#what you might find fun can be utterly awful for others
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kh4 rambling below the cut
im hoping they include multiple character campaigns for KH4. not just because i wanna see characters be playable that we havent seen in a while, or at all. but also because i feel like a whole game centered on sora in quadratum would get really difficult to tell a story in. not because interesting things couldn't happen. but the series has always had everyone venturing to other worlds to help progress the plot.
having sora, as limber and mobile as he was in that kh4 trailer, be secluded to a city, feels like he'd outpace the world itself and you'd end up traversing the same maps for tens of hours of game time. im sure there's gonna be plenty of narrative to push that world around, but i just dont wanna be in that single world the entire game.
it's part of why i wasn't the biggest fan of chain of memories. i didnt hate the story, and i didnt dislike castle oblivion. but KH excels at having the characters just be all over the universe in their journey. COM sorta shirks the responsibility of telling its story in one world by having illusions of the other worlds. but the most important parts are still only in castle oblivion. and after an hour or so of those cutscenes, it really starts to dawn on me how much ive grown used to the white walls of the castle.
perhaps that was the point? it's been a handful of years since those days, so i couldnt say anymore. ive grown up a lot since then, thematic choices will appear different to me from when i was a kid.
i digress, it'd also be a shame to bring back the whole main cast properly in kh3, free of their shackles or imprisonments, and then have them scarcely appear in the next mainline game. the hints that kairi will be training with ventus, terra, and aqua are already there, which gives me hope. donald and goofy are out looking for sora on their own, while mickey is on his way to the old scala ad caelum. it definitely FEELS like everyone is gonna be present.
im simply praying.
#kh4 spoilers#kingdom hearts#stormy weather#im also just looking into combat design myself for future games#i wanna try and design things or at least give a premise#i know a handful of friends who have experience in video game departments#but they're often dry on ideas because of how workaholic the nature of the job can be#combat systems can be rought to make enjoyable without outside perspective#what you might find fun can be utterly awful for others#like some KH2 mods that may seriously improve the game's combat#but also make it a lot more tedious to pull off things that other mainline games would otherwise just hand over to you#it's like devil may cry in a way#there's the balance between base entry gameplay and a high skill ceiling#i feel like kh should have that style of combat#something you can mash x through if you wanted to#but challenging once you put it on critical mode to get the player to adapt more#kh2 did this really well in my eyes#shying from revenge values on bosses like roxas ofc#roxas and his ground revenge attack where he just chainsaws you and you die.#good times.
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HII I SAW UR REQUESTS WERE OPEN!!! your writing is so amazing i couldn’t resist sending one in after i had binged everything…
may i request headcanons for a totally whipped al-haitham with the childhood friends to lovers trope throughout the years? as in how he was to reader in elementary, middle school, etc. but if not that’s fine!!! your fic with him liking reader since middle school was so 😭😭😭❤️ reader teasing him was so funny and i can’t scream about it hard enough 🥹
i hope you have an amazing day!!! keep up the good work!
thank you smm that rlly means a lot! im so glad you enjoyed my writing ❤️❤️ i love the friends to lovers trope sm writing this involved a lot of giggling and kicking my feet, whipped Alhaitham is just so cute. Anyway I hope you like this I had so much fun with it too 😋😋
༊*·˚ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄
Pairing: Alhaitham x F!reader
Content: fluff, modern AU, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, (very) whipped Alhaitham
ELEMENTARY SCHOOL
You’d first met Alhaitham when you were in elementary. He, being slightly younger, was in preschool. Unlike the other kids, he kept to himself, mainly studying a picture book in a secluded corner. Your play areas were separated by a low fence, one which you often loved to climb over.
“Haitham!” You almost fell onto the grass after scaling this fence once again in the break time, peeking over the smaller boy’s shoulder.
“Is that a kangaroo?” You pointed at the picture book enthusiastically. Alhaitham only looked up at you, blinking a few times with his wide green-orange eyes.
“No, it’s a pademelon.” He spoke surprisingly eloquently, tongue only slightly lisping over the syllables.
“You’re no fun.” You sighed, plopping down next to your self-proclaimed friend and beginning to draw flowers on paper with your new crayons. Upon seeing the curious look on Alhaitham’s face, you handed him the green crayon.
“You can draw flowers with me if you want.” You shifted closer. The boy said nothing, only holding the crayon tightly as he watched you happily scribbling.
Once you’d befriended Alhaitham, there was no turning back. He was shy and quiet, but utterly attached to you. You nodded excitedly whenever he babbled on about a new topic, although you never really understood what he was talking about, and played imaginary games with him in the playhouses. He never really understood the imaginative concept, but you would lead the way as he followed along with whatever you said.
“I am the princess, and I am going to become the queen! Bow before me!” You manoeuvred a figurine across the miniature castle.
“No, the crown prince’s wife will become queen when he ascends to the throne.”
“Oh, okay. You’re so cool, Haitham.”
Alhaitham only smiled at you. The truth was, he thought you were the coolest person in the world. He might know all the logistical facts, but he could never weave a story as you did.
“Huh? Haitham, you’re the knight. You need to go to battle!”
Alhaitham was shaken out of his daze when he realised he’d only been staring at you in awe, quickly grabbing the knight figure to move it. Beneath his long lashes, he’d constantly sneak glances at you - looking for your approval that he was doing the right thing.
Whenever you were absent, Alhaitham would ask everyone else where you’d gone. After verifying that - unfortunately - you really weren’t coming to school and shocking his peers with his sudden friendliness, he’d retreat to the outskirts of the play area. He would collect flowers and rocks, gathering them in his small arms - still a little chubby with baby fat - determined to find the best things to gift to you.
When you came back the next day, Alhaitham would shyly press the gifts he’d collected into your hands, eagerly watching your expression. If you smiled, he would too. Truly, although he was too young to know, you were his first love and the centre of his universe.
MIDDLE SCHOOL
During middle school, you and Alhaitham were in the same class. Due to his intellect, he’d been bumped up by a grade - much to his joy. The truth was, he’d been offered to move higher by two grades, but opted to only move one so he could be with you. Not that he’d ever admit that to you, of course.
Middle school Alhaitham would be better at hiding his feelings. He’d no longer be the the eager boy who openly chased your attention, although he still wanted it just as much. Rather, he’d deploy more subtle tactics, despite them rarely ever working.
It was undeniable that you were quite popular. Given your outgoing, virtuosic personality, you were constantly surrounded by friends. It hurt Alhaitham slightly, knowing that you were his favourite but he wasn’t yours. Despite this, he never changed his aloof demeanour - acting coldly to others, and less coldly to you. It was clear through his gestures that he had a soft spot for you, whether it consisted of paying for your lunch or bringing you snacks.
“Oh, we were supposed to bring a protractor to the test?” You hissed in the silence of the classroom, broken only by the whisper of pencils on paper. The teacher shot you a glare, motioning for you to be quiet.
“Here, I have a spare.” You felt a light tap on your shoulder, and spun around to see Alhaitham holding his hand out. His eyes hesitated before locking into contact with yours, the glasses making them look larger than they were.
“Thank you. You’re so cute, Haitham.” You whispered, shooting him a wry smile before resuming your position hunched over the test paper. You didn’t lie - he really did look adorable, those large eyes and small frame lending him to having a rather endearing disposition.
Alhaitham flushed red, his hands fumbling to close the zipper on his pencil case. He pushed his completed test paper to the side and placed his head on the desk, the hard surface cold on his burning skin. He mentally praised himself for always bringing a spare of every stationery item, just in case you needed it.
Whilst Alhaitham swatted away anyone else who dared ask him for academic help, he’d be almost eager to give you any form of assistance. If you were paying attention, you’d see the way his cheeks flushed when you leaned in to copy his homework, or the slight tremor in his voice when he explained a concept to you. Middle school Alhaitham - now hyper aware of his feelings for you - would be a stuttering mess at times, although that would soon change in his high school years.
“So, after completing the square… this equation can translate to- hey, why are you staring at me?” Alhaitham stopped upon noticing your gaze.
“Haitham, you can be so pretty if you tried a little more. I’m so jealous, you have such nice eyes.” You commented, running your fingers through his soft hair.
“… Why would I seek the superficial approval of others?” Alhaitham huffed, crossing his arms. Secretly however, your words spiralled in his head. Perhaps, if he did as you said, you’d like him too…?
He realised your hand was still on his head, and moved back. You whined in exasperation, flopping onto the desk.
“Your hair’s so soft though…” You mumbled, reaching out again.
“We’re here to study.” Alhaitham snapped, busying himself in flipping through the textbook to hide his red face. He found the content mundane, but teaching it to you made his heart flutter in knowing that he could be of use to you.
HIGH SCHOOL
Alhaitham in high school was drastically different from his middle school self, to say the least. He’d risen greatly in popularity for being the mysteriously smart and handsome student that barely paid anyone any mind. Much to your surprise, he’d grown even taller than you - making it a lot harder to ruffle his hair. It was rumoured that he’d brutally rejected confessions from many others, and had even made a teacher cry - but the shy boy you knew would never do that, right?
“Where are you headed?” You felt a large hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.
“I’m… going to study!” You stammered, finally looking behind you to meet a piercing amber gaze.
“Studying? On your way to the bus stop that leads only to the mall?” Alhaitham raised an eyebrow.
“Um, yes, a new cafe opened there and I wanted to study in it.”
“Hey, what’s taking you so long? We’re going to miss the movie at this rate!” You internally cursed as the loud voice of your friends interrupted your conversation.
“Studying, huh… Well, have fun. Don’t expect me to help you this time.” Alhaitham scoffed, releasing his grip on your shoulder.
He sent you his notes later that night regardless.
It was well known around your school that you were friends with Alhaitham, although you vehemently denied any romantic feelings between the two of you - much to his dismay. Because of this, you often had students approaching you and asking to be set up with Alhaitham. Of course, being the epitome of moral excellency, you only agreed if they paid you.
"You know, this girl in my class is pretty cute..." You showed Alhaitham a picture on your phone.
"You like her?" Alhaitham asked, not even sparing a glance to the picture.
"No, I..."
"How much did they pay you this time?"
"What! I would do no such thing-"
"You know, if you just asked me, I could give you way more than whatever they're giving you. Stop trying to auction me off, I have no interest in such things." Alhaitham snapped his book shut. You frowned, tugging on his arm.
"Please? Just one date with her, I'll do anything."
"Anything?"
"Kiss me."
"Why?"
"Wouldn't it be awkward if I were on a date with this girl, and I didn't even know how to kiss her?"
"Oh, true." Alhaitham internally winced at how you didn't give it a second thought, only leaning in to seal your lips together. Although he'd mastered the art of maintaining a cool facade, if you'd opened your eyes in that moment, you'd see the flush in his face. He reminded himself to close his eyes, recalling the countless books he'd read about the topic. It definitely wasn't how he'd imagined his first kiss with you to be, but he'd take anything you gave him.
"Now, you're going on that date right? Here's her number." You winked, pulling away. Alhaitham furiously tugged his headphones onto his ears to hide how red they were, shooing you away.
"I'll text you her number then, Haitham!"
You ignored the confusing twist in your chest, attributing it to the kiss. After all, sharing a kiss with anyone would make you flustered - surely, it was nothing special.
Regardless of your efforts to make whatever dates you sent Alhaitham on successful, it never seemed to work. In truth, you had no idea how Alhaitham knew you'd been spying on those dates - after all, you were so inconspicuous, posing as a mere passerby. But he'd grown used to your exact demeanour, and no matter how hard you tried to be nondescript, his eyes were inevitably drawn to you. Unbeknownst to you, your eyes were drawn to him too - perhaps that was why you felt a slight twinge in your heart.
"Which popcorn do you like?" The girl next to Alhaitham giggled nervously.
"Salted caramel." Alhaitham responded cooly. Your jaw hung open from where you sat hidden behind a poster wall. Whenever you got salted caramel popcorn - your absolute favourite - he'd raise an eyebrow and inform you of your poor decision making, muttering something about the awful taste. You closed your mouth to smile to yourself. Perhaps he was trying to impress his date with his (superior) choice of popcorn. Your smile faltered when you realised how close they were standing to each other, before you mentally cursed yourself. What were you thinking? Surely you didn’t… have feelings for the very guy you were setting up with another girl…?
You followed the pair into the cinema, sitting a row behind them. They'd chosen a horror movie, which you absolutely hated, but you bore with it.
A few minutes into the film, you felt a tap on your knee. Alhaitham held out a fistful of popcorn to you from where he sat in front, his arm outstretched behind him. You scowled. He'd shown no prior indication that he'd noticed you - did he have eyes in the back of his head? You took the popcorn anyway, frowning at how Alhaitham played it off by lowering his arm around the girl's shoulders.
As the movie continued, Alhaitham wished it was you seated next to him. He hated the popcorn, but he'd gotten it just for you, anyway. His heart beat a little louder every time you reluctantly accepted his offering, although he had to glare at the girl who'd stolen your spot every few minutes to make sure she didn't think he was blushing for her. How troublesome this ordeal was. From an objective perspective however, this was fair exchange. If it made you happy, then he was happy too.
Alhaitham wasn't particularly athletically inclined, although his scholarship demanded participation in extracurricular sports. Hence, he found himself in the odorous male changing rooms for the second time that week. It would've been a mundane practice session (with him showing off a little if you happened to be watching), until he overheard a teammate's plans to ask you out.
"You should do it, I'm pretty sure she's single." Another teammate encouraged the first, the echo of a slap on the back reverberating through the room.
Alhaitham frowned. He'd planned to play the long game, although this was an unexpected interruption to his plans. Of course, there were other people to factor in. How could he have been so foolish as to exclude that from the equation?
"Yeah, I've had my eye on her for a while." The first guy spoke again.
"She's taken." Alhaitham blurted. Blurted, as in - his mind didn't fully weigh the decision before it left his mouth in a measured tone.
"Oh, sorry man. Are you two...?"
"Yes, we are." Alhaitham lied smoothly. He'd figure out how to deal with the repercussions later, but for now, he had to prevent anyone else from asking you out.
"That's great. Wish the best for you two." With a friendly (although slightly forceful) pat on the shoulder, the teammate left Alhaitham to head outside.
Alhaitham’s confession to you was ultimately very enigmatic and confusing, just as he was. Although he’d more or less practiced what he would say, when it came to you, he was always at a loss. You were a contradiction, a threat - both to his plans and his sanity. Somehow, that was what made him love you so much.
“I’ve heard a rumour that you and I were dating, Haitham. How come I never knew about this?” You tutted.
“Ah, they’re just saying mindless things. We’re just friends, after all.” That was what Alhaitham meant to say. Instead, what came out was;
“So what if we are?”
“We’re dating?” You cocked an eyebrow, failing to hide your flushed cheeks. Alhaitham noted this detail, trying his best to control the situation. What on earth had he just said?
“Yes, we are. Since we both like each other.” Alhaitham explained, internally cursing himself for his straightforward delivery. The situation was so outlandish - he’d just made an assertion, then supported it to somehow (very obviously) gaslight you into being his lover.
“You like me?” You spluttered. Alhaitham smiled. You hadn’t denied that you yourself liked him.
“Yes, because we’re dating.”
“No we’re not.”
“We are now.”
You stared at him in stunned silence, shocked by his audacity. But you couldn’t exactly deny his claims.
“Okay, I guess we are then.” Your mind still spun. Had he just… declared your relationship status?
“… Thank you.” Alhaitham murmured. You fidgeted on the spot uncertainly, before finally mustering the courage to peck his lips. Before you could scurry off however, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back.
“What are you-”
“I’ve waited years for this. God, you’re so stupid for not realising this earlier.” Alhaitham brought your lips to his, fiercely bringing you in to a passionate kiss.
You closed your eyes, melting into his touch as his hands deftly pulled you flush against him by your waist. Unsure of where to put your hands, you placed them on his chest - feeling it heave with every breath he took. His heartbeat thudded under your touch.
It was strange. Most people thought of him as being cold, almost robotic. And yet, he was so human now, from the light sheen of sweat on the column of his neck, to the flex of his jaw as it worked against yours. The slight tremble of his hand as it rose to rest on your nape, almost as though he too couldn’t believe what was happening.
The two of you pulled away after a while, panting heavily.
“I’ve… got to go.” Alhaitham muttered, walking off hurriedly before he could embarrass himself further. Nevertheless, it was alright for him to be selfish for once, right? It had seemed to work out in his favour.
Despite however much he tried to soothe himself, Alhaitham’s face was red, and a giddiness bloomed in his heart. Any other student would’ve been shocked to see the tender smile spread across his face, breaking that infuriatingly stoic expression. His childhood friend - and his first love - was now finally his.
#genshin x reader#genshin imagines#genshin oneshots#genshin fluff#genshin angst#fluff#alhaitham#alhaitham fluff#alhaitham x you#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham oneshot#alhaitham imagines#alhaitham x y/n#alhaitham angst#genshin headcannons#genshin impact x reader
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PAC: you're someone's muse; this is how they'd describe you
good evening lovies, i hope tonights super moon is treating you well. in this pac reading, you will find out how someone would describe you if you were their muse. this reading is purely for entertainment and enjoyment purposes.
ask upon your guides/higher self to help guide you to whichever pile/photo you should pick, then read the corresponding message. images are not mine
pick a picture to begin✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
pile one (the field): pleasing + give way
you are such a pleasing and enjoyable person to spend time with. the things you are able to do, no matter how minuscule you might find them to be, are awe-striking. there's a passion behind your eyes that adds to the radiance that surrounds you. with this, you are very attentive. you remember things people say which makes others feel seen in a way they've never felt before. you're down for whatever in the best way possible and it makes you someone that could only ever be described as fun to be around. you're adventurous at heart and consider home to be wherever your loved ones are. this makes people feel safe around you. the smell of late summer, campfires and sunflowers is something to be associated with you. you're a breath of fresh air.
pile two (the clementine): care + apple of the eye
oh, you are just so sweet. so kindhearted. you care for people so deeply and love so wholeheartedly. you make people see their insecurities as something to find beautiful. your hugs make people feel protected, it is easy to fall asleep when wrapped up in your arms. your eyes are mesmerizing, so easy to get lost in. one moment, they are doe-like, the next, the exact opposite. it's the way you flirt with your eyes that makes others feel so weak in the knees. but this doesn't make you cheeky. in fact, you are loyal and committed to the one you love. because when you love, you love intensely. you are a romantic at heart. your energy is reminiscent of candle lit homemade dinners that begin a night of endless cuddles. of fresh florals and luscious baths. you are a place of comfort.
pile three (the cat): challenge + puppy energy
you will never lower your standards or settle for someone who isn't what you want, and that is just so attractive. you know what type of relationships you want and that adds to your appeal. not just anyone can be the reciprocator of your divine affection. you speak to people once and they cant help but want to learn more about you. you're siren-like without even intending to be. once you truly let someone into your heart, you become such a lovable softie. you are so sweet and wholesome when you love, no one would ever guess it. your reminiscent of fresh linen blankets in perfectly cool rooms. your touch is soft and soothing. when you smile, genuinely smile, it brightens the mood of anyone around to see it. to be able to receive the love you give is one in a million. you are unlike anyone else.
pile four (the beach): no judgements + new perspectives
you are the model example of how everyone should be. you are accepting of people, no matter their status, and care deeply for those who may have been overlooked by others. you treat people however they treat you. you know your worth and will never let someone tarnish it. you are unapologetically yourself and that is something so rare to find, it makes others captivated by you. nonetheless, you are mysterious. you savor some aspects of yourself and only show them to the people you love. these aspects of you are the most rewarding thing to experience. every now and then, you can be mischievous. but it is all in good fun. you are filled with surprises and each one of them adds to your allure. you remind others of violets and nights spent walking along the coastline. you are utterly captivating.
please like, follow, and reblog! i appreciate it a lot :)
#seventies arcana#tarotblr#tarot community#divination#tarot#spirituality#pick a card#pick a pile#pick a picture#pick a card reading#tarot reading#tarot readings#pac reading#pac#channeled message#channeled reading#muse#love#free tarot#free tarot readings#oracle#oracle reading#Spotify
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Lovely Jade maybe you could write something about Roan finding a kitten on the street and hiding it in her backpack
🧡.
thank you so much for your request! eddie and roan —roan's acting suspicious. you and eddie investigate. stepmom!reader, 1.5k.
