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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months

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the slow night

buttercup, chapter six

a/n: he a hoe and I love him. thank you and goodnight.

summary: as the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, kissing, semi public sex (at the bakery), clothed sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3244

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Leaning against the doorway to the small bakery bathroom, you watched Walter’s tongue poke out the side of his mouth as he flicked glittery stripes of eyeliner over his lids.

“You sure you’re okay with closing up on your own tonight?” you heard Howard ask you as he sat on a low stool some space behind you, bending down to tie his shoes.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you smiled, glancing back over your shoulder at him, “you two deserve a night off.”

Staring out into space, your uncle leaned his tattooed forearms on his robust thighs a moment as he murmured, “you know, I don’t even remember the last time we went out…” casting a glance past you at the bald man in front of the mirror, Howard raised his voice, “honey, did you find out what queens are performing tonight?”

Popping the lid back on the pencil, the former club kid tilted his head approvingly in the reflection, “I think Holly Day still works Friday nights there, but other than that I have no idea,” he exited the bathroom, only to press a small peck to your cheek as he slid passed.

“Urgh,” you groaned with a smile, letting your inner child temporarily show as you dragged the back of your palm over the faint lipstick stain, “well, have fun you two!”

“Night, night, cupcake,” Howard blew you a few brief kisses as the pair scurried out of the shop, “don’t forget to feed the sourdough starter, oh! And mix a new batch of ginger maple cookies, portion them out and pop them in the freezing–, also–”

“Howard,” you interrupted him with a smile just as Walter pulled open the back door for them to exit, “I know what I need to do. I’ve done this countless of times before, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Alright,” he exhaled slowly.

“If it’ll help, I can send you a picture of the place before I lock up.”

A relieved smile then warmed up your uncle’s features, “thank you, sweetie.”

Half yanking his husband out of the door, Walter offered you one last wave, “bye, Y/n!” before the solid door slammed shut behind them.

Bending down, you put the last one of the wide and clean bowls away on the bottom shelf of the metal storage system in the corner of the kitchen.

The skirt of your dress swooshed gently around your legs as you straightened back up, like a summer breeze, fluttering against your skin. Reaching for a clean cloth, you briefly ran it under the tap before wiping down the aftermath beside the sink following your dance with the dishes. One of the tiny puddles of splashed water soaked your apron as you leaned over the steel table to reach deeper, turning it a darker shade of brown right over your belly button.

Just then, from out of nowhere, “hi,” the voice of your neighbour echoed throughout the kitchen, thoroughly startling you and causing the rag to drop from your grasp.

“Ah!” you jumped, haven not even heard the back door creak open, “Matthew!” pressing a soothing palm to your chest as you spun around, a light giggle flowed from your lips, “oh my god, you scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, leisurely leaning against the far counter close to the back exit.

You already knew he’d be out on patrol tonight, but actually seeing him stand there before you was something else entirely. The black suit clung tight to his physic, and now that grave injuries no longer distracted and adorned his visage, the vision of the obsidian vigilante that stood in front of you proficiently provided you with a sinful shiver that trickled down your spine.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, attempting to brush off the tingle that bloomed between your thighs.

A bold smirk bloomed on his lips, visible below the dark mask, as he slowly stepped closer to you, “it’s a slow night,” gently tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the table he passed, an action you didn’t expect to find as seductive as you evidently did, goosebumps now blossoming all along your arms.

“A slow night, huh?” you chuckled, tilting your chin as he neared.

“And I was in the area,” he cocked his head as his hands settled on either side of your frame, leaning against the counter behind you.

“How convenient,” you smiled, his light-hearted explanations not convincing you in the slightest. Matt’s fingers then found your chin, tilting it further up as he bent down to brush his lips against your own. Your knees nearly buckled as you felt yourself swiftly sink into the intoxicating sensation, your arms gliding up and over the black fabric that hugged him, till they were locked around his neck. As the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

Mirroring your own chuckle, he playfully tested, “and what if I am, huh?”

“Wait, really?” you giggled, your hands seized each side of his face and pulled him back a bit as his hot mouth worked wonders at making you lose your train of thought, “you sure you weren’t just hungry or something?”

“Hm,” his palms slid up to cup over yours as he cheekily said, “something, yeah…” peeling your fingers off of his stubbly cheeks, he placed a few pecks in your open palms, “I would fucking love a taste of something sweet.”

Tearing your gaze away from his onyx visage, you briefly cast a glance around the space, “uhm, I don’t really know what’s left over from today, but there might be someth–”

“Nuh-uh, that’s not the kinda treat I was thinking of,” he smirked brightly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you in closer to his warmth as his fingers sneaked under the apron’s knot.

Finally reading his obvious subtext, “o-oh,” you couldn’t help but giggle as he then leaned down to kiss you again, swallowing your laugh till it melted away into a low moan that vibrated against his lavish tongue.

Scrambling closer, you damn nearly climbed him like a tree with how desperately you clawed at his mass. When his touch slid further down your frame and curved around your ass, he briefly offered you a squeeze that you swore soared all the way to the sensitive nerve endings in your throbbing clit, before he scooped you up and sat you down on the steel countertop. As he slotted his width in between your parted thighs, his teeth playfully caught your bottom lip.

Fluttering your fingers further up, you cupped the sides of his face as the heated make-out slowly began to ease. The tips of your touch grazed the bottom of his black mask as you gently pulled back.

Blinking back at him through your lashes, your digits ghosted over the material as you uttered, “…can I take this off?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he softly nodded, “mhm,” and let you peel the charcoal mask off of him. Letting it drop to the table right beside where you sat, you gazed back at him for a moment, his chocolate eyes gently crinkled up in bliss as you briefly traced a light caress over a few of his newly revealed features before you sealed your lips with his once more.

Undoubtedly, your panties must have clung to your core at this point from how soaked they felt.

Abruptly, Matt’s soft lips suddenly strayed from yours. Fluttering your gaze open, a giggle bubbled out of your lungs as you saw him slowly sink down to the tile floor beneath you.

“Matty,” you beamed, your touch straying from his cheek as he settled down on his knees.

Slowly raising a sliver of your hemline up to your knees, his lips grazed against your shin and leisurely roamed further north.

Burying your fingers in the fabric of your dress, you gently began to hike it up till it, and the brown apron, bunched above your hips.

Your breathing was ragged, and your mouth hung agape when his kisses neared your centre. One of his warm palms stayed planted on your inner thigh after he’d split your legs further to grant himself better access as you sat there, nearly dangling on the edge.

A shiver ran through you when he placed a brief kiss to the soaked spot soddening your underwear, before his reach extended and hooked the cotton to the side, a sting of your slick clung momentarily to the fabric before snapping back against your core.

“Fuck,” he let out a gravelly groan and you felt his breath tickle your cunt before his hand, the one not clutching your soaked panties, curled around your frame and tugged you towards him, closing the minuscule distance between his zealous mouth and your glistening centre.

Parting your petals with dizzying laps, Matt let out a moan as he made out with your pussy, the tickling vibrations caused your thighs to tremble beside his head.

“God…” spellbound, he pulled back for but a second, “your pussy tastes like fucking heaven,” before he tilted his chin and enraptured your clit, fervently sucking down on it in a way that made your eyes roll in your skull.

“Oh my god, I–, I–…” you panted, sensing yourself race towards the finish line, but even with how incredible his tongue made you feel, deep down within you rumbled a feral feeling for more. As your pelvis bucked lightly against his efforts, you gasped, “Matt… get up…” unsure if you’d ever felt so empty in your entire life, “get up right fucking now.” When he rose, the lower part of his face glinting with your want, he didn’t get a chance to say anything before you yanked him by his shirt and crashed your lips against his. With the intoxicating taste of yourself lingering on your mouth, your heavy breath fanned across his face as you desperately uttered, “in the corner behind you, on the hook beside where my coat is, my bag, the little front pocket.”

Breathlessly, his expression fogged up in soft puzzlement, “what?”

“I went to the drugstore earlier,” you said, hoping that you wouldn’t have to spell it out for him.

It actually took him a second for him to realise what you were talking about, “oh,” as if he hadn’t hoped or expected anything more than what you’d just let him do. Crossing the room in mere moments, a playful chuckle rumbled from his chest as he fished out the box of condoms, “this is a big pack… were you planning on seducing me?”

Rolling your eyes, you giggled, “oh, shut up and get back here.”

As soon as he was back in your reach, your fingers began to fiddle with his belt, impatiently freeing him as you virtually drooled seeing the imprint of his cock strain against the dark fabric of his pants.

“Put it on, please, please, I wanna feel you so bad,” you begged as he ripped the foil packet open.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes, please,” your hungry eyes were glued to his breath-taking fist as he offered himself a brief pump before he hastily rolled the condom on, “Matt, if you don’t fuck me right now then I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Sighs flowed from the both of you in unison when Matt sank into your drooling cunt. You almost felt drunk, that’s how wound up you’d gotten.

“Oh, you feel so fucking good,” Matt exhaled, letting his forehead melt against your own as he rolled his hips, getting impossibly deep before drawing back a bit and finding a rhythm that caused your legs to be like crickets, shakily rubbing against either side of his frame as fucked you, “sweetheart–, christ… you’re about to cum, aren’t you?” his lips tilted up into a smirk.

“D-don’t you dare stop,” you panted, clawing needily against his torso.

“I won’t, I promise,” he then sank a hand down between your frames to tickle your puffy pearl, “I could do this all day, baby.”

You collapsed back on your elbows when your pussy fluttered around him and a lewd cry accompanied the high.

Panting against the cool table, you hazily blinked up at him as he then uttered in the deepest sincerity.

“God, I'm crazy about you, Y/n,” his expression was soft and dreamlike, “you know that?”

Your eyes went wide a moment, entirely forgetting how to fill your aching lungs, “really?” you then regained control rather gracelessly as you nearly coughed, “sorry... I forgot how to breathe for a second there,” the grin that bloomed on your lips nearly hurt.

Snatching one of your hands up in his, he weaved his fingers with your own, “you okay?”

“Yeah… I’m amazing…” you gazed up at him, “I’m also completely and utterly wild about you,” you then tugged on his hand, drawing him down enough for your lips to graze against his.

His hips instinctively rolled as your tongue flicked across his own, grinding briefly into your sensitivity before he noticed and went back to being completely still within you.

But when your sloppy kiss then parted, you tilted your own hips a bit, slowly fucking yourself shallowly on his cock. As he gently offered you a tender thrust, gradually pulling out of your clinging cunt just a tad, you glanced down between the shy space betwixt you and spotted the ring of your cream that stained the base of his dick.

“Fucking hell,” you whimpered as he straightened his spine back out and brought the back of your palm up to his lips, “I don’t get how I bounce back so quickly with you. It’s like you just have to smile and then I’m just–, oh my god!” you moaned as he changed his angle, brushing directly against a spot that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Oh, you like that? Right there?” he repeated the same lavish motion.

“Y-yes–,” with your interlocked fingers, he then pulled you back up to a sitting position, the shift leaving you breathless, “fuck. You feel so good right now,” his hand let go of yours as it then snaked around your back, his burly forearm supporting your spine as the fingers reached up to weave within your hair, gently scraping his short nails over the nape of your neck.

Drawing you in even closer, your chest pressed against his as he kissed your cheek sweetly while he kept his pace meticulous and precise.

Hugging onto his broad shoulders, your head dropped down to rest against one of them as you then muttered, “harder,” your gaze hazy on the kitchen behind him before your eyes fluttered shut. When he then snapped his hips forward a little more electrically, you weakly repeated in his ear, “harder.”

Slamming into your needy cunt so fiercely that the sound of your skin colliding echoed off the tile walls and a bit of drool began to stain his dark shirt as your cheek stayed smooshed against his width.

“That it?” he growled silkily, “huh?” but when you couldn’t form any coherent words within the mess of moans that flowed from your lips, you didn’t have to see his face to know the grin that bloomed on his face, “aw, it’s alright, sweetheart,” his grip tightened in your hair, “you’re doing so good for me,” tugging intoxicatingly right at the roots, “just relax… that’s it… good girl…”

Keeping his pace rough, he lavishly slid out of you till just his bulbous tip plugged you up, before ramming his cock back in so feverishly that you could scarcely breathe at all, just tremble in his embrace, listening to the pure filth that he murmured in your ear, till you both tumbled over the edge.

With his spent girth nuzzled against your tender pussy, faint hums of contentment flowed from your lungs as Matt gently stroked your hair, his other arm wrapped around you as well as he kept your sluggish frame close to his long after you’d both regained your breaths.

As your fingers disappeared below his neckline and softly rubbed against the warm skin, your voice eventually found his ear, “okay, so I know that you didn’t come in here for a late-night snack,” the corners of your lips tilted upwards, “but now I’m kinda hungry.”

With a gentle chuckle rumbling within his chest, he briskly tugged himself away and untangled himself from you, “one second,” his lips pressed against your hairline before you saw him turn around and wander out of the kitchen.

As you watched him disappear into the front of the bakery, you tugged your panties back over your mess and pushed your dress back down, “oh, I'm not sure if there’s anything left out there–”

“Do you want a raisin bun or a very seedy one?” he asked and your brows flew up as you still hadn’t gotten used to how perceptive his heightened senses let him be.

“Oh, uhm,” you blinked, completely blown away, “raisin.”

Appearing before you once more, he handed you the speckled bun, “here.”

Smiling adoringly back at him, “thank you,” you sank your teeth into the pillowy treat before offering him a small bite, which he gladly accepted as a tender laugh rolled out of him. When you had consumed the sweet bun, a soft yawn promptly flowed out of you, “fuck,” his palms were warm at your waist as your arms briefly curled up beside your head, “I can’t wait to get back home and sleep.”

“How much do you have left to do till you can lock up?”

“Not too much,” your hands dropped back down and rested atop of his for a moment, “how about you? How long do you think you’ll be out there?”

“Probably not too much longer either,” his head tilted gently before he leaned back in.

“Alright,” you smiled, tenderly pressing your lips to his before he snatched up the discarded mask and tugged it back over his features. As his feet began to carry him towards the exit, he paused as soon as you said, “hey Matt?”

