by the police?

Walter: Mmmm, no, unfortunately. I don't want you using the skathe-hrün (or more specifically its magic) anymore than absolutely necessary for today. You've expended yourself enough as it is.

Barbara: And getting arrested for breaking and entering is not an 'absolute necessity'???

Walter: Not particularly, it would only be a considered a second-degree burglary since it is a museum and not a residential, habitated building; which that sub-type of burglary is a 'wobbler' charge in the state of California, which equates—if it is persecuted as a misdemanor rather than a felony—to merely (at most) a year in county jail—

Barbara: A year?!

Walter: —and 1,000 dollar fine if, that is, we are found guilty by being proven to have harbored the intent to steal something, of which we did not and do not have evident by the fact neither of us pocess any given tools to break or take any item from its case. I assume this is the first time you have been accused of any given crime aside from speeding or any other driving-related violation? Without evidence of a previous criminal record we should be lined up quite well to be merely fined or, if NotEnrique can manage it (if I can bear to call upon endless embarassment and taunting), nothing at all but a slap on the wrist though I doubt we could not accomplish that on our own given our positions in the community as school teacher and doctor respectively.

Barbara: You have wings, Walt.

Walter: And mothman escaping a building with a strangely human-shaped figure in its arms is not at all a cause for alarm to the police who will no doubt be keeping close watch of all exits and entrances which would also draw unneeded attention before we can reach the proper cover of the clouds.

Barbara: *face-palms* Getting arrested. How wonderful. 'Oh, just breaking and entering, officer, not much.'

Walter: It is hardly as terrible as it sounds, really. We can omit the 'breaking' portion since we snuck in through the window without running into any trouble that would damage it. Frankly, we could go the route of claiming guilty to the crime of trespassing according to the Penal Code 602 (California's trespassing law) being that we entered the exhibit past museum hours. On top of which it is far more accurate to what we're doing in actuality, not proper burglary since we have established neither of us had the intent to run off with anything that was not ours. Doing so we would also fare far better than with a so-called 'breaking and entering' offense (such a named law does not actually exist in California, only burglary and trespassing separately but I will clasify it as the burglary law for sake of consistency) in which we would be recieving just a simple fine rather than possible felony charges that could come with a second-degree burglary we may have committed.

Barbara: Not really helping here, Walt.

Walter: Right, apologies-

Barbara: Which, of course, getting arrested is an experience you obviously know about.

Walter: The (pun intended) offense aimed against me is dully noted. However, my dear, the fact I know how the intricacies of the specific laws of California operate does not entail I have been arrested prior to this. That would be Nomura who holds the experience in that particular department.

*pause*

Barbara: Walt. Don't you dare. You stop it right there. Unless you want--

Walt: The police department. Heh. *guilty snort*

Barbara: *sends him the disappointed death glare*

Police: *break through the door* Hands up! On the ground, now!

Walter: *laying down* I hardly find my pun to have been that egregious.

Barbara, already on the floor: Really, Walt? Good puns involve good TIMING too.

Police: Dispatch, we have the two culprits in question now in our custody. *taking a pair of cuffs out* You're coming with us. You have the right to remain silent.

Walter, being actively handcuffed: Well, I suppose then, now would be the less than appropriate time to say this museum has gained quite the em...standing in the Lake family...?

Barbara, being stood up with her arms behind her back: Officers, I have no idea who this man is.

Walter: I never once said I intended to make good puns.

I made this entirely too long but once it started I couldn't really find myself stopping. Whoops. Hope you enjoyed chaotic Walt not caring about being arrested because jail is honestly the least of his problems rn. It would honestly be a break.

#did i dedicate like a half hour to exploring the penalties of California trespassing and burglary laws???#I did indeed.#this is the curse of being both a writer and artist #the ungodly amount of work that went into this stupid MEME is insane but i am still proud #Jim does NOT let them live this down and Strickler knows this #so he's here for a fun ride if he's going to get made fun of endlessly by both NotEnrique AND Jim #barbara is very much tired of her boyfriend/husband's antics but at this point she accepts it #(NotEnrique somehow gets ALL of their mugshots and one day they wake up to find them all framed and hung on the wall)#Barbara: Jail Walt! JAIL! What kind of example am I setting for Jim here? That he should do as I say not as I do?#Walter *sitting all crisscross applesauce in his cell*: ...Em...Perhaps that the apple truly does not fall far from the tree...?#*Walter was then demoted to the couch for the next week*#Walter: He should be proud to say he's his mother's son!#did I do this instead of editing for this week's fic update?#oops.#toa trollhunters #walter strickler #toa strickler #toa barbara #barbara lake #trollhunters strickler #art #strickler #my art #doodle #stricklake #fan fic writing #trollhunters #tales of arcadia #barbie mugshot redraw #barbie mugshot meme

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lxkeee · 4 months

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⋆.˚ . FLY ME TO THE MOON ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚.

—PART THREE

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Archangel Raphael! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Notes: Lucifer and [y/n] will see each other again next chapter 👁️👁️

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR | MISC.

A lot of timeskip...

[Y/n] sat in her office chair. Bored out of her mind. Hand fluidly moved in motion as she signed her signature in each document. Paper works. So much paperwork. Just because she finished her duties on the mortal realm for this week doesn't mean she doesn't have work to do back in heaven. She needs to do countless paperwork. Writing down every detail of what happened during her time on earth.

She groaned, placing down her pen on to the table. Throwing her head back lazily against the comfort of her chair.

It has been years since Lucifer's fall. Years after the meeting he asked for that concern about his hotel to redeem sinners.

Thinking back about it. She regrets the harsh words she has said to him during that meeting. Rather too cold for her liking.

She can't blame past her either. She was mad at Lucifer, who wouldn't?

Your best friend stopped spending time with you as he spent most of his time learning about the newly made humans God created.

And once he got the time to spend with her, he always talked about the mortal woman that God has created.

It was very annoying.

Then suddenly, he did what she warned him. Giving the fruit of knowledge to Eve that caused his fall from grace.

[Y/n] loved him, she still does.

She was mad that Lucifer neglected her. She was mad that an angel as beautiful as Lucifer chose a mortal woman.

She was... Jealous.

Now, she heard he has a family now.

She sighs, eyes looking down on her hand. The wedding ring she used to wear is now on her middle finger. She and Azrael are still married to each other platonically for shits and giggles.

They still loved each other platonically. Often having sleepovers at each other's houses.

She wondered, Azrael is such a great man. Everything she'll ever need in one. Smart, funny, sarcastic, intelligent, incredibly handsome, and loving.

It's truly unfortunate her heart lies within another.

She sighs softly. She's been doing that often lately.

As she was about to continue working, the door to her office bursts open and her ex-husband flamboyantly announced his grand entrance.

“Wifeyyy, I have tea to share. I know you'll be interested.” Azrael asked, [y/n] had to look up as the man was literally taller than her. His slicked back black hair shined against the chandelier lights. His eyes are half-lidded—showing off the golden eyeshadow he's wearing, a smirk on his mischievously attractive face. Pulling back a chair across her desk, he sat down.

[Y/n] raised an eyebrow at him, curious what gossip he has to share this time.

“What is it?” she asked lacing her hands and placing her elbows on the table and placing her chin on her knuckles.

Azrael smirked, playing with his staff.

“Luci has a family right?” he asked and [y/n] just looked at him with curiosity. Surprised that Azrael brought the topic of the fallen angel up.

“Yes, what about it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the angel in front of her.

“I heard his daughter is coming up here for a meeting, Morningstar's daughter wanted to propose an idea to... Redeem sinners. Reminds me of Lucifer.” Azrael says with a smirk and small chuckle.

“The apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all.” [y/n] says with a small shrug. She wondered if Lucifer's daughter would propose the same idea like his.

“Indeed. So, are you going to attend the meeting? I heard Sera is handling it this time. Lucifer's daughter sure is lucky she won't be having a meeting with the seven.” Azrael says with a smirk before pouting a little.

“When will it be?” [y/n] asked, picking up her pen once more as she resumed working.

“In two days.” Azrael says with a shrug.

“Unfortunately I have work, all seven of us do.” [y/n] says with a shrug, a bored tone in her voice.

Azrael sighed and nodded, “Unfortunately, but... We can still attend but not physically. Eavesdropping as what others call it.” Azrael says with a grin, snapping his fingers and two eyeballs with wings appeared out of nowhere.

“We can use these. Both of us can have an eye.” he suggested and [y/n] looked at him with a raised eyebrow, curious why this man is so interested in listening to a meeting that is probably a repeat of history.

“I can see that look in your eyes that you're wondering why I'm so eager to listen to this meeting. I have a feeling that something will be revealed during this meeting and I am curious to what it is. My instincts are never wrong.” Azrael says, eyes staring outside [y/n]'s window. He has a feeling that the Seraphims are hiding something and he wants to uncover that.

“A secret?” [y/n] asked, curiosity piqued.

“Yes, I have a feeling that the seraphims are hiding something and that is a no-no especially if a high seraphim is hiding something.” Azrael says, his voice becoming serious. [Y/n] looked at him, her eyes narrowed at the possibility. The seven virtues are barely in heaven and that means the seraphims are in charge of the order up here. Lately, Sera has been acting strange but they just dismissed it thinking it was nothing. Now that Azrael mentioned it, they need to find out the truth.

“I assume we don't need to tell them we'll be attending the meeting then?” [y/n] asked and Azrael smirked and nodded.

It was finally the day where Lucifer's daughter would visit heaven for a meeting. [Y/n] sat on her couch in the comfort of her home, a third eye on her forehead. It means her consciousness is connected to the flying eyeball Azrael allowed her to use. It is currently the courtroom, hiding from plain sight.

Lucifer's daughter is really a copy of the said fallen angel. Same ideals too.

The meeting seems to be a bore, Charlie as what she learned the girl's name is, just proposed the same idea Lucifer proposed years ago.

The meeting was nothing but boring, annoying as she has to listen to Adam and Lute.

[Y/n] is still confused why that is in heaven and why he's being favored. The man is literally a walking asshole with a shit personality.

Azrael is probably in the same boat as her but he's back on earth doing his duties while simultaneously listening to this meeting.

The seven does not like Adam very much. Adam is too privileged.

Though, her views on the hotel changed as Charlie showed the progress of her guest, a demon named Angel Dust. Perhaps this silly hotel might actually work.

[Y/n] was about to stop listening and watching the meeting when Adam said something that caught her interest. Something that made her heart drop.

Exterminate... Extermination...

Of human souls.

Based on the reactions of other angels in the court, it was only Sera, Adam, Lute and other exorcists who knew about it.

Demon or not angels have no reason for doing this.

She's pissed and she could feel Azrael's annoyance from the eye she was using.

Who gave Sera the right to play God?

And the fact she didn't let the seven know about it is inexcusable.

The meeting ended and the two eyeballs remained hidden, eavesdropping on Emily and Sera.

So she's doing this because the demons were uprising?

Didn't they like to took care of it years ago? This just showed that Sera has no belief that heaven can handle a mere uprising of demons.

If the seven wanted to they could wipe out the entirety of hell. But no, there's no need for that. They have far more important matters to deal with such as trying to minimize the evil slowly growing on earth.

Hell couldn't steal heaven, they'd be dead before they could even enter the gates.

The third eye on [y/n]'s forehead closes and disappears. The others needed to know about this.

The others were concerned about this, angry even. Heaven does not need to do this yearly cleansing but apparently it has been happening for a few years already. So many human souls are killed by the hands of angels.

The seven talked about this with their creator and of course, he didn't listen to their concerns about this. Though, he did promise that if a soul is actually redeemed then the cleansing isn't necessary and Sera would be placed on trial as the seraphim didn't tell the seven nor god about this decision. The seven virtues didn't tell Sera they knew and just continued doing their duties. They trust their creator, based on his voice. He knew something that they don't.

