#and him just: i'd have preferred we didn't consume him like that

[cartsandhorses]

since I'm back in venom hell i am once again thinking about hannigram. symbiote!hannibal yes! but i was also thinking about symbiote!will.

hannibal eating things he would never put near his body and losing his social status not because of the secret murder/cannibalism. worst of all is will's adoration of dogs. most days hannibal can't get the dog hair out of his clothes

[masochist-marmot]

A fair and balanced look at MHA chapter 431

To all of my fellow bakudeku and togachako truthers out there: I see you, I hear you, and your disappointment is valid. I agree with a lot of the criticism. However, I have a lot of nuanced thoughts, and I will attempt to write them down in a balanced way, so bear with me. I will also treat the leaks as though they were confirmed for now.

(This post became an essay so I'll divide it into subheadings for clarity.)

Reminder: Be kind

Before I get into this, I'd like to remind everyone to please be kind and understanding when having this discourse. I get that there are strong feelings involved, but please don't harass the creators or other members of the community. Remember that at the end of the day this is fiction, and no one has the right to dictate how others view it or consume it. You are allowed to express your opinions and feelings, but try to be respectful to those who don't share them. No matter what side of the issue you stand on.

Queer relationships in shounen

First of all, I understand that it's disappointing when potential queer relationships are sidelined in favour of compulsory heterosexuality. But I can't say that I'm surprised. The standards and norms of depicting relationships in shounen manga go deep, and while it would be nice to see them challenged, we have to remember that there is an entire industry behind these decisions. I'm talking about genre conventions, authorial decisions (affected by unconscious biases), editors, publishers and a whole lot of moving parts. There's a lot of money involved, which means that any changes to the conventions will happen at a snail's pace. I am not excusing the decisions Horikoshi made, but it's good to be mindful that the decisions don't take place in a vacuum. I went into the series with the full expectations that none of the same-sex relationships would be made canon, so I'm not overtly disappointed with that being the case. It's the same expectation I take to any shounen series.

It's obviously worthwhile to question and challenge conventions like these, that's how progress is made. But focusing on a specific author's specific choices might not be the best way to go about it. Although it's worth pointing out that Horikoshi didn't have to make any relationship canon, yet chose to do so. Let me get into that.

Why IzuOcha falls flat

There is no denying that izuocha seems to have been the end goal from the very beginning. She's the first girl, Izuku took immediate notice of her, and her feelings for him became her entire character for a while. It's a cute ship, I guess. The issue is that it lacks any real depth. I'm going to be completely honest with you: I don't think Horikoshi is very good at writing compelling female characters. A lot of the male characters get amazing character arcs, while many female heroes only get a couple of cool moments (full of fanservice) and are promptly discarded. Himiko and Ochako, who have the most compelling female relationship of any kind in the entire series, fail the very simple Bechdel test miserably. Half of their conversations literally revolve around the male protagonist.

I believe this is why many of us prefer bakudeku over izuocha. The boys just get much better character development both as individuals and in relation to each other. Izuku and Ochako's moments don't cut nearly as deep, and while they do somewhat further Ochako's character development, they seem to have no bearing on Deku's character. Meanwhile Uraraka's conflict with Toga meaningfully challenges and alters both characters' worldview, even though their relationship had much less time and opportunities to develop. To me this whole situation just reads as Horikoshi giving Deku a canon love interest early on, then failing to develop the relationship and having to rush it to get the ending he intended.

Character study: Izuku and Katsuki 8 years later

Now I'll ignore authorial intent for a while and ponder on how the leaked chapter reflects on the character development of my main boys. I'm actually not that mad about the decisions Deku makes in this (forced romance aside). I seem to be in the minority that's fine with Deku losing OFA and becoming a teacher, because I actually think it suits him perfectly. In chapter 430 I mostly took issue with him being lonely for eight years and then jumping the gun to become a hero again, which seemed kinda contradictory. If he was truly contented with being a teacher, they could've made it clearer. Though I'm not going to lie, Kacchan funding his battle armor was incredibly cute. In the leaked chapter, it almost feels like they were trying to reinforce the notion that Deku is happy with his life as a teacher, which feels a little forced, but I can respect it. You have to remember that he's been quirkless for eight years and has had time to come to terms with it. People change a lot in eight years. I barely recognise the person I was eight years ago. So what rubbed me the wrong way wasn't that he rejected Kacchan's roundabout offer but the way he rejected it. Like the guy's really hung up on you, the least you could do is let him down easy.

What I think is an especially hard pill to swallow is the distance between Kacchan and Deku. Unfortunately, it also kinda tracks. Hear me out. Their relationship maintained its intensity because of the rivalry. It motivated their respective personal growths, it pushed them further, and it tied them closer together. And it was magnificent. What we see here is that Katsuki is still driven by the will to compete, but Izuku isn't. He's a teacher now, he's got lives to change, he can't be bothered with competition and numbers. While Deku was building his new identity and new life, Kacchan was still hung up on the past: He was collecting funds for the suit to get Deku back into the game, he was rejecting sidekicks who didn't spark the same joy in him, and he was slowly dropping in the charts because he didn't have Deku to push him to try (also something about his personality, I'll just let it slide). I think in this chapter we kind of see him finally accept it. He doesn't push a hero suit on a rival and urge him on anymore, instead he forms an offer to join him as an unrelated question about if Deku's still intent on teaching. Since he says yes, Kacchan won't even bring the agency offer up; Kirishima has to translate the intention. Which is where I think Deku's answer has uncharacteristically little tact.