Roan comes in through the front door with a sweet smile. Living in your cul-de-sac has meant you don't mind too much if she wants to go out to play alone, where before Eddie would insist on sitting on the porch of the trailer, worried someone would come barrelling down the road seventy miles an hour.
"Hi, princess," you say, leaning down with your arms propped on the counter. You're putting the finishing touches on a drawing using the sunshine. Nothing special, just a sketch for fun.
"Hey, mommy."
You preen at the title. Being a stepmom is awesome, especially when she feels comfortable enough to call you mom. "Is it home time for Georgia?"
"Yeah, she's gone home for dinner."
"Are you hungry? Daddy's still at Uncle Gareth's, so I'm in charge of food."
You turn around when you get no answer, waving your pencil at an empty kitchen. "Roan?"
"I'm coming back!" She shouts from the top of the stairs.
You raise your eyebrows. "Okay!" you shout back. "I get to choose dinner, then? What's that, you want chicken pot pie?" You smile. Eddie loves chicken pot pie, especially when you make it.
You put your sketchbook and pencil case on the kitchen table and spray down the countertops. The motions of cooking are well worn now; you know how to make every recipe for two and a half people. You wash your hands, grab the canned puff pastry, and get to work.
Roan appears again as you're spreading a little bit of flour over the counter, running to the sink. She kicks her stepping stool to the counter and climbs up to wash her hands. She looks cagey.
"Anything I should know about?" you ask.
Roan squirts dish detergent into her palm, strawberry scented rivulets running between her little fingers before she's had time to rub it in. You set aside your rolling pin and pick up the soap to put a small dollop of it in her other hand.
"Say?" you ask, stroking her bedraggled hair away from her face.
"Nothing for you to know about."
You turn her head to yours, water spitting at your shirts as she washes her hands hurriedly. "Hey." You frown, gaze narrowing on a bloody scratch that's caught the bottom of her right cheek. "Aw, bubby, what happened?"
"It doesn't hurt," Roan says flippantly.
"You're gonna have to let me wipe it clean, still. Okay?"
"Yeah, mommy. Whatever you want."
You bite the inside of your bottom lip to tamp down an embarrassingly huge smile. "Okay. Good girl on the hand washing, you gonna help me make dinner, huh?" You kiss the top of her head. "I'm so lucky, my girl's so helpful."
"Can I go get changed first?" she asks.
"Yeah, bub. Want help?"
"No!" she shouts hopping down off of stool. She'll probably have to wash her hands again when she returns, but you're too happy to care. She's gorgeous, she's a sweetheart, and she loves you like a mom.
You turn back to the pastry and roll out the bottom of the pie. You'll refrigerate it while you make the chicken filling and the roux. Which one to make first? You might have done things in the wrong order.
"Ro, are you almost done?" you shout, blinking back to attention. "Let me look at that scratch, babe!"
Arms around your waist. You thought you heard the door.
"What scratch?" Eddie asks, dipping his face down to the juncture of your neck, where he plants a warm kiss.
"On her cheek. I let her go out with Georgia, I hope that's okay. Only in our street."
"That's okay," he assures you. He hugs you with kind arms, not squeezing like he tends to, completely and utterly loving. You can't hug him while your hands are covered in flour, leaning back instead to soak in all his affection. "What's the scratch from?"
"Yet to be determined."
Eddie hums and holds you. You cave in to dirtying him, painting his forearm with white fingerprints as you hug it to your ribs. You let your head flop back, tickled by his exhales where they kiss your neck.
You and Eddie stand there in quiet bliss. Then, from upstairs, you hear a strange sound.
"Is Roan back in her cat phase?"
Eddie tilts his head away from you. His hand retreats from your abdomen where it'd been resting, braced on your hips. "Ro…" He groans. "Not again."
"Eddie?"
He takes your hand. "She has a cat in her room."
The meows become clearer the further Eddie leads you up the stairs. You wipe as much of the flour on your hands onto your pyjama pants as you can, but it's a mess. Eddie can't complain —how often does he get car grease on you?
"Roan Ayla Munson," Eddie says through the closed door. "I better not find anything in there that I'm not supposed to."
You startle at the use of her middle name. You didn't even know Roan had a middle name until a couple of months ago; you always thought Eddie skipped giving her one. Apparently he thought Ayla was the same as Aella, an Amazonian fighter who wielded twin axes. Ayla, in contrast, means a few things. Bringer of light, in Finnish. Circle of light around the moon, in Turkish. Oak tree, in original Hebrew. You love all three definitions, but bringer of light feels most accurate.
Bringer of cats might be more astute at the moment.
"I don't have anything, daddy!"
Meow.
"I think you're lying to me. Last chance, bubby."
A vehement shushing noise, a meow, and a defeated sigh sound through the door. Weight hits the floor, footsteps creeping closer. You and Eddie wait in apparently very different moods for her to open the door.
Roan holds a wriggling kitten in her small hands. She's wearing a nightgown over her sweatpants like she'd started changing and forgotten. Her arms are covered in red scratches. The kitten yowls when it sees you and Eddie, likely finding you both to be more intimidating than your poor girl.
"Oh, babe," you fret breathlessly, "Eddie, take the cat."
"Dad–" Roan starts.
"Look at your arms," he interrupts with a tandem worry, taking the kitten from her.
You pick Roan up with ease, careful not to touch her pale arms. She tries to explain herself as you carry her down the stairs, "I found her behind Old Man Michael's house, she looked so sad and you said we should be nice to everything we meet, even if we don't like the way they look," she says.
"I meant about spiders and ants and stuff," Eddie says, holding the angry cat in front of his chest cautiously. "You know, we don't have to kill little creatures if we don't have to. I didn't mean you should kidnap kittens."
"She looked hungry."
You put Roan on the clean bit of counter between the stove and the sink and frown at her arms. "Sweetheart," you murmur sympathetically, "don't these hurt?"
"Well, I…"
You shoot Eddie a look. He stares the kitten in the eyes rather than meet your own, seemingly distracted. Fine, you'll try parent by yourself, even if you're no expert yet.
"What?" you ask patiently.
"I was hiding her in my backpack, but she didn't like it. She thinks it's too small."
"I bet so." You're thinking, Eddie, what are we gonna do? And, Ouch, these are going to hurt. "Ro, is this how you got the scratch on your cheek? You're lucky he didn't scratch you in the eye."
"I think he's a girl," Roan says.
This is less important to you than the scratches, but you amend yourself anyways. "She could've blinded you."
"I think you're in trouble, Ro. We already talked about this before, didn't we? No stray cats in the house," Eddie says.
"I already told you, dad! Rufus and Steve let themselves in, I didn't used to do that."
You wash your hands swiftly and grab the first aid kit from under the sink, pulling out the blue disinfectant spray that Roan hates. She winces at the sight of it as you expected, pulling her arms against her tummy.
"It won't hurt anymore than the scratches did when the kitten did them," you say gently.
Roan shakes her head.
You put the disinfectant between her knees and lean in. "I'll make daddy make cookies, yeah? You be brave and let me clean your scratches and we'll have warm cookies and ice cream."
Eddie breaks out of his stare off, taken aback. "It's her own fault," he says, though he's smiling.
"She was trying to do a good thing. And look at her little arms, Eds, hasn't she been punished enough?" you ask.
The kitten kicks its legs weakly. "What the heck are we gonna do with her?" Eddie asks.
"We could keep her," Roan says.
"Don't push your luck, Roro."
You lift the disinfectant spray. Roan seems apprehensive still, so you look her head on and wink. "I'll try my best," you whisper.
Roan holds out her arms with a grin.
#eddie and roan#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#dad!eddie munson#dad!eddie munson x reader#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things 4
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been having scummy scara brainrot thanks to u and i cannot stop thinking about that one scenario where reader is also a yandere. love when two little freaks find each other <3 i actually uhh started writing a fic about it but like. idk. i never finish anything. i was hoping i could share some of it (all that i have rn) with u since it is directly inspired by ur blog lol. it's nothing special or interesting so feel free to ignore if u want but here's: scummy scara. from scummy reader's pov :)
~
Scaramouche is obsessed with you. You’re certain of it.
He’s so obvious sometimes that you have to wonder if he wants you to notice. The way his face flushes and his intense gaze flits away every time you make eye contact. The way he shivers and shifts his position every time you innocently tap him on the shoulder or brush against his arm. The way his typical insults stutter and fizzle out whenever you smile at him. The way he seems to inhale the slightest bit deeper when he’s in your presence.
(Just for fun, you had ruffled his hair once and called him a good boy. It was absolutely comical, the strangled noise that left his throat and the instantaneous widening of his eyes as he shot up from his seat and practically bolted to the bathroom. It took everything you had to school your expression into sympathetic concern - or at least, something other than the smug grin threatening to break through - when he came back several minutes later, all sweaty bangs and wobbly legs, mumbling something about a sudden stomachache.)
He’s so cute, how can you resist indulging him now and then? It doesn’t hurt to leave your used napkins and chewed gum at the top of the trashcan for him to pilfer when he thinks you’re not looking, does it? They’d just go to waste anyway! And so what if you started leaving your blinds cracked or switched out your curtains for more translucent ones? You’re just trying to let in more sunlight, and if that just so happens to make it easier for him to take his little photos - well, what’s the harm in that, really?
Of course, you had to make sure it was only you that he loved before rewarding him too much. Although you’ve painstakingly ensured that his reputation is just negative enough for most others to avoid him, the occasional rumor here and there, surely it’d only be a matter of time before someone realized how adorable he really was. His eyes had sparkled with nothing but awe and reverence for you when you gave him that cat plushie for his birthday, too infatuated with you to even think about checking it for the listening device you implanted inside. Ever since then, you’d gotten your confirmation many times over; every night, as a matter of fact, with a symphony of sweet, pathetic moans and whimpers of your name into the plushie - accompanied by very familiar slick, wet sounds - until his voice was hoarse. (It was a shame you hadn’t installed a camera instead, but you’d been worried about it being too conspicuous.)
But no matter how utterly endearing his obsession with you is, you can’t help feeling frustrated. Just a bit. Because if he’s really this enamored of you, why hasn’t he made a damn move yet? He hasn’t asked you out, hasn’t even attempted to drug or kidnap you, and he’s only broken into your apartment twice. You’d even done him the courtesy of pretending you were asleep, but the following mornings, the only notable changes you’d discovered each time were that a few pairs of dirty underwear had disappeared from the laundry hamper, and a few new cameras had been hidden around your bedroom. Not a single mysterious stain on your pajamas or inexplicable mark on your skin. It was almost insulting.
At this rate, you might just have to take matters into your own hands.
~
Oh wow this is hot 🫣 he’s so cute jfc, I’m in love with this ??1!1? Your writing is 💋, and you captured him perfectly what 😭😭 and reader knowing of his obsession and purposely teasing him??? 🤭🤭 I love it so much, thank you for sending this!!
sorry for replying so late, I’m not feeling too good atm. <33
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name: the invitation
pairing: Robin Buckley x Reader
word count: 808
summary: asking robin out on a date
content/warnings: fluff, fem reader
author’s note: definitely need more practice writing robin, but this was a fun start! Trying to do some blurbs to kick this writers block, so please send ideas for eddie, steve, argyle, or robin if you have them!
-
You hummed thoughtfully as you scanned the New Arrivals shelf of Family Video. You had carefully refrained from visiting the theater as often as you normally did this past month, giving yourself the perfect excuse to visit the local video store.
The presence you felt behind you was all wrong. Too tall, not at all nervous, and pushing their hair back like it was their job.
“Need help finding something?” Steve Harrington asked, stretching himself next to you to lean against the wall, full cool guy mode. You wrinkled your nose. It had to work on someone because you saw Steve out on dates about half the time you went to the theater, but this act certainly wasn’t your thing. You smiled anyway.
“Sure! I’m actually looking for Robin. Is she working today?”
The sound of a stack of videos falling somewhere in the curtained off back room told you that the girl in question was, in fact, working. You grinned, laughing a bit to yourself and Steve’s smile dropped off his face for a moment only to be replaced by a knowing smirk.
“Oh, she’s working.” He assured you, pushing himself off the wall. “ROB, A CUSTOMER NEEDS ASSISTANCE!”
You flinched at his shouting, but he was already sauntering away. He leapt not-so-gracefully onto the counter and slid across to the other side, disappearing into the room you had heard Robin drop the tapes in.
Moments later, Robin’s head popped out from behind the curtain, eyes scanning the video store suspiciously. When her gaze landed on you, you waved.
“Oh! Uh… hi!” She stumbled out from behind the curtain, turning to glare at the boy who had so clearly shoved her. When the curtain was pulled shut in her face she coughed and turned to you, clearing her throat. “Sorry about him. He’s a little moody today, how can I help you?”
She was so pretty when she was nervous, which was good because she seemed to be nervous an awful lot. A pretty blush had taken up residence across her cheek bones and her smile was a little too wide. When she approached, her hands were shaking slightly, and she wrung them together to keep you from noticing.
“I was just hoping for your opinion on the new releases.” You gestured to the shelf in front of you, “I missed this month in the theater so I’m awfully lost.”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly at that, but you could see the confusion in her face. Steve was usually the one doling out recommendations.
“Oh! Umm. Well everyone has really been liking Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,but I haven’t had a chance to watch it yet. Steve said Ferris Bueller reminds him of himself, so it might be utterly insufferable and no one has realized it yet. And honestly, it’s sort of like just a way of reliving the glory of your high school years, which—”
“Watch it with me.”
Robin’s ramble had too much steam for her to stop immediately. Instead, she continued on for a few sentences about how you might not want to relive the glory of your high school years when you were still actively living your high school years before slowly fading out, eyes widening mid-sentence as your words sunk in.
“What?” She asked. Nervous Robin was pretty, but confused Robin was just cute. You wanted to lean in and kiss her on her freckled cheek, but you were getting ahead of yourself already. She hadn’t even said yes to the date yet and she was already sweeping you off your feet just by being herself.
You reached for her still wringing hands, pulling them apart gently so that you could lace your fingers into hers.
“Watch it with me? Friday at my house maybe? I can make snacks.”
She took a shuddering breath, eyes still wide with shock. She glanced down at your intertwined fingers and then back up at your face, the blush on her face growing a deeper red.
“You don’t—I—I mean…” She paused for a second and blew out a lungful of air, closing her eyes to get her bearings, “Yes. Yes, I would love to.” She said finally.
You noticed her biting her own tongue to stop herself from saying anything else, but pretended not to. Instead, you beamed and leaned in to press a quick kiss to her cheek.
“Great, I’ll see you then!”
You released her hand and grabbed the tape, waving your goodbye.
“Steve, put Ferris Bueller on my mom’s tab!” You called, not bothering to wait for his muffled reply before leaving the store, and a very red and confused Robin in your wake.
You missed Steve walking out moments later, holding a makeshift sign that said “You Rule” with approximately a hundred question marks hastily drawn across the entire page.
#Robin Buckley x Reader#Robin Buckley Smut#Robin Buckley Imagine#Robin x Reader#x Reader#Stranger Things Reader Insert#Stranger Things Fluff#Stranger Things Imagine#Fluff#500 - 1000#idk what i'm doing but i'm WORKING ON IT OKAY#i saw the maya hawke calvin klein pics and I just need to start writing for robin immediately okay
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Headspin
Meeting other drow, being propositioned to work at a brothel, and running into vampires feels like just a normal day for Sekh, at this point. But what feels exceptional is Astarion admitting he misses him, every aspect and inch.
Read below or on AO3!
Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav
Part of the Eternally Yours series!
Tags: Transmasc tav, fantasy racism, soft Astarion, fluff, bath scene, edging, masturbation, vaginal fingering, blow jobs, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, dirty talk, cum play
Sekh stared at what seemed like just a quaint little building, as his companions around him bickered over if they were willing to go in.
Gods it was just a brothel.
“Absolutely not,” Wyll said.
“Scared of a little temptation?” Karlach asked, raising her brows and elbowing him. Wyll tried to push her off, but Gale echoed Wyll’s sentiment of having no desire to go in.
“We’re not going in for fun,” Sekh pointed out, only to have Astarion fold his arms and frown, as if he disagreed. Sekh chose to ignore him. “Look, we don’t all need to go in. We just need to find Valeria- it can’t be that hard. Besides-” Sekh cast a glance past the group at Yenna, who was looking around her in awe- as if she had never gotten this far into Wyrm’s Crossing, “I’m not bringing a child in there. I’ll go in-”
“And me,” Astarion pointed out, and Sekh just sighed.
“-And Astarion,” he added. “The rest of you can give the rest of the crossing a look- see how bad the bridge is into Wyrm’s Rock.” Sekh really didn’t want to relive the mess of getting past the last gate. Thank the gods they had helped those Iron Hand Gnomes, back at Moonrise. He wasn’t interested in his first real night in the city being spent in a jail cell.
Gale and Wyll seemed more than happy with this- but Karlach and Shadowheart both frowned, speaking over each other that maybe they had wanted to go in. Shockingly, Halsin seemed to not care- but he was quite distracted with Yenna, and Sekh was glad for that.
Lae’zel just looked bored.