“Yeah?” the vigilante twisted back to face you.

A bubble of nerves suddenly fluttered in your belly as you uttered, “when you get back tonight, could you maybe–, uhm… or maybe I could–…”

Swiftly getting at what you were trying to convey, Matt simply marched right back to where you sat and pulled you in for a kiss. Cradling your cheeks a moment longer as he slowly pulled back, he smiled, “there’s a spare key to my place behind the radiator in the hallway.”

Gazing back at him, you uttered, “okay,” feeling like you were floating on a cloud.

“I'll try not to get home too late,” he breathed, pressing his lips to yours one last time before he backed up again.

Calling after him, “be safe!” he stopped on the threshold of the back door for a second, silhouetted by the dark city as he flashed you a grin before he disappeared into the night, leaving you in the bakery alone, feet dangling off the table as a bright smile tenaciously lit up your face.

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock smut #marvel smut #matt murdock fluff #daredevil smut

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mokulule · 6 months

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Almanac - Chapter 2

So ya'll have given me some amazing and lovely comments on A Man has Needs (which I'm delighted was so well-received), and I had a really shitty day so I wanted to upload something. Sadly don't have energy to write, but this was already done so here ya go. Ship: Dead on Main First | Masterlist

Chapter 2 - September 25th, Uranus at Opposition

Jason awoke slowly. He felt groggy and worn like he’d gone a round with Bane and, now that he thought about it, maybe also Black Canary; his ears of all things hurt for some reason. Groaning he pushed himself up, taking in the green and black bedspread… this wasn’t his bed. He looked around; bare stone walls with a strange almost purplish tint - no windows he could leave out of.

What happened yesterday? There had been something… an emergency? Shit. He rubbed his brow hoping against hope to relieve the sharp headache there. What kind of truck hit him? Come on brain, work.

Bruce.

Bruce had called him. He breathed slowly through his nose. Urgh, his brain was like a tangled ball of yarn that had been left to the mercies of a cat. Slowly he picked at the treads, trying to untangle them. Dick had been there, and Tim and Damian. And Superman? Why was Jason on a league mission? Jason wouldn’t have joined them unless the world was-

Oh, the world had been ending.

There was an invasion and John bloody Constantine and a ritual- and Jason was a small bit of supernatural insurance but that didn’t matter because-

Because!

His head throbbed sharply and he curled up on the bed with a whimper. Shit. Why? Okay, no remembering right now. He slowly unfolded and squinted at the room, there were two doors. One by the head side of the bed, which seemed the least likely to lead outside and one opposite. He confirmed the first door to be a bathroom, which left the other to lead- He opened the door into a windowless hallway. Looking left and right he didn’t see an end either way.

The hallways had the same purple tinted stone walls as the room. It was lit by green torches, but somehow they didn’t cast green light. Instead the light that hit Jason was more blueish. He decided not to think about that and moved on.

He walked hallway after hallway. The only change was the tapestries. Since they were the only thing that changed he couldn’t help but look at them. There was a man, large and armored with a flaming crown and his hand raised with something shining from it. Jason went down some stairs and another hallway had a tapestry with the same character directing an army of skeletons and other creatures fleeing from them. This theme continued through many hallways. World upon world, the king and his army conquering all on a backdrop of Lazarus green. Then finally something changed, seven robed figures stood over the fallen king.

Jason then stood in front of a winding stairwell: Up or down?

He looked down; there was something down there…

Dazed, he took a step down, before he shook his head and walked up. He had to get out. Walking down in a building he didn’t know what floor he was on was just asking to be trapped in some sort of basement, and he’d already walked down one staircase already, when the only other option had been to backtrack.

A sarcophagus was opened and the King released. In the next hallway someone in a black and white mech suit was fighting the king and Jason blinked at the sudden genre shift. He hadn’t expected that from the tapestry story.

The next one had several people pushing the sarcophagus closed again presumably to seal the king, but one figure especially niggled at Jason’s brain - the small one, the black and white one. He was familiar. He walked faster, urgency pressing him to find the next tapestry, he rounded a corner and there!

There were two tapestries on either side of a door. The first tapestry had a purple robed figure crowning a kneeling black and white figure in front of a crowd. Several were recognizable from the previous tapestry. But Jason didn’t look at that picture long he was drawn to the last tapestry; the one who only showed the new king:

Human skin tone, compared to all the light greens and blues. Snow white hair. Crown hovering over his head, and on the index finger on his right hand where it was folded over his chest was a green ring with a skull crest. The backdrop was a nebula of colors and only on the edges were the Lazarus green. The king’s eyes were closed, but Jason knew they were green.

He knew.

And as a key turning in a lock Jason remembered. He bent over holding his head with a groan. The invasion. The ghost king. His sacrifice, which apparently meant he was to do nothing for the rest of his life. Screw that! What was the ghost king gonna do? Un-save the world? Jason didn’t think so. He needed to get out. He very carefully avoided thinking of the risk of his brains melting out his ears if he angered the king again.

The door. Jason’s eyes snapped to it. It looked completely innocuous. He had been lead here for a reason. Fight or flight? Fight his body screamed at him. His chest rose and fell, his heart picked up speed in anticipation and he reached for the brass handle. His hand closed around it, it was cold and solid in his grip. He exhaled slowly out his nose counting down.

He burst into the room, hands on hidden knives, ready for anything! Then he froze.

This was the room he woke up in. There was that rumpled spot on the bedsheets from where he’d slept. He grabbed his head, there had been no tapestries in the hall he stepped out in, he was sure. No he was not gonna let this get to him he had to find a way out. He stepped out into the hallway through the still open door; the tapestries were gone.

He walked the opposite direction this time, but only five turns in he stood in front of the open door again. Shaking his head he kept walking, there had to be a way out. There were less tapestries now, but every now and then there’d be a tapestry of the King sans crown fighting someone. It seemed to be some of the more prominent people that had been at the coronation and then there were some others; a large plant creature, a person that looked part tornado, someone who looked like the night sky itself.

The message was clear: give up. See all the ones who has been defeated. What do you think, you can do?

Jason punched the wall next to the most recent tapestry.

“Let me out, you bastard!” he snarled.

Predictably there was no answer, but a small part of Jason had still hoped something would happen. His shoulders dropped.

A familiar door materialized in the corner of his eyes. He turned his head to better see and yup, that was the door alright. He sighed.

“Fuck you.” But Jason was tired. He didn’t know how long he’d walked the hallways. He opened the door and walked the few steps that took him to the bed collapsing on top of it, in the spot he’d made earlier. He couldn’t be bothered to go under the covers.

Oo o oO

They say doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result is a sign of insanity. Tim would probably argue something about scientific methods and statistics in return, but Tim wasn’t here, just Jason.

So here’s what Jason knew:

He’d sacrificed his life to the Ghost King to save the world. The Ghost King had no interest in Jason and had just dropped him in a never used room like one of those gifts you really don’t want but can’t refuse. Oh, and the castle was magical and delighted in showing him right back to his room every time he left it.

Leaving the room was pointless. Jason knew it was pointless. But Jason couldn’t just stay in this room, hence the repeated insanity, but at least out in the hallways some things changed, even if he always ended up where he started.

He didn’t know how long he’d been there. He’d lost count of how many times he’d slept. It was pointless anyway, he didn’t know if he could even count sleeps as days anyway. He was locked in a battle of wills with a fucking castle.

“For a magical castle, you’re boring, you know that?” He spoke to the ceiling. It didn’t even have any enchanted furniture or household items to talk with.

Jason wasn’t sure quite when he’d started feeling hungry, only that it shouldn’t have taken that long. Water came out of the tap in the bathroom, so at least he wasn’t thirsting. After the hunger came the lethargy. He was sleeping more and his forays out into the hallways were shorter.

The world was a hefty price to pay and maybe Jason’s suffering was just a part of his toll, but Jason would have taken being a servant or slave over this. At least then he’d have something to do. There’d be a focus, something to fight. He wouldn’t just lie here with nothing better to do but insult the walls.

If you liked this, consider commenting in the replies or tags, I hold every lovely comment dear to my heart and it's great motivation. If you want notifications for this story you can subscribe at the masterlist

#Almanac #dp x dc #dead on main #summonings have consequences #Jason thinks this magical castle sucks #Castle holds a grudge as you will find out later

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months

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Do this whenever you want, or just tell me if your burned out for TADC requests and I’ll put it on the back burner. So, there I was, sick as a dog (still am urgh) and had an idea. Could you do the crew with their s/o who got sick via a virus, like a legitimate computer virus that infected them and got them ill. Found it amusing and as a fun way to introduce real world problems to them in the digital world.

Again, this is low priority so you don’t have to worry about it too much. But other then that, I hope you’re having a marvellous day.

TADC cast x reader w/ a computer virus!

Rolling out a request before I work on art stuff tonight, this might be the nights last post !! Still stuck on mobile since my cramps are still. Keeping me from being able to do stuff at my computer <\3

Written these as a group thing since I was struggling to come up with hcs for separate characters <\3

I know you likely meant this to be executed as something akin to a cold, but I cannot shake the idea of a virus being more.. dangerous and intense, given your entire digital body is code.. ponders.. I think I'll go with a middle ground between actual threat and simple sickness

You were in your room, in fact you were hauled up in it for a while, at least a day or two.. some people were starting to get worried; thinking something happened, that you may have abstracted

Ragatha would be the one to find you in bed; body shifting and glitching about

Obviously, given how similar this was to how Kaufmo was discovered, she would think you were in the middle of abstracting.. I think her freaking out with attract the attention of the others

Ragatha is panicking, too weary to get too close out of fear she would get glitched out too and that you'd turn suddenly

Pomni would have a similar reaction, I think, especially since Kaufmo so far has been her only experience with the abstracted , and she doesnt know what the warning signs look like

Jax just. Dips. He is gone the second he sees the commotion

Kinger is stuck in place,seemingly wrecking himself for the courage to try to help you through this

Zooble seems vaguely shocked, taking a similar route as jax; though they dont leave completely

Gangle , who is in the back, scared and worried out of her mind

Caine... zips forward and after (carefully) inspecting you, announces that you're in fact not abstracting! Youre just sick!

Cue a chorus of relief but also, confusion.. actually kinger is the only one who seems to get it.. hes probably seen someone get sick before.. huh.. weird..

Apparently caine manages to stamp out most viruses before they pose any threat, but it appears sometimes things can happen.. but now with you sick, all you guys can do is wait for you to get better

But hey, caine simps! Look at it this way! You now have the teeth man as your personal bedside nurse since hes the most qualified and able to help you through this!

Kinger, Ragatha, and Gangle still visit you when you're recovering! Ragatha checks in on you to see how you're holding up! Gangle gives you little fidgets and other stuff to keep you occupied! Kinger offers reassurance that things are gonna be alright and he offers to tell you stories

Jax doesnt interact with you until long after you've recovered, far too worried about himself getting whatever yucky computer virus you've caught.. zooble is similar.. can you blame them? No one likes getting sick <\3

Pomni is in between, keeping her distance since shes not sure if what you have is contagious, but as a friend she wants to make sure you're okay.. tough calls here..

Overall, the experience itself sucks... the glitching leaves you sore and sometimes you sit still and "buffer" for extended periods of time.. it also feels like a flu, with the body aches and fatigue and all that...

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #jax x reader #ragatha x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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caitkaminski · 9 months

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People: urgh s5 was TOO dramatic, give us a little break!!!

*fusebox makes everyone into Mc incl 3 loyal OGS, TWO hideaways so far, kinky shit, casa, a good number of challenges, a fit cast, a banging mc…*

People: lol nah, now it’s boring.

Ok s6 isn’t perfect, at all. But to say it’s just as toxic as s5 is wrong, sorry. While you have a moan, I’ll be sat over there with my golden-retriever, vanilla, boring man having a great old time.

#don’t let the door hit you on the way out #add more wlw routes though Fuseboxy #and sort the writing out #litg #love island the game #litg s6 #litg double trouble #love island game

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rreskk · 10 months

Note

TREVOR WIT FEM! S/O ANGRY SEX >:D

(take care shug🫶🏾)

Abso-fucking-lutely! >:)

Summary: Argument after argument, you (both) found a way to release the angst from your systems.

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/Trevor Philips

Word count: 2110

“You can’t fuckin’ ignore me!”

Even through the sound of the shower pumping, his voice still manages to irritate you even more. Countless times, countless! And he refuses to pack it up. No matter how much you plead him for peace and quiet, it wasn’t successful. His reoccurring habit of arguing had now restrained your relationship.

Suddenly showering doesn’t stop him from shutting up either.

“How many goddamn times, [y/n]? I’m trying to explain how you’re overreac-“ You turned the handle to increase the water pressure and dunked your head underneath, blocking out the pest that has been bugging you all morning.

Finally… Peace!

You applied shampoo onto your hair and massaged the roots. While observing his bathroom, you glanced at the lightbulb that was barely even doing it’s job. The main light source was the sun gazing through his tatted curtains. It was a warm ray of sun. It made the room seem more nostalgic and calm, especially when he had stopped running his mouth; probably realising you were showering and not actively listening to him.

The privacy was a stranger to you considering your relationship had interfered with your need of alone time. Trevor never understood why you’d occasionally prefer to be alone. He saw it as an inhuman operation! He thought you were a masochist that enjoyed feeling pain – only because there was no mutual understanding. You knew he hated being alone. That was a difference that was the subject of all arguments. Trevor assumes you use this time of “isolation” to betray him (somehow?) or escape his misery.

One of them is right.

And admitting to it had caused this mornings argument. It wasn’t pretty. The screaming match lasted 15 minutes before you eruptively blocked him out and here you are, taking a shower to avoid the mismatch of his unstable words. You left Trevor alone in his living room, hitting a pipe or whatever he usually does whenever he feels an ounce of despair. Whatever he’s on, you only hope he stays in his little “la la land” until he grows a sense and apologises like a man.