[Y/n] has a feeling that this silly hotel might even work and she can't wait to finally put Adam, the exorcists, and Sera back to their place. To remind them where their power lies within the heavenly ranks.

TAGLIST:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata

#hazbin hotel #lxkeee answers #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lxkeee updates #lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader #i love Azrael so much

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maelialuv · 1 year

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A Farmer's Friend. a Bridgerton fanfic <3

part one: A Chance Encounter

Summary: division brings unity. secrecy creates infatuation. a king's venture into the real world reveals desire.

Warnings: slow burn! strangers to friends to lovers! (Charlotte does not exist) smut! cold showers are on me.

Wordcount: 3.4K

The country side , to you, was heaven on earth. The far roaming hills, the deep valleys. The wide expanse of nothing but lush green fields. There was truly nothing more beautiful.

Your father's farm, to you, was the most beautiful of all. Located at the farthest edge of the county, miles and miles away from the city of London, it was a haven of tall grass, fruitful crops and rich orchards. That is where you spent most of your time, perched between the trunk and wide branches of a tall apple tree in the deepest part of your family's gardens. Far away from the bustling farm house, the uproar of live stock and the erratic, but loving, nature of your home.

From the moment the sun rose over the hills and danced across your face in the morning, to the moment it tucked itself into the valley at night, you were out in the fields. Tucked away indoors, you found yourself claustrophobic. Cased in, stir crazy and a tad hysterical. From a young age, your parents had to heard you inside at the end of a day much like the sheep dogs would heard the lambs back into their pens. It was no different, even as you approached adulthood.

You had your back to the trunk of a tree, a book clutched in one hand and an apple - freshly plucked from the branch above you- in the other, when you caught sight of one of the stable boys chasing after your father in the field ahead of you.

A man of great strength and pride, your father took his work in the fields very seriously. Even after the death of his own father, he was back shearing sheep after just two days. This is why it confused you ever so much , brows furrowed in a frown, to see your father drop his shears at once in front of the stable boy and clutch his chest. The pair raced down the field, sprinting in the direction of the house with the dogs trailing behind them in a flurry of brown and grey and white.

You took a pensive bite of the apple, crunching deliberately. 'Whatever is the matter?' you thought. 'What is the meaning of such fuss?' You tried desperately to get back to your book, the words of the author falling on distracted thoughts as your mind pondered such a reaction from your father. You snapped your book shut with a huff, annoyed and now positively rabid with curiosity.

John, an Orcher in his late fifties, was plucking apples from a tree just next to yours. You peered your head over to him. "John," you called, "have you any reason for father's fuss with the stable boy?"

John's face paled, almost frightfully white, at your question. He took his cap off with the type of remorse one shows with deep apology. "I'm terribly sorry, madam. I thought all the children were aware." You quirked a brow at his words, irritated that the farms people still saw you as one of the children despite being the eldest daughter in the house. His voice was gruff and gravely, years of shouting at yardsmen wearing on his vocal chords. "There is to be a royal visit, madam. Today."

Your eyebrows shot up so fast , you wondered for a moment if they were still on your face. "A royal visit? Here?" The Dowager Princess had not been out in the country since the passing of the late King. Your brows furrowed in deep confusion. "Whatever for?"

John shrugged his shoulders earnestly.

"Lord knows but I, madam. Some sort of review of the farmland, but that's between the King and his advisors."

"The King?" you squawked. You hiked your skirt up, throwing your legs over the branch and jumping down. You stalked to the bottom of the ladder John was standing on. "The King is coming here?"

In all your eighteen years, you'd only ever seen one monarch. Even so, it was a painting of His late Majesty. All you knew of the current King was that he made no visits to the towns, nor galas or balls. He had been labelled somewhat a recluse of a man. You wondered how that could be healthy for such an old person. At least, you assumed he was old. The previous king had died aged seventy and two, so this king must have been creeping into his late fifties now.

"Yes, madam." John said. "Your father has been called now, to prepare. He is due to arrive soon."

Your feet sprang into action, galloping down the aisle of the orchard at lightening speed as you raced toward the direction of the house. You never cared for pompous displays, or the royal family as a whole, very much at all. But today was different. The king himself was visiting your home. Your fields, your valleys and your hills. You felt oddly protective. As if this inspection was to be one with an insulting conclusion. You reassured yourself that they would see the beauty in your home. In the sway of the grassy hills in the wind.

Knowing your mother would not let you close enough to see even the Royal carriage make its way through the wooden gates of your home, you rounded the corner of the brown farm house and clambered your way up the large oak tree in the middle of the drive way. From high above in the branches, you would not be seen by your mother - as she so preferred. She yearned for a daughter more like the ones her sisters had. Lady like and proper and ones that smile at every pleasing farmer their mothers set them up with.

Your mother was disappointed in the lack of girlishness in you. She was displeased in your fascination with reading, and your taking to the outdoors. She was put off by the closeness between you and your father, finding it strange that the two of you could be friends as well as father and daughter. She found your desire to spend all day outdoors odd, and you found her desire to marry a farmer whilst hating farms to be odd in return.

You gripped on to the tallest branches, peering through leaves in the hopes of seeing the gleams of gold as the carriage approached. You saw your father and the farmer boys line up in front of the door below, and your mother and younger brothers waited just behind them. In the distance, you heard a low thrumming sound. It got louder, and seemingly closer, as more seconds ticked by. You realised, as you heard the clop clop clop noise, that it was the sound of horses' hooves on the dirt tracks as the carriage came into view.

The carriage halted in front of your door, and your father outstretched his hand to an older gentlemen in a plush blue suit. Though your fathers clothes- an old grey shirt and black trousers- were not as elegant, he looked just as regal as he shook hands with the stranger, who you assumed to be the King. He had greying hair, curled into ringlets by his side. There were several other men beside him, ranging from young to old to very old.

You craned your neck to hear their voices, a chorus of low hums and stiff lipped compliments from the old man you saw to be the king. Several minutes ticked by, boredom creeping in as you swung your legs back and forth over the branch, before the group of men finally split to tour the farm land with your father. You rejoiced, a grumble in your belly making any words they said inconsequential. You began your decent from the tree.

With scraped palms and knees, you made it to the ground with a thud. A successful spying , you thought as you wiped your hands on the skirt of your dress. Your monologing was interrupted by the stifled chuckle of a man behind you. You whipped round, narrowing your eyes at the man. Dressed in a simple white shirt and the same black field trousers as your father, he looked to be a fielder himself.

"Hello," he said, voice even and light. He stood with his hands behind his back, polite and effortlessly straight. He was young, younger than the rest of the group you assumed he had been standing with. He must have been no more than three years older than you, as his cheeks still had the faintest roundness to them.

"What are you doing?" he asked when you did not say anything.

You knew your eyes were wide, those of someone caught. There was no use in lying , nor excusing. This man had watched you climb down the tree, from where you had spied. You outstretched your hands, as if stating the obvious. "I was climbing down. From the tree."

"From the tree?"

"Yes, from the tree."

"From that tree?" the man asked, voice teasing and smile irritating as he pointed to the tall oak you had previously been perched in.

"Yes, that tree."

"Whatever for?" He placed his hands behind his back once more, slowly pacing around you in a circle.

"I was hungry, you see." You deadpanned.

"Ah," he affirmed, "and you did not bring food when you climbed up the tree." He was enjoying teasing you, as the smirk on his face grew larger at your squirming. "Or simply not enough."

"Well," you trailed off, waiting for the man to introduce himself to you.

"Forgive me," he said, outstretching a hand. "I am George."

"Well George," you continued. "Usually the trees I climb have some sort of fruit or such for me to eat while I climb, or lounge, or read. This is not my typical tree to climb." You explained.

"And I suppose you have a typical tree?" His face was oddly gleeful, as if this conversation with you - a stranger- was the best part of his day. His smile was wide, showing teeth.

"Yes, I do."

"Which is?" He asked, stepping closer toward you. His smirk was a teasing grin now.

"The apple tree," you stated, that protectiveness creeping back into your tone. "at the farthest end of the orchard."

"Now," he said, voice lilted with mock impress, "I must see this tree, that you so fondly and regularly climb." His voice was a stage whisper.

"Alas, I cannot." You teased back, some what enjoying the banter yourself. "I do not simply show my tree to strangers."

"Ah, but I am not a stranger," he said, closer again now. "I am just George." He stuck his hand out again, waiting for you to shake it. Hesitantly, you did. "I would be honoured to see your tree."

"Do you not have business to attend to?" You asked, gesturing in the direction the other men and the Royal herd had walked in. George shook his head, waving off your remark.

"They are fine themselves. They have no use for my agreements here and questions there." He said. "And even so, if I were to re-join them now," he took another small step closer to you, eyes searching in the distance, "my mind would think of nothing but this apple tree at the farthest end of the orchard."

You smiled at the man as he looked down at you, and felt the strangest urge to lead him by the hand to your sacred reading spot. Something about George made you trust him, utterly and completely, as if you'd known him your whole life. As if you'd run through the fields with him as children, and he knew where the tree was already.

"All right, just George."

A bright, down right contagious smile etched itself on to his face. You couldn't help but smile just as brightly.

The two of you strode side by side through the back field of the farm, chatting idly as you lead him to the orchard. George told you he was a keen farmer himself, but his family bound him to the city. "Why don't you just leave them?" you asked as you opened the large wooden field gate for him.

George paused, leaning on the gate with both arms crossed. "It is not that simple," he said, his face contort in a frown. "I am obliged to stay there. It is a duty, of sorts." He looked around at the tall grass, the wild flowers that bloomed in the field at his feet. "If it were up to me, I would spend all my time in the country."

You felt immensely sorry for him. The thought of being away from the country for more than a day put a nasty pit in your stomach. Gently, you placed your hand on his arm. He looked up at you with glum eyes. You gave him your best reassuring smile as you squeezed his arm lightly. He smiled back at you.

You fell back into stride with one another after that. George asked about your family, and you told him about your father and your three younger sisters. He asked where they were, and you let out a haughty laugh. "They cower at the sight of mud. They are cooped inside with my mother, embroidering or learning the pianoforte or some other nonsense."

"You see no value in these tasks, then?" George asked with a small smirk.

"I see no point, given where we live. What use have I for musical impress or intricate sewing when I spend my time outdoors?" You paused your walking, gesturing to the cows grazing near by. "Any man I encounter in these parts will be as impressed by my pianoforte as those cows."

"Ah, I see." George chuckled to himself. "You are to be a spinster then." You whipped round to face him, annoyance turning your brows into a tight v shape. George laughed again.

"For a stranger you are certainly bold."

"I do not hear a defence."

"No, I am not to be a spinster." You crossed your arms, uncrossing them when George cocked his head to the side slightly. You must have looked ridiculous, like an petulant, spoilt child. You huffed.

"I am not to be a spinster. At least not by intention." You both began walking again, rounding the corner to the long aisle of the orchard. "There," you said, pointing to your tree at the very end.

You turned when George remained silent. His mouth was agape slightly, brown eyes wide and almost honey in the mid day sun. "Beautiful," he sighed out.

It caught you off guard, the strange desire to lead him by the hand to your tree and show him the very best branches. The way he looked at your favourite spot with such awe made you near desperate to share it with him. You had to restrain yourself from reaching out and touching his hand that was inches from yours at your side. You shook your head slightly, as if a jitter would rid of of such peculiar feelings. "Come along, then."

George walked obediently at your side, keeping perfect pace with you. As you walked, he couldn't help but notice the sway of your hair in the light breeze, the way it framed your face so gently. Or the patches of freckles that spotted the bridge of your nose, or the subtle fullness of your bottom lip, how it was slightly larger than the top.

"You said you are not to be a spinster by choice," he began as you reached the foot of the tree. "Whatever do you mean?"