“Okay, fine,” Sekh said, as Shadowheart and Karlach continued to argue the decision. He was going to get a headache already and the day had barely begun. “You two come with us.” Karlach looked about to burst with excitement, and Shadowheart grinned, looking like a predatory cat.
Oh gods he was going to regret this, wasn’t he?
Decision finally made, the four headed into Sharess’s Caress. It was lively inside, despite that it was early- the entrance room framed with a bar that boasted plenty of patrons already. Music could be heard from a neighboring room. Sekh had barely gotten to register anything beyond that, when a woman greeted them from a little desk, facing the door.
She clapped her hands together once, nearly cooing when her eyes caught sight of Sekh. “Oh, another drow. How lovely. Come here darling- what’s your pleasure?” Sekh turned to her, took in the wild blonde hair piled atop her head, her face older but attractive, lips painted the most vibrant red. Her dress cut so far up her thigh he could see the crease of flesh from her pelvis. “No no, let me guess.”
Sekh folded his arms, cocked a hip- intrigued. She studied him for a moment longer, before she snapped her fingers, a grin finding her face.
“I’ve got it- a sturdy dwarf, a leather whip- she gives, you receive.”
Sekh laughed, felt a bit of color rising on his cheeks. “Not my first choice,” he said, and she frowned, even as Karlach asked if she could take her up on that option. “But apparently my friend here might be interested.”
And, okay, there wasn’t really time- but if Karlach wanted to pay some coin for a little fun, Sekh wasn’t going to stop her. She deserved it, after so many years of forced celibacy.
He would have gone utterly mad.
The woman’s frown deepened, creasing her brow. “Unfortunately Ffion has gone missing, or I’d send you right up to her room- Elminster’s Library.���
Astarion barked a laugh so hard and loud he had to cover his mouth and turn away. Sekh heard him mutter oh I cannot wait to tell Gale.
This was going to be a long day, Sekh was sure.
“We do have options for other company, of course,” the woman said, now eyeing Karlach. “Drow twins, just through the curtains. There is nothing their skilled hands cannot fix.” She turned just her eyes back to Sekh. “Drow do quite well here, sweetling. If you might be interested in some work, you have a look that I know our customers would eat right up.”
Sekh fumbled for words for a moment- but a moment was enough time for Astarion to curl an arm around his waist, nearly draping himself against Sekh. “I don’t share him,” he said, and the look in his eyes was almost predatory.
Sekh suppressed a shiver.
The woman grinned then, offering a little chuckle. “Oh, now I see your type. I did have you all wrong. Still,” she waved them off, “I’m sure you bend the pretty little thing over and use him quite well.” She turned her attention completely back to Karlach, even as Shadowheart began laughing so hard she had to walk away. Astarion simply stared, eyes a little wide, completely caught off guard by the woman’s brass response.
Sekh chuckled himself, managed to say, “Oh I like her.” Astarion frowned, pulled away so he could face Sekh properly. “She has some nice ideas.”
He couldn’t keep the heat from his voice, or the way he knew his eyes were devouring Astarion. But the prospect of watching Astarion fall apart, of having his fingers inside him-
Well, Sekh quite liked it.
Astarion cleared his throat, glanced away- but Sekh could see just the faintest flush, to his eyes. He took the single step to him, leaned in and placed a very soft kiss to his cheek. “If you’re ever ready, know that I’m willing.”
Astarion moved to speak- but whatever he said disappeared in the excitement as Karlach was suddenly off, into the depths of the brothel. Lost to them, Sekh figured. Well, good for her.
They headed further in, turning into a curtained room where the music grew louder. The room had a liveliness to it, a few patrons enjoying their drinks, watching not only the music, but a gorgeous tiefling woman draped in jewels, dancing along a stage.
She was breathtaking.
Sekh elbowed Shadowheart, who followed his stare, her eyes going a bit wide, locking on the woman and not once leaving her. Astarion noticed their distraction, seemed content to watch as well for a moment.
Sekh forced himself to look away, noticed that across the room were a pair of drow. He said something to his companions, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears, as he turned and walked towards them.
“My, my,” the woman said, her eyes trailing down the length of Skeh’s body in a slow, lazy pace that seemed obscene and yet wonderful. “Aren’t you a special one- I can tell from just a glance.” Her smile was controlled but still petty. The man next to her folded his arms, gave Sekh an even longer once-over.
Sekh felt his pulse pick up. Still, he was more excited to see other drow. He hadn’t expected any in the city. “I didn’t expect to see other drow here.”
The woman smiled, and offered out her hand. “Nym,” she said, and Sekh took it, pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Her smile grew, her eyes dancing in amusement. “And my brother, Sorn.”
“Pleasure,” the man said, stepping closer, taking Sekh’s free hand, and flipping it, pressing his mouth to his wrist. He glanced up at Sekh, could easily feel the momentary spike in his pulse.
“The feeling is mutual,” Nym said, “I can’t say we’ve seen many other drow lately. Just an endless line of surface dwellers.” She didn’t seem bothered by the fact- Sekh’s look must have given away a hint of concern, because she waved him off. “Your look is sweet, honey. Trust me- we’re much happier here, kissing the man lips of the surface, than tending a shop or- gods, manning a farm back in the Underdark.” She shuddered, and the man, Sorn, laughed.
“It’s very true, everyone is always so intrigued by us.”
“Life is easy, here.”
Sekh smiled, his concern melting away. If they wanted to use the surface’s curiosity about drow to their advantage- let them. He didn’t blame them. He couldn’t even say he hadn’t done it himself.
“Well, we are immaculate,” he teased, “how could they resist us?” That got him a round of laughter from both, and Sorn was reaching for him, taking his hand.
“You are a pretty thing,” he mused, “if you were interested, I would love to see how wicked you could be. Or,” he nodded towards Nym, “you can be as sweet as you like, with my sister.”
Well, that explained their resemblance. It didn’t even register as strange, to Sekh. He’d seen plenty, growing up. Heard far more than he should have, about his father’s work.
“I’m flattered,” Sekh said, “but I do have a…” he paused, settled on, “partner.”
“Oh?” Nym looked intrigued. “Four can be quite a party.”
And wasn’t that just a novel, lucious idea. Sekh had to admit to himself it was so tempting- to get to see Astarion fall apart, under another’s hands. He didn’t feel threatened by it in the slightest- Astarion was his, when the day ended.
And he was Astarion’s.
But… “I don’t think now is a good time for that,” he said, and Sorn actually frowned, said, what a pity. Sekh hadn’t even bedded Astarion properly since before they had reached the shadow cursed lands- he couldn’t fathom asking the vampire if he’d be alright sleeping with strangers, when he wasn’t even sure Astarion was comfortable with him, again.
Although, the man had welcomed Sekh’s presence, yesterday morning- in his tent, when Sekh had found him. He’d wanted Sekh’s touch, asked for it.
Maybe he’d want all of Sekh again, soon. Or maybe he wouldn’t- whatever the case, Sekh would accept it. He might have quite the fondness for sex, but his affection towards Astarion went well beyond that.
As if his thoughts could summon the vampire, Sekh was startled to suddenly feel his hand, on his lower back, as he leaned in slightly, taking in the other two drow. And making a very quick decision on what he seemed to think was going on.
“I’m sorry pet,” he said, and Sekh thought his eyes looked sad, “I’m not quite ready for this yet.”
“I wasn’t even thinking-” Sekh stared, a moment of terror taking hold. He didn’t want Astarion to think Sekh was willing to look elsewhere for release, if Astarion wasn’t ready. He didn’t want him to feel threatened, feel like he might owe Sekh sex-
“He already turned us down,” Nym said, smiling at them both. Her smile seemed real now, relaxed. “Quite the charming man you have- and quite the devoted one, to turn down the both of us for you. Although,” she took Astarion in, a quick glance that felt almost polite, despite what it was. “I can certainly see why.” She turned back to Sekh, “if you ever change your mind, come find us here. We’ll be happy to spend some time with you both. Or,” she paused for a moment, and her smile grew, “if you just want some company. We know the surface can be strange for drow.”
Sekh relaxed. He’d like that, honestly. Both options, if he was honest- but the sex could wait, indefinitely if Astarion said so.
Having another friend though? That was very welcome.
*
They found Valeria already half a bottle of wine deep, and unwilling to listen to them, even when presented with a murder weapon. The damn dried blood was still caked on the vile looking dagger. But it wasn’t enough for her.
Sekh had been very tempted to try and scare the damn thing into listening- but he hadn’t wanted to cause a scene in the brothel. He wasn’t trying to be permanently banned on his first visit. With mounting frustration, he left Sharess’s Caress, Astarion by his side. Shadowheart had stayed behind to wait for Karlach, and promised to find them shortly.
“The murders have something to do with all of this,” Sekh said, tapping on his forehead. As if on queue, his tadpole squirmed, and he grimaced. Gods he hated that feeling. “I just don’t know what yet- and it’s not like that stupid hollyphant would listen to reason anyway.”
He was scowling without meaning to. Astarion chuckled slightly, arms folded. “You’re a moment away from pouting, my sweet. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t let the drunkard get to you.”
Sekh sighed, but tried to relax. Astarion had a point- they would figure it out, because that was what they did. What they had been doing, since the Nautiloid. What they would continue to do.
Frankly, he just didn’t care for hollyphants. Asskissers to the divine, mostly. But he kept that to himself.
“Listen, about the drow,” Sekh said, feeling like they had brushed that off far too quickly- they had left and immediately gone back to business. “I wasn’t… I don’t want you to think I was looking elsewhere.”
Astarion shifted a little, and while he tried to appear cocky, with his shoulders squared and his chin lifted- Sekh could see through it. There was a muted panic, in his eyes. “You can look all you want, but I don’t see why you’d ever need to.”
Astarion didn’t believe his own bluster. It made Sekh’s chest cramp. He reached for the man, settled a hand on the curve of his waist, stepping so close he could smell the bergamot on Astarion’s skin.
“You’re right, I don’t need to.” Sekh inclined his head a little, made sure to keep Astarion’s stare- wouldn’t let the man look away. “You’re everything I’ll ever need, Starshine.”
Astarion let out the smallest of breaths, his stare wavering. He cleared his throat after a moment. “Don’t be so nice to me.” His voice was laced with mock annoyance, as if he wasn’t even trying to make it convincing. “It makes me want to be nice back.”
Sekh laughed then. “Oh what a shame. I guess you’ll just have to be nice to me.” He leaned in, pecked Astarion’s cheek- but before he could pull back, the vampire was reaching up, grasping his chin, holding him steady as he turned and stole a far deeper kiss.
Sekh sighed into it, eyes fluttering shut, utterly undone in a single breath. He’d gladly kiss Astarion until the sun burnt out. He’d kiss him into the endless darkness that followed.
“If I’m everything to you, darling,” Astarion whispered, “you should kiss me like I am.”
He was still so close, Sekh could feel his breath, with each word. “I don’t want to overstep,” Sekh admitted, and Astarion frowned, pulled back much to Sekh’s dismay. The vampire sighed, bowed his head, rested his forehead on Sekh’s shoulder.
“I’m sick of waiting,” Astarion mumbled, his hands moving to Sekh’s waist, squeezing affectionately. “I miss you.” Those hands slid to his hips, pulled Sekh against him- and the drow shivered. “I want you.”
Sekh forced himself to take a single, deep breath. He forced himself not to shove the vampire to the ground right there and climb into his lap, create a spectacle for all of Wyrm’s Crossing.
But gods was it difficult.
“And every bloody night i think I’m finally going to get you,” Astarion added, “someone else takes you.”
Sekh frowned. Yes, Shadowheart had interrupted what might have been their first night together in so long- but Astarion hadn’t hinted at his desire the previous night-
Oh.
Sekh forced Astarion to straighten up. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t think… Yenna seemed so nervous alone, and nearly jumped on the chance to have some company. I wouldn’t have-”
“You would have,” Astarion corrected, “even if you knew. Because you’re… sweet.” There was something then, in Astarion’s eyes. Something that didn’t feel right. Sekh wasn’t sure what it was, a sadness, an anger- he couldn’t decipher it, and before he could ask, Astarion was pulling back, turning Sekh away from him and the brothel, towards another building. “We’re never going to get anywhere just standing here making a spectacle,” he said, and Sekh didn’t argue-
But he filed away his questions, refusing to forget whatever had crossed Astarion’s eyes.
*
The building they entered next Astarion recognized, quite well. He told Sekh he’d found so many victims for Cazador here. There was a look of remorse, on his face, as he admitted it.
Sekh only took his hand, laced their fingers together, and squeezed. There wasn’t anything to say- what was done was done. But Astarion had never had a choice. He wasn’t guiltless, per say, but he need not carry the weight of it on his shoulders.
That fell to Cazador himself.
They began up the stairs. Sekh wasn’t exactly sure what they were looking for- but if this had been a haunt of Astarion’s, he felt they should give it a proper look through. They still knew nothing about the ritual aside from what its end goal was- and if they wanted to stop it, they needed details.
At the top of the stairs they heard voices, from an open room to the left. Sekh watched Astarion tense, then- as if in recognition. Before Sekh could ask, Astarion raised a hand, holding up a finger to silence him.
“Soon, sister. I just need one more mark.” A man’s voice. Astarion bristled at it- one he knew, Sekh was sure.
“We have enough for the master- no more are needed.”
“This will be for me, not the master. I’ve spent one hundred years feeding on dogs and rats. I want to be able to feast. And so, so soon.” His words dripped with hunger, one that Sekh recognized, from Astarion.
These had to be his kin.
“I want someone ready, waiting, so that when the Master grants my freedom, I can drink. Them. Dry.”
Astairon moved then, briskly barging into the room. Sekh had to hurry to keep up. “Cazador promised you your freedom?” He was nearly yelling the words, pausing only a step from the two. Sekh paused at his shoulder, taking them in- red eyes like Astarion, only glowing in a way that screamed magic. A noticeable tether to Cazador.
The two stared at Astarion, those red eyes going wide.
“And you bloody well believed him?” His expression changed to one of disgust, as he leveled his stare at the blond man. “You were never burdened with intelligence, Petras,” he spat his name like it was laced with poison, “but your load seems especially light, these days.”
The man was scowling at Astarion, the tips of his fangs visible. The woman had a much softer look directed at his vampling- but no less surprised. “Astarion?” She asked. Sekh liked her voice, even after only one word. “It cannot be…”
Astarion held his arms out, chin lifted- looking smug and regal. “That’s no way to welcome back a brother, Dal.” He paused, and then added, “Didn’t you miss me?”
It was meant to sound cocky, but something about it was sincere. Something about Astarion wanted her to miss him. Sekh had presumed things had never been great with Astarion and the other spawn, but if there was one, just one, who might have cared just a little- well, Sekh might consider setting aside his distaste for the divine to pray for that.
He wanted Astarion to have someone, in every aspect of his life. He wanted his world to be full of someones.
“We thought you were dead.” She spoke as if that would have been the favorable option, to being here. “If not, if you were free- why come back? You got out.” She lifted her hand, as if to reach for Astarion, but Petras reached over, pushed her hand away. Sekh felt his lip twitch over the action.
“Isn’t it obvious, sister? He wants to ascend with the rest of us. He heard of the Master’s plan and came back with his tail between his legs, hoping everything would be forgiven.” The sneer on the man’s- Petra’s- face was ugly. He turned his stare to Sekh, gave him a look that was not only undressing him, but pulling his skin from his bones. “He even brought a gift to get back in the Master’s good graces. You’re too late, brother, the Master has all he needs. But I,” Petras dared to take a step forward, eyes still honed in on Sekh, ignoring Astarion as if he was nothing, had never been and could never be a threat. “Don’t. I don’t think drow would have been my type, but I’m willing to lower my standards.”
Sekh fisted one hand, felt it crackling with a chill of necrotic magic. He was deeply considering knocking the man flat on his ass, but Astarion acted faster. He reached for Petras, wrapped his hand around the man’s throat, and hauled him across the room, into the light of the sun, streaming in through a window.
The moment the light touched Petras, his skin glistened, began to turn a molten silver, flaking away. He gave a shout, mouth turning into a pained grimace- while Astarion stood, utterly untouched.
“Keep your eyes and your pathetic fucking mouth away from him,” he hissed, bared his fangs fully. They looked so much longer than Petras’s. “He’s mine.” He squeezed, choking the unneeded breath from the other vampire. “Now, where is he hiding?” Petras reached up, clutched at Astarion’s wrist, but didn’t have the strength to even threaten his grip. It was iron, unmovable. “Tell me!”
The woman, Dal, moved halfway across the room, past Sekh. She paused just out of reach of the light. “Brother, please! Astarion!”
Astarion glanced at her, when she said his name. Yet he remained firm. Sekh folded his arms, offering up his best glare, directed at Petras.
“Talk or burn. Your choice.” The vampire glanced at him, and there was something so pleasing about seeing his initial confidence replaced by fear. It didn’t take much thought to see Astarion had never gotten on well with this one.
“You heard him. Tell me what I need to know. Now.”
“The Master is preparing his black mass beneath his palace.” Dal, speaking quickly, looking at Astarion with a fear that felt new. “The entrance to a chapel is hidden in the palace- he hid it from us all. We never knew.”
Astarion smirked, turned so his body shielded Petras from the sun, and shoved him. The man stumbled away, safely out of the sun’s reach, panting in pain. Astarion stood firm, letting the sunlight halo him.
“I’m going to stop Cazador.” The way he bared his fangs while saying Cazador’s name was as if he were ready to bury them into his throat.
“What the hells happened to you, Astarion?” Petras reached up, touched his burnt face. It was already beginning to slowly knit itself back together. “What are you?”
Spoken as if Astarion was a god, an abomination, something to be terrified of, in darkness and sunlight. Sekh bristled with pride.
“I’m more than what I was.And I’m not afraid of anything anymore.”
It was a lie. Sekh didn’t believe either of the other vampires caught it- but there was a tick to Astarion’s mouth, a glint in his eyes- he didn’t believe the last bit. At least, not yet.
“No one else can stop him. The sun can’t harm me- he cannot compel me.” He lifted his hand, letting the sun hit it directly, as if him standing, silhouetted by the sun wasn’t enough. He turned his head, beckoned towards Sekh with his fingers, and the drow walked over, took the hand in front of the others, kissed his knuckles while holding Petras’s stare. “And I’m not alone any longer.”
Petras stared, still in shock, jaw going slack- but Dal, she was studying them. Her alarm seemed to have ebbed, now that Petras wasn’t in direct peril. She was looking at Sekh, as if she was trying to read him, determine the thoughts bouncing around in his skull.
Determine if he was genuine.
Sekh lifted his chin- he didn’t need to prove himself to her, yet something in him reared to ugly life at his adoration for Astarion being challenged. “You should go,” he said, not looking at Petras- keeping Dal’s stare completely.