The shampoo was rinsed out and you were lurking at the steamy mirror opposite the shower. You tilted your head and observed your body, touching your curves and posing to see how it looks in different angles. The water was running down your chest and skin, the dampness of your whole appearance complimenting the beauty of your frame quite well. In the heat of the moment, your fingers scanned the surface of your ass. You lifted your leg up to get the full sight, admiring how sexy you really were. Somehow the shower had increased your self-esteem. Usually Trevor was the one worshiping how you looked, and you were so dependent of his opinion that you never looked at yourself. Now you did, maybe he was telling the truth, but you refuse to think of him right now. The last thing you wanted to do was touch yourself and think of him. You wanted to teach him a lesson, not wish he could argue with you more and get a treat out of it.

“Urgh…” Your sigh was faint as the shower kept rinsing, “He is an asshole…”

The shower was turned off and you stepped out. A few minutes of rubbing yourself dry was interrupted when a shadow over casted the lovely natural light from the window. You were naked, the towel being dropped on the floor as you weren’t expecting to be seen at this point. Suddenly the confidence and calm you once felt was drained out, just like the water from the shower floor.

You didn’t bother turning round. You already knew who it was, why make a game out of it?

“Well, well… I didn’t expect this magnificent sight!” Trevor echoed as he stepped closer. The sound of his boots shook the floor beneath you both. He could be heard mumbling, his body warmth coming closer to yours.

“I was gonna come and… Apologise… But you got me forgetting my lines.”

You slowly turned around to face him. Your breathing pitched when you saw him handling himself. Trevor was leaned against the doorway, his boner sat between his hand. He was staring mindlessly at your body; rubbing heavily, but he seemed to be waiting for something else… Something more than just masturbation. The way his eyes fixated on your figure – pure danger.

“I don’t think you were trying to apologise.” A murmur left your departed lips as he approached closer, cornering you against the wall. You arched your back to try and keep some distance between you both. Effective? No.

“You can’t stay mad at me forever, sugar,” His fingers began smoothening your waist and threatening to make contact with your breasts, “You’re wasting your time. We could be getting it on instead of…” He allowed his eyes linger to your exposed sex, licking his lips and groaning – “Don’t leave me wanting just because you’re still pissy.”

You carefully examined his raging boner that was properly standing within his clothes. You could tell it was taunting Trevor since he was twitching every now and then. You could see how his mind was fastening with fantasies and what he wants to do. It felt surreal and dehumanising to give in, especially after you promised yourself to put a boundary in between; whether he likes that or not. He favours a good challenge but you had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate it this time.

Trevor enclosed more space, leaning his head to breathe against your shoulder that still had droplets of water from your damp hair. He went to touch your face until it was dismissed and slapped. He gasped and stepped back. There was fire in your eyes. He hadn’t experienced this type of persistence before.

“[y/n], don’t be like that.” Trevor frowned at you with disbelief.

There was still a tight grudge you held.

“I’m not in the mood,” You finally murmured, “Just leave me alone please. I want some space.”

“Space? Not this again… You seriously want space? What? Are you telling me we’re breaking up? You leaving me? Is there another guy around? What the fuck is this, baby!”

“I’m not leaving you-“

“I’m finding that hard to believe.” Trevor grinded his teeth and pointed a daring finger, “You don’t have the balls to break my heart. After everything we’ve fuckin’ been through! You really wanna throw me away like some toy?”

You shook your head frantically. He was getting the wrong idea!

“Trevor, I’m not leaving you.” There was a certain element of desperation behind your voice. You had the confidence to step forward and rest a hand upon his shoulder, a manner you’d hope he understood.

Anger still straggled around the surrounding air. In the moments of silence, you just looked at each other; one face angry, one face frustrated. It came out of your consciousness that you were naked, the same with Trevor. He wasn’t staring at your body anymore, he was staring into your eyes. The passion and fire was growing heavier and more heated. His eyebrows twitched when you took away your hand from his shoulder…

There was a sound of grumbling before he snatched your wrist back, placing it onto his shoulder as he leaped forward, smashing his lips against yours; no warning being applied nor signalled, so you stumbled back against the tiled wall again, with Trevor trembling in your arms – fuelling himself with angst and tainted desire.

You complied and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He was needily kissing your lips. Every time you pulled away for air, he audibly whined and forced you back, not caring that you were struggling to breathe.

His hands roamed all over your body, pinching your nipples and groping your ass. He was everywhere at once. Trevor would aggressively pin you against the wall and continue kissing you for minutes straight.

However, the pressure in his pants were growing unbearably strong. He whispered against your mouth and darkly stared into your eyes.

“Bend over.”

Bent over the sink, you watched him through the mirror – the same mirror you were admiring your body before. Trevor caressed your ass with a small grin before he unzipped his pants and began rubbing himself raw, a preparation so he’s fully erected when penetrating you. Staring at him through the reflection, his face was scrunched up as he began beating himself to a pulp. It was a wonderful sight. You noticed all his anger being taken out on the sensual masturbation, right up until he slapped your left ass check.

“Fuck-“ You automatically gasped. Now your glutes were left throbbing.

“If every fuckin’ argument ends up like this, fuckkk… Scream at me all day long, hotlips.” He’d grunt and push up your ass before pushing into you, immediately groaning at the sacred warmth and tightness that suffocates him.

You grasped the sink and hunched forward, choking on nothing but imaginary substances. You were rocking back and forth as he was coordinatingly ripping you apart with his boner. Trevor had his eyes on the reflection, enjoying how loosely you were falling forward. Your face was bright red considering the bathroom was still hot from your shower, and now your blood pressure was rising for another reason.

“Fuck, fuck…” Trevor moaned; holding onto your hips and having you jump back onto his cock mercilessly.

“Trevor-“

“I love you, I love you!”

He was getting brutal with every thrust. It left you throbbing from everywhere, deserving of his touch and struggling to form actual sentences.

Meanwhile, Trevor was digging his teeth into his lower lip, concentrating on your frame while he fucked you. He made himself bleed, a product of his centred rage. He’s always been tag tailed by his pitiful anger issues – only molesting his emotional baggage deeper. The outburst of these manic episodes inflicts his performance to become rapid and rough. He has you shaking uncontrollably over the sink while he thrusts in and out every millisecond. Trevor has no awareness of his speed as he's replacing the memory of your avoidance and the thought of being left behind. It made him want to prove his worth. He needs to show how superior he is to other men.

“FUCK!” You’d wail and feel sweat dropping from your forehead. It felt overwhelmingly good. You touched your breasts for mental stimulation before he snatched your hands away, groping them for himself.

His dirty feelings unkindly handled your tits, squeezing them while routing in and out of your body, seizing the moment and questing to bully and blind your sensitivity, rightfully bruising your sex until your climax was arriving faster than you’d realise.

There he was, holding onto your breasts and dribbling onto your back. Trevor glanced in the mirror and saw how messy you were. He grinned and went even faster.

“Oh, oh!-“ You were losing your grip on the sink, “Please, I’m so close!”

Trevor panted, “I love you, fuck… [y/n]!” He squeezed his eyes closed, feeling vulnerable himself.

His hips were growing shaky and sloppy. He slapped his groin against your ass, feeling dizzy at how hard he was reeling you. You remained overstimulated with his dick buried against your G spot, occasionally huffing out a whiney moan.

“Fuck… Fuck…” His hands stroked your lower back until he thrusted one more time and his whole length shivered. He pulled out and yanked your damp hair, forcing you to stand back up and lean against him while his cock came all over your back and ass. Trevor’s saliva drooled down his chin, manhandling the twitchy mess in his hand that painted your skin white and slimy.

You had came the moment he roughly pulled onto your locks. It ran down between your thighs and legs like you had wet yourself. It felt relieving as all the pressure and tension was released. However, it also felt dirty. The predictions of such activities wasn’t guessable when showering, leaving you touching your sticky body with dismay.

Not liked he cared anyway, Trevor threw his arms around your naked and sweaty body. His lips met the back of your neck before kissing you wetly. He was solemnly quiet after releasing all his rage into fucking you. (With no regrets either).

“Who needs space when you can have me?” He whispered against your ear; bitterness never leaving his system.

“I love you, Trevor.” It wasn’t a lie and it was time to give him what he wanted.

And it made him smile warmly. His eyes softened at your words.

“I love you too. Very much.”

#trevor philips #grand theft auto 5 #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta 5 #trevor gta #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #grand theft auto v #grandtheftauto #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips fanfiction #trevor philips/you #trevorphilips

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amypihcs · 7 months

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HELLO! Hello, my friends, i'm not dead, only the academic year started again!

Without further ado, LET'S BEGIN!

Our darling Watson starts with a disclaimer

Publishing years later (MUCH MANY YEARS LATER THAN IF THIS THING HAD HAPPENED IN 1898, I MEAN!), altering MANY things, in the vague hope Lestrade won't have a stroke. Uhm. Promising.

Well, it starts with our handsome gentlemen back from a walk!

Just a nice, mental health, relaxing, refreshing w- WHAT'S THAT THING THEEEERE???

Milverton. No offence to shits, but he is a true shit. At least according to Holmes. And he'll pass again at 6:30 PM. URGH!

Holmes HATES snakes. He DETESTS them. He hates Milverton JUST as much, and yeah...

PRETTY CLEAR. Holmes HATES blackmailers, and Milverton the most of all of them.

And... Watson. You're more clever and have seem much more than that...

I find myself here quoting Alessandro Manzoni. That's the exact situation (@mostvaliantandmostpround, hope you appreciate the spot of italian literature my beloved). Holmes and Watson both know why the victims are not hitting back. Their society is PARTICULARLY unforgiving. Holmes has just a case of the kind.

Here's the bastard. No surprise at Holmes refusing to shake his hand. He doesn't respect Milverton in the SLIGHTEST. and how to find fault in it. I also do praise Granada once again

Fenomenal casting. They just got the bastard right!

Back to the letter.

OF COURSE Watson is discreet. He is PERFECT UWU. shut up Milverton. They discuss of the case, with Holmes being very annoyed and mortified and overall IN A MOOD. Obviously. for good reason too. then to the core of the thing.

Oh, HOLMES. I do get what you mean, they should JUST talk. But HUMANS.

He's ENJOYING IT, THE BASTARD. I do get why Holmes feels the way he does.

Well, OF COURSE. This scene hits a lot. This man LOVES HIS JOB. He genuinely LIKES making people SUFFER.

Well, Holmes, DO try it.

Oh, it WAS worth an attemp- BUT THERE ARRIVES JOHN H. WATSON WITH THE S-

Unfortunately nop, my dear Watson. You might bonk someone else over the head (i get the feeling tho.)

Bastard's out, Holmes reflecting.

AND HE FINALLY HAS A SOLUTION!

We'll see it all in the next letter! Good luck to Holmes with his disguise!

#letters from watson #sherlock holmes #john watson #doctor watson #victorian husbands #jeremy brett #unnecessarily handsome #asexual falling hard for actors from an 80s show #holmes truly hates milverton #and i mean #with REASON

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legacyshenanigans · 11 months

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House of Gaunt 🐍

Marvolo at the torture den.

Slightly Dark drabble

Gang goon: Volo?

Marvolo: *turns from talking to people at the underground bar and sighs, frowning* What?

Gang goon: The muggle in room 3 wants to talk to you..He was pretty insistent on talking to the boss.

Marvolo: Urgh.. *downs his drink and stands* They aaaaaalways want to talk..To try and bargain for their lives...Its incredibly annoying..

He makes his way down the hall and enters room 3, seeing a muggle man, tied to a chair, having already been tortured quite abit..Bloody and breathing heavily, the muggle looked up at Marvolo stood by the door. Marvolo narrowed his eye's, a frown on his face as he approached the man, looming over him.

Marvolo: *leans down slightly* What do you want? I'm a VERY busy man *smirks*

Muggle: ..I..I know somewhere, where you can get lots of..Whatever it is you call us..in one night..A festival..Thats happening in my home town..Good p-pickings and what not.

Marvolo knelt down in front of the man and gasped sarcastically, his voice also dripping with Sarcasm.

Marvolo: Really!? My my... What precious information..Surely I cannot allow you to be killed now, can I!? Not after you've given me this golden info... About the "festival" in your SHIT HOLE of a world. HA! *Spits at the man, then stands, getting out his wand*

The man whimpered and winced just simply LOOKING at the wand in Marvolos' hand. Marvolo saw this reaction and toyed with man further, harshly throwing his wand out towards him with a playful grin, but not casting anything. Each time, the man cried out, and each time, Marvolo chuckled.

Marvolo: Aww this is rather fun isn't it? *gives the man a wicked smile*

Muggle: Just kill me already! If that's what's coming!!!

Marvolo: *puts away his wand* Unfortunately, you aren't mine, I didn't pay for you *smirks* you belong to someone else, they can deal with you..As..they...pleeeeeease...If anything, they'll probably hurt you even more now, for disturbing their fun, by insisting on talking to me *laughs as he leaves the room*

#the gaunts hc #the gaunt family #marvolo gaunt hc #marvolo gaunt

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indianchindian · 14 days

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JKR stooped to a new low by literally denying that the holocaust had a detrimental effect on trans people and saying that she won't consider Emma Watson and Daniel Radcliffe's apologies as if they even apologized to her lol (and why should they?)

Literally Daniel, Emma and the rest of the Harry Potter cast don't owe her anything. She made the books but Tom Felton said that she was very less involved in the making of the films if I remember correctly. How is she standing up for women if she spends five years belittling transwomen and transmen?! She has a huge platform and she's putting it to good use by making a marginalized community feel even more unsafe. Please don't prove me that she isn't a transphobe because there is ample amount of evidence that she is a huge one and she's not even a feminist lol.

Literally feminism started with gender being performative by Simone de Beauvoir saying that no one is born a woman, but they become women. Yet JKR and other trans exclusionist claiming to be feminists stress on "biological sex" as a way to exclude transgender people! Why?? Thank God I don't use X anymore, or stopped following JKR after her "people who menstruate" tweet, or have never been a crazy Potterhead and only was interested in Harry Potter through the movies. But I really admired her when I was younger! Why JKR WHY??!!