"What I mean is," you said as you reached up to a near branch, pulling yourself up with little struggle, "no man here is in need of a wife, and I am in no need for an elderly husband." You frowned when George laughed again. "You must stop that!" You cried.

"Stop what?" He smiled through his teeth again.

"Laughing at me!"

"I am not laughing at you, forgive me." He said, reaching up to the same branch and - just as you had- hauled him self up with ease. "I simply find it hard to believe no one here is in need of a wife."

"Everyone is already married, or too old, or far too young." You deadpanned. "I do not want to marry a frail old man."

"Let me rephrase," George began. He reached across you, and for a moment you thought he was going to touch your cheek. You sucked in a nervous breath. He plucked an apple that was hanging just above you ear. "I find it hard to believe no one here wants you for a wife."

You found it hard to form words, stuttering over a response. George bit into his apple , smugness radiating off of him in reams.

The two of you sat in peaceful silence for a moment, your backs leaning against the trunk of the tree while your legs stretched out next to each other. "Do you sit out here all day?" George asked softly, turning his head toward you. His breath fanned over your face slightly. You nodded.

"Most days," you sighed contently. "I am usually the one that goes into the towns if needed. Otherwise, I am left alone to sit here as I please." You looked out as the sheep roamed the field ahead of you.

George rested his head back against the trunk of the tree.

"I am envious of you, truly." He said, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You turned your head to face him. Your shoulders were brushing against each other with every breath.

"You are welcome to come here," you said, in an uncharacteristically soft voice. "You can bring a book, and you may sit here for as long as you like, whenever you please. Whenever your family allows you to be in the country."

This close to him, you noticed the flecks of gold in George's eyes. The small freckle above his eye brow. The rosiness of his cheeks. His words echoed in your head.

'I find it hard to believe no one wants you for a wife."

In the distance, you heard the ruckus of the men returning to the front of the house. George shot up. You shot up with him.

"I must go," he said hurriedly. He swung his legs over the branch and jumped off. As you moved to do the same, you saw him waiting on the ground with his hands outstretched. He was helping you down. You reached a hand out to him, and he pulled you down. Expecting a thud, you noticed he had steadied you with a hand on your waist. "I wish I could stay longer, I truly do. Alas, they will run like chickens without heads if I am not back soon."

You wished to find some poetic goodbye, but all you could muster was a soft sigh. "Will you be back?" His hand was still gripping yours.

George chuckled breathily.

"Of course," he said, as if it was obvious. "I must bring a book and see if this really is the best spot for reading."

The voices in the distance got louder, calling George's name now. He looked over his shoulder, then back to you. "I am back in the country in two weeks time. May I see you then?"

You smiled at his politeness, hoping your hasty nod came across as friendly and not desperate. "Of course."

"Splendid."

He brought your hand to his lips then, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your knuckles. "It has been a pleasure, madam." He said with a gentlemanly bow.

He turned to walk away then, and you felt as though the wind had been knocked right out of you. Your feet were glued to the ground, unable to move you from that same spot.

"Oh," George called from a distance. "The inspection went fantastically. Your farm shall have a wonderful review." He grinned, all boyish and joyful, before turning back and sprinting in the direction of the loud voices.

His words only sunk in after he'd rounded the corner gate, and you nearly collapsed onto a log.

Not only had you spent your afternoon with a total stranger, telling him your deepest thoughts and secrets, scandalously close should a gossiping eye see it.

You'd just spent your afternoon with the King of England.

#queen charlotte #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #queen charlotte netflix #king george #king george x reader #king george bridgerton #corey mylchreest #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #period piece #slow burn #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #strangers to friends #fluff #smut #fanfic #bridgerton queen charlotte

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railingsofsorrow · 12 days

Text

an apple doesn't fall far from the tree (until it does)

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: reader takes care of her daughter while she's sick and some memories of her childhood resurface.

pairing: s.reid x f!bau!reader

w.c: 2.2K

warnings/content: being neglected by a parent; reader has mommy issues & spencer has daddy issues; crying; discussions about a difficult childhood; insecurities; mentions of v*mit and fever (the flu symptoms); Eden Reid being everyone's source of joy; Spencer in glasses always; hurt/comfort; very brief (implied) suggestive content; spiders; I proofread this at 2am.

A/N: here's my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins kid fic challenge i was so sad that I didn't see this until after May 1 :( but here it is! absolutely love writing about dad!spencer. it's legit a source of inspiration.

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

want to read more works about this au?

→ [recharging] - [day off]

━━━━━━━━━

“No, it's the other way around.” You laugh when Eden places the egg shells inside the cake batter instead of the egg yolk.

“Oh,” she mumbles with parted lips. Then squirms away and giggles when you tickle her sides. You do manage to get most of the egg shells out of the batter. “Sorry, mamma.”

“It's okay, baby. Now what's next?”

She studies every material in the counter thoroughly, her fingers moving as she thinks it over. That's the moment you stop and stare fondly because of how much she resembles her father. Her hair had grown longer in the past few months, it's nearly past her shoulders and the honey brown curls are exactly like Spencer's.

“Sugar!” She raises her pointer finger, giving you an eager look, anxious to know if she's correct or wrong. You take a few seconds to build suspense and reveals the veredic. Eden jumps in the chair in excitement and you gasp, holding her in place so she wouldn't fall.

One of your favourite sounds in the whole word is Eden's laughter. It's contagious and childish and unforgettable. And a bit healing, if you're being honest. In case you're feeling a little down, making Eden giggle is the cure.

When you were called at the school by her teacher today because your daughter had threw up during class, you were finishing up the pile of paperwork in your desk. It took some convincing for Spencer not to immediately run to the school, but when he heard she had asked for you in the phonecall, he caved in. Giving you one condition: to send updates of Eden's wellbeing every hour so he could know how she was.

Your husband listed at least a thousand medications and natural medicine to help with the symptoms before you were able to leave the office.

Eden had the flu, that's what the doctor said. She needed rest, the strawberry flavoured syrup, the medication to avoid nausea and cuddles to heal faster.

Thankfully, she was laughing again by the afternoon, which meant she was feeling slightly better. You noticed her paleness diminished after taking the medication and having a good four-hour nap, her fever had also went down.

“Good girl,” you praise after she takes a spoon of her medication not hiding her grimace. “Now we wait for the cake to be ready so we can have a big bite.”

She nods dutifully, rubbing her eyes with her small hands. You recognise the sign of a sleepy child, so you scoop her up and take her to her bedroom.

Although, before you place her in bed with her stuffed friends, you decide to keep her in your arms for a while longer, mumbling a lullaby softly while rocking her to sleep. Almost like when she was a baby, the difference now is that she's bigger and not bald.

It doesn't take ten minutes for her soft snores to be heard. You put her to bed and leave the door ajar in case she needs you during the night. You would come check in on her every hour anyway, to make sure her fever wouldn't rise again.

There's this weird thing about being a parent: you never quit worrying. It's not exactly weird, it is, in your case, the maternal instinct that you can't avoid. It was there ever since Eden was born.

The reason why you find that odd is because you never had that. Not when you were a child, not when you were a rebel teenager, not as an adult. In fact, you were pretty convinced your mother's maternal instinct was nonexistent.

The only time you remember being held by your mom was when you cut your head when you fell down the stairs and you had to spend an entire night for observation. She held your hand as you slept the entire time, kissed your temple and then told you she loved you. She never did it again. Eden's grandmother wasn't maternal, she wasn't a fan of bedtime stories or mother and daughter times.

But she takes Eden to school and insists on staying with her on some weekends so they can bake Eden's favourite biscuits and decorate it.

She wasn't your mother when you needed, but she is a good grandmother to your daughter.

You don't understand it. You are thankful, of course. It's not like you expected that she would treat Eden bad or anything, but you can't help but wonder if that coldness and distance was just reserved for you as a child? And what did you do to deserve that. You must have done something. Still, she never told you what.

“Why are you sitting in the middle of the hallway in the dark?”

You let out a gasp, quickly covering your mouth. You take a glimpse inside Eden's room through the small space left and notice her sleeping frame tucked in with Mr. Greenie.

You had been sitting on the floor, staring at nothing in the dark in the middle of the hall, which is why Spencer is questioning you, rightfully so. But he startled you.

“I'm monitoring,” you say rather dumbly but out of excuses. “... her fever.”

He lifts his glasses up his nose — he recently went back to wearing because his eyes got too sensitive for contacts — while squinting doubtfully at you, then he turns on the light to sit down crisscrossed by your side after also taking a look inside Eden's bedroom. He would give her a goodnight kiss in a minute.

You don't even realize you're crying until his thumb travels across your cheeks to gently wipe your tearstained cheeks. His mouth tugging downwards at your puffy eyes.

“You told me her fever went down an hour ago.”

“It did.”

“Then what's wrong, angel?”

She's fine, you're not. He thinks.

You sniffle, shaking your head. You feel like a child all over again. This is so stupid. You are an adult, why are you still feeling like this? You have your family now, there is no need to dig into the past and suffer. You cannot change anything about it.

He scoots into your personal space, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to bring you closer to him. You rest your head on his chest, hearing the thump thump of his heartbeat against your ear. For a moment, that's all you thought about. Spencer's hands drawing invisible patterns on your arms and back, muttering softly about his day as to not disturb the peaceful silence and kissing the crown of your head occasionally.

“She's perfect.”

His hands halt on their way up and down your arm. “Yes, she is.” He knows who you were talking about, he always does, like he read your mind.

“I'm scared I might ruin her.”

This sentence alone terrifies you to no end. It's so much deeper than feeling unloved as a child because it isn't about you anymore, it's about the life you created, the life you are raising and watching grow up. The life who carries your DNA, the same one you share with you mother, who is the person that made you question every single encounter with a human being and if you really deserves to be loved.

Every day, you wonder if you were cold or short with Eden at any moment. If, maybe, a comment slipped last your lips and it would define how her day would be. Or if you gave her a look of disapproval that would make her question her way of speaking or her way of being.

You are scared of ending up like her and to have your daughter regret being raised by you.

“That's just not possible.” Spencer says firmly, squeezing you as reassurance. “You're a wonderful person and a wonderful mother, there is just absolutely no way you would ruin her or do anything remotely close.”

“If I'm so wonderful, then why didn't she love me?”

Parents can impact your life in a good way or catastrophically bad. There's the line in between, the gray line. From what Spencer heard you talk about your mother, she leans a little towards the catastrophically bad. It isn't that she doesn't love you. It is about the way she didn't show it.

“It wasn't your fault.”

Spencer finds your mother a sweet woman who took care of Eden when both of you are away on cases, or just because she wants to be with her granddaughter that day. And that's fine, he likes her. She's okay. What isn't okay is how she left you to drown in doubt in your childhood as you questioned every action you did in your entire life afterwards.

That was cruel and cold and unfair. You might forgive her for how she treated you one day, but he wouldn't.

You scoff, harshly drying your tears as they kept coming. “I must have done something.”

“You were a child.” Spencer insists, caressing your cheek. He understands where the blame comes from, he used to carry that burden, sometimes he still does. Did he make his dad leave? Could he have done something to stop it? The answer is no. A child cannot blame themselves for their parents mistakes.

And that's easier said than done.

“So?”

He sighs, lifting your chin so he can look into your eyes and stick what he is about to say into your brain for good.

“Is there anything Eden could do that would make you treat her with indifference?”

Your brows raise in disbelief, “God, no. She's my everything.”

He gives you a pointed look at your quick answer. You didn't even think twice, you didn't have to. She is your everything. The best part of you. And you would do anything to put a smile on her face. Because that's what parents are supposed to do.

“You know that you're her first source of comfort?”

You tilt your head to show you're listening, focusing on playing with his calloused knuckles. “What do you mean.”

“You're the first person she wants after a nightmare, when she has a bad day at school or even when there's a bug in the room that you're also terrified of.”

You can't hold back the snort that comes out of your mouth.