Astarion didn’t seem to notice. “You heard him- before I change my mind on roasting you, brother.” The last word was spat, foul tasting.
Dal tore her eyes away from Sekh, turned her stare back to Astarion. “This isn’t over, Astarion.” In a moment, they were gone in a flourish of red mist- leaving the room oddly silent.
Sekh turned to Astarion, who had a mingling of pity and disgust on his face. “They actually believe Cazador will save them,” he muttered, “poor fools. I’d expect this from Petras- but not Dal.” He turned his gaze back to Sekh, who wanted to ask about the both of them, wanted Astraion to tell him more about his kin-
But it wasn’t the time. “They’ll warn him we’re coming,” Sekh pointed out. While the information they had received was valuable, it also ruined the one advantage they had going for them. Surprise.
“And they’ll be trembling like terrified babes while they do.” Astarion waved the concern off. “They’re no threat to us- they don’t have a choice but to obey him. If anything I…I pity them.” For a moment, the disgust was gone, only the sadness remaining in Astarion’s voice. They faced the same forced fate he had for two centuries, after all.
But Sekh knew they could save them, if they only stopped the ritual.
“Worst of all, they don’t know their fates are already sealed. They’re doomed- it’s just a matter of if their deaths benefit a monster like Cazador, or,” he paused for a moment, a smile growing on his face-
Not a pretty one. It twisted his lips in a malicious way, the very air around Astarion seeming chilled.
“If they serve a greater purpose.” Sekh felt his blood running cold, a stabbing ache in his chest growing. Dread. “We find Cazador and take this power for ourselves. The rite can be mine.”
Sekh had hoped, considered praying, that perhaps Astarion’s initial mention of considering the rite for himself would have passed, faded into memory. He realized now he was so, so wrong.
“They’re your brothers, your sisters,” Sekh pointed out, “your family.”
“Not by choice!” Astarion snapped, reaching out, jabbing a finger into Sekh’s chest. “None of this is by choice! They’re the lot Cazador thrust on me.”
“They didn’t have a choice in the matter either,” Sekh pointed out, reaching up and gently pulling Astarion’s hand from him. “Astarion, are you ready to sacrifice them for this? To what end? What would you gain?”
“I’d rather slaughter someone else’s family, true- but they’re just as guilty as I ever was. Were any of them in my position, they would take the rite within a heartbeat.”
“But they’re not,” Sekh pointed out, “Astarion, only you can make this decision. But you have to know the consequences…”
“The consequences of unlimited power? Of never being afraid again?” The vampire laughed. It lacked the almost silly quality that Sekh loved so much. It rang hollow. The vampire reached for him, gripped his waist and pulled him in. For a moment, Sekh pulled back, just a fraction- Astarion didn’t even notice. “You’re not getting sentimental on me, are you? Your bleeding heart will be the death of us.”
His voice almost didn’t sound like himself. Sekh felt a cold sweat on his spine.
“I thought you were with me on this. I thought you wanted what was best for me?”
Sekh sucked at his own tongue. He did- he wanted Astarion to be safe, happy, loved. And none of that felt like it would stem from this ritual.
Nothing good ever stemmed from power like the divine. A man becoming a god would always undo him. And the last thing Sekh wanted to see was Astarion destroy himself, and the future he had.
“Can we just go?” Sekh asked, hoping that getting Astarion away from the ghost of his siblings might help dispel some of whatever had come over him. Hoping distance might bring back the man who had kissed him moments ago, had made him feel light. The man he loved.
Loved.
“Of course love,” Astarion said, relaxing a little. “It stinks of rat blood and dispair in here anyway.” He let go of Sekh’s waist, but Sekh took his hand again, gripping it perhaps too tightly.
Holding on, fearing if he let go, he’d lose the Astarion he had come to know.
*
The rest of the day was spent exploring the Flophouse- which proved fruitful, shockingly- and then arguing with the hollyphant over a possible target list they’d found. When she eventually caved and told them to seek out her comrade, it gave them exactly what they needed to get into the city properly.
A pass.
A pass that came with a face to face with Gortash, which ruined whatever fine mood Karlach had gotten from her time at Sharess’s Caress. Yet despite the ugliness, as evening was flooding the city with an orange glow from the setting sun, they finally set foot into Baldur’s Gate.
Sekh glanced around him, the streets bustling with so much life, despite the ever looming threat of the Absolute’s Army. Seemed no matter how close the end of days were, folks would always find time for their nightly activities.
He chose to stay in step behind Karlach and Wyll, who knew the city better than him. He’d expected Astarion to be leading them, but a few paces from the gate he noticed the vampire was nowhere in the group. He paused, glanced around, turned fully-
And found Astarion hadn’t moved from the entrance, was simply looking around, frozen in time.
Sekh left the group, hurrying back, reaching out to place a hand gently on his arm. “Are you alright?” Astarion glanced at him, his eyes looking almost dreamlike.
“After two centuries… you forget how much color there is.” His voice wavered, and Sekh hurt over it. Astarion hadn’t seen his city, his home, in true daylight for almost two hundred years.
Of course he was awestruck.
He was going to wait with him in silence as long as Astarion needed, but suddenly there were hands on his robes, Yenna leaning in, looking between the both of them. Her own eyes sparkled with wonder. “It’s so busy here- there are so many people!”
Astarion snapped from his trance, glanced down at her- and frowned. Without a word he brushed past both Sekh and the girl, hurrying to catch up with the group.
Sekh frowned himself. He didn’t understand why Astarion seemed to have a problem with the girl. He had been fine around Arabella, and the tiefling children at Last Light had grown quite fond of him. What was so different about Yenna?
“Did I upset him?” she asked, looking up at Sekh. Sekh shook his head, offered his hand to her. She gladly took it, and he walked them back towards the group.
“No. This is Astarion’s home, but he hasn’t really seen it in a long time.” He didn’t want to divulge too much- it wasn’t his palace to tell Astarion’s story.
Yenna only nodded, walking in perfect stride with Sekh. They had a destination- The Elfsong- to find the Flaming Fist Valeria had referred them too. Sekh was hoping they might be able to grab some real dinner, as well, before figuring out where they were going to rest their bones for the evening.
“Are you two married?”
The question came after long minutes of silence, as the two were still paces away from the rest of the group. Sekh paused, stared down at Yenna- who looked up at him as if the question made perfect sense.
“You and…” She paused, obviously trying to pull Astarion’s name from memory. “Astarion,” she finally said.
“Why would you think that?”
Sekh’s heart was hammering, and it wouldn’t quell it. A future that he hadn’t dared jump to seemed to be blossoming behind his eyes-
Astarion hadn’t even put a name to what they were now.
“You look at him like no one else is around.” Yenna shrugged a shoulder. “I never knew my dad, but my mom liked to point to couples when they looked like you and tell me they were married. That they didn’t see the rest of us, only each other.”
Sekh cleared his throat, shoving his wild torrent of thoughts aside. He couldn’t think about this now. “No,” he finally said, “we’re not married.”
“But you love him?” Sekh turned his gaze from Yenna, looked at his companions as they grew further and further away. Looked at Astarion, who had buried whatever annoyance he’d had at Yenna, was laughing at a very flustered Gale. The setting sun dazzled his curls in goldens and vermillions, and Sekh could just make out the lines around his eyes, from smiling.
His heart was racing, his body warm- pleasantly so, beneath his skin.
He squeezed Yenna’s hand, and knowing this had been the answer for much longer than he should ever admit, said softly, “Yes. I love him.”
*
The Elfsong, it turned out, happened to be the answer to all of their problems. Not only did they get support that they were chasing the Bhaalist cult in the right direction- but they got a roof over their heads, for as long as they needed. Sekh had smiled sweetly at the owner and the man had been more than happy to give them the whole upper floor for a price that was far too cheap.
And to find Lakrissa and Alfira again- it was warming, to know they were safe.
The upper floor was spacious, beds lining the parameter, privacy screens placed for some discretion. Sekh felt like he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d slept in a bed.
But the best part had to be the prospect of a bath.
With evening in full swing, it seemed pointless to try and venture further into the city. They needed to rest. The Dead Three could wait until morning. The majority of the party happily headed back down into the pub, eager for a drink and a hot meal.
“Are you coming?” Yenna asked Sekh, as the drow shed his shortsword- still fractured, the tip now a ragged edge. He hoped he might get it fixed- that a blacksmith in the city could smooth the edges for him again. Until then, he’d carry it as is.
His mother would have done the same.
“In a bit,” Sekh said, “I need a bath.” He reached out, tussled the girl’s hair. “You probably do too.”
Yenna pouted, and it made Sekh laugh so hard his belly hurt. “I’ve just been in Wyrm’s Crossing. I think you stink more than I do.” She folded her arms, and Sekh had to urge to grab her and toss her around- throw her on the bed and smack her with a pillow.
He’d never had siblings- he had to wonder if it felt like this.
“I smell lovely,” Sekh said, leaning forward, voice dripping with a sass that had Yenna rolling her eyes. As he did so, Astarion walked over, dropping some of his armor that he had just pulled off on the floor, at the foot of a bed in the corner.
Where Sekh had dropped his shortsword.
“Lovely is a … choice word,” Astarion said in passing, and Yenna cackled. Sekh spun on his heel, staring at Astarion, who glanced over- gave him a teasing smirk.
“You ass,” Sekh said, reaching for him and pulling him closer. “I smell fine.” Astarion squirmed in his hold, but didn’t try to actually escape it. Sekh placed a kiss to his cheek, caught out of the corner of his eye Yenna beaming at them.
Astarion huffed, finally pushing Sekh off. “Perhaps I like how you smell anyway,” he muttered, before he caught sight of Yenna smiling at them. For a moment there was this looking of longing, of wonder in his eyes- like there had been, when they’d first stepped into the city.
And then it was gone, smothered quickly as he turned away, frowning so hard his brows creased. Sekh turned away, focusing back on Yenna as Karlach walked over, wanting to take the girl for herself so they could go have a right, proper dinner.
Sekh was glad for Karlach taking the girl- he wanted to make sure she ate, but he needed a moment to focus on Astarion. The man had shed his armor, had made it abundantly clear that he was claiming the bath first.
Everyone else was more interested in dinner and hadn’t argued.
Sekh took the last few steps to him, placed a hand gently on his lower back. Astarion didn’t even glance back at him- knew who was touching him without a look. Of course he did.
“Can I ask you something?” Sekh asked, quietly, and Astarion huffed.
“You just did.”
Sekh rolled his eyes, slid his arms around Astarion’s waist. The vampire covered his hands with one of his own, as they rested on his belly, Sekh placing his chin on his shoulder. “Funny. Why don’t you like Yenna?”
Astarion went tense in his hold, before he scoffed at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t like her. It’s pretty apparent. You’re not a subtle man, Astarion.” Sekh gave him a gentle squeeze. “Do you just not like kids? I didn’t get that, from how you acted with Arabella and the tiefling kids.”
Astarion didn’t speak, for a long moment. Sekh began to wonder if the man was just going to ignore the question- but then, in barely a whisper, Astarion said, “No.” He pulled from Sekh’s hold, turned to face him-
And Sekh’s heart cracked. Astarion’s eyes looked lost. A sadness had fallen over his face that Sekh hadn’t seen in quite some time. Gods, he hadn’t meant to upset him.
“Children don’t belong around vampires,” he finally said, his voice seeming a bit strained, caught in his throat. “Nothing good will come of it.” Astarion glanced away then, his fingers fidgeting at his sides- as if he wanted to reach out to Sekh, but wouldn’t allow himself. “She’s best off far away from me.”
Sekh reached out then, took one of Astarion’s hands. It felt like his fingers were trembling, as Sekh squeezed them. “Astarion,” he said, and then, softer, “Starshine. You’re not going to hurt her.”
“I may not, but something will because of what I am. Trust me, children do not belong around us. We aren’t allowed the luxury of family.” The words were heated- a deep seated despair that hadn’t been breathed to life ever, if Sekh were to judge. The words were barely out of his mouth before Astarion was pinching his lips shut, pulling his hand from Sekh’s hold. He moved to turn, but Sekh reached for him, slipped his arms around his waist, pulled him into a tight hold, hands splayed on his back, pressed along the ridges of his scars that he could just feel through his shirt.
Astarion didn’t try to pull away this time. He melted against Sekh, pressed his face into the crook of his neck. “You’re allowed everything,” Sekh said, softly, “Astarion, I promise you- whatever you want, it's yours. Whatever that monster did to you, whatever he made you think you can’t have- he’s wrong.” Sekh squeezed him, wanted to gather the man up, cage him in his ribs and keep him safe, sheltered.
Astarion nuzzled against his neck, breathed him in. “You can’t promise that,” he whispered. “But I can, if-”
Sekh cut him off. He didn’t want to hear it- didn’t want Astarion’s mind going down that dark path now. “I can promise it. And I do.” He pulled one hand from Astarion’s back, forced him to lift his head, cradled his cheek against his palm, kept Astarion’s head steady so he was forced to gaze at Sekh. “I told you I’d take care of you. And I will. I meant that, I mean it to my damn dying breath, Astarion. You are everything.” The vampire turned his head just slightly, managed to press his mouth at the base of Sekh’s palm, kissed his warm skin.
The softness, the affection made Sekh’s chest ache. His fingers pressed harder to Astarion’s back.
“Astarion,” he breathed, “I…” The words caught in Sekh’s throat, then. Thick and cloying and true, but a part of him feared it was too much for this man. That he was running where Astarion was content to walk.
He settled on silence, which Astarion took as an invitation to lean in, press a kiss to his lips. Sekh kissed him back, slowly, hand finding his way into his hair. The vampire hummed, opened his mouth for the kiss- seemed content to let the conversation die in favor of this.
Sekh was happy to indulge, but swore to himself he would revisit this.
“Gods, can you two wait until we’re all gone at least?” Astarion paused his mouth’s movements, as Sekh glanced to the side- and Shadowheart was watching, a hand on her hip, the other pinching the bridge of her nose as if they were giving her a headache.
Sekh pulled back, just offered her a sheepish smile, and Astarion moved out of his embrace. The vampire gave Shadowheart a teasing smile, before he headed across the large, open room- heading for the bath, situated behind a few privacy screens. Shadowheart rolled her eyes, turning back to Sekh.
“Please tell me you both aren’t getting in together.”
Sekh choked. “There isn’t room,” he said, knowing Shadowheart knew that. “I just… thought maybe he might want some help with his hair…” He reached up, rubbed the back of his neck, and Shadowheart laughed at him. Sekh decided this was definitely what it was like to have siblings.
“You two would find a way. Don’t take too long, you need to eat.” Sekh only nodded, and Shadowheart left him, heading out herself. He shrugged out of his robes, leaving them tossed on the foot of his bed-
Astarion’s bed? Their bed? Astarion hadn’t said a word about it, he’d just dropped his own items on the same bed as Sekh and carried on.
Sekh found he was smiling, as he walked across the room, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. He stepped around the privacy screen, found Astarion with his arms out along the wooden bath, head tipped back, looking utterly blissed out. He could see the steam from the water.
“Enjoying yourself?” Sekh asked, and Astarion didn’t even open his eyes, simply hummed an affirmation. Sekh got down on his knees, ran his hands along Astarion’s outstretched arms. “Need a hand?”
This time the vampire cracked his eyes open, glanced at Sekh. Those eyes teased, and Sekh laughed himself.
“I meant that as innocently as possible,” he admitted, and Astarion lifted his head properly, arms sliding from the bath into the hot water.
“How dull.” Still, Astarion smiled. “But if you want to be helpful, I wouldn’t say no.”
Sekh took the invitation, reaching for one of the bottled soaps, as Astarion dipped himself awkwardly under the water. He came back with his curls drenched, as Sekh lathered the soap onto his hands. Once the vampire was settled again, Sekh worked the suds into his curls, fingers scratching softly against Astarion’s scalp. The man sighed, eyelids fluttering shut, as Sekh seemed to work each individual curl as if they were made of glass.
When Sekh finally pulled his hands free, Astarion dipped under the water again, working his own hands through his curls to free them of the suds. Sekh took advantage to grab one of the tiny hunks of solid soap, and the moment Astarion was back out of the water, curls wet and flung into his face, Sekh was guiding him back, dragging the soap down along his chest.
Astarion arched slightly, head tipping back, resting against Sekh’s shoulder, hair soaking through the fabric instantly. Sekh didn’t care. He got his other arm around Astarion, pressed his hand flat to his chest as he worked the soap down along his abdomen, then back up, slowly covering each inch of him.
When Astarion tried to reach up, brush his hair from his face, the hand on his chest batted him away. Sekh pushed his wet hair back instead, watched Astarion’s eyes open, looking a bit hazy. The vampire bit his lip, one fang poking out between them, and Sekh wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh, kiss him sweetly-
Or ravish him until dawn.
He slid his now slick fingers and the soap back down along Astarion’s belly, past his navel, curving towards his hip. Astarion lifted his hips slightly, made a frustrated little noise. “Tease,” he breathed, and Sekh kissed his wet temple.
“I said I was going to help,” he said, “I never said I was going to do anything sordid, sweetheart.” Still he moved dangerously close to the base of Astarion’s cock, felt the man’s body shifting, trying to get to him.
He couldn’t help teasing just a bit.
His next movement dragged the soap to Astarion’s thigh, and then he was leaning over the tub, working it along his bent legs. Another huff from his vampire, but this time Astarion sat still.
Once Sekh had gotten both of his legs he straightened up on his knees, gently pushing at Astarion’s shoulder. “Let me get your back.”
For a moment, Sekh wondered if Astarion might refuse him. The vampire hadn’t shied away from his touch on his scars lately- but Sekh also understood that a layer of clothing could create enough of a barrier to allow for the touch.
But Astarion leaned forward without a word, Let Sekh cup the warm water in one hand and spill it over his back. He shivered, once, at the first touch of the soap against his scars- but it almost didn’t seem bad. After a moment, when he hadn’t pulled away, Sekh asked, “Okay?”
Astarion nodded, and when he spoke, his voice caught in his throat. “Okay.”
Sekh smiled, leaned in and kissed the back of his wet curls, soaping up his scarred skin until the soap had dissolved into nothing in his hands. Once it had, he cupped both his hands together, rinsing the suds away, noting that the water was beginning to cool.
He leaned back, was about to stand up, assuming Astarion wouldn’t want to remain if the water wasn’t scorching. But before he could Astarion had his back pressed to the lip of the wooden tub, was reaching up and back, grasping at Sekh’s shirt, pulling him forward.