In all honesty I can't stand terfs! I don't want them or even hear of them because they're so dumb and unbearable! Do they even know that transgender people KNOW about their biological sex and they don't transition out of a whim! Transitioning is a very lengthy and difficult process for fuck's sake! And there are even many transgender people who don't transition medically, maybe because they don't have the money or their bodies aren't suited for it. Still terfs love to misgender them and put on their dumb logic of "biological sex" on them. There was one proud terf who called a content creator who was a transwoman a "man" and constantly misgendered her on her YT channel! I'm not gonna name that terf or that transwoman because I don't want to promote that terf's content and her comment-section seems culty because there are hardly any people (or no people) disagreeing with her or even calling her out! Maybe because she deletes comments? It's fucking scary! And she basically boot-licks JKR and Posie Parker (urgh this woman!)

Plus there WERE fans who were transgender that connected to the Harry Potter books on such a personal level and admired JKR so much, only to find out that she's such a big transphobe and would stick to it! Can't imagine what they went through or are going through!

Anyways, thanks for reading through my rant if you did. If a transphobe is reading it, please back off.

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datoneboardedguy · 8 months

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Charmcaster x Male Reader Fanfiction (LEMON!)

(DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE BEN 10 IP OR ANY OF IT’S CHARACTERS!)

Third POV:

A few weeks after Charmcaster/Hope kicks out Darkstar she starts getting lonely again & gets an idea to use her magic to get a man from Earth at random to brainwash & seduce under her spell, she casts the spell to the magical arch door & it disappears to pick someone up.

M/R’s POV:

I’m clocking off of work just as the taller guy called Kevin I think? As he arrives to clock in for his shift he passive aggressively shoulder bumps me as we pass each other, I don’t usually pay much attention since I only ever see him in passing as I get off work. Along the way home I see plenty of students wandering around the neighbourhood coming & going, since I’m not paying attention I almost bumped into a red head student as she says “Whoa, watch out where you’re going.” I look forward & see she’s walking with a blonde girl in a wheelchair who I’d presume is her friend & say “Oh sorry, I wasn’t attention. Excuse me..” as I swiftly walked around the two & went on my merry way. I approached a back alleyway to take a quick shortcut to my street but as I reached the alleyway entrance a couple of teens came out from around the corner with a pair of Mr Smoothie drinks in hand & completely blindsided me, one was a Chinese girl in a pink hoodie & the other was dude in a green leather biker jacket & he spills his Smoothie’s all over my clothes & I say in frustration “AH SH$T!” Then my phone sparks & shorts out zapping my left hand making me drop it due to being soaked in smoothie liquid it then smashes into pieces upon impact with the footpath pavement ground. “MOTHERF%#KER!” The guy apologetically says “Sorry sorry for your clothes & your phone, I didn’t see you!”- “URGH JUST WATCH OUT WHERE YOU’RE GOING NEXT TIME!” I then hastily walk away to head home & get cleaned up & study.

Then as I’m about to get home a massive rift opens up right in front of me which turns into a huge stone arch double door, then a bunch of illuminated pink symbols appear on the top of the arch door before the door slowly starts to open up. Sucking me into the door like a vacuum i then fly through the door & I’m now suddenly falling through a pink void onto a floating stone pathway in the middle of nowhere. I look up at the door I feel through only then for the door to shuts & vanishes, then a castle appears right in front of me & the castle gate opens up revealing a smoking hot white haired woman around my wearing some kind of purple & black costume with a black tiara looking crown that kind of resembles a big black eyebrow for some reason you’d see straight out of D&D. Then she walks towards me with her seductive swaying hips while saying “Looks my man package has arrived, I’m Charmcaster. Welcome to my Realm, that’s right this is my realm..”- “What’s going on here? Where the heck am I & can I PLEASE go home now?!” “Oh my little bird, you’re not ever going home, because this is your home now!..” “Like hell it is!..” I then started running away from her trying to find a way out of here. “So you want to play hard to get huh? Very well. ..Run, run, run as fast as you can! But you’ll never escape me!”

After what seemed like hours of nonstop running in what seems like an endless void of pinkish nothingness I finally found a town on stone buildings but as I got closer to it I realised that it was completely abandoned, a ghost town. “Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me?!” Then I hear a voice behind me say “You can’t run from me sweetie, my realm as you can see ..is endless.” I turned around to face her as she proceeded to say “..& you’re never getting out.” She then starts casting her magic to try & snare me, run away before she finishes her spell into the abandoned ghost town. As I’m running through the empty streets I’m dodging nonstop attacks. Until I get cornered inside of a windowless stone building with a single door way in or out & she’s standing right in the middle of it. “There you are, now hold still sweetie.” She says as she tried to snare me again but I barely dodged it & now I’m literally backed up against a wall with nowhere else to go as she tries again to snare me she, succeeds in grabbing & tying my body up with her magic snare & is slowly pulling me towards her as she says seductively “Nice try handsome, but you can’t escape your destiny.” I’m now standing right in front of her as she proceeds to seductively whisper “Just give yourself into me..” then she puts both of her pink glowing hands to the sides of my face but not touching my face she then closes the distance between us & as our lips finally touch my mouth is immediately flooded with soo much energy my mind immediately goes numb with lust for Charmcaster & I now can’t stop wanting to rip her clothes off & just sexually devoure her slim well toned muscular body & I immediately get a throbbing hard erection, her hands touch my face suddenly Charmcaster warps us both into her supposed bedroom.

We now proceed to passionately deepen our make out session as she magically warps both of our clothes off of us, she then pushes onto her bed. I momentarily regain my senses but I can’t move as Charmcaster seductively crawls onto the bed & crawls on top of me as she seductively whispers into my left ear “You’re mine now M/R..” then she grabs my face & starts deeply passionately making out with me & my mind immediately goes back to blind lust & thirst for her & we started pulling each other close as she inserts my precum leaking member into her folds & we started aggressively making love & thrusting into each other like rapid animals as she’s moaning into my mouth as we’re making out & suddenly pushes my face into her breasts & on impulse I started sucking & devouring her rack making her loudly moan even more. I feel her hands gripping the hairs at the back of my head the more I’m sexually devouring her breasts, I then start to kiss & lick my way up to neck & up to her face to resume our make out session, she moans into it as she starts using her magic to cover my body in her mind controlling runes, every second she traces her fingertips along my body sends endless amounts of ecstasy filled shivers down my spine as she ironically speaks in tongues into our deep kisses & as she finishes tracing her magical fingers over my entire body I feel my climax approaching & I think I can somehow sense hers as well, with every thrust both of her & my moans start to eco louder inside my head & as we finally climax our collective moans filled the bedroom & all of the halls of her castle walls.

As we finally finished she grabbed my face & gave me one last deep passionate kiss as I feel it, her runes start glowing & my body started turning into stone. Her eyes opened up to reveal her beautiful glowing eyes & my eyes started glowing as well as i sink into her beautiful gaze & suddenly I’m no more.. & my master Charmcaster seductively says “Welcome to the family my new lovely thrall!..”

The End!..

#male reader #fanfic #original character #lemon #seduction #ben 10 #ben 10 charmcaster #charmcaster x Male Reader #Charmcaster fanfiction #ben 10 fanfiction

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on-a-lucky-tide · 2 years

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("Bees", a small dedication to the wonderful @quia-nominor--leo, who I only get to see in passing because they're busy saving animals and being awesome. Lambert & Ciri, hints of past Eskel/Geralt. Mention of teenage girl crushes that Lambert teases her about.)

“Hold the rod with your casting hand around the base of the reel—no, other hand, it’s your dominant hand, stop fucking around, yeah, there you go—“ Lambert curled Ciri’s fingers into place, bracketing her narrow shoulders as he adjusted the fishing pole, “put your index finger in front of the reel and wrap your others behind it.” There was about twelve inches of line, and Lambert had pain-fucking-stakingly shown her how to bind the bait in place. The princess was a quick study and he only had to walk her through it twice before she had the hang of it.

Ciri jutted her lower lip in concentration. “Like this?”

“Yeah, like that. Now here’s where it all comes together,” Lambert said, glancing over his shoulder. “Check behind you for obstacles. Once hooked a man’s trews clean off on the frontward swing.”

She chuckled. “No, that’s terrible.”

“Yeah, cock swingin’ everywhere, bad day for him to go native, right—“ Lambert slipped a foot back after tapping her heel lightly, urging her to follow, “point your rod where you want your line to go, swing the rod back—“ his voice hitched as he tugged the pole and made her arms lift, “behind your shoulder and then bring it forward in one fluid motion, and when we do—“ he held her fast as she tried to follow his words, “you’ll release your finger from the line at the peak of the swing, an’ off it’ll go into the briny deep.”

“Lakes are freshwater, Lambert.”

“Keep back-talkin’ me and the fishes will have something a whole lot nicer than mouse to eat, here we go, and—”

They moved together in one fluid motion, Lambert nudging Ciri’s index finger away just in time for the line to unspool. The whir of the reel ended with a satisfying plop as the baited hook hit the surface of the water. A respectable distance, not that Lambert would tell Ciri that. “Passable,” he sniffed, dropping into the creaky old chair he had dragged down from Kaer Morhen for their lesson.

“Now what?”

“Now, we wait. Don’t scare the fish off with your bellyaching.”

Ciri threw her hands up and flopped onto the folded blanket next to the chair. To her credit, she sat in silence for a good while. Lambert even managed to crack open one of the beers he had brought to pass the time, but soon the pointed sighing began, and the shuffling, and the—shit, well, Lambert knew what it was like to be a—how old was Ciri anyway? Nine, twelve? Difficult to tell. The mutagens made you age in a weird way. One minute you were baby-smooth, barely a hair on your jaw, next you looked like a crinkled ball sack. “Something on your mind, princess?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” she said haughtily, “I’m… I’m going to be a witcher.”

“A witcher, you think?”

“That’s what you’re training me for!”

“Yeah, about that,” Lambert took a swig from the ale and leaned forward, forearms sloping over his thighs, “the training’s all well and good, we’ll see you right, help you swing a sword like the best of ‘em, but being a witcher? That’s not a path you have to walk. Shit, you could go marry some mouth-breather in the north and have some crotch goblins of your own—”

“Urgh, no,” Ciri pulled a face, “I don’t think I even like men. Grandmama picked out one she thought was good, and he was fat, and ugly, and he smelled so bad.”

“Oh yeah, all men smell bad.”

“And they’re hairy.”

“So hairy,” Lambert conceded.

“And, and… sometimes not even in the right places? Like, their head.” She slid him a sly glance and he kicked her on the leg. “But I guess you think they’re smarter than girls?”

“Naw. I just say that to wind up Merigold,” Lambert took another swig of ale, “most people are dumb fucks.”

“Even Geralt?”

“Geralt is the dumbest of all fucks, never forget that.”

She looked a little deflated at that and Lambert knew he had stepped wrong. When they were training, she was resilient. She took his waspish corrections and bellowed commands in her stride, but in quieter moments she was vulnerable. Without the blood thundering in her ears, she had the time to listen to the voices of doubt and fear telling her to give up. Too difficult. Too dangerous. And while he never liked to miss an opportunity to take a punt at Geralt, he wasn’t quite settled with the idea of doing it at Ciri’s expense. So, he baited the hook.

“I can think of a few that might beat Geralt.”

Her ears perked at the prospect of a story. “Yeah?” Fish hooked.

“Oh yeah. I had a contract in Aedirn once. There was this peasant who’d dreamt that a swarm of bees had swarmed up his arsehole and given him a vision.”

“A swarm of bees?”

“A swarm of bees. Anal bees.”

“Anal bees.”

“Right, so,” Lambert continued, his smirk mirroring Ciri’s. “He says these bees—these bees have given him a vision concerning the iniquities of the local clergy.” He paused, letting her work the word over in her head rather than assume her ignorance. The poncy court education seemed to be good for something, because her eyebrows soon raised, imploring him to continue. “Local clergy claim he’s hexed. And what do you do when there’s hex fuckery afoot?”

“You call in a hedgewitch, or a witcher.”

“Correct. Yours truly happens to be in the area. I apply my not inconsiderable genius and I work it out.” He left a dramatic pause while he took another draw from the bottle. Almost out.

“Well?”

“Well,” he imitated her shrill intonation back, and her nose wrinkled at him. “Well, Cirilla, the local clergy had been partaking in the whorehouse three towns over. Not really a titanic-fucking-issue, hypocrisy of institutionalised religion isn’t something I really bother with most times, but they had upped their groundrent to subsidise their habit.”

“Ploughin’ bastards.”

“Language.”

Her mouth clicked shut.

“So, I tell the council that the visions were true. Bring a few of the girls over to point out their johns, and the priests are stripped of all their privileges. And I got to spend a night in a warm bed ‘cause Bum-Bee’s wife was ever so fuckin’ grateful to have him home.”

Lambert was pretty sure there was meant to be a moral to the story somewhere. Maybe something about not all dumb fucks being equal, or to not judge a dumb fuck book by its dumb fuck cover, or—

Well, fuck if he knew. This was Eskel’s department. You know, the whole educational story thing. Lambert was more… practical skills. Fishing, sword drills, alchemy. Those were his areas of expertise. He slid her a sideways glance to make sure she had been placated by the Anal Bees story, but sensed that there was still something bothering her. He weighed up ignoring it, putting it off until he could nudge her towards Eskel or Pretty Boy, but he had to ask, because she had that burdened look that tugged at something in his godsdamned chest. “There somethin’ else?”

“I lied,” she said.

“About?”

“I do like men,” she sighed, “I quite fancied Coën when I arrived. And—“

“Right, so what’s the problem then?” Coën was a good looking bloke, and Ciri hadn’t been the only one looking. Lambert had looked. He'd looked a lot and was batting around the idea of asking whether he could do more than look.

Ciri went red to the very tips of her ears and glared down at her hands.

“You don’t have to tell me, kid. But Merigold’ll notice if you go back lookin’ like you’ve chewed on a wasp and I could really do without that ballache, so—“

“I-think-I-like-girls-too.”

Somewhere in the vast space of lake and woodland before them, a fat toad jumped from a rock into the water, and the resounding plop filled the anxious silence. Ciri stared at Lambert with wide eyes, her lower lip between her teeth. Lambert nodded slowly. "Merigold?"