“You're not talking about spiders, certainly. Remember that night you saw one in our bedroom and screamed so loud our neighbours made fun of us on the weekend?” Spencer rolls his eyes and you carry on, too amused to stop. “They thought we were going at it. like rabbits.”

“Okay,” Spencer huffs, pretending to be annoyed. He can't actually be annoyed at you. “It was huge and what if it had walked all over our bed before we found it? Where was it before? When did it get there? Did you know that the bite of the false widow spider Steatoda nobilis can develop infections that are unresponsive to antibiotics?”

“Baby.” You peck his lips until he stops rambling. You do love when he goes off on a rant but he will just spiral out of control if he thinks anymore about spiders and decide to clean-up the entire house to be convinced there is no spider lurking in the corner. “I killed it, okay? You're safe.”

He hums, leaning forward for another kiss. “My hero,” he mumbles into your lips.

Both of you check Eden's temperature and kiss the mini version of you goodnight before going back to the living room.

“So you do understand, right?” He wraps both arms around you when you sit on the couch, kissing the back of your head. “You're wonderful and kind and lovely and you. Our girl and I couldn't have been more lucky.”

“If you want to make me cry again just say the word, Spencer.” He chuckles, spreading little kisses down your neck, lips wavering closer to your ear.

“Never, but I do want to make you smile, so I got ice cream.”

That makes you turn around fast, an excitement glint on your eyes. “Which flavor?”

His lips twitches into that smug grin when he knows he is right about something. He shrugs pretending to be nonchalant. “Cotton candy, I guess.”

You shoot up from the couch before he can utter another word and run towards the fridge, whispering-yelling I love you so as to not wake up your daughter. Spencer nods with a fond smile, leaning against the kitchen counter to watch you moan over your favorite ice cream and remember the part of your childhood that you enjoyed. Cotton candy, afternoon walks in the park and friends sleepovers.

“I love you,” you confess as your mouth splits into a wide smile while you're kissing him. His tongues travelled through his lips after you split apart and he tastes the sweet flavor of cotton-candy provided by you.

Spencer presses his lips to both of your cheeks and the tip of your nose, gazing down at you lovingly. “I know, and I love you too.”

━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @lilyviolets ; @whore-for-spencer-reid ; @yeonalie ; @ninkieminjaj ; @hoeshissworld ; @r-3dlips ; @pleasantwitchgarden

#spencer reid fanfiction #reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #writing challenge

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apomaro-mellow · 6 months

Text

King&Prince 4

"Hey Eddie, what happens if you stick a finger up someone's ass?", Dustin asked.

Eddie choked on nothing and looked up from the map he'd been studying. He cleared his throat and flailed his hands at his young ward.

"The fuck Henderson?"

"I asked Steve about it once but he said he wouldn't tell me yet."

"Steve?!" Eddie got up while slamming his hands down. "As in the prince? As in the one I have locked away in the dungeon as we speak?"

"Yeah", Dustin replied, unbothered by the shadows shifting behind Eddie as his hair began to stand on end.

"I will say this in the simplest terms I can. Stay. Away. From Harrington."

Dustin put down the anatomy book he'd been reading. "But he's not dangerous. At least not while he's caged up. He's got pretty decent knowledge of how to hurt someone though."

"Oh I'm sure. He comes from a long line of people who live to hurt." Eddie moved from behind his desk, leaving the map behind. The fireplace was burning bright, the sun had set long ago and Eddie should have sent Dustin to bed by now, but he liked the company. "You know what his family has done."

"I do, but it's not like he's done it. He doesn't deserve to sleep in a shit hole just because his family is a bunch of assholes", Dustin said.

"And who's to say he isn't just as much of an asshole? Apples don't fall far from trees." Eddie moved to stare into the fire. He had been studying the map of his kingdom to think of ways to move his citizens and creatures. He didn't want to displace people, nor seem like he was conceding the border, but the Harringtons weren't giving him much of a choice.

"Can't you just give him some new clothes? He's literally starting to smell."

"I want you to stay out of the dungeons. You keep it up and I'll tell your mom that you're fraternizing with the enemy."

Dustin let out an offended scoff, upset that Eddie would go as far as tattling on him. Well, he had ways around that. Curious about the royal hostage, Dustin had intercepted the servant going to give him his meal and took over that task. But since Eddie told him he couldn't go anymore, Dustin got someone else instead.

Mike had to be bribed with a book, but he went and asked Steve what was worse, internal bleeding or dying of infection.

"Are you one of Dustin's friends?"

"Just answer the question so I can get outta here", Mike sighed.

"I'm not a doctor. I don't know which is worse. But infection is definitely more gross", Steve said. "Especially if it's on your-"

"On your what?", Mike pressed.

Steve considered how much of a pest Dustin was when he didn't get a straight answer and decided that having a conversation partner so he told Mike what he knew about infections while eating. Mike's jaw never left the floor.

"Eddie was wrong about you. You're so-!" Mike stopped short when Steve looked up at him. "You're uh, you're fine, I guess. Do you know a lot about gross stuff like that?"

"I don't know about a lot. I know a thing or two", Steve shrugged. That name came up again, Eddie. Steve was almost interested enough to ask about him but figured he was probably just someone else in the castle that hung out with these kids. And apparently he was someone they looked up to.

From then on, he had a rotation of visitors to bring him food. Dustin was still around, and he'd met Mike. But now there was also Lucas, who mostly asked about the fighting techniques Steve knew about. He also met Will, who usually came with a list of questions Dustin had but also asked about his kingdom in general. Something about the whole thing caught Steve off guard and he asked Dustin the next time he saw him.

"Does your king only employ children?"

"What? No, we don't get paid, but we should", Dustin rolled his eyes as he slid the food over. "We just live here. Lucas and Mike wanna be squires. And I-"

"Where are all the monsters?", Steve asked.

"You probably mean the demobeasts. They live outside, you know, like most animals." Dustin looked at him like he was stupid. It was a common expression on his face.

"They're not like, crawling around?", Steve hadn't even seen so much as a rat, even here in his cell.

"It's not a wild house", Dustin crossed his arms. "I brought one demodog into the castle and Eddie lost it just because it tore up some scrolls."

"You and this Eddie guy hang out a lot? How come you've never sent him down here?", Steve asked.

"He's pretty busy. Plus, he doesn't like you that much."

Steve didn't need to ask why. He was an enemy prince, after all. So far, only Dustin and his friends had shown him anything resembling kindness. Just a day ago, someone had been sent to 'clean' him. Which was really just tossing a bucket of cold water at him. And even those that knew him beyond his status weren't so loving and warm. It was why Steve wasn't surprised that his family had yet to burst through the doors to save him.

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

Alric had known long before he got a letter that his son had been taken and by whom. Steve's escorting party had returned much sooner than planned. Many of them injured, but none dead. They had reported to their king the events and just who was responsible. Still, Alric waited for the official word, just to see what that devil of a king wanted in exchange for his son.

It turned out to be a call to end his aggression and enter a truce. A call to discuss the details of the truce more in person. To sit at the same table as equals and figure out how to live harmoniously as neighbors.

He threw the letter into the fire.

Such terms were unthinkable, as was sending a reply of any kind. Alric would allow his silence to do the talking.

When it went on week three without any sort of word, Eddie called his council to discuss.

"What does it mean when a king doesn't care about his prince?", Eddie had asked.

"It's got to be a ploy", Nancy said. "He wouldn't abandon his only son."

"Unless he was some sort of disgrace", Jeff said. "But then again, something like that would have hit the rumor mill already."

"How can a prince be disgraced? They get away with everything", Robin commented.

Eddie was pacing around the table in the council room. "The point is, dear old dad doesn't seem to bothered with this. It's almost like he wants to be rid of him."

"So what do we do?", Jeff asked.

"We need a clearer picture", Nancy said.

"Clearer picture...", Eddie mused, pausing in his pacing. Then he let out a very loud, every exaggerated groan while bending so far backwards his head almost touched the floor. "Time to visit my favorite hostage."

Part 6

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #the party

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spectersgirl · 6 months

Note

Hi!! If u still do request i have one. Can u do one where harvey x reader has a stubborn son (like a mini teenage version of him)? love your fics btw!!

This is part two!! Part one is here!

Mini Harvey (p2)

---

You were reading peacefully when you noticed the voices of your son and husband raising louder and louder. The tension crackled between Harvey and your teenage son. Oliver, much like his father, was headstrong and determined, especially when it came to his desire to pursue a career in law.

This time, the argument centered on Oliver's college decision. He was adamant about attending Stanford all the way in California, but Harvey, ever the protective father, had different ideas. If Oliver was going into law, the only option in Harvey's mind was Harvard, his own alma mater.

A few more minutes of yelling passed, followed by the slamming of a bedroom door, and then it was silent. You decided it was best not to get in the middle of their argument this time, knowing that at least one of them would be coming to you for a venting session anyway.

As if on cue a gentle knock interrupted the quiet, and there stood Harvey, looking an odd mixture of pissed off and nervous. "I need your advice," he admitted, a touch of vulnerability in his voice. "Oliver and I... I just don't know how to get through to him."

You beckoned him to sit beside you, offering a soft smile. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?" you joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Harvey managed a small smile. "He's got my stubbornness, that's for sure."

You giggled and placed a hand on his back, rubbing it softly causing him to relax into your touch just a bit.

"He's just so insistent," Harvey confessed. "I want the best for him, but I'm afraid I'm just pushing him away. I just wish I knew how to make him see my reasoning."

You paused before responding, meeting Harvey's gaze. "Harvey, sometimes it's not about making him see your reasons. It's about understanding his. Have you even asked him why he wants to go to Stanford over Harvard? Ask him about his choices instead of getting him to come to your side. He needs to feel heard and supported."

Harvey nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. I've been too focused on what I think is best for him without even thinking about his perspective. Thanks, baby."

He gave you a quick kiss to the temple before standing and leaving the room. As Harvey left, you prepared yourself for the conversation with Oliver, which was sure to come any minute. Soon enough, another knock sounded through the room.

"Mom," Oliver began, "Dad just doesn't get it. He won't even listen to why I don't want to go to Harvard, he just always thinks he's right and knows what's best”

Inviting him to sit down, you spoke gently. "Dad just cares about you, Oliver. But maybe he's not expressing it in the best way. Have you tried seeing things from his perspective? He might have valid reasons, but he needs to listen to you too."

Oliver's frustrated demeanor softened as he mulled over your words. "I guess I haven’t. Thanks mom, I’ll go talk to him."

Later that evening, when you were getting ready for bed, Harvey entered and closed the bedroom door behind him.

“Hey, did you talk to him?” You asked.

“I did. We both apologized and I heard him out, then I explained that no matter where he decides, I’ll always be proud of him.”

“I’m proud of you, I know it was always your dream for him to go to Harvard but it makes me so proud to see you let that go and let Oliver choose his own dream.”

Harvey smiled, with a touch of sadness behind his eyes. He walked over to you, wrapping you in his arms.

“When did our little guy get big enough to argue with me about colleges?” Harvey murmured into your hair.

“Don’t get all sentimental now, we are not having another”

#harvey specter x reader #harvey specter #harvey specter suits #suits fics #harveyspecter #request #suits #requests open

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daze4all · 6 months

Text

Modern AU Honkai Star Rail Boyfriend Blade, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan: Farewell Fall

Imagine: Farewell Fall Series: Fluff & Spicy

Dan Heng-Apple Picking & Pie Making

2. Blade - Haunted House

3. Jing Yuan - Scary Movie

I weirdly miss Halloween season now it’s passing… Happy Thanskgiving everyone!

Dan Heng Apple Picking & Pie Making

Modern Boyfriend! Dan Heng x Reader

Modern BF! Dan Heng lifts you up and holds you on his shoulders to reach the juiciest reddest and greenest apples on the top of the trees.