The drow was forced to bow over him, as Astarion’s other hand tangled up in his hair, held him still as he pressed a feverish kiss to his lips. Sekh groaned, too shocked to move for the first few moments. It was only when Astarion’s tongue flicked the seam of his lips that he seemed to respond, opening so willingly for him, as water splashed up onto his shirt.
Sekh gasped around the kiss, Astarion’s tongue teasing the points of his teeth, pushing at the plush of his cheeks. He trembled, and Astarion pulled at his hair harder, broke the kiss to let Sekh pant against his wet lips. “I’m going to devour you,” he said, voice low, pulled from his chest.
Sekh bit his own lip, couldn’t even think to answer. His silence seemed to be all Astarion needed- because the man gave him a smirk, before he pushed him back.
Sekh stood, carefully- legs feeling numb from being on his knees, and before he could even turn to give Astarion privacy, the vampire stood up. He didn’t turn to face Sekh, but reached both hands into his own curls, squeezing the water back so it riveted down his back, between his scars.
The drow swallowed thickly, felt the juncture of his thighs throbbing. Astarion glanced back at him, over his shoulder. “You’re staring, darling.”
Sekh felt like he had forgotten every word he ever knew. And that seemed to be the response Astarion wanted from him. The vampire turned then, reached a hand out, beckoned him closer. Sekh took the two steps to the tub, and Astarion grasped his shoulder with one wet hand, used him for balance as he climbed out, before leaning back in, brushing his chest along Sekh’s.
“I’m going to get dressed,” he said, voice soft yet commanding. “I’m going to find something to drain dry- and when I come back, I’m going to pull you apart until you forget everything but. My. Name.” Astarion leaned in, breathed into Sekh’s ear, “You’re mine- and it’s been far too long since I proved that.”
Sekh shivered then, heart hammering so hard his chest ached. He swore he was seeing stars already, little tendrils of heat snaking from his cunt up his belly, taking hold and twisting.
Astarion stepped away, took one last long glance at his drow- and then crossed the room, completely naked, leaving Sekh in a soaked shirt wondering how he’d survive until the man returned.
*
Bathed, dressed in dry clothes, Sekh made his way downstairs, found the entire party scattered about- looking happy. There was only one absence- Astarion- but Sekh was almost glad for it. If his lover was gone, that meant he was already hunting- and the sooner he had left for his hunt, the sooner he’d be back.
Sekh made his way to a table most of the party had sequestered, was nearly pulled down onto a bench by Karlach. “Wondered if you were ever going to join us,” she teased, pushing a plate of food towards him. “We ordered enough for everyone. Don’t worry- no fish for you.”
Sekh grinned at that. “You’re a blessing,” he said. He knew he was hungry, but it was hard to focus on that need, when another was raging within him. Still- he rationalized he might need some energy tonight.
He must have blushed, because as he was biting into what might have been the best roll of his life, Karlach grinned and simply said, “So, are we all invited to the show, or are we locked out until you two are done?”
Sekh choked, and she laughed so loudly it could have shaken the very building, smacking his back once.
“Teasing!” she said, “relax- I think we all know you two need some quality time together. Fancy boy barely said a word when he came down, I thought he was going to run right through a wall to get outside if it would be the fastest route.” She tossed her arm around Sekh’s shoulder, giving him a one armed hug. “And don’t worry about your little counterpart. Auntie Karlach will keep an eye on her.”
Sekh breathed out a relieved sigh at that. Truth be told, he had been a little worried about Yenna. He was the one who had decided she could stay with them- she was his responsibility, in his eyes. Knowing Karlach would keep an eye on her so he could focus solely on Astarion was a godsend.
“I owe you my life,” he said, pushing the rest of the roll into his mouth. Across the table, Shadowheart caught his eye as she was speaking with Lae’zel- and without breaking conversation, poured him a cup of wine and pushed it across the table.
Karlach waved him off, as Sekh picked up his cup and took a drink. The wine was a mild white, not exactly to his taste, but also not strong enough to make him regret it. He just wanted a bit of courage.
He felt foolish, the excitement building in him like this would be his first night with Astarion. Like he was back at their old campsite, drunk tieflings about, counting down the seconds to when he could sneak off for their first tryst.
He had to smile to himself, thinking about where they were now, and how it felt like they had progressed lifetimes.
He was standing with Karlach and Wyll, when Astarion returned. He wasn’t facing the doorway, was across the pub, near the stairs- yet something warmed in him. He glanced at his hand, holding his wine cup- at his ring, and realized it was mildly warm, buzzing softly. He turned, thinking it had to mean something regarding Astarion-
And the vampire was already quickly crossing the room, heading directly for him- eyes boring a scarlet fire directly into his soul. His curls were wild and soft- having dried in the night air and not been styled. His cheeks had a hint of color- be it from feeding or a chill in the night wind, Sekh didn’t know.
All he knew was that his heart stopped, and then crashed back to life the moment Astarion reached him, cupped the back of his neck with one hand, and pulled him in for an unceremonious but so needed kiss.
Sekh fell into it, kissed Astarion back, matching the fervor the man was pouring into him. His free hand clutched at Astarion’s shirt, his knees feeling weak. Gods, he was so undone.
When Astarion broke the kiss, Sekh tried to chase him- but the vampire pulled back just too far. He took the cup from Sekh’s hand, blindly handing it to Karlach- who seemed too struck by the show to even offer her typical commentary. Then, grabbing Sekh by the wrist, he pulled him towards the stairs, nearly running up them.
As they were disappearing, Sekh heard Karlach announcing to Yenna that they were going for a little adventure. The last thing he heard of the world below was the girl’s ecstatic response-
And then the world was gone, as Astarion pulled him along the upper floor, throwing open the door to their sleeping quarters. It had barely closed when Sekh had his back pressed to it, his vampire boxing him in, greedily taking another kiss.
Sekh melted into it, hands finding Astarion’s waist, squeezing. He could still taste the ghost of blood in his mouth, as Astarion pushed his tongue past Sekh’s lips, kissed him so hard that Sekh swore his lips would bruise.
He rolled his hips forward, into Astarion, as the vampire splayed a hand on the door, the other finding Sekh’s neck, wrapping along it, thumb stroking his throat. The drow shivered, could feel the scrape of Astarion’s nail on his skin, before the hand was gone, and Astarion was suddenly hoisting him up. Sekh gasped, clutched at his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist.
Astarion purred. “I like you like this,” he whispered, and Sekh squeezed his shoulder tighter. He was panting lightly from sheer need already- felt ridiculous over it, and yet couldn’t find the will to try and control or contain himself.
Astarion deserved to know how desperately he wanted him.
The vampire turned, actually began carrying him across the room. Sekh bowed over him, kissed his jawline. “You’re not this strong,” he teased, only to have the hands on his hips squeeze, nails digging into the fabric of his pants.
“Darling, I am divine.” Sekh nipped at his earlobe, got a little rumbled growl from Astarion’s chest. “With you, I can do anything.”
He reached their bed- it had to be theirs, didn’t it?- and tossed Sekh down onto it. Sekh fell without a care, arching on impact, as Astarion crawled over him, slotted between his legs and found his mouth for another kiss.
In the back of Sekh’s mind, the drow knew that if Astarion was this alive, this virile, his dinner hadn’t been animal blood. And yet, he didn’t care. He trusted Astarion enough to believe he wouldn’t have just slit open the first person he met’s throat.
If someone died, they deserved it. He just wished he had seen it.
He would never deny what seeing Astarion take what he needed did to him.
He rolled his hips up, could feel Astarion’s cock, straining within his pants. “I can feel you,” he managed, between kisses. Astarion grunted, ground against Sekh’s pelvis and nipped at his lip. Sekh reached for Astarion’s waist, began pulling at his shirt.
Astarion pushed away from him, got up on his knees and nearly tore his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. Sekh sat up then, still pinned beneath Astarion’s legs, hands working almost clumsily at his pants as he pressed his face into his neck, kissed at his pulse.
The vampire tipped his head back, sighing when Sekh finally got his pants unlaced, was able to free his cock. He was so hard already, skin hot in Sekh’s hands as he wrapped it around his shaft, stroked slowly. He dragged his teeth along Astarion’s throat, wanted to bite himself- wondered what sort of noises Astarion might make, if he could break his skin.
Astarion rocked his hips to meet each stroke, breathing coming quicker- before he was reaching for Sekh’s hand, desperately pushing it away. “Darling,” he managed, breathless, and Sekh grinned.
“Don’t want to come yet?” he asked, watched Astarion bite his lip. The vampire took a single breath, as if composing himself, before he climbed off of Sekh, stood up to properly shed his clothing.
“Not without you,” he finally said, and Sekh’s breath caught. “Now, you have ten seconds to remove your clothes, or I shred them myself, pet.”
Sekh thrashed, shoving his clothing down his legs, up over his shoulders. It took more than ten seconds, but Astarion managed to restrain himself.
Just barely.
Sekh was still tugging off his shirt, his last piece of clothing, getting it tangled around his arms over his head, when Astarion’s patience wore out. He climbed onto the bed, grasped the drow’s thighs and shoved them roughly open, groaning because Sekh was soaked- had been since before Astarion even left.
Sekh arched, arms still stuck over his head, and Astarion gave a wicked smile. “I could leave you like that,” he teased, as he stretched out between his legs, hips grinding into the bed the moment he was settled. “In fact,” he purred, his breath warm against Sekh’s cunt, making the drow tremble, “I think I will.”
He dragged his tongue up along Sekh’s slit, from entrance to clit- and the drow gave a cry, eyes squeezing shut. Gods it felt like lifetimes since he’d felt Astarion’s tongue.
The vampire groaned, a mumbled fuck, his fingers pressing with bruising force into Sekh’s thighs. Sekh managed to untangle himself from his shirt, letting it drop off the bed, as Astarion eagerly went back for another taste, lapping at his lips, just teasing his clit enough to keep Sekh squirming.
“Tease,” the drow breathed, hands grasping at the blanket beneath him. It was nice, to be in a bed for once- to not have the hard earth pressing into his bones.
Astarion growled, but otherwise didn’t respond, hips continuing to rock into the bed as his tongue worked Sekh’s cunt. He finally gave the drow the touch he wanted- tongue rolling over his clit, again and again and again, until Sekh was seeing stars, behind his eyelids, gasping for breath.
He hadn’t had release, even by his own hand, since the last time he’d bedded Astarion. The weeks of celibacy had left him desperate, sensitive- and he could feel his orgasm already building, in his belly.
He reached down with one hand, tangled his fingers into Astarion’s wild, soft curls- and pushed. Astarion made a surprised little noise, and Sekh felt him tremble as he was forced closer to his cunt, held there so Sekh could grind against his tongue.
From the eager way the vampire’s tongue danced along the sensitive bud, he was loving it.
“Astarion,” Sekh breathed, “I’m so close.” It made his belly ache, to be right there, dancing along the edge of bliss and yet not tripping over the edge. Astarion made another needy noise, and Sekh could feel the bed shift as he desperately rutted against it, needing friction just as badly as the drow.
Sekh dug his shoulder blades into the bed, one hand twisting the blanket, the other Astarion’s hair, as he found his first release in what felt like centuries. Euphoria washed over him as he cried out Astarion’s name, thighs trembling with the force of his orgasm, body seizing up, wishing desperately to have something inside him, to clench around.
Astarion’s efforts didn’t diminish, his tongue eager, working along Sekh’s clit until it was so sensitive Sekh was squirming, pushing his head away instead of towards him. Astarion fought it for a moment, before he obeyed, moving his tongue instead to Sekh’s entrance. The hands on his thighs moved, spread him open so Astarion would push his tongue just inside him, get a true taste.
Sekh arched again, eyes nearly rolling, behind his eyelids. Astarion’s growl reverberated into his body, echoed in Sekh’s very bones. When he slit his eyes open, it was to the vampire lifting his head, looking at him with pupils so blown his eyes seemed black, lips and chin glistening.
Sekh opened his mouth, to say his name, anything, but Astarion was crawling over him, pinning him down, kissing him fervently. Sekh got his arms around him, dug his fingers into his shoulders, bucked his hips up, felt Astarion’s cock rubbing against his pelvis, smearing precum onto his skin. Sekh shifted his hips slightly, trying to get himself at an angle where Astarion could slide inside him, but the vampire pulled his hips back, exhaling a shaking breath against Sekh’s lips.
“Darling, wait.” Sekh paused, thinking for a moment that perhaps Astarion didn’t want to go farther- and despite the lust clouding his mind, leaving his head foggy, he would never be so beyond himself to not stop.
“Are you okay?” Sekh moved one hand from Astarion’s shoulder to his face, cradled his cheek. The vampire was panting.
“Yes. No.” Astarion swallowed thickly, and Sekh could see the delicious points of his fangs, each time he spoke. As if they would respond to his arousal. “I…” he paused, cleared his throat, and in a softer voice that was embarrassed, admitted, “I won’t last inside you.”
Oh. Sekh relaxed, smiling up at Astarion. “Is that it?” He chuckled, and color flooded Astarion’s face. “Starshine I don’t care.”
“You should,” Astarion retorted, but Sekh shook his head. He let his hand leave Astarion’s cheek, slid it between them, fingers just brushing his cock.
“No, because this isn’t a performance. If you feel that good already- well,” Another ghost of his fingers, and Astarion trembled, “I’m flattered. Besides,” he leaned up, as he wrapped his hand around Astarion, breathed into his ear, “we have all night.”
He gave him a single stroke, and Astarion dropped his head down, rested it on Sekh’s shoulder, hips moving to desperately fuck his hand. His cock was slick with precum, droplets falling onto Sekh’s belly. Sekh smiled, rubbed his hand along Astarion’s upper back, over scars that felt warm, to his touch.
“Do you want to come?” he asked softly, and Astarion gave a desperate nod. Sekh gave his cock another squeeze, before he stroked faster, let Astarion’s hips set the rhythm. Each breath into his neck was coupled with a whine, a groan, until Astarion was sighing in pure relief, body trembling from his very core as his first orgasm took him.
Sekh felt his cum, splashing his belly, down onto his cunt. It was filthy and had him nearly squirming as he continued to stroke, until Astarion was arching his hips away.
The vampire pushed himself up, back up onto his knees between Sekh’s legs, to get a look at him. Unable to help himself, Sekh reached down, fingers moving through Astarion’s cum on his belly, until he was pushing it between his legs- rubbing along his clit once, before his own fingers delved down into his cunt.
Astarion bit his lip again, and Sekh swore the vampire was going to break his own skin. Sekh let out a shaky breath, fucking himself slowly, Astarion’s eyes locked on his fingers movements. When he went to ease his fingers out, Astarion reached for his wrist, squeezed it, pushed his fingers further into him. “Don’t,” he whispered, voice thick, “stop.”
Sekh sucked at his tongue, dug one heel into the bed and lifted his hips slightly, getting his fingers deeper. He thrust them quickly, as Astarion released his wrist, laid a hand flat and low on his belly, so he could rub his thumb over Sekh’s clit.
His other hand moved back to Sekh’s thigh, pushed so his legs were open further. “I could watch you forever,” Astarion admitted. Sekh tipped his head back, squeezed his eyes shut, felt his second orgasm of the night beginning to build, in his belly- stemming perfectly in time with Astarion’s slow rubbing of his clit. His cunt squeezed at his fingers, and he pushed them deeper, mouth falling open as he began to pant, feeling dizzy. Yet Astarion didn’t move any faster- kept a rhythm that was far too calm.
Sekh tried to roll his hips, but Astarion pressed with the hand flat to his belly.
“Don’t be impatient,” he warned, and Sekh could scream that Aastarion was the epitome of impatience- yet he listened, forced himself to still his hips. “Good,” Astarion whispered, his other thumb rubbing soothing circles into Sekh’s thigh. “Do you wish it was me inside you?”
Fuck. “Yes, gods yes.” Sekh whimpered, felt a wave trying to catch hold in his belly- his orgasm receding a moment later, leaving him wanting terribly.
“Why?”
Sekh bit his lip, dug his teeth in so tightly he almost broke skin. Astarion was going to drive him mad. “Because,” Sekh breathed, curling his own fingers, sliding along his sweet spot and making him see stars. “Nothing- nothing feels as good as you.” He craned his neck slightly, to look down his body, could still see smears of Astarion’s cum on his dusky skin.
Astarion hummed, approving. “Do you come better around me?”
Fucking hells- “Yes, yes.” Sekh’s thighs trembling, his orgasm trying to build again. He rubbed his fingertips desperately at that spot inside him, but it just wasn’t enough with how slow Astarion’s thumb was moving- and in a moment the orgasm was fading back into his belly.
The damn vampire knew, from the smirk on his face. Sekh wanted to scream.
Astarion leaned over him then, caught his stare, held it. “Sekh, darling,” he breathed, “can you be a good boy and come now?”
Sekh arched, and Astarion moved just a tick faster. But gods, it was enough. This time when his orgasm welled inside him, it crested, sent his belly and cunt into the sweetest, tightest knots- and then burst. Sekh arched so far his back should ache, shoulders digging into the bed, crying out Astarion’s name, little pleas of yes and more, as he fucked himself through the orgasm, Astarion encouraging him on.
When he finally went lax, his fingers easing from his body, the vampire was grabbing him by his wrist, pulling his hand up, sliding those two fingers into his mouth, along his tongue. He sucked at them gently, tongue rolling around him, getting a taste of Sekh’s wetness, his own cum that the drow had fucked into himself.
When Astarion finally guided his fingers from his mouth, Sekh grabbed him, pulled him down and rolled them over, so he was sprawled on top of the man. Astarion let him, seemed relaxed as Sekh kissed him eagerly, rocking against his body. He wasn’t fully hard again yet- but his cock was still pressing tight to Sekh, weeping precum already.
Sekh broke the kiss, had Astarion chasing his mouth, wanting more. Instead he kissed the hollow of his throat, then the dip of his clavicle. Slowly, Sekh eased down his chest in a line, only glancing up when he reached Astarion’s navel.
The vampire was watching him with rapt attention.
Sekh smiled softly to himself, continued his way down, until he could press a kiss just under Astarion’s cockhead. The vampire groaned, as Sekh took him in hand, easing his mouth down along him, able to take him until his lips pressed to Astarion’s pelvis-
For now.
“Gods,” Astarion breathed, as Sekh suckled gently, his tongue rolling along Astarion’s cock. He could feel each throb of desire, as the vampire hardened slowly, against his tongue. Carefully, Sekh eased back, pulled off and stared up at Astarion as he stroked up along his length.
“There are no gods here.” Sekh’s voice was a rumble from his chest. “Only me.” Astarion whined, and Sekh took him back in his mouth, easing down along his length as far as he could- which was quickly becoming less and less.
Astarion tangled a hand in his free hair, rubbed it between his fingers as Sekh reveled in the salty taste of his skin. He pressed his thighs together, his cunt aching again, body insatiable.