Ciri flushed an even deeper shade of red.

Lambert smirked. Oh, little cub had a crush on the pretty yet diabolical sorceress. Too funny. "Huh, Ciri and Merigold sitting in a tree—"

"Lambert!" Ciri squawked, shoving him hard in the shoulder. She had clearly been expecting this to go differently.

"What?"

"You can't tell anybody."

"Not even Eskel?"

"No! Or Coën, or—"

"Geralt?"

"Especially not Geralt!"

"You know, Geralt and Eskel used to dick about all the time. Like, literal dicks, you know—" Lambert pushed his tongue into his cheek and shook his fist next to it. Ciri's eyes nearly crossed.

"They—uh, I mean Geralt…"

"He was the Keep bicycle, he—"

"Lambert!"

"Yeah, alright, sorry, forgot you were a—"

"Girl?" She narrowed her eyes, accusing.

"I was gonna say princess, but, if the shoe fits."

She folded her arms, lower lip jutted in a pout. "You never take anything seriously."

Lambert looked at her sideways, taking a pause to swig another mouthful of beer. He got the sense he should have made a big thing out of it, maybe put his arm around her and told her it was all gonna be okay, like she had some kinda grave illness they should work through together. Lambert couldn't do that. It just wasn't in him to make promises he knew he could never keep. The best he could do was show that others had survived before her.

He drew in a deep breath, and puffed it out through pursed lips. "First man I liked was about two years out on the Path. About three or four summers older than me, broad, sandy hair, missing teeth, cauliflower ear, but he was the first person to show me kindness in… a long time."

She looked up quickly. "What did he do?"

"He gave me something to eat, sewed up my face," Lambert gestured vaguely at his eye, "then one thing led to another. Lasted a few years."

"What happened?"

"Smallpox."

"Oh." She frowned. "Lambert, I'm… I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I didn't—"

"People die, Ciri," he said. "Life's shit like that. The least we can do is find the decent bits that happen in between. They're… well, they're worth the bullshit, you know? And it doesn't matter who the fuck it's with. Man, woman. As long as they're old enough, and willing. And no hooves, horns… unless that's…"

She shoved him again, the chuckle spilling over a small smile, and he smirked back. They sat in silence for a bit, staring at the fishing lure bobbing on the wind-rippled surface of the lake. When she spoke again, it was with a wistful sigh. "Maybe I'll find someone when I leave for the Path. I think I'd want them to have all their teeth though."

"So shallow, princess."

Before she could respond, the fishing lure dipped and the reel began to whir. Lambert fell forward and grabbed up the rod in both hands, steadying it before passing it across.

"Easy now, tug, and wind, tug, wind, that's it! C'mon, Ciri, focus, don't get too enthusiastic, patience. Patience."

They landed an impressive looking fish, with glistening silver scales and sharp, blue fins. As the sun set, Lambert rustled up a small fire and cooked it in his mess tin, white flesh seasoned with a handful of herbs and a slab of butter. They talked through mouthfuls of food and dried tac, and then Ciri, like any young cub with a full belly, went and fell asleep on him.

With an irritable sniff, Lambert scooped her up as gently as he could and carried her up the slopes to the keep. She didn't even wake as Merigold put on her nightshirt, or as Lambert came back in to tuck the threadbare blankets around her bony frame.

"It suits you, you know," Merigold said softly as they closed the door behind them.

"What does?" Lambert asked, lips tilted down. You never knew what you were gonna get with witches.

"Your heart." And with that, she turned and floated down the dimly lit hall in a cloud of auburn curls and self-importance.

Lambert rolled his eyes and stalked off in the opposite direction.

Heart, pfft. Kaer Morhen had beaten the last of that out of him years ago.

#witcher lambert #cirilla fiona elen riannon #fic dedication #bees #the witcher #tw3 #the witcher books

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loz-untold-myths · 1 year

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UNTOLD MYTHS: The Mage's Lantern

A Legend of Zelda Fan-Story by Nocturne

Prologue + Chapter 1 (Novelized)

(Comic in Progress)

Expand to read! (Warning: Blood)

Prologue - Warm Memory

In the dead of night, the howling winds rock the walls of a cabin home. There is little to no natural warmth, save for a single candle on a bedstand beside an old couch with a wooden frame. To compensate for the freezing cold, a woman lets her son rest his head on her lap beneath the cozy shelter of a blanket. As the little one fades in and out of sleep, the woman's voice quietly joins the arguing winds.

"Throughout the flow of time, many legends become lost from record. Tales of knights... Tales of princesses... The tales of an eternal struggle between good an evil. Among the ancient powers carried among these stories, one has stood the test of passing ages: The Triforce." She weaves her words as if having rehearsed them, but the boy she speaks to has a hard time paying attention with how he dozes off. Even so, faint images try to paint themselves in the back of the sleepy child's head. "Possessing the traits of Courage, Wisdom, and Power, this powerful relic was long said to be tied to the rulers and heroes of Hyrule. When one possessed all three pieces of The Triforce, they were given a single wish without limit. Because of this...–"

"Now, Faronna..." A second voice interrupts the woman, that of a man her age. He briefly glances back to her, halting his process of covering the windows, "Should you really be telling him all this?"

"The boy asked, Arn. Besides, it is only a bedtime story. He'll forget it by morning..." Faronna murmurs, before returning her gaze to their son. Now, where was she? "...Because of this, the gift from the skies brought conflict after conflict upon Hyrule. The Royal Family, upon recognizing such a pattern, decided to keep its whereabouts almost entirely secret... Supposedly even to themselves. With this in place, Hyrule went for generations without the pursuit of Power clouding its peace."

...

There is a pause to follow, as if the woman herself has begun to question if she should continue. But after lingering on her words for a few moments, she decides to continue forth. "But this did not last. One day, a Dark Wizard appeared. He who was once known as the Gerudo King had assembled a following of twisted mages, all working to claim the complete Triforce as their own. As they devastated all regions in their search, it became clear that the King could no longer try to peacefully calm their hunt for power. Each Mage was decreed to be sentenced to death for their crimes if they were to show their faces again. Only seeing it as an empty threat, however, the mages continued their wicked ways. Ultimately, the evil forces were killed... Except for one."

Another hesitation.

"The Mage of Winter– the strongest of them all– was enraged by the falling of his allies. In retaliation, and under his master's command, the ice wizard cast a curse upon the land. What was soon called The Frigid Storm spiraled Hyrule into a state so cold that survival became a struggle in every waking hour. Ever since that day, this is how the Kingdom has remained."

...

And this is how it will forever be, until The Dark One finally holds the full Triforce in his grasp.

Chapter 1 - The Wizard

The wasteland stretches beneath an eternal night sky, a horizon of sand and rock blanketed in the never-ending, cold embrace of darkness. The desert, given its own special curse to assure its suffering, has been long since abandoned in the majority of the region. The air carries only the stench of death. The stench of death... And the sudden addition of fresh blood.

"Urgh... Demise CURSE IT ALL!" A screeching voice abruptly rings out. "GET BACK HERE, YOU MISERABLE LITTLE INSECT!" Its source: A hunched over, older man covered in an unidentifiable number of layers of clothing. He keeps one bony hand up to his face, over a growing puddle of blood where his eye should be. Although disoriented by his own rage, the man raises his free fist. It is enveloped almost instantaneously by a twisting presence of ice and snow that is sent out in pursuit of a smaller individual. The storming magic races after a young girl with bright green eyes that barely show from beneath her fur-lined hood. The spell shoots past her, curling it's path to try and halt her from in front; its light-blue luminescence reflecting against her gaze. She lets out a yelp, ducking down and holding her head as she lets the magic soar over her head and back towards the pre-occupied mage. With his own magic colliding with his face amidst his recovery, the wizard stumbles back and lets out a low murmur like a growl. He just had the little brat, and now she's managed to pull a stunt like that twice! Using his own power against him... First plunging a sharpened icicle into his skull, and now sending such a horrible cloud over the wound! He swears to himself that the child will pay severely for the attempts... Once he can catch her.

The girl urges herself to push through her escape, fighting the urge to stop and catch her breath. As she dares to take a brief look back to the man, she finds that he has stubbornly froze the blood over his injury to keep it from pestering him in the meantime. She is certain it isn't comfortable or helpful in any way, but it's allowed him to follow her himself. Although she makes an effort to ignore it and refocus on getting away, her thoughts are interrupted by another trail of the mage's power; this time landing into the ground beside her with a blast. It branches out into an array of transparent spikes, all of which seeming to reach for her. The runaway is forced to restrain herself from yelping again, recollecting herself in a hurry. Meanwhile, the wizard outstretches his palm back towards the stars– his figure seeming to almost be carried by the wind– and commands for a series of clouds to force their way into the sky with a shout. Although usually without a single cloud, the skies now present a churning multitude of them... And make way for an uncharacteristic snowfall from the mage's furious call.

As if the call was not enough to cause her alarm, the fleeing child is met with the sight of snowflakes hindering her view of the horizon. It is temporarily a cause of panic, her heartbeat quickening exponentially, but a collection of silhouettes just barely enters her sight after she aimlessly pushed onward. The snow mixing with sand, it appears a collection of stands and tents lies up ahead. Being unfamiliar with the area, the young girl fears she may be mistaken, but she rushes to this place in hopes that she can find someone else; perhaps some sort of refuge. Unfortunately, she is met only with the abandoned ruins of what was a bazaar. A frustrated huff escapes her, but the girl decides she cannot let it stop her. Knowing what is at stake, she thinks fast and adjusts her path. The stands have loose shelters of cloth overhead... perhaps they could act as a barricade. She runs straight into the heart of the now ironically snowed-over bazaar, leaping over one stand's counter to another in an attempt to let the structures protect her where the wizard would be too tall to follow through. It drains her, to be sure, but she knows she is young– and the wizard, well... He just isn't.

The runaway's plan proves successful for a minute or so, to the extent that she doesn't care look back and allow her streak to collapse. But her fixation on the path ahead is broken soon by a sort of creaking sound. At first, she is perplexed... But confusion dives straight back into worry as she recognizes the creak's origin. The snow that flurries has begun to clump via the man's powers, solidifying into sharp spearheads of hail that rain down from above. The cloth barriers once shielding her from the weather are torn through like paper, leaving her to desperately try to avoid the barrage from whatever stand she ended up inside. Deciding her plan has backfired and gotten her cornered, she dives out from her hidden path and narrowly avoids impalement in the process. She scrambles to run once more, but makes the error of peering back to see where the wizard commands the weather from– and in doing so, fails to see where the new layer of snow seems to sink. She feels the ground give out beneath her and, in an instant, disappears amidst the shroud of hail.

Her vision was left dark for the second that she fell, but it returned to her after she landed in solid stone with a light thud. The air is knocked out of her, and it stings... But she realizes she's fine. The girl hurriedly lifts her head, looking up to see the only light source is the dim opening from which she fell through. Some sort of hole in the sand, blocked from view by the snow. It seems to have dropped her into a small den. She could probably reach back out, if she stood, but she knows better... Now, she may as well be cornered!

...And that she is, as the familiar voice of the wizard lets out a yell of frustration. She holds her breath. It is audible merely a few steps from the place she fell through... "AUGHHH! I've lost her... AGAIN! The Dark One will have my head... Or my other eye!" His utter distress echoes through the small crack in the stone den's roof. The young one once again quietly exhales, yet almost seems unsure that she heard him correctly. Did he fail to see her fall through? Did his own storm cloud his vision? "It takes me all my strength not to just get this over with and reduce that pitiful little child into a sculpture..." The man grumbles under his breath now, his voice fading as he goes further away. "I cannot return empty-handed... I'll be reduced to ash..."

Once his presence has entirely vanished, the escapee lets out a slow sigh of relief. She can see her breath in the dim light beneath the opening now that she has finally stopped her constant pace. While the disdainful sculpture comment was... Rather threatening, she think the feeling is mutual. He would be much more tolerable as speechless stone. But overall, she's just glad he has gone... The girl gives it a little time, but eventually allows herself to pull her way out of the den. She spares it a mere glance before eyeing her surroundings. The snow has begun to drift away on the breeze, and the moon finally looms over the perpetual night sky. Other than that, she is alone. With this in mind, the child makes a break for the end of the wasteland.

Note:

Intrigued? Check the rest of this blog to find concept art and other details! My asks are always open, as well. :)

Next Chapter: Chapter 2 - The Hero

Concept Art 1 - Concept Art 2

I decided to give The Mage's Lantern the official tag (#loz the mage's lantern), to be paired with (#loz untold myths). I also have a writing blog where I'll be posting LoZ fics based on canon at Nocturnal Writer!

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accidentalmistress · 1 year

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Accidental Mistress - Cat's in the Cradle

It's that time again! This post is a little later in the day than I like, but it ended up being a little longer than I thought it would. At any rate, today we have the triumphant return of Quinns and Oliver! And this one has some worldbuilding! Woo!

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Title: Cat's in the Cradle

Word Count: 3,882

Content and Warnings: snz (nonbinary), fantasy violence, some mild gore (translation: there's monster fighting)

In which Quinns's good intentions earn them a bit more than they bargained for...

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

The most basic utility of a sword is to swing it with a degree of force and try to hit whatever you’re aiming at with the sharp part.

Dark blood dripped from the end of their blade and sank into the dirt, leaving a stain that, in the moonlight, resembled a slick of black oil. Their chest heaved with panting breaths as sweat dripped down their brow and neck. The stench of entrails and ichor hung in the air, and they fought the sudden urge to retch that rose in the back of their throat.

The creature was dead. That much was clear as a rush of mana flowed into them, as with killing any monster. Its furred head lay several feet away from its body, frozen in a snarl that bared its erratic tangle of crowded fangs. The rest of the grotesque corpse still twitched as it cooled on the side of the road. The oversized, hand-like paws had too many fingers, too many joints. The massive barrel chest was completely at odds with the slender, almost emaciated, waist and hips. Its skin was a patchwork of fur, scales, and feathers that made no sense, had no pattern, and was dotted with weeping splits and sores.