Modern Boyfriend! Dan Heng who snags some out of reach apples with his tail. Then uses his tail gather and wrap them up in his tail before plopping them in plastic bags. He might even have extra reach to outdo the tall guys like Jing Yuan & Blade with his extra appendage. What he makes up in length he has an extra in more ways than one lol

Modern BF! Dan Heng holds full three bags of apples like balancing act with two in his hands and one hanging off his tail. All three full of apples.

Modern! Dan Heng puts his head through the scare crow cutout and bears the cheesy picture moment for you as yours dressed up as Dorothy. Perhaps March the Tin man and Stelle the Lions to make up the group. He does so without a complaint though his thinks it a bit silly.

Modern! Dan Heng and you bake apple pie getting flour everywhere. Then make leaf cookies with the extra crust dusted cinnamon and sugar.

Modern! Dan Heng slips a cookie between your lips

Modern BF! Dan Heng asks How sweet is it? when you nod and are about to reply-

Modern BF! Dan Heng descends upon you sealing your lips with his in a surprise kiss

Modern BF! Dan Heng rubs the extra sugar from you lip with a mischievous smile and licks his lips to get to remaining sugar that transferred to his lips.

“You taste very sweet~” teases Modern BF! Dan Heng “Can I try again?” teal eyes soft and sincere in their desire.

Touring a Haunted House with Blade

Modern Boyfriend! Blade x Reader

Modern Boyfriend! flinches at sudden sound from the haunted house and reaches instinctually for his side for weapon that isn’t there.

Modern BF! Blade slams an arm across you to guard you when suddenly a monster pops out to protect you.

Modern BF! Blade perhaps chases down that haunted house monster eyes blazing. To the costumed workers terror. How dare they scare you and him! He is going to beat that guy up. “Blade stops, they are only actors!” You cry behind him trying to catch up.

Modern BF! Blade picks you up hoisting you under his arm to continue his chase because you are too slow.

Side note Modern BF Blade also seems the type to smash your phone for attention

Modern! Blade is terrified of haunted house at it triggers his long-forgotten fighting reflexes and fight response but would be too prideful to say anything.

Reader may need to comfort Modern! Blade by grabbing his head if they can get him to focus on the present to look at them and reassure him saying “Geez Blade it’s just pretend, don’t worry I’m here with you” with a hug and maybe a smooch on the forehand to distract him

Reader & Modern BF! Blade then gets stuck in their own world in dark corner to do their own thing where none of the monster actors want to interrupt or risk get beaten to death by a cock blocked Modern! Blade.

Even though you clearly shouldn’t be making out or going that far in a public haunted house. These areas blocked off they say to visitors so you guys have their privacy far from the children’s innocent eyes….

Modern BF! Jing Yuan x Reader

Watching a Scary Movie with Jing Yuan

Cuddled up for scary movie night complete with popcorn a couch to cuddle on

In the silver screen, the figure whirr into view and shadowy ghost take shape inching forward in a dreary pipe system.

“Y/N comfort me this movie is so scary~” Modern Boyfriend! Jing Yuan pleads inching closer to cuddle as excuse. His hand reaching out to holding yours. While you shake imperceptibly from the scary story.

“Ahh so your scared too no worries I’m here” soothes Modern! Jing Yun

The a sudden jolt as you hid your face burrowing into his shoulder as an alien monster pops up to attack the person traversing the sewer to your surprise.

Modern BF! Jing yuan gathers you up in his lap with a surprised and pleased laugh “now that was a surprise!” while you blush hitting him lightly with a hand saying, “I wasn’t scared just startled!” blushing in embarrassment and trying to detangle yourself but stuck by Jing yuan’s weight and arms.

“I’ll keep you safe from the monsters in my arms~ croon Jing yuan as he nuzzles your cheek and places a peck on it.

Modern Boyfriend! Jing Yuan’s golden eyes glinting for more “or would you rather be distracted from the scary movie? He purrs.

“I-I can take it” you assert though voice warble slightly at the embarrassing insinuation of scary movie who can tell.

Modern BF! Jing Yuan his hand inched toward you hand on thigh and you “epp” slightly in surprise prompting another guffaw as he snuggles into you.

“Hmm your reaction says otherwise~” teases Modern BF! Jing Yuan his sly smile pushing you ever so slightly. Avidly watching you with his golden eyes like a cat watching its prey for its next reaction.

“Okay. You win~” you say with a playful smile and nod slightly giving your consent. You reach out for him and straddle him, as big cat Jing Yuan pounces on you for you for spicy times on the couch.

Or Reader jostles him back into place with arm elbowing him with a “Down boy, not now let watch the movie” to which Modern BF! Jing Yuan pouts but pulls you into his lap. Content to cuddle to watch the movie while he holds you in his lap for his comfort. Modern BF! Jing Yuan props his head on top of yours to watch the show with you under his arms.

#dan heng x you #blade x reader #honkai star rail #male yandere x reader #yandere imagines #dan heng #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #hsr blade #dan heng fluff #honkai star rail fluff #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #yandere jing yuan #honkai star rail jing yuan #jing yuan fluff #imbibitor lunae #jing yuan fic #blade fluff

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crownmemes · 27 days

Text

Fallout Sentences

(Sentences from Fallout (2024-). Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Get that jelly mould out of here!"

"Everyone knows who I am, but do they know who they are?"

"Maybe you should do what you do best - run and hide."

"I'm not letting anyone else get hurt on my behalf, okay?"

"Violence is merely a tool."

"What would you know about where I'm from?"

"Us cowpokes, we take it as it comes."

"You come from a world of rules and laws. This place is indifferent to all of that. I do not think you would be willing to do what it takes to survive here."

"The question is, will you still want the same things when you have become a different animal altogether?"

"I know that it can't have been easy for you, what with all the murder and dirt."

"I think this conversation would benefit from some actual ideas."

"You saved me!"

"How do you live like this?"

"Now, that right there is the closest thing we've had to an honest exchange so far."

"I come from a place where the world is what you make of it."

"Everyone wants to save the world. They just disagree on how."

"The things I'm willing to do for you never cease to amaze me."

"You might be the only one of my invites that actually showed up!"

"You smell good."

"That was weird, right?"

"Trust doesn't come easily to those of us with a guilty conscience."

"When it comes to leadership these days, dangerous is what they call a prerequisite."

"Somebody's got to step up and bring some order around here."

"In my experience, the apple tends not to fall too far from the tree. Is that true in your case?"

"There's always some new little faction, isn't there?"

"Hypocrisy is like violence in the movies; if you only let the bad guys use it, the bad guys win."

"Our test subjects were less compliant than we anticipated."

"Your ignorance cannot excuse your cruelty."

"Such a display of loyalty! You don't see that much anymore."

"The future of humanity comes down to one word: management."

"What? No! When you put it like that, it sounds downright morally questionable!"

"War? War never changes."

"You see what this place does to people?"

"Maybe you can stop them, maybe you can't. Maybe all you can do is try."

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #specific;#scifi drama;#filmtv;#fallout;

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getinthefuckingjaeger · 2 months

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the problem with Scamanders

for @jakes3resin (you did a lot, my turn for presents now)

“You could have written, you know.”

Bucky’s legs stopped as though glued to the cobbled street of the little village he found himself wandering that night. His shoulders fell back along with his head, neck tilted almost painfully to the night sky as he heaved a great sigh. Christ and Merlin, here we fucking go.

He stayed stubbornly still, ignoring the crick in his neck the longer he tilted his head like that. It's not a bad view - an explosion of stars in the night sky fills his eyes in the absence of a German air raid. The shops in the highstreet of this unassuming village in Ipswich are all asleep around him. Thin fog that isn't really a fog flows languidly between his military-shine boots before climbing his legs like vines to a tree. The magic is warm like sunshine and soft as a caress when it touches Bucky’s hands. He flexed his fingers to disperse the white wisps and tuck them into his trousers pockets.

He still absolutely refuses to budge. No, sir.

“Merlin, you’re still as stubborn as a Hippogriff, aren’t you Johnny?” A low chuckle cuts through the otherwise quiet night and Bucky can hear the sounds of expensive Oxfords getting closer to where he stands, until there is a wall of flesh and magic by his side, a firm shoulder pressing against his. “Come on, then. Give us a smile.”

Bucky grimaces at the sky. Looks down at his feet with another sigh. Then looks to his side, and into a face so much like his own.

With wizards' lifespan as long as it is, the face Bucky sees had barely aged from the last time he saw it. The same gold skin tanned by Quidditch, the same dark mahogany curls falling from its coiffed hairstyle and hanging over the same dark blue eyes - almost navy in the darkness.

But where there’s an absence in signs of age, there is stark evidence of war on that familiar face. Bucky notes the discolored scars peppering the left side of the man’s face like something exploded too close for comfort, the way his nose sits a little crooked like it was set-wrong and far too late to rectify, and - Bucky paused a moment to stare - a thin, barely visible line that runs from under his left ear to his adam’s apple.

Familiar aftershave fills his lungs, reminding him of a childhood on a vast estate and the summer sun warming his back, as he paddles through cool sparkling waters of the massive fountain on the cul de sac of their mansion’s driveway. He can almost hear his aunt’s exasperated complaints and boisterous laughter of his cousin and uncles, the sounds of struggle as his father tried to push Newt off his perch on the edges of the marble fountain.

That was another life, then.

“Auror Scamander, sir.” Bucky lets the mask of Major Egan take over as he steps away from his cousin. “Hope you’ve been well, sir.”

Only years with Buck could ever prepare him to withstand the quiet, appraising look that Theseus is giving him. The stare weighs heavy on his chest as he looks just over Theseus’ shoulder as he would to any senior officer in the USAAF. Theseus, damn the man, tilts his head just so and catches Bucky’s eyes - his smile is tired, resigned.

“I’ve been better - the ah, hunt keeps me on my toes, so to speak.” Bucky watches as Theseus tugs lightly at his coat and white silk scarf. “Newt sends his regards, as does Tina - he also sends his thanks, for looking after Frank the... Thunderbird?”

Bucky and Theseus share a commiserating look, the first one in almost a decade since Bucky was sent back. It wasn’t a chore to disapparate from Texas to the deserts of Arizona after lights out a few times a month. Certainly one of the most rewarding things he’s ever voluntarily done, to be able to run his hands over the beak of such a majestic creature. It’s through Frank that Bucky realizes the calm that one can find sitting in the middle of a literal storm as the massive avian flies over his head.

I fell in love with the big birds, Buck told him once. Bucky had agreed, but couldn’t explain that his big bird is a little more literal than Gale’s. And that it creates thunderstorms when it flies.

The glint of Theseus’ cufflinks pulls Bucky away from desert storms and back into the cold English night air. The Scamander crest twinkles under the starlight like a taunt. Bucky didn’t even realize Theseus had put out all the street lights. Goddamn aurors.

He moves to a parade rest to remind himself of who and where he is now - that he’s no longer just John Egan, cousin of Newton and Theseus Scamander, the three remaining Scamander.

“Why haven’t you written, Johnny?” Theseus remains a respectable distance from him, but Bucky can tell how much he’s probably itching to shake him by the shoulders in frustration. “Years of silence from you and your mother’s family in Wisconsin. Newt tried to look for you when he’s stateside, but you’re always never there. It's like you vanished - if Frank hadn’t hinted at it, or if your likeness weren't still moving on the family tapestry we’d have thought you dead.”

Bucky tenses just as Theseus rocks back on his heels like the weight of his anger was a physical thing.

“What was it all for then, if we thought you died, too?”

It plays out like a picture reel in Bucky’s head - him, at eight years old with his right hand in Theseus’ left as they walk down the carpeted floor of the Scamander ancient mansion. 27, a war hero, as tall as the suit of armors that used to dot the hallways and the greatest wizard he’s ever known. Then there was Newt, only a year younger than Theseus, his figure painted in hues of red, purple, and green from the large stained glass windows - Bucky can still recall Newt’s excited chatter about all the wonderful creatures on the estate and the Hippogriffs that Aunt Artemis has in her enclosure.