He was still squirming, when Astarion tugged at his hair, guided him off his cock. It left Sekh’s mouth with a wet pop, bobbed against his lips. He stuck his tongue out, unable to keep himself from teasing, as Astarion still watched.
But the vampire’s eyes told him everything- this wasn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t what he’d ached for, all day.
Sekh pushed himself up onto his hands, let Astarion pull him up the bed, stretch out on his side. The vampire kissed him, drank down the saltiness on his tongue, as he carefully rolled him onto his back. Sekh moved like liquid, thighs spreading without Astarion’s guidance, as his lover slipped between them, still kissing him hungrily.
Sekh hooked a leg up on Astarion’s hip, bared himself, as the vampire took himself in hand, rubbing his cock along his cunt. Sekh trembled, as Astarion breathed against his lips, before the vampire’s tongue was pushing back into his mouth, at the same time as he eased into his body.
Sekh groaned, his hands reaching up, grasping at Astarion’s back, as the vampire’s hand planted on the bed, supported himself as he rocked into his body. Sekh broke the kiss to gasp a breath, and Astarion dropped his head, panted against Sekh’s hair. The drow could feel the muscles in his back and shoulders- tense- as Astarion tried to contain his thrusts.
“Don’t,” Sekh whispered, as Astarion lifted his head. “Don’t hold back.” Astarion made a small, needy noise, and Sekh smiled, curled his leg tighter around Astarion’s hips and ass, pulling him in quickly, so deep that Sekh nearly forgot his own thoughts.
Astarion groaned, before he went back for the drow’s mouth, kissing him rhythmlessly, hungry. His hips moved faster, fucked into Sekh so hard that the drow didn’t think he could breathe. He clung to Astarion desperately, body coiling tight, screaming because this is what he had wanted, for so long.
Astarion nipped at his lip, pressed the tip of a single fang just hard enough to break skin. He gathered the drop of blood on his tongue, and the following thrust had Sekh breaking the kiss, screaming. Gods, he was going to bruise inside- and he wanted nothing more.
“They’re going-to-hear us,” Sekh panted, words broken by thrusts. Astarion bared his fangs, looked feral, ethereal, divine and hellish.
“Let them.” He pushed up, grasped a hand at Sekh’s hip, the other at the thigh not clutching tightly to his body. He pushed Sekh’s leg until his hip ached, yet the drow didn’t stop him, eyes rolling at the way it let Astarion get even deeper inside him. “Let them hear you break, darling.”
Sekh arched, a hand scrambling down his belly, between his folds. He rubbed at his clit, the bud hard and aching. His cunt was screaming, nerves alight and burning so hot he swore he would combust. Astarion didn’t seem to be in a better state- his breaths rushed, sweat along his hairline, a bead running down his throat.
Gods Sekh wanted to lick it away.
“Only,” Sekh managed, felt his cunt clenching around Astarion. “Oh fuck.” He rolled his hips, for a moment forgetting what he had even been trying to say. Astarion didn’t seem to mind, nails digging little crescent moons into his thigh.
Sekh swore his nails were sharper, lately. Talon like. And yet somehow, he didn’t think they even could hurt him, were they inside him. As if Astarion didn’t possess the power to make his body cause Sekh harm.
“Only if you break with me,” he finally managed, watched Astarion baring his throat. Sekh still wanted to dig his teeth into that pale skin, feel it break, get a taste of the vampire for a change.
Astarion’s mouth fell open, an attempt at Sekh’s name. Sekh felt his muscles coiling, along his back, his belly, his very core. His fingers moved desperately, and he knew Astarion could feel how close he was, how desperately his body wanted to break.
He pushed harder, so deep into Sekh it should have hurt- but everything felt good, in that moment. Sekh cried out his name, a panted mantra of Astarion, Astarion, Astarion, as his orgasm took hold and quaked through him. The world faded to black, the only light the white hot starbursts, behind his eyelids. Sekh was smiling, head tipped back, still coming when Astarion followed, his own shout of Sekh’s name.
Sekh felt each wave of Astarion’s orgasm, inside him. Behind his eyelids, his eyes rolled, realizing he was so full, and gods, wanting still more. He wanted Astarion to fill him to the point that he couldn’t contain all of his seed, that it was spilling down his thighs.
Astarion’s hips finally stilled, as he leaned over Sekh, sought out his kiss swollen lips. Sekh sighed into it, pulled Astarion until the vampire was lying along him, a pleasant weight as they both slowly came down from their high. The drow’s hands roamed along his back, fingers idly tracing his scars without even meaning to.
Astarion sighed into the kiss, broke away just to press his forehead against Sekh’s. And, in a voice that was hoarse yet soft, whispered, “I missed this.”
Sekh smiled. “The bed or the sex?” he teased, and Astarion huffed, finally rolling off of him. He stretched out next to him, staring up at the dark ceiling.
His only answer was, “You.”
Sekh felt his heart flutter, the wicked thing taking flight in his chest. He rolled onto his side, slotted in against Astarion’s, tracing a hand down his chest as he propped his cheek against his other hand. “Astarion,” he started, “what are we?”
The vampire glanced at him, before turning his eyes back to the dark above. He was quiet, for a moment, before admitting, “I don’t know.” He licked his lips, rolled the next words over before continuing. “You’re not a target. You’re not a night it’s best to forget. But then, what are you? What does that leave?” Astarion reached for the hand that was stroking slowly along his chest, grasped it, tangling his fingers with Sekh’s. “I don’t know how to be a part of anything else.” He turned his head to face Sekh, his eyes open, vulnerable. “But you said you care… and I trust you. I feel safe with you.”
Sekh leaned down, pecked Astarion’s lips very softly. “I do care,” he whispered, “more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I’ll always keep you safe, Starshine.” Another soft kiss, but when Sekh tried to pull away, Astarion chased him, dragged the kiss out until he was pulling Sekh back down properly to the bed, so he could sprawl against the drow’s side, rest his head on his chest.
Sekh wrapped his arm around him, rubbing along his spine. Astarion’s cheek was cool against his warm skin, a comfort. For a long moment, they lapsed into silence, and Sekh was content with it, happy to hold the man against him. He could have laid in silence forever.
But Astarion broke it. “I’m terrified,” he admitted, not lifting his head. Sekh’s hand stilled. “Terrified because you should be taken from me. What you do to me…” He took a slow breath. “Anyone else who made my dead heart sing died for it.”
Sekh resumed his slow strokes of Astarion’s spine. He didn’t need to ask who would never let Astarion have anything. It was all too obvious.
“Once,” Astarion said, his voice trembling, “in the early years of my… slavery. I met a boy. A darling boy.” His voice caught, and he had to pause, take a slow breath. “And I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing him back to Cazador- couldn’t live with myself knowing I was going to bring him to his death. So I… I ran.”
His arm slid over Sekh’s waist, held onto him. Whether for comfort or as if to protect Sekh from the phantom of his master, the drow wasn’t sure.
“Cazador found me. Of course he did. And he locked me in a tomb for an entire year, starving.” A tremble wracked Astarion’s body, as he tried to grip Sekh even tighter. “There were months of trying to claw my way out, feeling my nails break off my fingers just to sprout back. Months of screaming my throat raw- months of nothing at all. Of silence and blackness. And months of just wishing for death. And then…” Astarion squeezed his eyes shut. “Even moments of begging for forgiveness. Thinking that if Cazador would just let me out, I’d make things right.”
Astarion pushed himself up then, looked down at Sekh. The drow could see a shimmer to his eyes, tears unshed, begging for freedom but never having it granted.
“I was weak. I never knew what happened to that man. Perhaps my suffering was for nothing and Cazador still drained him dry, took his life while I screamed in my tomb. But I learned that I… I can’t have anyone. They will always belong to him.” Astarion closed his eyes, and added in a broken voice, “I’m terrified that I’m bringing you death.”
Sekh sat up then, pulled Astarion into his arms. He cradled the man, held his head to his chest, stroked his hair as he felt a silent sob wrack the vampire’s body. “I told you he’d never have me,” Sekh whispered, “and I meant it. You don’t belong to him. And nor do I. I won’t ever let that happen to you again.” He held him tighter, and in a voice that felt like fire and steel, added, “I will never let him hurt you again.”
Slowly, Astarion calmed. His trembling subsided, and he sat up himself, pulling from Sekh’s chest. There were no tear stains on his cheeks- but Sekh almost wished there were. It would do the man good, to cry for himself.
“You can’t promise that,” Astarion pointed out.
“Oh, but I can.” Sekh reached for Astarion, caressed his cheek, cradled it softly. “I swear on my life, on my pact with Syl, on everything that I am and ever will be. He will never hurt you. Again.” Astarion nuzzled against his palm, eyelids fluttering shut, as the vampire simply breathed him in, mulled the words over.
If he had an answer, a rebuttal, he kept it to himself. Instead, when he spoke, he only added, “Stubborn fool.” Those eyes fluttered back open. “I shouldn’t expect anything less from a drow.”
Sekh cracked a smile then. “No, you absolutely shouldn’t. We are rather amazing.”
Astarion huffed, turned to kiss Sekh’s palm. “You’re rather ridiculous,” he corrected, but- oh- he was smiling. And Sekh would do anything for one of those smiles. He must have stared, with the same lovesick, dumb look on his face, because Astarion’s cheeks flushed lightly, and he added in a mumble, “and staring.”
“Sorry,” Sekh said, “it’s hard not to.”
Astarion rolled his eyes, before he reached out, shoved Sekh. The drow sprawled on his back, and Astarion crawled over him. “That’s enough talk,” he said, bowing his head and pressing a kiss to Sekh’s throat. “We’re only going to get so much privacy before the rest of our merry band get bored.”
Sekh tipped his head back, exposed his throat, and Astarion dragged his tongue over it, the drow so sure he could feel his pulse. “Is this what you want?” Sekh asked- just wanting to be sure.
Astarion paused, mouth poised over Sekh’s warm skin. For a moment, Sekh could feel just his breath, before the vampire said, in a voice that sounded sure, “Yes.”
The one word affirmation was all Sekh needed. Before Astarion could do more than plant a single kiss against his throat, he was rolling them over, pinning Astarion back to the bed. The vampire arched, as Sekh grasped his wrists, pinned them up towards his head. Astarion’s eyes danced like evening lights.
“Darling,” he purred, “what are you doing?”
His voice was intrigued, dripped with anticipation. Sekh gave him a cocky, sly smile, and pecked his lips quickly. “Taking care of you,” he whispered, before he let go of Astarion’s wrists and slid down his body. He didn’t give the vampire a moment for even a thought, before he was dragging his tongue along his soft cock, making Astarion arch.
He smiled to himself, teased him with his tongue, his hands rubbing Astarion’s thighs, urging them open. The vampire obeyed, as Sekh turned, kissed his pelvis, then the soft skin of one pale, inner thigh. Astarion sighed, and Sekh nipped at the skin, felt Astarion shake, just once.
He grasped the flesh between his teeth harder, enough pressure to ache, and Astarion’s breath caught. Oh. “I want to tear into you,” Sekh admitted, the hand that was on Astarion’s neglected thigh moving to his cock, teasing it. He was half hard already, from just that one bite.
Astarion tossed his head, little noises leaving his pretty lips as Sekh stroked him, teasing his cockhead with his thumb. He kissed the spot he’d bitten, and Astarion pushed his thigh closer to Sekh’s mouth. Taking the invitation, Sekh grasped the flesh in his teeth again, digging in until it had to burn, his teeth indenting into Astarion’s soft skin.
Astarion gasped, arched- and Sekh felt his cock throb, leak precum down over his knuckles. He laved his tongue over his teeth marks, before he sucked at the skin, knowing it had to sting. Astarion squirmed, but not away from him- and when Sekh lifted his head, he knew the flushed skin he’s bathed in his attention would bruise, soon.
The thought made his cunt ache.
He turned his attention back to Astarion’s cock, taking him over his eager tongue, swallowing until he couldn’t fit anymore. The vampire reached for his hair, tangled it around the fingers of both hands, pushing Sekh down further still, until tears beaded in the corners of the drow’s eyes.
Astarion was panting, as Sekh grasped at the thigh he’d bruised, digging his thumb into the sensitive skin. Astarion whined, this sweet, nearly broken sound, and Sekh ground down into the bed- wanting friction, wanting Astarion inside him again. Wanting everything.
The moment Astarion let up even the slightest on pulling at his hair, Sekh was pushing himself up, forcing the vampire to lose his hold. Sekh climbed over him, straddled his hips, and with an ease that was obscene, lowered himself onto Astarion’s cock.
The vampire groaned, eyelids fluttering, eyes nearly rolling. Sekh leaned over him, grasped his wrists, pushing them back to the bed, pinning him down as he rode him. His movements were quick, his hair falling over his shoulders, into his face as he panted.
“Fuck,” Astarion growled, hips rocking up to meet each of Sekh’s movements. “Darling, slow down.”
Sekh bared his teeth, squeezed Astarion’s wrists. “No.” He pressed himself tight to Astarion, had his cock nestled so deep inside him he could nearly choke. Astarion shuddered, mouth falling open- and Sekh knew what the man wanted to say, if he could form words-
He wouldn’t last. He needed Sekh to come first. He needed, he wanted-
“This is about you,” Sekh said, lifting his hips, before slamming them back down again. “Let me just focus on you.”
Astarion tipped his head back, whatever words he had dying on his tongue. Sekh smiled to himself, his thighs beginning to burn as he rode Astarion. He didn’t care. He wanted his lover to find a soul shattering release while simply lying back.
Sekh squeezed his wrists, his cunt clenching around Astarion. His own body yearned for more stimulation, for another release. He ignored it completely, simply enjoying being aroused, as Astarion melted beneath him. The man’s breaths were ragged, his hips losing any rhythm they’d had.
The drow grinned to himself, wicked and divine, watching Astarion’s face contort in sheer ecstasy. His cheeks were flushed, kiss swollen lips open in desperate pants, whining keens of need. And gods those eyes.
“Can you come for me?” Sekh asked, and Astarion managed a nod. Sekh clenched around him, purposefully, and Astarion choked, eyes fluttering open. “Good. Come on Starshine-” he bowed his head down, found Astarion’s ear and breathed into it, “fill me until I’m nothing but you.”
Astarion cried out, wordless, trembling as he obeyed. His orgasm had him nearly thrashing, arching as he pushed against Sekh’s hold on his wrists. The drow pushed him down harder to the bed, continuing to slide along his cock, milking Astarion’s orgasm until the vampire had nothing left for him.
When Astarion began to melt into the bed, Sekh slowed, began to grind against him instead of riding him, getting a bit of friction that sent sparks down his spine. Eyes still closed, Astarion licked his lips, trying to catch his unneeded breath.
“Wicked,” he managed, his eyes slitting open, “wicked, darling boy.” Sekh grinned, finally lifting himself off Astarion, rolling onto his side. The moment he did, Astarion was turning to face him, one hand sliding between his legs, two fingers pushing into him with such ease it had Astarion growling.
Sekh gasped, thighs trembling, as Astarion buried his fingers as deep as he could, nosing at his throat, his jaw. “Don’t you dare waste a drop,” he whispered, fingers thrusting slightly, mostly just curling to push at all of Sekh’s sweet, aching nerves. Sekh bit his lip, and Astarion clicked his tongue, and the moment Sekh released his lip Astarion was there, pinning it between his teeth.
Desperate now, body craving another release to the point that Sekh was dizzy, the drow slid a hand between them, pressed his fingers along his aching clit, rubbing quickly. Astarion released his lip, smiled. “Good,” he said, words breathed against Sekh’s mouth. “Fall apart for me. Let me feel it.” His fingers thrust quicker, and if Sekh’s mind was clear, he’d wonder how it didn’t hurt, how Astarion managed to not catch those sharpened nails on his soft insides even once.
Again- it was as if the vampire couldn’t hurt him.
Sekh tipped his head back, body so close that all his muscles felt knotted. Astarion mouthed at his exposed throat, dragged his fangs along Sekh’s pulse. Sekh saw stars, before everything burst in another crest of pleasure. His cunt tried to milk Astarion’s fingers, and the vampire gave a warm chuckle, bemused by the fact that Sekh’s body was so starving for him.
Sekh touched himself through it, lost in his own body, in each pulsing wave of pleasure. Even as they began to ease he touched, Astarion’s fingers never once letting up.
When Sekh’s hand finally fell away, the vampire slowed his ministrations, but didn’t cease. “Aw, pet,” he cooed, “is that all you have for me?”
Sekh’s eyes fluttered open, and he reached for Astarion’s chin, grasped it and pulled him in for a kiss. He pushed his tongue into the vampire’s mouth, teased those glorious fangs, felt Astarion trying to tame him. He clenched himself around his fingers purposefully, and Astarion gasped, suddenly giving to Sekh’s clawing at dominance.
“No,” Sekh finally said, against Astarion’s lips. “I have so much more for you.” Astarion growled, pulled his fingers from Sekh then, sliding them up between their mouths. Astarion dragged his tongue along them, and Sekh mimicked him, tasted himself mingled with Astarion’s cum.
Astarion parted his fingers, and Sekh’s tongue flicked at the vampire’s. Gods he wanted to go again already, wanted to ride Astarion again until the vampire was screaming for him.
But before he could roll the man over, climb back onto him, he could hear loud footsteps, outside their rooms. Laughter.
It seemed their time was up.
Sekh frowned, and Astarion sighed. The vampire pulled from Sekh, stood up and stretched. “I believe that’s the after party,” he said, nodding towards the door.
Sekh flopped over onto his belly, still frowning. “Dammit,” he mumbled, as Astarion found his own discarded underwear, stepping into them. “I wasn’t done.”
Astairon glanced over his shoulder, now holding his pants. “You are insatiable.”
“You weren’t done either,” Sekh pointed out, and the vampire simply flashed him a toothy smile, before getting into his pants. He gathered up Sekh’s own pants and underwear- which had somehow managed to be flung with enough force to land on Gale’s bed- and handed both to the drow.
“Maybe if you can be quiet,” Astarion teased, bending over and pecking his lips quickly, “We can have a little more fun once they’re all asleep.” Sekh choked, as Astarion straightened up, adding, “of course, we both know you can’t.”
He grabbed his shirt, carrying it with him as he crossed the room. Sekh grinned, called out after him, “You can’t either!”
Astarion didn’t once pause to challenge him.
Sekh hurriedly squirmed into his underwear and pants- was sitting on the bed when Astarion opened the door, leaned against it and greeted a rather tipsy Gale and Shadowheart. Sekh didn’t bother to listen to what they said, as the two entered.
“Were you two not done?” Shadowheart asked, folding her arms as she reached Sekh. Gale sat down on his own bed, sighing because it had to be nice not to have his aching joints cushioned by just a bedroll.