This was what happened to Devourers eventually. They became an absurd pastiche of whatever they consumed, until the imbalance in their form started to tear them apart. They were then at their most dangerous, attacking indiscriminately and without provocation as they were driven to frenzy by madness and agony.

A barking laugh cut through the tension that clung to them like a suffocating blanket.

“Ha! Amazing! Knight Shaw, you’re incredible.”

They flicked the blood off their sword before sheathing it with a deep sigh.

“You don’t have to call me Knight Shaw. Just call me Quinns.”

They turned to the person sitting on the ground behind them and offered him a hand up, hauling the much taller and broader young man to his feet with a grunt.

“Oh, right. And you can call me Oliver!”

The green and black uniform he wore was nearly identical to Quinns’s own, save that Oliver’s lapel only bore a single gold stripe instead of the three Quinns possessed, denoting their difference in rank.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Oh. Right. Um, then how about you call me Ollie?”

“Let’s just get this thing off the road, please.”

“Oh, sure thing! I’ll grab the front legs if you get the back legs.”

“All right, fine.”

It was no mean feat to drag the Devourer’s reeking corpse, seeing as it was the size of a horse. Even as the two Knights grunted and strained with the effort, Oliver couldn’t seem to keep from chatting with that goofy grin on his face that drove Quinns up a wall.

“It’s a lucky thing -ngh- you got here when you did. -urgh- Another few minutes -hnng- and I would’ve been Devourer chow.”

Quinns made a noncommittal grunt and kept hauling. They weren’t about to tell Oliver that the only reason they’d been there at all was because they’d been tailing him since he left headquarters that night. They couldn’t shake the feeling that if they didn’t keep an eye on him, the naive younger Knight was going to do something stupid and get himself killed—a feeling that turned out to be correct when Oliver decided to take the Devourer head-on, alone, with nothing but a sword and the skills of a First-Rank Knight.

Once the dead monster was safely away from the road, Quinns cast a spell that would immolate the corpse by morning. They tried not to look at its six asymmetrical eyes, dead and glistening in the light of the arcane fire.

“Funny coincidence running into you out here at this time of night, huh?”

Quinns cast a sideways glance up at Oliver’s open, honest face. The taller Knight had a broad grin on his face, the furry, pointed ears on top of his head twitching. The cat ears and tail he bore marked Oliver as an Anima, a type of demi-human with animal features.

“I was just doing my own patrol. Couldn’t sleep, as usual, so I figured I might as well do something useful.”

A hearty clap on the shoulder made them wince.

“Ha! That’s my senior for ya! Always the overachiever! Save some glory for the rest of us, huh?”

They crossed their arms in front of their chest. “I don’t do this for glory. I do it because someone has to. You know, I don’t recall you being scheduled for a patrol either.”

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck with an abashed chuckle, his mismatched eyes, one gold and one blue-green, cast aside like a child caught sneaking a sweet from the kitchen.

“Ah, yeah, you got me. I was doing my own patrol, too. The higher ups hardly ever put me on official patrols anymore! I don’t know why; I don’t think I did anything wrong. Recently, anyway…”

Quinns kept their mouth shut. They were pretty sure they knew the reason: Oliver had quickly built a reputation around headquarters, and not an entirely favorable one. He’d passed his exams less than a year ago and was generally known to be affable and pleasant, yet already he had caused the Knights several embarrassing incidents. Quinns was away at the time, but they heard that during his first patrol, Oliver decided to attempt spellcasting in the middle of the marketplace, spooking a horse that was attached to a merchant’s cart and causing a messy collision with a fruit stand. Fortunately no one was hurt, but the Knights ended up responsible for the damages.

Not long after Quinns was officially introduced to Oliver during a late night sparring match, the junior Knight set up a series of bonfires throughout the training yard, apparently to simulate “being attacked by evil fire mages”, which quickly grew out of hand into a conflagration that set a stack of hay bales and half the company’s wooden training dummies ablaze. When Quinns arrived on the scene, they managed to contain the fire with a magical barrier until the other Knights got enough water to put it out. Quinns could still clearly picture how Oliver’s orange cat ears had been nearly flat with shame against his bright blonde hair as their Captain had chewed him out.

That incident, paired with this fight with the Devourer and a hundred other minor screw-ups on the part of the bumbling, cat-eared Knight left Quinns with the sinking feeling that they weren’t finished cleaning up Oliver’s messes. How had he even passed his exams?

Oliver’s voice brought Quinns back to the present.

“Well, since we’re both out here, why don’t we go patrolling together? I wouldn’t mind the company!”

Quinns blew out a sigh through their nose.

“Yeah, all right. Might as well.”

“Might as well keep him out of trouble, more like…” they declined to add.

As they set off together, walking side by side down the road that eventually led to Chambelf, Quinns remembered the other reason that Oliver quite literally irritated them: Quinns was allergic to cats. They cleared their throat as it started to prickle slightly and managed to avoid coughing, silently praying to any god that would listen that they could get this impromptu patrol over with quickly.

“What do you think a Devourer was doing this close to a town?” Oliver had his hands clasped behind his head and was walking along with his gaze on the starry night sky like he didn’t have a care in the world. Must be nice.

Quinns shrugged.

“It looked like it was dying. They go crazy right before they die, and they’re not exactly stable to begin with, so there’s no telling what it was thinking.”

“Do you think there could be any more around?”

“I highly doubt it. They don’t travel in groups; they’re solitary creatures.”

It didn’t escape Quinns’s notice that when he’d asked the question Oliver sounded a little… excited.

“You’re not actually hoping to run into another one of those things, are you? The first one almost killed you.”

The other Knight chuckled. “Well, okay, maybe not another Devourer, but it might be cool to fight some other kinda monster.”

A scoff of disbelief passed Quinns’s lips. “Seriously? Do you have a death wish or something? Why the hell would you want to fight another monster?”

To Quinns’s surprise, Oliver dropped his arms to his sides and a slightly awkward look came to his face. Was he embarrassed?

“Uh, y’know, no reason… It’s just… I-It’s what Knights do, right? Yeah, we, uh, we fight monsters and protect people, so… Just really excited to do, uh… Knight stuff.”

Quinns regarded Oliver with narrowed eyes and was just about to accuse him of being a terrible liar when an itch blossomed in their nose, so instead they turned to the side and rubbed it against their sleeve with urgent strokes.

“Agh…”

“Hey, you okay?”

“What? -snf- Oh, y-yeah. -snf- I’m fine.”

They thought for certain that their sniffles would give them away, but Oliver seemed to take them at face value and nodded.

“Oh. Okay, good!”

Quinns bit back a sigh. While they were relieved that he hadn’t caught on, it really illustrated just how overly trusting Oliver was. The guy needed to cultivate some common sense before it got him killed.

“You know, I feel pretty lucky right now,” Oliver said, and Quinns wasn’t sure if he was purposely trying to change the subject or if he just always said whatever came to mind. Probably that second one.

“What do you mean?”

Oliver glanced over at them, putting his hands up behind his head again with another trademark grin.

“Well, not everybody gets to go on a patrol with the Quinns Shaw. Actually, you almost always go out alone. Makes me feel a little special, you know?”

It actually took some effort for Quinns to not openly gape at Oliver. Sure, it was true that Quinns usually worked alone, but was that really so noteworthy? Furthermore, why did Oliver hold them in such high esteem? Did they stand out that much? They wouldn’t deny their own skill—they were the youngest Knight to ever achieve Third Rank—but they didn’t exactly go out and do heroic deeds every day. They mostly performed their regular duties, did any other tasks the higher-ups assigned to them, picked up any slack where necessary, and kept their head down the rest of the time. They were so thrown off by Oliver’s comment, in fact, that they were totally unprepared for when the itching in their sinuses flared back up. They froze up, powerless to stop it, before their head snapped forward.

“Etchoo!”

“Whoa, bless you. You sure you’re okay?”

Another rub with the sleeve. “It’s nothing. Thanks… Oliver, I really don’t think I’m as amazing as you seem to think I am.”

“Well, I think you are that amazing. I’m real grateful that you’re willing to spend time with a loser like me, honestly. Feels like you could be doing… I dunno… better things.”

Quinns opened their mouth to reply, but abruptly shut it again as they realized that they didn’t actually know why they concerned themself so much with Oliver. Getting involved with other people only complicated things. Just look at the whole situation with Noelle: if anyone knew Quinns was aiding a witch, they’d be before the Inquisition in irons in less time than it took for Oliver to make them start itching. Keeping an eye on the younger Knight just gave them more work to do and more stress to deal with, so why did they bother? Was it simply to protect a comrade from getting hurt, or were they somehow a magnet for hard luck cases?

They had to say something into the silence that had already dragged into uncomfortable territory after Oliver’s last statement, but no words came to their rescue. No sarcastic quip, no snappy comeback, not even something truthful came to Quinns’s lips. Instead, Oliver’s cat ears abruptly twitched, then flattened against his head the moment before he flung himself bodily into Quinns, pushing them to the ground.

“Look out!”

An explosive frenzy of sound and motion followed. Before they even knew what had happened Quinns was facedown in the dirt of the road. Something blocked the moonlight above, casting a deep shadow in the night’s gloom. Training, adrenaline, and instinct took over. They pushed off the ground, and by the time they were on their feet their sword was in hand. Quinns spun to face what attacked them and briefly froze at what they saw. There stood Oliver, ears flattened, teeth bared in a snarl that showed sharp canines that Quinns had never noticed before. He was face-to-face with a huge reptilian creature: long and sinewy like a massive snake, its hide protected by thick, leathery scales. It had no legs to speak of, and the frilled head with its long snout would not look out of place on a dragon.

A wyrm.

Not quite full grown, but still big enough to snatch up and drag either of them away. Sharp teeth the size of daggers lined its yawning maw, currently held open by Oliver with one hand each on the upper and lower jaws as the creature struggled to make the young Knight its next meal. Oliver’s heterochromatic eyes flicked over to Quinns for the barest moment.

“I can’t… hold it… forever!”

Snapped from their reverie, Quinns tightened their grip on their sword.

“Right!”

With a cry, they ran at the wyrm with sword raised, held in both hands to put their full weight behind it. The wyrm’s hide was too thick for a simple slash to do much damage, and there was no time to cast a spell or perform some flashy move. So Quinns used their sword for its second most basic utility: aim the pointy bit at something you don’t like and shove as hard as you can.

This punctured the wyrm’s thick hide, causing the creature to shriek bloody murder, which was probably warranted given the circumstances. It darted aside, abandoning its attack on Oliver in favor of swiping its lengthy tail at Quinns instead. They leapt back to dodge the blow, the whiplike appendage missing them by inches. When the wyrm did not hit its intended target, it switched its attention back to Oliver, curving the arc of its strike towards the other Knight. He made no move to dodge, standing there with his arms wide open like he was waiting for it.

“Don’t tell me he’s gonna try to—”

With a resounding thump, Oliver caught the wyrm’s tail in the chest and grabbed on, holding it in place. How was he still standing? That strike had to have been powerful enough to break bone. More importantly, though—

“What the Hell are you doing?!”

The grin Oliver flashed them was more appropriate for someone who had caught a prize fish than a guy currently bear-hugging the tail of a monster.

“I got it!”

Quinns watched as a powerful undulation traveled swiftly down the length of the wyrm’s body, and Oliver’s feet left the ground.

“Wooaah! I-I don’t got it!”

The younger Knight was flung backwards, landing heavily against the trunk of a tree with a worrying crunch.

“Ollie!”

Surprisingly, or perhaps less so at this point, Oliver gave Quinns a thumbs up from where he sat at the base of the tree. “Koff! Don’t worry! Koff-koff! I, uh, I’m good!”

“Damn it, just… Just stay there, okay?!”

A guttural growl cut through the night air as the wyrm redoubled its attack, launching itself towards Oliver, still recovering from being thrown.

“Shit,” Quinns swore as they rushed forward, beginning a chant that would cast a protective barrier spell in front of Oliver. Icy panic gripped their stomach as they realized that the wyrm was far too fast.

They weren’t going to finish the spell in time.

With a fluid motion that was unlike Oliver’s usual bumbling clumsiness, the cat Anima rolled to his feet and leapt forward to meet his monstrous opponent. As the wyrm charged, baring its fangs with a horrid screech, Oliver once more managed to grab the creature by the jaws. One step, two—despite the wyrm’s size and strength, Oliver yielded only two steps to its crushing assault. Straining with the effort, he then began to prize the monster’s jaws slowly apart.

Still rushing to Oliver’s aid, Quinns thought for a moment that the other Knight was trying to break the creature’s jaw. Instead, Oliver wrenched the wyrm’s head to one side with a triumphant shout. Confused at first, Quinns then realized that with its head turned they now had a clear shot at the roof of the creature’s mouth.

They turned their run into a charge, both hands on the hilt of their sword as they raised it to eye level. With a rising cry they closed the distance, then thrust their blade deep into the soft flesh of the wyrm’s mouth, piercing its brain. The beast didn’t make a sound. Its long body spasmed with weaker and weaker movements until at last it went still.

Quinns pulled their sword from the monster’s corpse, and Oliver dropped its head to the ground. Within moments, the wyrm’s spent life force poured out in the form of mana, which Quinns felt flow into them. Beside them they heard Oliver gasp.

“Oh my gods, I think… I think I just got mana.”

Quinns raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that usually happens when you kill a monster.”

Oliver looked over at them wide-eyed as a grin slowly stole across his face.

“Does that mean…” He suddenly looked down at his arms in front of him. “Do I get my Mark now?!”

“Your… what?”

“The Adventurer’s Mark! How do I know if I got it?”

Quinns blinked.

Plenty of people in the world became Adventurers, but it wasn’t simply a job title. Slaying monsters, practicing magic, training in certain martial arts—these sorts of things granted one mana. Once a person’s mana reached a certain threshold, they would gain a Mark: a symbol somewhere on their body that marked them as an Adventurer. As one then grew in power, so too would the Mark, growing in size and complexity as proof of one’s skill.

“Wait, are you saying… you’re not an Adventurer yet?”