Then Bucky, at thirteen years old and shaking with barely suppressed excitement as he clutched his shiny new broomstick that Theseus gave him for Christmas. The grand bubble of joy that buoyed him through the entire afternoon of flying lessons with Theseus, half the family sitting on picnic blankets spread over snow covered grounds, the fabric charmed to be warm and dry. The lightness he felt as he shot himself across the estate grounds despite Theseus’ yelling is something he has tried time and time again to recreate as his fort lifts-off.

And finally at eighteen, once again walking down the carpeted floor of the Scamander mansion. Alone, at night, confused and hurting. Aunt Artemis had gone to town that autumn morning with his parents but none returned. Newt has disappeared - likely on another errand for Dumbledore - and he has never seen Theseus so angry as he threw Aurors, his own colleagues, out of their parlor.

The subsequent argument he had with Theseus - just the memory of it brings him shame of how it inevitably ended.

“You need to go, Johnny - Grindelwald is hunting us down.”

“I can fight, T - I’m of age!”

“I know, I know, you can. I just can’t allow you - think of the family, Johnny. Grindelwald will try to kill you and Newt to get to me, and I can’t protect both of you at once.”

“Fine, I get it. Can’t trust the half-blood to take care of himself, huh?”

“You said I needed to go and I did what you told me to.”

Bucky drops the parade rest and shoves his hands in his pockets where Theseus cant see how they shake. Un-fucking-believeable that he’s flown multiple missions, have survived so many things he shouldn’t up there where hell resides above the clouds, but his hands have never shaken like this. Not once. “I had a lot of time to think and I realized - as much as I fucking hated it- you couldn’t afford distractions.”

“It’s not like that-”

Bucky shakes his head and shuffles in his boots. He itches for a cigarette. “I ain’t saying that to be an ass, T. I understand that now more than ever - this war I’m fighting… it puts things in perspective.”

“I see.”

And Theseus does see - Bucky holds his gaze for as long as he can stand. He kicks a loose stone and it skids neatly over to Theseus’ toes. His cousin nudged the stone back to Bucky. They share a grin. “How bad is it, your end?” He falls back into parade rest, puts away John Egan who was once Mr. Scamander to his peers in Hogwarts, and brings Major Egan to the forefront once again.

“As well as it is going for yours, I’d imagine Major.” Theseus, always the best one out of the three Scamander scions at reading people, adjusts his posture from soft and imploring, to hard and imposing. Demanding respect, like the Head of the British Auror Office. He pursed his lips in thought. “You may want to properly practice your wandless magic, Major Egan. I’ll take care of MACUSA and the Ministry.”

Bucky splutters. He thinks of an alder wand that used to be an extension of himself and how the yoke of his B-17 can never replace that kind of power.

“How do you expect me to do that, sir?” He grits out. Easy, John, easy now the Buck in his head soothes his ire. “Between the suicide missions and trying to keep everyone’s head on straight - how the fuck do you expect me to do that, sir?”

“You’ll figure it out, Major.” It came out like an order. Theseus’s lips quirked. “You apparrated from one state to another back in your Muggle flight school, didn’t you? Apparating from London tonight must have been a breeze. Power like that needs tending to. Particularly when you have talent for wandless casting.”

“With all due respect, sir, but last I checked you’re not my CO - you ain’t even an American, so you can kindly shove-”

“Do it for Major Cleven and your boys, then.”

The ensuing silence rings through Bucky’s head as the streetlights come back up one by one. Theseus’ hard look softens just a touch as he walks backwards and away from Bucky.

“I heard your boys are flying a mission tomorrow morning - Bremen again, I think - arresto momentum and subtle shielding charms will do.” Theseus winks, then apropos of nothing, said “I’ll come round’ for tea.”

That broke through Bucky’s bewildered suspension, but not fast enough to stop Theseus from disapparating with a soft pop.

“Goddamn wizards.”

Bucky spun and disapparate just as the last streetlight returned.

#john egan #theseus scamander #bucky egan #masters of the air #mota #jaeger writes #john scamander au

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funnyscienceman · 9 months

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listen listen listen listen. i am never going to get over singed & viktor. CAN YOU IMAGINE THE MENTAL ANGUISH. THE MESS OF EMOTIONS VIKTOR HAS TO DEAL WITH. he's so steadfast with his morals and ideals. hextech must not be weaponized. dangerous science is fine as long as the only person at risk of getting hurt is me. the moment it kills someone else he's fucking BROKEN by it and just throws in the gd towel. YET SINGED WAS THE ONE WHO TAUGHT HIM. like just. imagine, ok. imagine— take the premise that singed & viktor were actually pretty close. viktor was lonely as a kid, but he found company in rio. in singed. singed provides a space and opportunity for viktor to do his science stuff. "we can be loners together." here's someone he probably has a decent amount of affection and respect for, maybe even admires like a kid would a mentor/role model/parental figure. and he hurts rio. and viktor doesn't understand, he can't reconcile this. "we can be loners together," but also, "you did this?" viktor's got like a whole slew of emotions to deal with. What the fuck? How could you? I hate you. But also, "I told you, I was consulting a friend about our quandary."

"You built this? Why aren't you playing with the others?"

"We can be loners together."

Like just what are you supposed to do when someone who provided for you — who took care of you, who looked after you as a kid — hurts someone? Someone that you care about? What the FUCK are you supposed to when that person is willing to torture and kill for science — something that you are also passionate about, the very thing you both found commonality in, bonded over — and does it all without even a hint of remorse? What are you supposed to think?

Are you allowed to find comfort and safety in that person anymore? Can you still have good memories about them, and look back at them fondly? Can you be thankful for all the good that person's done for you?

What does it say about you, if they're the one who influenced you so much so early in your life, and here they are now?

Viktor gets Sky killed, and can you imagine what must've been running through his head? I'm no better than him. I'm turning out just like him. I am just like him. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

AND IT'S JUST.

AAGGHH!!!

#sorry this is so disjointed it's 11pm #singed arcane #arcane singed #viktor arcane #arcane viktor #THIS ISNT EVEN TO MENTION THE BATTLECAST SKINLINE BTW #LIKE GODDAMN #THESE CHARACTERS #riot would get so much money out of me if they made stuff for them fr #everyday i lose my mind over these two #it's such a great contrast to all the other parent-child/mentor-protege relationships in arcane too cus #vi's taking vander's lessons to heart #jinx doesnt give a shit about the bad stuff silco's done #the closest resemblence to singed & vik is mel & her mom but it's like #same text different font style yknow #singed is the background character you don't think twice about #ambessa's much more proactive #heimer & jayce have a similar dynamic too i think but im not gonna clog the tags #and i only have the braincells for singed & vik lmfao #arcane #god s2 pls dont fuck these characters up im praying im begging on my gd knees

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rebouks · 4 months

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Previous // Next

Tommy: C’mon.. if you’re not gonna let us pay you back, at least let us spoil your kids. [Oscar grumbled, admitting defeat; despite his stubborn pride, his kids were his weakness] Oscar: You’re an asshole, coming here n’ using the degree I paid for against me. Tommy: That’s your own fault; makin’ it difficult n’ all. Oscar: Yeah, yeah.. thanks, Tommy. Tommy: What goes around comes around, right? … Rhys: That one’s for-… Robin: I know all about this model. Rhys: You’re a pro already, huh? Robin: I read stuff about ‘em-.. never thought I’d get to use one though. Rhys: Well, it’s all yours. Robin: Woah-.. seriously? [Robin practically vibrated with excitement, cradling Rhys’-.. no, his camera as though it were made of solid gold] Rhys: Mhm, just make sure your brother n’ sisters don’t get their sticky mitts on it. Robin: I’ve got a good hiding spot, don’t worry. Rhys: You can hang out with me in the studio sometime, if you’d like. I’m sure your folks would be cool with it. Robin: Probably-.. what do you even take photos of in a studio? Rhys: Models, mostly. Robin: I prefer being outside-.. or catching people when they’re not looking. Rhys: Ah.. fan of candid shots, eh? Robin: I guess so. … Oscar: Getting the hang of it? Robin: Uh-huh! Oscar: Good-.. just don’t go taking pictures of people in the bathroom again, alright? Robin: I’ve still got one of you. Tommy: [cackling] That’s solid bribery material right there. Robin: It’s yours for a tenner. Oscar: How ‘bout I keep the money n’ put it toward your hospital bill. Robin: Hospitals don’t cost money. Oscar: Call it a taxi fee then. Robin: But we have a car… Oscar: I’ll make you get the bloody taxi on your own. Robin: So, I may as well keep the tenner? Rhys: The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? Oscar: [snorts] What is this, national bully Oscar day? Robin: He loves it really…

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #oscar finch #robin finch #rhys wesley #tommy dawson #RHYSSSSSS AND TOMMMMYYYY #ahhh i miss my boys!! and they gave lil robin a fancy camera #😭#sdkjsdkj fkin robin tho lmao so much like oscar #belligerent boi!#i love himb and his sass to his pappy #🤭

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crunchy-lesbun · 10 months

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Let’s talk Limbus Company!

Something I recently noticed is that Limbus Company’s Abnormality numbering system is slightly different from that of Lobotomy Corporation. Whereas L Corp. used one letter and two numbers, the Company threw in an additional number to the set that throws everything slightly off. Additionally, there’s a few extra variations we see in Limbus that we don’t in Lobotomy, so without further adieu, here’s what I think the different parts of Limbus Company’s Abnormality designations mean, gathered from what we already know and have theorized about L Corp’s system:

Letter — Denotes the Abnormality’s origin as one of the following:

• Original — Spawned from nothing but the thoughts and desires of the Dreamer and therefore the purest type of Abnormality

• Trauma — Spawned as the fallout of the Dreamer’s grievances with the City

• Fairytale — Based on literature or folklore, generally originating from outside the City

• Myth — Based on artifacts and ideas discovered from the days before the City, but could also be exclusively religious in nature (it is difficult to tell given we currently only have three known examples to go off)

• Sin — Spawned from one of the seven sin resonances, so far only consisting of Peccatulae

• Donator — Granted to L Corp. from an outside source

First Number — Denotes the shape of the Abnormality as follows:

1 - Humanoid Organism

2 - Non-Humanoid Organism

3 - Supernatural Being

4 - Object without Moving Parts

5 - Object with Moving Parts

6 - Undefined

7 - Breaching Tool

8 - Peccatulum

9 - Standard Tool

Second Number — Denotes the District in which the Abnormality was first encountered by Limbus Company.

Third Number — Unique identification number given to each Abnormality within a District.

So, for a few examples as proof of this theory’s validity:

S-08-04-01, Peccatulum Gulae, is a Peccatulum (Automatically making it S-08) and the first Abnormality we meet in the game’s first dungeon in District 4 (Making the last two numbers 04-01).

M-04-04-05, Doomsday Calendar, is based on the stone calendars created by Mesoamerican cultures of the real world (M-04). It is the fifth Abnormality encountered in District 4 (04-05). Also, from now on, I won’t be bothering with the third number because it is somewhat arbitrary.

T-04-10-05, Have You Become Strong, takes the form of a large, plastic freight container and can be presumed from its combat event to be formed from a dreamer who was involved in or witnessed some kind of industrial accident (T-04). It is found in District 10 (10-05).

F-05-10-18, Baba Yaga, is based on a Russian folk character, a witch known as… Baba Yaga (F). Specifically, it is based on the hut that the witch lived in that walked about on fowl’s legs (05). It is found in District 10 aaand you get the idea.