“Maybe not,” Sekh teased, and Gale groaned.
“I regret choosing this bed,” the wizard said. “Shadowheart, want to switch?”
“Absolutely not.” she sat down on the edge of Gale’s bed, seeming to think for a moment. “Wait… who is on your other side?”
“Karlach.” Gale looked a bit confused, and Shadowheart grinned.
“I might change my mind, then.”
Sekh bit back a laugh. He had to wonder if Shadowheart was ever going to follow through with a single of her flirtatious remarks regarding the tiefling. He doubted Karlach would have a single complaint.
Speaking of- “Where is Karlach?”
“She and Wyll just came back- and yes, they have our resident child in tow.” Shadowheart said it fondly. “Hence why we’re here. If it wasn’t Gale and I- Lae’zel was going to burst through those doors and demand you two stop mid act if needed so she could sleep.”
Sekh smiled, just as he heard the door opening again, the room flooding with the rest of their companions. Astarion was with them, shirt now on, walking next to Karlach, who had Yenna in one arm, the child draped across her shoulder, dead asleep.
“That one,” Astarion said, pointing to a bed around the corner of the room, from the one Sekh sat on. “She’ll want to be close to Sekh, I’m sure.”
Karlach nodded, heading up the single stair to the enclave, Yenna’s cat following behind in perfect step. Sekh watched the cat, felt a strange tingle in his mind, almost a recognition.
He didn’t have time to dwell on it, as Astarion returned to him, passed a cup he was holding to Sekh. For a moment Sekh thought it was wine, which really wasn’t what he needed- but the cup was quite cold.
He took a sip as Astarion sat down next to him, the man saying something to Gale that had the wizard groaning, exclaiming he hadn’t had enough wine to deal with him.
It was just water.
Sekh glanced at Astarion, must have stared, because the vampire looked at him, quirked a brow. “What?”
“Uh. Nothing.” Sekh glanced down at the glass, and Astarion cleared his throat, made a point to look away.
“I just assumed you’d need it.” He turned his attention back to Gale and Shadowheart- but there was the faintest color to his cheeks, the tips of his ears.
Sekh smiled, taking another sip, the cool water soothing on his throat. Astarion had said he didn’t know what they were, didn’t know how to be anything-
But Sekh would argue he did. He would argue that Astarion even thinking about his needs was the vampire already doing more than he thought himself capable of.
Sekh leaned over, pressed a kiss to Astarion’s temple- and without looking, the vampire slid an arm around his waist, pulled him closer.
This would be alright, Sekh told himself. In the end, no matter what- this would be alright.
It had to be.
#baldur's gate 3#astarion#astarion ancunin#tavstarion#sekh'met#sekstarion#eternally yours#astarion/tav#astarion x tav
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Can I ask why you don't like RHaTO 2016? I started it solely because the scene of Jason and Bizarro talking on the floor on the first issues did things to my heart the one time I saw a panel of it, but I didn't get much farther. And I like how you talk bout issues
Oh, thank you for the compliment! Apologies for this taking so long. I had to reflect a bit. (For what it's worth, the scene you're referring to is one of my favorite scenes in RHatO and some of the best writing in the entire run).
Some caveats:
I like reading serialized comics, but I'm unpracticed in the art of reading serialized comics, so my structural analyses come largely from analyzing other forms of writing (mostly novels, some TV & film). This means that I might be expressing critiques that are not entirely fair given the nature of the medium.
I read the entire run in a couple sittings last September, so these are generally remembered vibes and not nuanced analysis. I'm open to correction if I've misremembered something.
I actually don't dislike all of RHatO 2016, even though I do strongly dislike some of the canon introduced (this canon is discussed in points 5-6, and thus contains spoilers)
Also, for brevity's sake (ha!), "RHatO" refers to the 2016 version; if I mean RHatO 2011 I'll indicate that.
Anyway, my problems with the run (cut for length):
RHatO doesn't know who Jason is. This is not a "RHatO!Jason isn't who I think Jason should be" critique (though I certainly feel some element of that as well) but rather a "Lobdell cannot decide the basics of who his version of Jason Todd is as a character." In a different run that went through the hands of multiple writers, I'd find this far more forgivable, but barring the tail end of the run, Lobdell is the sole author. Jason is by turns incredibly clever and incredibly stupid in ways that felt contradictory. I had very little sense of what he valued or cared about. Sometimes he expresses great empathy and sometimes he's bafflingly self-absorbed and the only thing that seems to determine these behaviors is what's most convenient for the plot. Don't get me wrong: there are Jason moments in RHatO that I absolutely love, but they're balanced by Jason moments that utterly confound me because I don't understand how this is the same person.
It's not an ensemble book but it's pretending to be an ensemble book. This is a fundamental issue with every iteration of RHatO (including the webtoon) because no iteration of RHatO is written as an ensemble book--Jason is always the main character. RHatO also sort of sets itself up for failure in that regard--Artemis and Bizarro are far less well-known characters with less history than Jason and would require more investment and buildup on Lobdell's part to make them more than just props, but Lobdell doesn't put in the work. Even arcs that ostensibly center Artemis or Bizarro end up feeling flat, especially because so often they operate in service to Jason, The Main Character. (Incidentally, the point when I found Artemis & Bizarro most compelling was when they were separated from Jason and allowed room to breathe and exist).
The emotional core of the story, insomuch as there is one, is between Bruce and Jason and it really, really shouldn't be. Don't get me wrong, I would read a million issues of Jason and Bruce being completely, wretchedly awful to each other, but because the emotional core lies between Bruce and Jason, and also because RHatO is trying to be an ensemble book, and also because Lobdell is very uninterested in crafting a story around an alternate emotional core, whenever the story isn't about Bruce and Jason (which is most of the time) it flounders. I'd say that's fine if Lobdell just wanted to write a fun, dumb adventure book, but the Bruce and Jason bits are too present to ignore, making the whole thing feel very off-kilter.
From a team perspective, I don't understand what Jason adds. The whole run is sold as a "dark trinity," but the role Batman plays in the Wonder Woman-Superman-Batman trinity and the role Jason plays in the Artemis-Bizarro-Red Hood trinity isn't really the same? I feel like I'm supposed think Jason deserves his place on the team because he's The Main Character, but even from a very mechanical powers and abilities perspective I don't get what he's doing there. He's not particularly clever or strategic. He doesn't have the resources Batman does. He's not the brains, especially because later arcs give that role to someone else. If I had to assign him a role I'd say he's the "heart," whatever that means, but I also fundamentally don't buy Artemis and Jason as a team or companions and would argue that Bizarro serves as the "heart" (as well as the brawn) most of the time.
(This section contains spoilers) RHatO introduces the stupidest plot threads and then proceeds to do nothing with them. Willis Todd is alive, for reasons. He's Wingman, who's just randomly part of Batwoman's Bat-Team, for reasons. He's Faye Gunn's son, making Jason Faye Gunn's grandson, for reasons. None of this has any real bearing on the plot but it does create a lot of problems for Jason's canon backstory, whatever it is at this point in time.
(This section contains spoilers) Which also, the fact that it opens with conflict with Black Mask, one of the few rogues Jason has had extensive conflict with as Red Hood, creates a nightmare of what's in continuity and what isn't. My understanding is that UtRH is in continuity, which makes literally everything about the opening act not only nonsensical, but actively confusing.
This is less a critique of the series itself, but worth noting: I generally disagree with how people rec the first half of the run (i.e. the run with Bizarro and Artemis) and not the last half of the run (the Red Hood: Outlaw part). I read the series in trade format so I don't have the issues on hand, but I think RH:O vol. 2 is way more enjoyable (at least when it comes to Jason content) than the middle sections of RHatO.
So I guess I have problems with consistency, character work, storytelling choices, and ensemble writing. I don't with it's a worthless run per se; it's certainly better than other Jason-centric stories, and I love Dexter Soy's art about as much as I dislike Kenneth Rocafort's, so that's definitely a bonus for (early) RHatO 2016. I also don't think Lobdell is a completely incompetent writer, necessarily; he's just lazy, and incurious, and generally kind of a hack, which in some ways makes it worse.
I also don't think anyone is wrong to like either version of RHatO. I am a very brittle reader with specific wants & desires from comics that are usually only ever met by accident. So, obviously, take all this with an amount of salt anywhere between a shaker and a mine.
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I need to have another serious conversation with you guys, this time about unwilling vore and fatal vore
WARNING: DISCUSSIONS OF R@PE, MURDER
I am leaving this marked for everyone because I believe that we can be mature enough to have a civil, serious conversation on this topic together, which ultimately, everyone in this community should consider, because this is VERY important.
****
These past couple weeks have just been one thing after the other after the other
First, transitioning into a Keto diet to lose some weight left me with horrible carb-flu for a week (withdrawal of carbs producing flu-like symptoms such as body aches and cramps),
Then I had to wake up at 7:30 and 6 respectively on summer days for high school graduation rehersal and graduation,
I was struggling to hold myself together at graduation because of my school-related trauma,
My brother and dad got into a fight on the way home,
Today I had to go through four and a half hours straight of online college orientation,
And now, finally, once I reached that online orientation's interactive module about sexual misconduct and what exactly rape is, I utterly broke. Because there it was right in my face, a statement that I had already known since I was old enough to understand the concept, yet something which I had never seemed to fully process the implications of when applying it to this community.
"If the sexual activity is done without the active, informed consent of both partners, its rape."
It's no secret that I have indeed written some NSFW stories which have since, thanks to a previous discussion, been properly marked as mature and will be reblogged onto my NSFW blog on a once every Monday schedule, but, it is also no secret that some of those NSFW stories, sexually charged fics, feature unwilling vore.
Or, to state it more bluntly, per the definition above, they feature rape. I have willingly written rape, read over the rape multiple times, thoroughly enjoying it, and have put it out for the world to see. Especially considering that these stories were available to everyone including minors for quite some time, I cannot see how this is anything other than abhorrent. I was taking enjoyment from the sexual abuse I was writing into existence, and I feel utterly sick.
It seems to me now that "unwilling vore", particularly in the NSFW vore community, is simply a way of saying "rape" that makes it less taboo and more acceptable to talk about and create content for. It's become so normalized now, that I could not find a single post in the "unwilling vore" tag that was having this discussion when I searched for it. Instead it was all posts glorifying the concept, which ultimately, in an NSFW context, is rape. Period.
This can also extend to fatal vore and how I so enjoyed writing and reading about acidic murders. It's murder. Full stop. Especially in an NSFW context, I should not be enjoying such a concept.
But I do.
And honestly, I'm not entirely sure that removing the NSFW context makes it okay either. It may not be sexual, and thus won't constitute as rape, but just think about how paralyzingly traumatic the experience would be to an unwilling prey...and for fatal vore, it is most certainly still murder! Why am I normalizing and glorifying this kind of stuff? Why?
What the hell have I been doing for these past few years? Why have I loved and enjoyed so deeply this concept and this community which encompasses such abhorrent actions and not only normalizes them but turns them into hot fun time fics?
I have no idea anymore, and I have tipple the no idea of how I was able to last like this for so long without any sort of justification to speak of. Was I just suppressing what I already knew because I was scared to face reality? Honestly, I think that might be it.
I'm sorry, I'm just rambling at this point but I honestly have no idea anymore. I just feel awful, that's the bottom line. Rape and murder, in stories that are sexual. That is what I have created. I am nothing more than an insensitive, uncaring, unsympathetic, immoral, horrific piece of shit who thought for years that this was okay. These things have hurt real people in real life. I feel like I am shitting on their stories and their experiences for each and every single NSFW unwilling vore and fatal vore story I have created. Glorifying, normalizing, and sexualizing the pain, agony, and trauma these real people went through, for nothing more than my own pleasure. How am I not behind bars? (/gen)
-Benjamin
#vore writing#vore stories#vore story#v0re#v0r3#v/ore#v.ore#unwilling vore#fatal vore#vore community#vore talk#vore thoughts#cw r@pe#cw murder
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"Beautiful baby! So lovely, so breathtaking! Captivating! Alluring" - Neon J X Reader? Can hear it in his voice, and I can only imagine as a yandere he's maybe more intense in his affections
|ও NEON J: "Beautiful baby! So lovely, so breathtaking! Captivating! Alluring!"
559 words |
contains very mild themes of possession. |
Interestingly, I read a prompt meant for a yandere event and somehow made it wholesome! You can maybe take this as obsessive, but it really wasn't written that way. Hope you enjoy even if this isn't what you meant~ |
✧
"Beau-ti-ful, baby!~"
How can a tuned voice still sound so breathless? So utterly caught in awe and adoration? Even through the off pitches and odd melodies his voice scattered along, it was etched as plain as ink on music sheets: he's in love.
Love in watching every little thing you do: love in hearing every single note you play, no matter how off-key it is; love in reading every word you write, no matter how poor you think your work is; love in feeling every stitch in any piece of fabric or cloth, no matter how much better other canvases turned out; love in everything creative you could ever make, regardless of medium, because you made it. And hell, any progress is progress!
But god does he love when you try to dance, and he can be struck dead where he stands if that's a lie. You may as well've stuck that man in a trance the moment your body starts to sway. He could've been in a meeting with Tatiana herself and still'd find himself tracking every movement you make—and, admittedly, itching for you to ask him to join.
"So breathtaking I might have to check my ventilator!
The times you do?
That man's giddy as a kid in a candy store. Let him take the lead or have him follow every step you take, it doesn't matter to him, and he'll do everything in his power to keep from getting in your way. Let alone keep you from being interrupted like this!
Nevermind if you can keep up with him, have to sit entirely, or can hardly move at all. He's all for slowing down and is well ready to go your pace just to see every dazzling smile. He'd bottle up each upturn of the lips and drink 'em 'til he's drowning if he could.
Every sway of the hips, wave of your hands, and waggle of the fingers can make his own head spin! Just bein' able to touch you can make him feel like a man again... but he can settle for helping you stay moving as long as possible instead.
(Forgive him for forgetting you've got muscles to tire and get sore; all he's gotta worry about is lungs, let alone a whole body! All it'd take is a gentle reminder and he's off to get water, ice, and fruit to make your break as easy as he can!)
And when you do end up getting tired, as you're bound to do, you'll end up (if he's allowed) tangled in the plastic and steel of his unit to check for any bumps or will-be bruises from all that fun. What if you overworked yourself and nearly tore anything? He can't let that happen! All the while, cooing sweet, albeit cheesy, phrases of pure adoration for it.
"You were loooo-ve-ly, baby! Never seen anything better~
"So alluring you nearly made me lose my balance!
"Your moves damn-near held my heart captive!"
And many, many more. A few of which may be soft encouragement to try this again when you feel good enough to. God knows he'd give anything to keep doing this with you. Though... he'd be lying if he said he wouldn't prefer to sit back and watch this time.
After all, how else could he fully admire the greatest work of art he owns?
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Book Review: The Orpheus Process by Daniel H. Gower
I don't even know where to start. This book melted my brain.
There are only two reactions to The Orpheus Process that I can think of: slack-jawed awe at how mind-breakingly bonkers it is, or uncontrollable laughter. (I mean, there's also abject disgust and book-hurling, but if you do that, you don't know how to have fun. A demented kind of fun, but still.) This book is… so much. I kind of lovehate it.
Daniel H. Gower's debut novel (!) is the tale of Orville Leonard Helmond, a middle-aged scientist with three kids and a loving wife, who nonetheless doesn't abstain from ogling his lab assistant's curves and telling his teenage daughter that his first wife left him because he cheated on her. Helmond's life's work is the study of bringing dead animals, like rats and monkeys, back to life, in a quest to figure out a way to beat death. Of course, when his younger daughter is killed in a mesmerizingly tasteless mass shooting, what else can he do but stick her in a tank of reanimation fluid and let that radiation rip? Cue mayhem when Eunice, obviously, comes back in a way that makes the ending of Pet Sematary look sedate.
I know it might seem like I'm overstating it, but there's truly no end to how ridiculous The Orpheus Process is. The prose is utterly tin-eared, hosing down the reader with leaden wit and pretentious mythological and literary references (Helmond's lab animals all have names like Osiris, Lazarus or Valdemar, and his assistant Sharon calls him Dr. Frankenstein at one point) in between head-scratcher word choices like "glared at him pleadingly". Or just straight up black metal lyrics like "Lazarus floated in his posthumous placenta, like a homunculus in a crucible". Also, Gower has a fantastic sense for writing characters talk in a way no one has ever talked, talks or will talk… and the gore and body horror are so exaggerated that it just kept cracking me up. I've barely scratched the surface of the tacky insanity that is the plot, too: Helmond's early nightmare of a tidal wave of blood filled with thousands of tiny skeletons feels subtle and restrained compared to what comes after. I Mcfreakin' lost it at the undead monkey with the huge boner, and that was somehow very far from the worst mental image this thing gave me. (Content warnings for EVERYTHING.) I swear, it's like reading the Necronomicon.
Did I have a good time with The Orpheus Process? Kind of! It's not often that I find such a unique flavor of horror literature, for better or for worse (very much for worse): for all the epic crimes against good taste this book committed, it did so with energy and conviction, with a few glimpses of genuine horror and even emotion between all the unhinged over-the-top lunacy. (It really says something that the surprisingly good and poignant last chapter just made me mad at how out of place it was after the crazy charnel carnival that were the other 400 pages. Lol. Lmao, even.) I don't respect it at all for what it was trying to do, but I can at least appreciate the novelty; all my giggling, grimacing and facepalming gave my face a hell of a workout while reading this thing. Undead monkey boners were not on my 2023 holiday reading bingo, but… here we are, I guess. Merry Christmas.
StoryGraph rating: 2.5
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3rd May - 631 words.
Worked On: the Reverse Vampire AU.
Favourite Line:
This one.
The next time Shelly headed to the Night Market, she had a little bit of a bounce in her step as she made her way to where her favourite artist kept his table.
Only to find that while his table was there, he wasn’t.
.
#~#
I’ve put my... Unhappiness under the cut today, and I might start doing that in the future. Better stuff up top along with the stats and the favourite line, bad stuff below.
In other news, I had a eye test at the hospital today - they had to put drops in my eyes to take photos of the backs of my eyes. Those things made my pupils crazy big and SUPER DAMN sensitive to light. So walking home - on a sunny day! In England! - was fun. I think I said to the Other Half, walking along as I held my hood over my eyes a bit more like some kinda shield:
Today I’ll be cosplaying a vampire who really shouldn’t be out in the sun.
So that was... An interesting experience. Never had that done before, though I think that the fact that we have this technology that can take photos of the backs of the eye is super cool. And the eye tech/nurse guy was super nice and reassuring and friendly. He had an eyebrow piercing and a nice accent. Welsh, we think? But he was super nice.