Oliver shook his head.

“No, I’m not. Or, at least, I wasn’t? Maybe I am now!” He actually started to unbutton his uniform shirt. “Would I feel it? What does it feel like? Does it, like, burn or something? How do I know where to look?”

Quinns had to admit that they were a little impressed. An Adventurer’s Mark was not a requirement to become a Knight, but a person was limited in the skills they could use and the magic they could cast without one, which of course made the job more dangerous. Though rare, it wasn't unheard of for someone to join up in the hopes of gaining their Mark, Quinns had just never met one before. Oliver had guts, that was for sure, and he could clearly take a beating. His eagerness to kill a monster now made a lot more sense as well: monsters granted a large amount of mana, so monster-slaying was often the fast-track to Adventurer status.

Quinns placed a placating hand on Oliver's arm before the other Knight got too carried away with stripping in the middle of the road.

"Whoa, slow down there, champ. I… I can't really describe it, but trust me: if you gained your Mark, you would know."

They watched as Oliver’s expression turned crestfallen, his orange ears drooping as he began to slowly button his shirt again.

“Oh… Yeah, that, uh, makes sense.”

Quinns pressed their lips together before sighing, though one corner of their mouth tugged up in a small smile.

“Hey, don’t let it get you down too bad. You’re well on your way. You’ll just have to deal the finishing blow next time.”

The quickness with which Oliver’s ears perked right back up was nearly comical.

“Next time? You mean… you wanna do this again sometime? Like, you’ll go out with me?”

At that Quinns was unable to stop a chuckle from escaping as they nodded.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to make it sound like a date.”

“A date?” Oliver’s cheeks quickly flushed pink and he waved his hands in front of him frantically. “N-no, I didn’t mean it like that! I-I mean, not that I wouldn’t— if you wanted to! But if not that’s totally fine! Wait, no- I mean, I’m not asking you on a date! Right now. I… I really just meant patrolling…”

He placed a hand over his face, thoroughly red. Another laugh bubbled up in Quinns’s throat, but all that came out was a cough. As the adrenaline that surged in their veins during the battle faded, the allergies it had suppressed returned in full force. They tried to forestall any further coughing by swallowing hard, but the ticklish feeling in their throat stubbornly persisted. Quinns put their back to Oliver and cleared their throat a few times, which only seemed to aggravate the irritation. A series of coughs seized them, which they tried, unsuccessfully, to smother with a hand.

“Uh, Quinns? You okay?”

“I’m f- Koff! Koff! I’m f-fi-...” Their body froze, which meant— “Etchoo! Etchoo! Ugh… I’m fine.”

A rare double sneeze. With a groan, Quinns remembered that Oliver had touched them when he pushed them out of the way of the wyrm’s initial ambush strike. He must have gotten cat hair on them.

“You don’t sound fine.” The cat in question came around to face Quinns, prompting them to take a step back. “Can you tell me what’s going on? Please?”

Talk about awkward. How do you tell someone you’re allergic to them?

“Uh… I have… Etchoo! … allergies?”

Oliver’s golden eyebrows rose, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern.

“Oh, no… Well, you shouldn’t be outside, then! Come on: let’s get you back to headquarters.”

Quinns felt a firm hand on their shoulder, and suddenly Oliver was marching them back up the way they’d come.

“W-wait, Ollie- Hang on, what about- koff! What about the wyrm?”

“We can inform one of the other patrols, and they can come clean it up. I don’t think anyone’ll use this road anyway, and—” He paused. “Wait, you just called me Ollie!”

“Oh, uh, -snf- yeah… guess I did.”

Slight relief washed over them that he hadn’t noticed them yell it during the fight, but that was quickly squashed when Oliver’s arms wrapped around them in a bear hug.

“Aw, that means we’re friends now! I’m so happy!”

Quinns made a mental note to visit the temple when they got back, because the only explanation they could conceive for the events of the evening and their current situation was that, at some point, they had caused the gods some great offense. Of course, that was assuming that they made it back to headquarters alive, and, given how things had gone so far, Quinns was increasingly convinced they might regret letting this particular cat cross their path.

#accidental mistress #knight errant quinns #cat boy ollie #snz #snzblr #snzfic #snz fic #snzfucker #sneeze fic #snz kink #snz ocs #sneeze kink

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sparkypantaloons · 2 years

Text

Tapestry

Dick and Jason reminisce and grieve together, on the roof of Wayne Manor.

Dick's about to light another cigarette. Spark it off the dregs of the one hanging from his lips. He changes his mind when he sees the younger man. Stubs out the dying embers, instead. The ligering taste still bitter on his tongue.

It's 4am when Jason finds him. He's on the roof of Wayne Manor, sat beside the glass canopy of the old Ballroom. Moonlight casts ghosts across the dance floor below.

"I didn't know you smoked." Jason says, leaning against the old chimney stack.

Dick exhales, blows a steady, grey plume from his nose. "I don't." He says. His eyes stay on the horizon.

"Hn." Jason says. He wanders to the edge of the glass dome that covers the ballroom, stares past his reflection. If he's still enough, he can almost hear the band play, see the crowd dance to a distant song.

"I remember the first gala Bruce made me come to, I hid up here for two hours." He tries, eyes glancing at Dick for some response. "Alfred was so pissed, I tore my suit pants climbing through the nursery window to get out here."

Dick doesn't respond, continues watching the night.

They're at the back of the Manor. The dull glow of Gotham is behind them, towards the ocean. Ahead is forest and darkness and two thousand miles of country. Two thousand miles of different lives to be lived.

Jason sits down next to Dick. Nudges him lightly with his shoulder. "You wanna talk about-"

"Nope." Dick pops the p.

"You wanna—"

"Just fuck off, Jay." Dick says. But there's no heat in it. His voice catches on his brother's name. He tilts his head back, takes a deep breath.

Jason watches him out the corner of his eye, doesn't move. "You want another cigarette?" He asks.

Dick shakes his head. "No, you—"

"It's okay." Jason says, softly. "I don't mind."

Dick finally meets his eyes, gives him a pained look.

"It's fine." Jason says, a weak smile on his lips. "Honestly."

Dick grimaces. His fingers twitch for his pocket, then still. "I'm good." He says. "I don't need it."

Jason scoffs. "I can sit downwind if you like."

"I'm fine." Dick says firmly.

Jason rolls his eyes and they sit in silence for a while.

"It doesn't bother you anymore?" Dick says eventually. "The smoke?"

Jason shrugs. "I can manage one cigarette, Dickie."

They're silent again. Unspoken words hang between them, a shared memory. The smoke damage to Jason's lungs, to the inside of his oesophagus...

The pit could fix a lot things, but it couldn't change the past. Couldn't take away the memory of suffocating. Of desperately trying to suck in air, only to get the burn of thick, acrid, fumes.

Jason opens his mouth to speak, but Dick cuts him off.

"It's fine." He says, eyes still set on the horizon.

"Is it?" Jason asks, carefully. Shifting slightly where he sits.

Dick runs a hand over his face. "Yeah, Jay, yeah I'm..." He trails off. Swallows a lump in his throat.

Jason moves slowly, carefully places a hand on his brother's back. Firm and warm between his shoulder blades.

"It's okay if you're not, Dick."

Dick grits his teeth. Drags in a ragged breath. "Urgh." He lets out, dropping his head. He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, frustrated. Shrugs off Jason's hand.

"Better out than in, young master." Jason says, in a terrible British accent.

Dick lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. He shakes his head, glances at Jason.

The younger man shrugs. "He wasn't wrong."

Dick's laugh is mirthless this time. Bitter and hollow. "Hn." He says. Then drops his head again. Pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"You know," he says. His voice is thick, wet. He takes a shaky breath. "To celebrate my first year at the Manor we had a tea party up here " He forces a laugh, looks up from his hands. "Cucumber sandwiches and scones and Earl Grey." He shakes his head. "I thought I was in Alice in Wonderland."

"Dickie in Wayne Land." Jason jokes and Dick rolls his eyes.

"Something like that." He murmurs.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Jason asks and Dick raises his eyebrows.

"I hate cucumber sandwiches. I literally despise them." Jason says seriously, like he's been personally offended by the very existence of cucumber between two slices of bread. "If they're at the funeral I'm not going."

Dick can't help but laugh. "But you always eat so many of them!?"

Jason waves his hand dismissively. "Food's complicated for me." He says, then, "He caught me hiding it once."

"In your room?"

"Nah." Jason shakes his head. "I—he just... You know how he liked to use up everything in the fridge and the larder first, before—"

"Waste not, want not." It's Dick's turn to do the terrible accent.

Jason nods, throat suddenly tight. "It used to... it was hard, you know. Before— before Bruce, an empty fridge meant we wouldn't eat for... for who knows how long." He shrugs.

"What did he say when you told him?" Dick asks.

"I didn't." Jason says. "I think he figured it out though. That's how I got my shelf in the pantry."

"Really?" Dick asks, eyebrows raised. He thinks of the second to top shelf behind the door. Jason's name in white, on a blue label, stuck to the edge of the wood. "I thought that was because you liked cooking?" He remembers stern instructions that nothing from the shelf was to be touched. Remembers the twinge of resentment, and then of guilt, that something so small, could hurt so much.

"That came later." Jason shrugs. "He taught me... How to make it all last. Bring a meal together from whatever was left, you know?" He mumbles the last few words.

"He used to save the glass recycling for me." Dick says softly, sadly.

"The recycling?"

Dick nods. "When I first got here, I was... I was so angry, Jay. So angry and hurt and— and young. And I didn't know how to get it out."

Jason sits quietly, listening.

"You ever smash a hundred wine bottles in a row?" Dick can't help but smirk. "My god it was so satisfying. It just felt so good to— to break something, you know?"

"I know." Jason says, and his voice is taught. His body too.

"He shouted at Bruce for me once." Dick changes the subject and Jason's shoulders ease a little.

"Just once?"

Dick smiles. "No, I mean like, he really went for it. I thought Bruce was gonna cry."

Jason snorts. "Brilliant. What happened?"

Dick shakes his head. "Bruce missed my school play."

"You're kidding!" Jason says incredulous.

"Nope." Dick says, more gently this time.

"He never missed any of mine." Jason says, eyes wide with wonder.

"That's why." Dick grins.

A silence falls between them again, lighter this time.

"You know he spoke Welsh?" Jason says.

"Welsh is a language?"

"Dwi'n dy garu di, mab."

Dick stares, incredulous. "What does that mean?"

Jason shrugs, let's out a laugh. "I have no idea, he used to say it to me all the time."

"He told me how to trip the security system the first time I wanted to go to a party at high school." Dick says.

Jason looks scandalised.

"He was so pissed off when I came in drunk."

"Was that the time you were sick on that old tapestry in the billiards room?"

"Yep." Dick pops the p.

"Oh my God." Jason laughs. "I got that lecture about getting drunk so many times I thought he'd gone senile and was confusing us."

"I'm not sure he ever forgave me to be honest."

"He did." Jason says after a pause, and something quiet fills his eyes. "He came to see me, you know?" He clears his throat. "When I came back, before I... came back."

The air between them stills. "What did he say?" Dick asks softly.

Jason shrugs, fiddles with his laces. "He just said he loved me. And that," he wipes at his eyes, suddenly. "That he'd be waiting for me to come home." Jason let's out a breath. "Nobody had said that, you know?" He clears his throat. "I mean, I know I didn't— didn't deserve it, but nobody had said that they... about me. Nobody had said..."

They fall into silence again. An owl hoots somewhere across the grounds.

"Batman would have killed me." Dick says suddenly. He traces circles on the roof with his fingers. "Killed me dead, there's no two ways about it." He swallows. "If it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't have— the cowl— it would have killed me."

Dick's fingers still. He squeezes his eyes shut.

"I miss him, Jay." He says, voice suddenly small and quiet and broken. "God, I miss him so much."

Dick's shoulders begin to shake, quiet sobs forcing themselves past his resolve.

Jason sighs, pulls the older man towards him. Holds him close to his chest. He presses a kiss to Dick's hair. "Me too, Dickie. Me too."

They sit in the quiet again, night's final hours washing over them. The quiet flutter of bats overhead, the gentle call of owls in the trees.

"Here you two are." Comes a soft voice, gentle in a way neither have heard in a long time.

Bruce stands behind them. His hair still wet from a post patrol shower. His broad frame is in an old, worn hoodie. The British Royal Air force emblem is embroidered on it.

"Room for one more?" He asks, softly.

A sharp retort trips its way to the end of Jason's tongue, but doesn't quite make it past his lips. "Sure." He says instead.

Dick and Jason separate, make space for Bruce in the middle. For a minute the loss is all consuming, neither one of them ready to let go of the other. Then Bruce settles onto the roof between them, safe and warm and solid. Like home.

Dick rests his head on Bruce's shoulder. Keeps his eyes closed, as tears slowly slip through his lashes.

"He was so proud of the two of you." Bruce's voice is thick when he speaks. He keeps his eyes ahead of him. On the forest and the darkness and the 2,000 miles of country that lie beyond the boundary of Wayne Manor. "I know he didn't say it often— I know neither of us did— or do." His hand finds Jason's, holds it tight.

"But he was." Bruce says. "And I am."

#batfam #batfam fic #spbfic #batfamily #batfic #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth

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grigori77 · 10 months

Text

Critical Role, Campaign 3 Episode 63

Old Spice? Is that really still actually a thing?

Marisha is fumbling her part of the plug so badly it's beautiful ... Sam: "Matt ... say something now!" XD

Oh nice, SHORT advert intro this time ... more time for gameplay then ...

"Scallywags" ... XD

Oh yeah, I just remembered IT'S A CLIFFHANGER!!! WHAT'S HAPPENING?!!!

Creepy face, creepy face! Not good ... oh fuck, don't DO THAT, Matt! Oh ... it's NOT Hevestro? Eep ...

Oh yeah, this guy's DEFINITELY not a friend ... whoa, creepy dude ... fuck ... oh shit, is this a FUCKING LICH?!!!

A faint Fey energy? Oh dear ...

"The Hierophant is in ME." Oh boy ...