Now, the weird one that kind of threw a wrench in this entire thing initially was F-04-03-04, Ebony Queen’s Apple. This Abnormality is an Aberration of Snow White’s Apple from Lobotomy Corporation and Library of Ruina, automatically making it a Fairytale-type due to its association with the popular children’s story. Though some might argue it should be considered a humanoid or non-humanoid organism, this apple has already fallen from its tree and is therefore more in the inanimate object category, making its first number 04. Make sense so far? Of course it does. The strange thing about this Abno is that, despite making its debut appearance in District 4, its second number is 03. So, why is this?

There are two possible theories. One is that the Abnormality is not one of a kind, and that a previous team from Limbus also sighted the exact same creature in District 3, which opens up an entire can of worms about the uniqueness of Abnos. The second is that, shortly before the fall of L Corp, the Ebony Queen’s Apple was transferred from a Branch in District 3 over to the one Yuri worked at, which ALSO has weird implications.

Anyway, I’ve rambled on way too long about this, now. I don’t really have a good way of ending this post, so I guess I’ll just say that Limbus is still a relatively new game, and I’ll be making sure to check how future Abnormalities fair in this classification system.

Ciao!

#limbus company #limbus posting #lobotomy corporation #lobcorp #library of ruina #but that’s just a theory #a game theory #thanks for watching

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 7 months

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COLLISION

Astarion x Y/N - Chapter 4 - 3.9K WC

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 (you are here!)

Chapter 5 NSFW 18+

Chapter 6 NSFW 18+

Chapter 7 NSFW 18+

Warnings: mention of SA (not detailed), drug use (elixir), slightly steamy (not NSFW)

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

A sunbeam perfectly aimed for your face is what woke you. The warmth making you smile before you lazily got up from your bedroll, wincing a bit. You saw everyone seemingly at the bonfire looking like they were ready to head out. Everyone apart from a certain vampire. You jogged over to the campfire from your tent.

“Y/N! Thank the gods you’re awake. We were all going to head out and visit a merchant, care to join us?” Karlach beamed.

You went to answer but you winced, hard. Enough for Karlach and the others to notice. You lifted up your shirt to reveal the wound the nurse left on your lower stomach.

“That’s infected, no wonder you’re in pain.” Gale said, moving to retrieve a salve from his backpack. “Here,” he said, rubbing it into your skin before conjuring gauze to cover it. It felt cool and soothed the hateful heat emitting from the wound. “That’ll take a few hours to clear the infection out and fully heal the wound. You’ll need to stay here and rest for the day. Astarion will stay with you; help keep the camp safe and keep you company.”

“Sure it's a good idea keeping those two together?” Shadowheart asked, alluding to the punching incident.

“We’ll be fine.” you reassured her, giving her shoulder a light squeeze.

“Well we best be off. Want anything from the merchant?” Karlach asked.

“I’d love a book or two if you could find any for cheap.” you asked shyly, “I’ll pay you back when I can.”

Karlach shook her head, “No need, books it is! Rest easy soldier!” she said starting to leave camp.

Gale clapped your shoulder before leaving, “Books, eh? A cleric after my own heart.” he smiled.

And just like that, camp was quiet aside from the occasional bird. You elected to change into a different pair of small clothes. A simple black, flowy long sleeve. Much too large for you but that's what made it so comfy. Slipping on a new pair of under shorts you hauled your dirty clothes and armor to the streamside. You trudged back up the hill to grab your phone. So far it hasn’t needed to be enchanted again, it has yet to fall below 100%. You peered into Astarion’s tent as you walked past it, he was still asleep (meditating?), best to leave him alone.

Returning to the stream with your phone you started to play music. The soft beats of Cooks by Still Woozy bumped along as you softly sang to it, cleaning your clothes and armor.

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

Astarion watched you walk up and down the hill to the stream twice, acting asleep when you peered into his tent. He snuck down the hill, grabbing two bright red apples before standing a few feet behind you. The music you listened to was strange, nothing like he had heard before. Your world must have been strange. He made his way to you, shifting the rocks as he walked so he wouldn’t startle you. You looked up at him, a smile graced your face that would put the sun to shame. His rare doe eyes made an appearance along with a genuine smirk. Nothing seductive or tricky about it, just unhideable glee. He felt so wrong and yet so right being this happy with another person. Most of all he felt confused, unsure of how to proceed with all these new feelings that accompanied freedom. He pushed the anxiety to the back of his mind, silently holding out one of the apples to you. You gently put your armor down, wiping your wet hands on your shirt quickly before taking the fruit.

“Thank you.” you smiled at him before motioning for him to sit with you as you took a bite. Astarion sat with his back against the tree you had hung your clothes on to dry. His feet next to your legs as you sat criss cross fully facing him. He ate a few bites of his apple before looking into your eyes.

“What?” he asked, he had felt you staring at him.

“Sorry! I just… I didn’t know vampires could eat real food.” you tried to say casually, finding your apple to be most interesting in the moment as you stared at it in your lap.

He chuckled, “We need blood to survive but we can still imbibe in the pleasures of mortals.”

You nodded, giving a short chuckle of embarrassment.

Astarion bent his head a little to catch your eyes which you quickly averted. He sighed, “Any other vampiric queries? You must be dying to know…” he smirked his usual taunting smirk at you.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable…” you eyed him.

His heart grew two sizes. You cared about his feelings? You weren't going to make him talk if he didn’t want to? You surprised him everyday, and today was no exception. He nodded at you.

“Can you eat garlic?” you asked.

He laughed and looked at you confused, “Are vampires from your world so weak they can be taken out by a vegetable?”

“Apparently.” you laughed, “How come you can be in the sun?”

“That’s a new development thanks to our little worms. Usually I’d be a pile of ash.” he grimaced at the end.

You nodded curtly, “Wooden stake to the heart, is that lethal for vampires here?”

“Who wouldn’t that kill?” he asked rhetorically.

“Good point.” you said finishing your apple before throwing the core into the stream, Astarion doing the same shortly after. “How old are you?”

“230.” he said softly, the air changing into something sour.

You looked at him empathetically, scooching closer so you could sit next to him. Hesitantly you softly grabbed his hand, giving him every opportunity to pull away. He watched you trace his knuckles, veins, tendons, etc. You spoke softly as you interlaced your fingers, “People often speak in riddles when trying to comfort others… but the pain you’ve endured. All I can say is I’m so sorry Astarion. So very sorry.” You gently kissed the back of his hand before continuing to trace his veins.

He nodded and looked down to hide the stray tear that threatened to spill. He squeezed your hand before letting it go. “Would you like to do something fun?” he asked suddenly.

You pulled your hand back, missing his touch already all the while suppressing any urges to crave intimacy with him. “Absolutely! It seems we have the camp to ourselves today, no better time to do something fun.” you smiled at him standing up. You moved your armor to a large rock so everything could start drying. Astarion walked to his tent and you followed. He turned to you after digging in his supply pack for a moment. He held a rectangular bottle with a dazzling gold liquid swirling about inside.

“Elixir of Folly.” he said, handing it to you. You inspected the bottle before popping the lid open. A few random sparkles fizzled out before you brought the bottle to your nose, it smelled like vanilla and death. You quickly pulled it back from your face. Astarion laughed at your reaction. He gently took the open bottle from you.

“Don’t worry, a little death is what makes this so fun. You’ll be fine I promise.” he said before drinking half the bottle. He handed the rest to you, waiting to see if you trusted him enough to try it. You took the bottle, “Cheers?” you said quizzically before gulping down the drink. You didn’t feel any different.

“So… what does it do? Make you happy or something?” you asked, sitting on his bedroll. He sat next to you knocking your shoulder with his playfully.

“Euphoric is a better term. Let's just say this potion is for… recreational use.” He could feel a gentle warmth engulf him. His brain felt fuzzy and everything seemed full of wonder. A gentle smile laid on his face as his eyes glossed over.

You felt the same sensations, “I’m sorry but did we just do drugs? Magical drugs?” you said with a slight panic to your voice.

“Darling, with all due respect, shut up and enjoy just this once. Please?” he sighed.

You put your hands up in surrender, “Alright, I trust you.”

His eyes widened a bit, the soft glow around you surely proved you were an angel. A stupid idea really, to trust him. And yet, all he could feel was pride and joy at the fact that you trusted him and wanted to protect him. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but he trusted you too. Is this what it feels like to be cared for? You let out a long sigh, pulling him from his thoughts. He watched you shift so your whole body was laying in the pleasant sunlight. You stretched, reminding him of a cat on a sunny day. Your hand flew up, eyes still closed. He looked at your hand before taking it. You yanked him down so he was laying next to you in the sun. He quickly relaxed, stretching and making himself comfortable in the sun. He watched you, memorizing your face while it was blissed out.

“Ya know,” you began softly, keeping your eyes shut “I never do this in my world. I feel like I belong to the dark there. It's… lonely and… miserable if I’m honest. I like being here with you. With all of you. I don’t even know if I want to go back.” you hummed, a little smile never leaving your face.

What Astarion neglected to tell you was that Elixir of Folly was known for loosening tongues and dropping guards as well as its euphoric side effects. He really had no ill intentions, he really did just want to have fun with you. But he couldn’t help but hope for exactly what was happening, you dropping your guard enough for him to probe.

“You don’t want to go home?” he asked, gently brushing a piece of hair out of your closed eyes.

Your eyes fluttered open, you turned on your side so you were facing him. You softly took his hand that brushed your hair away, holding it to your cheek and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles repeatedly. “If I’m honest… it never felt like home. I was stuck doing the same mundane thing over and over again every day… it made life… melancholic.” you sighed, looking down sadly. It's true, life wasn’t easier before all this happened to you. Drowning in bills, fighting depression, being alone. Maybe that's why you thought so little of going home. You don’t really want to go back, but you should… shouldn’t you? The longer you stayed in Baldur’s Gate the less you missed your old life, the less you remembered it.

Astarion hummed, rubbing his thumb over your cheek bone. “Really? No lovers are going to miss you terribly?” he asked.

You let out a huff that was almost a chuckle, “I haven’t had a lover in quite some time.” you replied.

“Oh? And why’s that?” he said quietly shifting ever so slightly closer to you.

“I was tired of being used. I’d rather have nothing than be used like a collection of parts for somebody else.” you paused for a moment before flicking your eyes to his momentarily, “I’d live 1000 lifetimes alone if it meant I got to have one love. One true love. But… I don’t know if I was made to be loved. I think I was made to love others. To look after everyone else and make sure they feel okay. Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood I suppose.” you sighed.

“I understand,” he whispered. Trying to change the mood he quickly asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

You giggled at his ungraceful change of topic but let it slide, “Black.” you replied.

“Favorite book?”

“A Portrait of Dorian Grey.” you said quickly. “Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.” you quoted aloud.

Astarion smiled, he liked that you enjoyed reading. Even more impressive that you could recall quotes from the book so easily. He felt the quote sink into his mind, thinking how something tragic must be behind you just as there is for him.

“A secret?” he asked hesitantly, looking at you.

“I like you a lot. Even when you didn’t like me. It made me so sad you didn’t like me. It made me even sadder when you wanted to have sex because I know you don’t want to.” you rattled off, sounding progressively more sleepy and unfocused.

Astarion’s chest gave a squeeze, “How did you know I didn’t want to?”

“I know what it’s like to have someone do things to your body that you don’t want. I also know what it’s like to feel like you owe someone your body. Both are wretched feelings. I could see them in your eyes. I’d never want to hurt you, especially like that.” you mumbled, unconsciously snuggling yourself into his chest as you drifted off to sleep.

Astarion let this tear slip down his face. He listened to your even heartbeat, he watched the hypnotic rise and fall of your chest. He held you while you slept until he too started to feel drowsy.