Had a super comfy nap when I got home too, so I guess I needed that. Well. When you can’t really see to read because everything’s blurry and too much light makes you hiss, what else are you supposed to do?
~#~
Well, I don’t have an earlier dentist appointment. I’ve still got my one on the 12th, but it won’t be over after that. I’ll need another to finish up the whole procedure and... It’s gonna cost more than I’ve already paid.
I thought I’d paid what I’d need to and that was it. No no. Apparently not.
The receptionist I’ve been emailing has been lovely! Sweet and helpful. Even offering to move the appointment to nearer payday if it helps. Which is doesn’t, as the cost of this thing is half my paycheck. Half my paycheck BEFORE I deduct all my bills and everything. And my bills are like, the other half of my paycheck.
And this is NHS pricing. (Because while medical stuff is pretty much free on the NHS here, dentist work isn’t. It’s just cheaper.) Private is about three times worse.
Would it be cheaper to remove the tooth completely? Yes, absolutely. Would it be worth the damage it’s going to do to my already terrible self esteem? I don’t know. Does it make me feel awful that I don’t want to go for the cheaper option? Yes, of course it does.
The other half says that you can’t even seen the damaged one as it is, so you wouldn’t be able to see the gap. And yeah, sure that’s fine. But I would know. I would feel it all the time. I’m not even 35 - I don’t want to be missing teeth already. My self esteem and all that is already through the floor, I don’t need help in that department!
The thought makes me utterly miserable.
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Um. Hi. I am actually alive! Ahahaha....
Sorry about the impromptu hiatus, friends. I'm like 85% sure I have some variety of ADHD and basically, if I'm not Very Invested In The Thing, I have significant amounts of difficulty doing The Thing at all. And, well... unsurprisingly, my hyperfixation on the arcana/fictif has faded into the abyss at about the same time as the stories themselves have. I still have both apps on my phone, though I'm not sure why. I suppose I'm afraid I'll lose them somehow, if I delete them, though I know there will be no further updates. Buuuuuut I digress!
So. For once in my life I don't have a main fandom I'm utterly obsessed with! And yet, I have suddenly found myself wanting to write again... so I suppose I have a few options, and I may as well let you all in on the fun, too!
It's poll time, baybee!
Option 1 - Open up my options for requests and take them for any fandom/character I feel confident enough to write for, likely sticking to headcannon list thingies instead of full fics. I'll still do Fictif/Arcana stuff too, don't worry! It'll actually be towards the top of my list, because it's my most recent obsession. Full disclosure: I've been on a little bit of a visual novel kick lately, so you can expect a lot of those in my content list, hehe~
Option 2 - Stick to what you all are here for, reread the routes and fics and such and try to get back to writing almost exclusively for Fictif/Arcana, and try to get out all of those requests I've promised... This will probably be the slowest option tbh, because I think I need to switch something up to get back into writing like I was, but I would be willing to do this if that's what you guys prefer! I'll probably still slip in the occasional thing from other fandoms, because whatever gets me writing, you know? But I'll focus primarily on this fandom.
Option 3 - Shift my focus from fandom content and move into OC content. You'll still get occasional fandom things when I have the inspiration, don't worry! I have one OC/reader insert that I use everywhere, because of various reasons, but the poor thing is horrifically undeveloped, and recently I've been working to fix that and expand on her life and background characters. I've never introduced her to you all, mostly because I just... didn't think you would be interested, and because I was afraid that bringing her into the spotlight would let you all see through the paper-thin veil of her character into the awful void behind it. But she actually feels like a character now, largely thanks to one of my best friends, who has pushed me to develop her further and helped compensate for the areas I'm lacking. You know who you are and you have my eternal gratitude.
Option 4 - Yes. Do all of that. I'll bring in other fandoms to try and spice things up, but try to keep a decent bit of focus on reviving the poor Fictif/Arcana fandoms, while also introducing you to my OC and working on her. You might get the occasional x character fic about her, but I'll try to keep primarily focusing on the x reader/insert ones.
Option 5 - Yes, but make a separate account to do the OC stuff on. I know OCs aren't everyone's cup of tea, and you might not want to deal with that, so I could always do a separate account. I do keep things pretty well organized here, though, so I highly doubt it would be terribly intrusive while you're trying to find my non-oc work.
#am not dead actually#returning from the grave as much as Felix over here#oops#poll time#btw if anyone wants a poll submitted to you because you can't do them yet shoot me a message#hi Moss. I know you're gonna be the first person here. Love ya kiddo
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you've presented me with the opportunity to talk about how much I love both Ghost Cass AND the Delia AU (even though I am Not caught up on ghost cass ;w;) so! you've obviously touched on a lot of pre-campaign stuff for the ghost cass fic - do you have any specific lore bits that you took and ran with in a way that you really enjoyed/are proud of? and in the Delia AU, I don't know how much you've thought about this, but considering that Percy's aware Cass is out there, what thoughts on her reaction to Delia do you have that goes deeper than just anger and fear on Percy's behalf, if any?
Distract me from feeling like shit with Q's about my WIPs
Aw, I'm glad you like those so much! And fwiw, I am nowhere near done on the next arc of Ghost Cass, you have months in which to catch up.
Re: Ghost Cass
I'm assuming you mean lore from canon here, but developing out Loran the Bear was a lot of fun! All we know about him from the stream is that he ran into VM a few times on a few pre-stream jobs; we get a bit more in the comics but the comics' accuracy to actual events... I would say is speculative. Much as with Ghost Cass, you have to tweak things, add things and remove things, move things around, in order to make a coherent story, so while the comics are fun, I take them with a large pinch of salt.
And that let me build Loran out a bit. Figure out the kind of person he might have been, who he could have travelled with for jobs, how he and VM knew each other - that kind of thing.
That's also tied to the other thing I had a lot of fun with pre-stream which is just... the kids? Because the missing kids are a slow but persistent part of the general pre-stream events; they're the main questline even if it fades in and out of focus. Writing those kids, writing about them, writing their friends who miss them and worry - I really wanted to show the impact these missing children have on their families, their community. It's not just missing children, it's this whole weight of grief and loss that hits many - and that's before we get to the missing, traumatised children themselves!
And that in turn opened up a lot of opportunities to show characterisation. Percy likely grew up with a large extended family, he's probably capable enough with children - but he's also recovering from trauma and dissociation, so his first reaction to having to deal with kids after all that is "AAAAHH". Meanwhile Keyleth and Vax who care so much, wearing their hearts utterly on their sleeves, are immediately invested and caring. And Vex too cares more than she might initially seem to - because she too was captured and taken and had to fight her way home. She prioritises the money they need to live, but she too understands and feels the need to get those children safe if they can. And in turn, all of these things allow the characters to bond and open up to each other, and to set up groundwork for later events. So much of the pre-stream Arc is set up for later, and I can't wait for the payoff.
Re: Delia AU
Oh I know exactly what Cass' reaction to finding about Delia are - because Percy knows that Cass is alive, or at least was when Ripley wrote that entry, but Cass has no idea that Percy is still alive - she's assuming he's dead. That will hold true up until she hears from Yennen that Percy is alive (she in no way believes the Briarwoods, liars as they are), and Yennen by that point has been working with Percy to keep the people of Whitestone safe - Percy does everything in his power to prevent uprisings because he's aware that every dead body is a new one for the ziggurat and a new one for Delilah's undead army. He fights to keep the peace and he does that in coalition with Yennen, Gertie and a few others in town - and these people all come to realise, one way or another, that the only thing keeping him sane and focussed, the one thing that he will truly kill for... is Delia.
So Yennen does not tell Cass of Delia's existence, because keeping Delia safe is one of Percy's primary driving forces.
So uh. Cass' initial response is pure shock, that Percy has a child, that this child seems to resemble Ripley, that (from what Percy says) this child is Ripley's, and yes this means their family isn't eradicated but it also means that Ripley is a part of their family, the family that she killed and uh...
Cass is extremely traumatised. She's scared and she's angry, and she hates Ripley especially much, for betraying them after working for them for so long, for betraying and lying to Percy, for (she thinks for a long time) killing Percy, and then when she learns of Delia's existence, what she assumes has to have happened for Delia to exist and Percy to be perfectly on board with Operation Get Rid of Ripley and The Briarwoods nonetheless.
And... she can't hate Percy for surviving. She thought he was dead, what she feels most of all is relief-
But what the fuck does she feel about Delia? Her brother's daughter, yes. Her niece. A continuation of the family she thought dead and gone.
But also Ripley's child. And a child still young enough that... who knows how they'll turn out? How much like Ripley might she be? And with how much Percy cares about this child, his daughter - how much hurt might that cause Percy, if Delia turns out to be awful, like her mother?
And Percy, she learns, was trapped by Ripley. Lied to and used by Ripley. Delia was a part of Ripley's plan to do that - and look at how Percy dotes on Delia! Look at how Percy refuses to kill Ripley to try to save Delia the grief of losing her mother! The plan worked!
So uh... yeah, Cass displaces a lot of anger and betrayal and grief onto Delia for a while. This is both understandable and fucked up at once, and Percy and she have some very terse, angry conversations about it before the twins step in to have a conversation with Cass.
After all, the twins know what it's like to be a bastard child born in unfortunate circumstances to a noble and someone of a lower class. The fact that Percy loves his daughter so openly and without reserve is a huge help to them dealing with Syldor's bullshit. Cass acting like that about Delia... kind of reminds them uncomfortably of Syldor's bullshit.
(Cass hates being compared to Syldor - she knows the twins well, better than she does anyone else in the group, she met them first. Being compared to their father stings. They're not wrong, though.)
So. Cass does eventually process some of her upset and ends up becoming a good aunt to Delia - as Delia gets older too, she starts seeing what some around them mention, just how much Delia resembles her father not just in looks but in behaviour (after all, he Percy is the primary parental influence in Delia's life) - but it is not an easy start. It is, in fact, extremely rough for everyone.
(Delia at least gets very simple, direct comfort from Percy. "Your aunt is being an idiot," he says. "She's not thinking clearly, she's just feeling. You can ignore her until she sees sense."
(She also gets hugs on a regular basis - Percy's family when he was growing up may not have touched often, but Percy clings to what family he has left and he never, ever wants Delia to feel unloved.)
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*waves enthusiastically* HI!! :D May I have 2, 4, 10, 13 for the fannish asks?
[waves back with equal enthusiasm] HI!
2. What’s a classic work of literature that you’d consider yourself a fan of?
Hm.... Does The Haunting of Hill House count as a classic work of literature? I suspect no. The Bell Jar?? The Left Hand of Darkness?? Strange Pilgrims by Gabriel Garcia Marquez?? I've read Pride and Prejudice, which I suspect is the closest to what is meant by 'classic' here, and I admire Austen's writing but it's not really the first thing I think of when asked what I'm a fan of. Sorry, this answer's kind of boring, turns out I'm not much of a classics person!
4. Do you have a crack ship? Explain them to me.
I... don't think so? I have trouble framing character relationships as shipping even to myself? Just in general? Like. It just doesn't occur to me that I might want to do that. And I don't think it's as if I don't ship people, more that someone says the word shipping to me and my mind goes totally blank. So. You can imagine how it's even worse when I try to think of a crack ship I might have. Wow, two in a row for Answers That Aren't That Fun -- let's see if we can make it three >:]
10. Recc me a new piece of media you think I’d enjoy!
Ooh... Nimona! By ND Stevenson. I just glanced to the side at my bookshelf and saw this and went, "Ah, yes, found family, magic powers, sweet and silly and sad. Perfect." It's a graphic novel about a shape-shifting girl (Nimona) who wriggles her way into the life of a villain by the name of Ballister Blackheart. The two of them team up to cause some trouble with a group called the Institute, Ballister might have a bit of A Thing going on with the hero of the Institute, and Nimona makes me real fucking sad every time I read it.
Aw, dang, this answer was fun, I broke my streak!
13. Praise an obscure favourite character.
Oh boy oh god oh okay!! I'm giving you this answer with the full knowledge that it'll change again within a month or two, probably. Pixlriffs! From the Minecraft series Empires SMP (Season 2)! I mean, I assume I'll like him in season 1 as well, but I haven't watched that yet. He's just... so enchanting to me as a character concept. And specifically as a Minecraft character concept?
Right, okay, so. He's an archaeologist. He pulls entire cities out of the past. He lives alone in a warren of ancient catacombs. He can see, as holograms, the places that overgrown ruins used to be. In a series that is so much about not being able to escape the past, he's, like, a walking thematic capstone, and that's just so. I am a moth to a flame about that. But also. He's so fucking funny as a character and everything I aspire to be. He's the definition of "friendly and competent guy that everyone takes for granted as The Normal One but then it turns out that no, he's as batshit weird as the rest of them"!! He's really nice! Utterly unflappable! One time he ripped up a guy's carpet because his favourite shiny rock got stolen!
But the actual thing I haven't been able to stop thinking about is. Pixlriffs The Actual Guy Who Makes The Videos (as opposed to Pixlriffs The Character) is making a point this season of not really doing a character arc or a central plot for his character? On a Doylist level, this is so The Actual Guy can stick to what he's more comfortable with: being in the background doing work to support other people's stories -- The Actual Guy himself describes it as kind of being like a DM. But on a Watsonian level? All of this is so. He builds ruins and structures and dots them across the landscape for the other players to find. He guides them to plot hooks interesting sites and suggests they talk to each other when there's thematic parallels in their stories they have problems in common. I keep thinking about the line from the End Poem: and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code / and the universe said I love you because you are love. And. The idea of a person who is here specifically to act as a mouthpiece for the history of the world, to speak on a past that -- on the level of the game -- doesn't exist. The idea of Pix being in some ways very much his own person but in others acting out the will or narrative of a place overflowing with those things and unable to express them. Like the universe itself saw these people telling stories and building homes and living lives with so much care and love and went, Yes, let me help. Yes, I love you, here is another story, tell it with me. Yes, let me play the game with you.
History chooses the victors… The past is not gone, it is not even past… You are the universe talking to itself... He!!!
It's so funny how obvious it is when I care about a thing. Hi, Reyni! Hope you've had fun with this, and that you've made it to the end here unscathed. :]
#while trying the answer the classics one i suddenly remembered i've been meaning to finish the name of the rose#ah!! so many books i want to read and never do!!#i don't know what possessed me to use capital letters up there#Enjoy My Capitalized Sentences.#chattering sparrow
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You wrote such a beautiful fic and now I want more!
≣: hand holding for Cake Ladies 💙
Aw, thank you so much! The Cake Bake Ladies fic was really fun to write and I hope you enjoy this little bit of backstory for our favourite ladies 💙
Next up:
✿ - feeling so out of it, they need constant attention: Isabelle
+ - being led back to bed with patient whispers: Gabrian
✂ - drooping eyelids: Fanny
⌫ - lullaby: Humphrey
Ask Game can be found here.
Stargazing
≣ - hand holding: Cake Bake Ladies
Ever since she was a child, one of Sue’s favourite things to do was stargazing. She loved laying down on the grass behind her parents’ house when it got dark and watching first the moons rise in the sky and then the stars twinkle into existence around them. Everything was peaceful and quiet then – the world, her home and most importantly her mind. One by one, she would search for her favourite constellations: the Elders’ Chamber, the Wizard’s Hat, Old John’s Fountain of Truth and the Elven Staff. Finding the familiar clusters always calmed her down, no matter how stressful her school day had been or how loud the fight her parents had had that night was. The stars were always there for her, a constant comfort.
Sue never thought she would get to share the calm of a starry night with someone one day. Most boys were intimidated by her and as for the girls – well, according to Anne of Temperance, Sue was weird and she never stopped being so, not even when she was all grown up. She’d seen the looks the other ladies gave her at the Cake Bakes – “Look how tall she is!” they would whisper – so Sue didn’t even bother trying to befriend with them. For what? So they could pretend to like her and then go and talk about her behind her back? No, thank you. Sue would rather be alone for the rest of her life than be surrounded by fake smiles and courtesy all day.
Which was why it still baffled her that bubbly Lynn of all people had walked up to her one day, held out her hand and said brightly, “Hi, I’m Lynn! I just wanted to say that your Cream Cheese Pound Cake should have won. It’s far superior to Anne’s pitiful excuse for a Chocolate Cake.”
Sue had blinked at her in surprise. “Really?”
“Oh yes. Absolutely,” Lynn said. “You have to share that recipe with me some day.”
And so began a friendship Sue had never expected to have but would be forever glad for. With her smiles and laughter, Lynn made the world a little bit brighter wherever she went. She was like the sun after a rainy day, and Sue couldn’t imagine her life without her anymore. She counted herself more than lucky to know Lynn and would have been content to walk through life for the rest of her days with only her by her side if it hadn’t been for Edith.
The first thing Sue noticed about Edith when she joined the Cake Bakes was that she always stood off to the side on her own. There was never any family with her – no parents and certainly no husband even though Sue could see a wedding band on her finger. The second thing she noticed was that Edith didn’t look happy to be alone. In fact, she looked utterly miserable, and when Sue told Lynn as much Lynn grabbed her hand and dragged her to the other side of the clearing so they could introduce themselves.
That day history repeated itself and another friendship began, one that would change all their lives for the better. Edith, with her calm nature, fit perfectly into the quiet spaces between them. Not only was she able to make them see sense mid-argument, she was also able to stop arguments from breaking out in the first place. If Lynn was like the sun, then Edith was like the moons: she might not shine on her own but with the right people around her, she took one’s breath away.
Lynn and Edith were the first people Sue had ever opened up to. It had happened on her Name Day, completely unplanned. The sun had just set and, a little drunk on the sweet wine and even more so on Lynn and Edith’s smiles, Sue had taken their hands and pulled them towards the garden. There, with her best friends lying on either side of her in the grass, she had pointed out the constellations to them and, instead of judging or mocking her, Lynn and Edith had listened. The memory still made Sue’s heart swell with affection.
She didn’t realise how much that moment had meant to them until the night Edith’s husband left her and Edith suddenly stood on her doorstep with reddened eyes and asked, “Can you show me the stars again?”
Sue had called Lynn over and together they’d led Edith to the garden and laid down with her. When somewhere between the Wizard’s Hat and the Wizard’s Mojo Lynn reached for Edith’s hand and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Edith,” Sue intertwined her fingers with Edith’s as well and gave her hand a squeeze.
“You can stay for as long as you want,” she promised. “We’ll always be here for you, Edith; just like the stars.”
In the end, Edith never left and neither did Lynn. Years later, Sue still hoped they never would.
#the cake bake ladies#cake lady sue#cake lady lynn#cake lady edith#yonderland#ask#ask game#my fic#mp yonderland#ask game prompt ficlet
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