Liam makes a Perception roll. "Urgh, not great fir me ... 19." (snort ... are you kidding me?)

Is Deni$e seriously arguing about squatters' rights? LOL

Oh boy ... this thing is giving me major Hexus from Ferngully's ultimate skeletal monster form vibes right now ...

Shit ... so this thing is FREE because of the Solstice? That's LOVELY ...

"I know how you can help me ... you can join Hevestro." Crap ... Matt: "Roll initiative." CRAP!!!

Oooooooh ... fancy Battlemap time ... and an adorably specific WizzKids plug from Liam ... XD

Prism and Orym match initiative ... ROLLIES?!!! Liam: "What's your dex?" Emily (chuckling): "Not yours." Yup ... XD

Ashton rages ... and it's a FANCY RAINBOW RAGE again ... love it when he does that ... holding his action, now ... hmmm ...

Deni$e is dashing for cover, holding her action too ...

Orym chucking a dagger "just to see what it does"? Hmmmmmm ... and it hits! Okay ... it DOES find purchase, but ... not a whole lit of effect. Interesting ...

It deals him 8 points of NECROTIC damage? AND knocks him down? Ouch ...

Emily popping into the bottom screen as she leans RIGHT OVER is VERY distracting to me ... I have NO IDEA what Prism actually just DID ...

Frightening Gaze? WHAT?!!! Phew, it doesn't work on her at least ...

Bor'Dor's gonna cast something big, something RAUCOUS ... nope, just a Lightning Bolt ... XD ... and the crossbow SURVIVES!!! Okay ...

It's STRETCHING ... creepy hands ... oh shit, what IS THIS?!!! Ooh, a COUNTERSPELL?!!! Go Prism! Crap ... bugger, that didn't work ...

EVERYBODY has to make a Con Save? Argh ... and FUCKING OUCH!!! Gods that is NASTY ... Necrotic damage ... yeah, this is TOTALLY a lich ...

She can't Rage? Bollocks! Aaaaaaaah ... Held Action is NOT good after all ... double bollocks ...

It has a BONUS ACTION?!!! A red orb? What the fuck is THAT shit?

Laudna casts Darkness on the little red orb ... hmmm ... a DOME OF DARKNESS now ... okay then ... even Marisha isn't sure this is actually a SMART move right now ...

Ashton comes in swinging ... and Taliesin Crit Fails ... ow ... thank the gods for Action Surge ... and then he just thinks himself out of doing much of anything ... bugger ...

Crap ... Deni$e's heals fail her ... bollocks ... whip out? Ooh, intimidation! Yeah!

Flea Jump? Oooh ... way to go, Orym! And an Action Surge! Goading Attack! Yeah! 11 points of damage! Nice! Wait ... that's Hevestro in there? Oh shit ... so they CAN'T damage it without hurting him too? Shit ...

Prism trying Force Damage ... 27 points? Woooo ... so THAT works! Okay, good to know ...

Bor'Dor is at SHIT HP ... yeah, 4th Level Cure Wounds on himself is smart ... he shouts: "I'm coming!" ... and then that's it ...

Orbital Decay? Oooh ... Ashton is a Gravity Well! Sweet! Slows it RIGHT DOWN ... fuck, andnow it's PUKING gaseous unpleasantness into his face! Prism Counterspells it! NICE SAVE!!!

Crap ... and now she's made herself a target ... that won't end well ...

Form of Dread! Yeah! Here we go! And a foibles barrelled Eldritch Blast! BOTH HIT!!! Sweet! Crap damage roll, though ... bummer, 5 and 7? Hmmm ... essentially just TICKLES him ...

Oh man ... this thing is IMMUNE to her Form of Dread? Shit ...

Flaring eyes? Never good ...

FINALLY Ashton starts to do dome real DAMAGE!!! And a Chaos Buest ... ooooh ... Cold Damage? Interesting ... orb is cracked, but still intact ... but he can MOVE IT!!! Okay ... another hit ... POW!!! And it SHATTERS!!! Yes! Nice one, boy!

Orym's getting speared! Laudna casts Silvery Barbs ... and fails! Aaaaaaaah ... fuck ... snd now he's PINNED!!! Shit!

Deni$e attacks with her sickle! And still stumbles? Bloody heels ... a miss .. znd ANOTHER miss ... at least the third one hits ... for 7 points of damage? Oof ...

Orym is pinned and he STILL hits that fucker TWICE!!! Nice ... Grasping Vine! Oh ... he's trying to PULL HEVESTRO OUT?!!! Whoa ... down to a contest of strength ... ah ... Holy shit, that actually WORKED!!! Unbelievable ...

Prism considering using Dimension Door to just get the body out of here ... too risky ... no, she's doing it after all? Okay then ... she sends Dynios to send it to Ashton! And he's just SHOCKED about it ... O.O

Bor'Dor is going for the body ... and he just FUMBLES IT ... nuts ... so he decides to shoit a Firebolt at the remaining orb instead ... it hits! Yes! But since he's shooting THROUGH THE DARKNESS he doesn't actually KNOW IT ... "That felt good!" XD

Counterspelling a Counterspell? Dear gods ... massive frustration, clearly ...

Another double Eldritch Blast! 14 and 10 damage ... not bad, Laudna! It's starting to look ragged ... Chill Touch? Ooooooh ... 13 points of damage and it CAN'T HEAL!!! Nice ...

"Game recognises game!" Sure ...

Ashton's still afraid, so he just PICKS UP THE BODY and books it! XD Okay then ...

Attack or heal? What you gonna do, Deni$e? She goes with mercy ... good choice! Healing Potion! And Hevestro is ALIVE!!! Yes!

Prism is now EXTREMELY PLEASED with herself and I don't blame her ...

Orym squats over the elf and BOOSTS HIS AC!!! Nice!

Radiant Chill Touch! Nice one, Prism! 9 Radiant damage! Meanwhile ... is Dynios FLIRTING with this thing?

Prism: "That's right! I'm becoming a little bit of a Battle Mage!" Taliesin: "And it's gone."

Bor'Dor shoots a Lightning Bolt through the crossbow into the orb ... 23 damage! CRACK!!! And it HURTS the creature! Nice!

A Fireball? Ouch ... 35 points of Fire damage! Oooooh, that smarts! That was just MEAN ...

Shit ... and now Hevestro is a bit crispy and UNCONSCIOUS again! Double shit!

Hexbolt times 2 from Laudna ... NICE!!! Oh yeah, she us FUCKING IT UP!!! And an extra double Eldritch Blast! Nice! AND SHE GETS THE HDYWTDT!!! WHOOOOOO!!!

Oh yeah, she just SHREDS this fucker ... that's beautiful ... and pretty gross ... and then she just sucks it all into her hand snd SQUISHES IT. Nice ...

Bor'Dor does a Mass Cure Wounds ... which looks like loads of blue cotton candy? Awwwww ... :3

So now Hevestro is beholden to them. Here we go ...

Evithorir the Taker? So THAT'S what that thing was ...

Tumilo? Efterin? Oh, here we go, infodump time ... yeah, altogether that sounds pretty intense ...

Orym finally getting down to business ... and Hevestro doesn't actually KNOW what's going on ... so Laudna PROJECTS a Silent Image of the Solstjce itself ... okay ... Matt: "That's where we gonna take a break ..." Yup ...

Back again ...

Requests of transportation to Wildemount AND Marquet ... tomorrow morning? Really? Sweet ...

Heading out into the vestibule? Okay ... and now he's dragging freaky skeletons up out of the ground ... okay ... oh, that is TRAGIC ... lovely ...

And so THAT'S what the weird grave in the wilderness was all about ...

Less luxury than the basic amenities of a youth hostel, then ... sounds about right ...

Deni$e is "trying not to be too aggressive" ... WHILE TANKING HIS ARM ... okay ... and now Bor'Dor's on the floor ... she is going HARD on him right now ... wait ... HE DOESN'T ACTUALLY HAVE a brother? What?

Okay, now I really AM confused, what the hell IS going on with him?

"WTF is with this guy?" Hang on ... did Marisha actually JUST WRITE THAT on the fan?

Okay, so it's storytime around the fire ...

So he's from the Menagerie Coast? Okay ... hiding out from the church ... oh so he already HAD his powers then? Hmmm ... so his mother was killed? Betrayed by her gods? Ouch ... oh man, that got dark FAST ...

Okay, now I'm starting to wonder about this guy myself ... where the hell IS he going with this?

WTF is going on?

HOLY SHIT Bor'Dor is a total LIE!!!

Oh fuck he is ATTACKING THEM WITH FUCKING ACID!!! WTF?!!! 27 Acid damage each? Fuck ...

HOLY FUCK PRISM IS DEAD?!!! NOOOOOOO!!!

Roll initiative! Shit, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!!!

Bor'Dor: "I saw you! You killed my friends in Marquet!" WHAT?!!!

Wow ... now they are GENUINELY trying go work out who the hell through killed that he even means?

Orym kicks dirt in Bor'Dor's face, grabs Prism and pours a Healing Potion into her, then protects her as she wakes up again. WOW he us so awesome ...

Ashton IMMEDIATELY fucking RAGES, charges Bor'Dor and sucks him in with his Gravity Effect ... and SUCKER PUNCHES him right in the gut. Density Well? Oooooh ... and that boy is ON HIS ARSE. Ashton: "Sorcerer, huh?" Now he pops hom on the head with the butt of his hammer ... PUNT!!!

Deni$e grapples him to pin him down ... oh, so he is a GREASY little shit! She tries again ... and this time she OWNS HIM. Nice ...

Utkarsh: "I don't feel like dying anymore ..." Oh great ... NOW what the hell is he planning to do? He Polymorphs himself into a hummingbird ... except Laudna Counterspells him out of it! Okay then ...

Wow ... now he's just crying on the floor and begging them to kill him? Hmmmm ...

Laudna goes full blown NIGHTMARE FUEL into her full-blown Form of Dread ... "I'm really sorry, Bor'Dor ... I just can't bear to have anyone else betray me." And she casts hunger of the Shadow on him? HOLY SHIT ...

Fuck, HOW MUCH DAMAGE did she just roll ... 26 points of Necrotic Damage? Holy shit ...

Yeah, she just STRAIGHT UP MURDERS HIM ... this just went SO BAD ...

Okay, maybe Prism needs to GET THAT ACID OFF right now ... meanwhile she's punching the now stone cold corpse of Bor'Dor for betraying her ... and she causes an actual Auto-Crit on him ...

Ashton drops Rage, grabs Prism and guns her away and leads her off because she doesn't need to see this. Oof ...

Laudna sees Ofym just watching this with total desolation ... but she's TOO FAR GONE right now ... oh boy ... wait ... what the fuck ... "Marisha hates this." What the ... on my gods ...

Wither and Bloom? Shit ...

Oh fuck ... IS THAT FUCKING DELILAH in control right now? Seriously?

And she KILLS HIM.

It's a beautiful and HORRIBLE death ... fucking hell ...

Ashton comforts Laudna as gently as he can as he leads her away ... meanwhile Orym is clearly DESTROYED emotionally right now ... Holy fuck ...

Utkarsh: "I would have stabbed each and every one of you." Jeez ... fucking CHILL, you psycho ... O.O

HE HAS AN IMMOVABLE ROD?!!! Fuck, he has LOADS of loot ... what the hell WAS going on with this guy?

Wow ... is Prism like SUPER TRAUMATISED right now? At least Deni$e is there to SORT OF pick up the pieces ...

She's going to shout at his grave ... and stomp on it ... and apologise for it ... then stomp on it again ... yeesh ...

Hevestro offers up words of comfort ...

Prism talks to Laudna ... Laudna: "I'm afraid that what I did hurt more than just Bor'Dor ..." ouch ... and now the subject of Delilah comes up again ... she's scared she might still be there and I can't blame her, I'm wondering thr same bloody thing right now ...

Wow, she is just tumbling RIGHT DOWN this existential rabbit hole right now, ain't she?

Meanwhile Orym is just pondering in the broodiest way possible ... he's just going through it as bad as his friends right now ...

A very subdued evening before retirement ... oof ...

Morning breaks and they rise again ...

Oh, okay, here we go, then ...

Ashton grabs a little bit of the crystal ... with kind permission, of course ...

Prism suggests to Dynios that they ... abscond from the Cobalt Soul in the chaos ... and then begs Ashton to egg her on ... hmmm ... wow ... is he actually trying to TALK HER OUT OF IT?!!! Oh, no, turns out he's all for it after all. XD

XD ... now he's trying to convince her to go to Whitestone and rip off Percy ... I love it ...

Yup ... Prism's life of crime and debauchery begins, then ... XD

Deni$e trying to work out how to get sent yo Dariax ... they try to scry on him ... here we go ...

A tavern ... OF COURSE IT IS ... there he is ...getting drunk ... central Tal'dorei ... Westruun? Okay ... oh, Orym's gonna try to get hold of Dorian through the Sending Stone ... aaaaaargh, not the bloody D100 again ... crap ...

A wanted poster? Oh boy ...

Prism wondering if what they went through was real ... and Ashton IMMEDIATELY asking her if she thinks she's just HALLUCINATED the whole thing ... LOL

"Like putting a hat on a hat!" XD

Okay, here we go ... goodbye to Deni$e and Prism, then ...

Oh, so it's a case if "pick your own tree, then" ... and Prism is the "canary in the cost mine" ... XD

Ah yes, Tree Striding ... here we go ...

That's it then, farewell Deni$e ...

Scrying to find the others, then ... okay ...

They're home ... that's it, then. That's where to go.

Laudna gives Prism a hank of her dead hair for her to scry with ... lovely ...

Wow ... Prism's exit is just CRAZY ...

And then the others go through too ...

Oh, Bor'Dor gets a little bit of a coda? That's intriguing ...

Matt: "And THAT'S where we're gonna end the episode."

Wow ... introspective ... and I'm STILL emotionally destroyed ... that episode was TOUGH ...

So yeah ... well done Utkarsh, you went where very few have gone before, narratively ... and Aimee, ALWAYS fun to see you, luv ...

Until next time, then ...

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