“I’m going to fall for you and it will kill me 1000 times over when you inevitably leave.” he whispered to nobody in particular, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

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

Karlach and everyone else went back to their tents as soon as they all came back. Everyone was exhausted from having to walk two towns over since the usual merchant wasn’t in town today. She walked past Astarion’s tent with little care until she noticed four feet just barely peeking outside of the tent flap. Her curiosity got the better of her and she opened the tent flap slightly. Her fiery heart jolted with happiness. The two of you lost in slumber and each other's arms. Karlach silently took your phone from next to you, she took a picture of the two of you. She had come to love your phone, especially after she learned how to take selfies. Gently plopping the phone back down next to you, she backed away from the tent.

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

You awoke to the ghosting of a hand rubbing soft circles on your exposed hip and lower back. Fluttering your eyes open, you were met with Astarion’s ruby eyes. You jolted back a little, the feeling of the elixir completely gone. You tried to scoot away but he held you in place.

“I’m sorry, I’ll go…” you said, again trying to leave. You couldn’t believe you fell asleep on the one person who didn’t need the pressure or even the innuendo of intimacy.

“Stay?” Astarion asked hopefully, readjusting his grip on your hip so he could pull you back to him.

“Astarion stop, you don’t have to..” you looked at him with a fragile gaze.

“But what if I want to?” he said against your lips as he finally pulled you flush to him, in the softest tone you’d ever heard him utter. His eyes looked between your lips and eyes repeatedly, asking an unspoken question.

You wish you could. Gods you do. But you couldn’t tell if this was real, or if he had ulterior motives. Your eyes grew sad as you placed your hand on his chest, putting space between the two of you.

“We shouldn’t.” you said painfully.

Astarion felt a pang in his chest, not the good kind. Did you not feel the air grow thick and sweet whenever you two were alone? He shifted his gaze downwards feeling hurt but determined not to show it.

He cleared his throat before swiftly pulling away and getting up, “We should join the others, I can smell whatever they’re roasting out there.” He helped you up with one arm.

Truth be told, your heart hurt just as much as his unbeating one. You wanted so badly to touch him, to feel him, to know him in every way. The last few weeks you have been together have brought you so much closer and every day you fell more and more for the pale elf. You’d never say it was love stirring inside you. Not out loud at least.

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

The group quickly took to drinking when a new companion came to camp that night. Halsin had finally returned. You introduced yourself and found yourself drinking with the friendly druid like you were old friends. You had quite the green thumb back home, plants covered your home wall to wall. You two talked about nature endlessly and before you knew it, you felt drunk. Karlach had started to play music on your phone a while ago, everyone had come to like having the music going during supper. Astarion sat on the adjacent log at the campfire, unusually quiet beside Karlach. He watched you light up for the druid. Has he misread everything between you two over the past few weeks?

A particularly lively song came on, Allegro by Antonio Vivaldi. Halsin stood, extending his hand to you. You looked at him, your cheeks warming “I… I’m sorry… I don’t exactly know how to dance to this type of music.”

“Where better to learn than among friends?” he declared pulling you up and to the side of the campfire.

Halsin was patient. He taught you the most simple waltz, or what you could call a waltz in your state. You giggled and smiled, it was infectious. Everyone seemed to enjoy the sight. Everyone except Astarion who huffed and walked back to his tent after the third song had passed. He couldn’t bear to watch you grow close to another. The way Halsin put his hands on you so gently. Could he ever do such a thing? To watch someone else end up with someone he wanted so desperately. So purely. It left an awful taste in his mouth and a wrenching in his heart.

You spun around and finished your dance. Out of breath you thanked Halsin for the lovely dances before excusing yourself and trotting after Astarion.

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

You knocked lightly on the tent post. Astarion hummed, expecting another one of your companions perhaps. You entered his tent and he tutted looking away from you.

“What?” he said sharply.

“I wanted to check on you… why’d you leave?” you said shifting from foot to foot, his tone making you feel uneasy.

“Oh you noticed? I thought you’d be in Halsin’s bed by now.” the venom in his voice made you cringe, stepping back from him.

“What? Why would you think that? I just met him tonight?” you sounded confused.

“Like that would stop you.” He said standing up, moving to walk past you.

You ignored the way you felt your eyes getting misty, putting your hand against his chest making him stop and look at you. “You’re being hurtful. Why?” you asked.

He sighed, the last time he tried this approach it got him punched so he might as well attempt to talk to you about his feelings. If he could manage it.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” he whispered, his own eyes misting.

You bit your lip before responding truthfully, “Because I don’t know if you truly want it. Or if you’re trying to use me. I… I can't do that again, Astarion. I won't.” you paused, taking in a shaky breath “And I won't let you use yourself to get something from me. You need but ask and I will do as you ask without hesitation.”

“Kiss me then.” he asked, his eyes big and pleading.

You looked down, shaking your head. You let the tears fall but did your best to keep quiet so Astarion didn’t hear you breaking. You crumbled to the ground, the weight of everything sinking you. Astarion descended with you. He looked so soft, so concerned. So unlike the snooty jerk you initially met.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, taking your hand, tracing your knuckles, veins, tendons, etc. “You could cut me down and I’d ask you to do it again. Everything with you feels unlike anything else. It drives me mad honestly.” His admission shocked you, you went to reply before he spoke again, “And yet, I seek you out every day because whatever you have poisoned me with… it's as if you are the antidote. I cannot breathe when you are not near. I rise and rest with my thoughts being overwhelmed by you.” he sighed shakily.

You looked at him, absolutely gobsmacked. Your tears hadn’t ceased; Astarion raised his hand hesitantly before deciding to beg forgiveness instead of asking permission before he wiped your cheeks with his thumb. He held your face in his palm, the lump in his throat growing with each passing moment.

“I want you. That is my choice, that is my decision, those are my feelings. And if you won’t have me just say the -” Astarion’s preparation for rejection caught in his throat when you consumed him in the most feather light kiss. Your hands shook as you gingerly held his face, ever so lightly deepening the kiss. You pulled back slightly, eyeing him for a reaction. His eyes were closed, he had a smile on his lips, and his tongue darted out to taste yourself on him.

“Can I do that again?” you ask barely above a whisper. He was captivating. His lips tasted like brandy and you could get lost in them forever.

“As you wish.” he said, opening his eyes. Pulling you to him so that you straddled him. He felt you tense above him, not putting your weight on him. “We can stop if either of us feels anything besides pleasure.” he assured you as he held your face with one hand and your hip with another. He looked so calm, as if this is right where he wanted to be. You settled yourself in his lap quickly before going back to his lips. You moved them hesitantly before he kissed you with so much passion it made your head spin. The kiss quickly turned into a battle for dominance but it was no surprise that the man with 200 years experience over you won. Astarion moved to lay you down, you felt his hands roam your body. He kissed your jaw, moving down to your neck, then your collar bones. His fingers gently untied the laces of your shirt.

You went rigid.

Scared

Is what rang out in his mind. He quickly pulled off of you, glancing you over to see if he had somehow hurt you.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered, pulling your shirt together. “Can we… not do anything more?”

Astarion’s worry faded into understanding, “Of course.” he smiled as he pulled off of you. “Could I be so bold as to ask you to stay? Just to sleep!” he quickly clarified.

You smiled up at him, your erratic heartbeat already returning to normal. “I’d love to.” you said as you shifted yourself on his bedroll.

He laid next to you gently, pulling a silken blanket over the two of you. Of course he had a silk blanket for sleeping on the ground. You chuckled to yourself at the thought. You curled into his chest once again, falling asleep all too quickly. Astarion ran his fingers through your hair, he kissed your forehead one final time before closing his eyes, preparing for sleep to take him.

“To the beginning of my end.” he cheers’ed himself.

Hello! Some not awesome stuff happened in life recently, so I thought I'd write a bit. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Next chapter might have some NSFW stuff in it. What do you think? Please let me know if there is anything you'd like to see in the story or suggestions you may have. I love getting comments! Thanks for reading! <3

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silverskye13 · 2 years

Text

Do people know how hard it is to survive the apocalypse? No really, do they? Because Joel really, really rather thinks they don't.

"The Mezalian King is dead guys," he says to nothing in particular. The universe. The sky. Everything. "Get over it."

It was the apocalypse. The world ended, and also his heart was broken, and he lost everything. The Mezalian King, that is. He lost all that. Joel didn’t.

Do people know how hard it is to survive that, though? All the empires fell, everyone died, the end. That's how the apocalypse works. The oceans dried. The fields burned. People escaped, or they didn't. It was the end of the world.

Do people realize?

It's hard to survive the end of the world. It takes a lot of effort. You’re starting from nothing. Less than nothing, really. The sky falls on your head and you dig your way out of it just to realize, wait, everything’s gone? A lot more people die in the aftermath than the explosion. A meteor falling only strikes a single town. The shock wave shakes the earth for a few miles out of it. But that’s not all the damage it does, is it? What happens to everyone who relied on that town for trade goods? You can’t gather food, idiot, the one city that wove good baskets and made good tools is gone! That river you fished in has been so diverted by the mudslide from the shock wave, it doesn’t even give you water anymore.

(This is a metaphor. The end of the world wasn’t a meteor. It was two friends finally admitting they were friends. The effect was the same, though, in the end. Now there are no friends, because everyone is dead. Or gone. Or wish they were. Anyway, back to the metaphor.)

All the water is gone. Now you’re walking ten, twenty, thirty miles to find some in the low places of the world. What happens to all the people who can’t walk, climb, delve? What happens to all the people that can? Surrounded by monsters, and other desperate people willing to do anything to save their own, and you’re not their own anymore. What happens to the King, looking out at his shore, wondering how he’s going to provide for an entire blooming desert when water has decided because of some stupid prophesy it doesn’t exist anymore? He tries his best to rule, but he has nothing. You can’t give someone gold to heal a wound. There’s no apples to guild, all the trees are dead. Terracotta does a great job of getting in your eyes, your mouth, your blood, and stinging everything when it’s crushed to powder. All those alliances you made to fill the gaps your country couldn’t, well, they’re gone. Even the clothes off your back can only go so far.

It takes a lot to survive the end of the world. You rally your people. You inspire them with your stubborn grit, your insistence the world isn’t ending because you’re here! Obviously if we were all going to die, we’d be dead. Plot armor. He’s the Mezalian King. He doesn’t die, and if he does, he comes back. He comes back again and again. Don’t worry I don’t need food, I can, in fact, starve. I don’t need water. I can thirst. I don’t need medicine. I don’t need anything. Give it to someone else. Please, please, give it to someone else.

Can’t you see I’m fine? Take care of your bloomin’ self for goodness sake!

That’s... probably what the Mezalian King said. Joel wouldn’t know. He’s not him.

Anyway it doesn’t matter. The Mezalian King is dead. His heart was broken. His kingdom was in ruins. The world ended. He begged his people to stand together, to care for each other, to walk and keep walking. They fled their burning world to other Empires in similar shambles. They walked. They kept walking. They talked about their King who couldn’t die. How could he? if he died, they wouldn’t be a kingdom anymore. They wouldn’t be a people. So he’s alive. He’s walking with them. He’s insisting they keep moving. Fetch water. Make food. Build shelter. Live. Survive. Thrive.

He’s not a King anymore. He’s an idea. The King is wrathful. If you don’t pull your weight, he will haunt you. The King is sacrificial. We have plenty because he refuses to eat. The King’s heart is broken, so his people aren’t. The Mezalian King is dead. But he’s still here. They build statues of what he looked like, and those fall to dust. They build houses in colors as close to terracotta as they can. Those fall to dust as well. They don’t call themselves Mezalian anymore, but they remember him. It’s been years. Decades. Centuries. Eons. The world is unrecognizable. It’s gods, however, are.

"The Mezalian King is dead guys," Joel, a god of sky and thunder, says to nothing in particular. The universe. The sky. Everything. "Get over it."

It takes a lot to survive the end of the world.

#the barking writer #EmpiresSMP #empires s2 #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #mezalea #Sometimes one of the 80 ccs you watch says something that hits you like a meteor to the face

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