Does Kacchan deserve a better ending than this? ABSOLUTELY. Does the ending we get counter the character development seen so far? I don't think so. The sad reality is that people do grow up, and I see the ending we get as one possibility that reflects that. I would've also been happy with an ending where Deku keeps OFA and the boys go be gay fight crime for the rest of their lives together, but in all honesty, Deku coming a full circle back to quirklessness is more thematically satisfying to me. Mind you, none of this means that the relationship between these two isn't important to them. It just means that it was always bound to change, adapt and grow to a different direction. Kacchan's final goodbye may seem like an important moment that was completely brushed off, or you can see it as not being important because it's not a goodbye. These two men will continue to be part of each other's lives. And now I kind of want to read comfort fics about what their new relationship and domestic life would look like.

Brief togachako tangent

I said in an earlier post that I will be a togachako truther until the day I die, and I stand by that. In my book, it's already canon. Though sadly, it was also doomed. I'm a little conflicted on the whole thing. On one hand, I think Toga had a satisfying character arc, but on the other hand, we mostly just got our gays buried. Still, purely from a character perspective, I don't see her pushing Uraraka to live her life as a problem. Toga would definitely not want Uraraka to dwell on her memories and guilt. They seem to be bound together by blood now, and that won't change. Neither of them gain anything if Ochako denies herself happiness by not pursuing other relationships. Still, I understand the criticism in a narrative sense. It does come off as a queer character used as a device to push forward a comphet relationship. I just want them both to be happy.

Final thoughts: Canon is not law

I have shared my complicated thoughts and feelings on this presumed final chapter. You are obviously allowed to disagree with me, and your thoughts and feelings are just as valid as mine.

I think it's important to remember that you don't have to treat canon as law. The canonicity of something has never dictated how you should interact with the media. Obviously the author making something canon has a bearing on their story, but that's just what it is. It's their story. Which means that we don't have any say in what they decide to do with it, but they also have no say in how we make their story our own. If the ending is left open, it's left open for a reason. You get to interpret what happens next based on your reading of the story.

So please go create fan content where Izuku keeps his powers and hero status and where he keeps his rivalry alive, or write a fanfic about his life as a teacher. Go explore how the thing with Uraraka develops (I trust that many of you would do a better job than Horikoshi), or ignore that part completely. Write about Uraraka's blood bond with Toga, maybe their relationship is still worth exploring post-mortem. Hell, make it a polyship between the girls and Deku. And there are so many things about Deku and Bakugou's relationship as adults that I'd read about and see fanart of, whether or not you take my interpretation of them into account.

[awriterinthenight]

"It's ok love", Part 2-Anthony Lockwood

requested: anonymous

words: 3255

warnings: reader's family being horrible, people judging her job and body and how she isn't married, slight misogyny, swearing. (I had a lot of fun writing some of the family dynamic and making up reader's story about her family and I have so much more of her back story to reveal and I'm so excited. Also all of my stories are usually female reader unless otherwise stated, or sometimes no gender is mentioned if I can, but I just prefer to write it like that) thanks for reading, enjoy. Please enjoy, my laptop decided to combust twice while writing this and this took me like 2 hours.

summary: Anthony and reader have arrived at reader's family's place. Anthony is gone for his job and reader is stuck with her family. He comes back to her crying in her room after her family dinner.

The train ride from hell finally ended with Anthony waking me up, telling me we'd arrived at our stop. I got up groggily, reaching to grab my bag, but Anthony stopped me.

"I've got it love," he said, grabbing mine and his bags, carrying them off of the train.

I couldn't help but smile at his act of service. I'd known him long enough to know there was no stopping him when it came to him helping people. He loved it. Doing acts of service for people was his love language, so I never stopped him when he did stuff like this for me.

Leaving the train, we called a cab, and I gave them the address to my parents place. I was nervous the whole ride. Mostly because of how Anthony would react to seeing how rich my family truly was. I know it sounds dumb to be embarrassed by being rich, but it was more of the fact that people would judge me for it and the fact I chose to be an agent. Everyone would always say how dumb I was for running away from such a lavish life, and how becoming an agent, potentially almost dying everyday, instead of staying safe in my family's house and wealth, was such a stupid idea. It was even worse when they would add that I only did it because I was 'rebellious' or 'just a kid' who didn't know what they were doing.

But it's the exact opposite. I'd rather be using my talent for something good than wasting it away. Why sit around doing nothing my whole life, when I can go out and help people. It felt like what they probably told Maria Anna Mozart, when they told her to stop making music, and that she had to marry someone and give up on her dream, or telling Van Gogh to just sit in his depression rather than work his way out through art.

Then again, I was only one agent amongst thousands, but I still believed I could potentially make a difference. Part of the reason people would say stuff like that to me was mostly because I was a girl. I was the oldest too, so I was expected to marry rich, find a good husband, and continue the family legacy. Not, run away at 15 and join an agency, where I could potentially die. Which is also a bad thing according to my family, since because I was the oldest I was their heir, or something like that.

I was so consumed in my self deprecating thoughts, that I didn't notice we had arrived until Anthony leaned over asking, "Is this really your family's house?" he asked, seemingly shocked by the estate and the rather vast size.

I let out a long sigh, "Yup, this is it," I confirmed, opening my door, leaving the car and walking towards the door.

"I knew you said your family was well off, but that seemed to have been an understatement," he said, breathing out a laugh at how big my family's place was.

Moving towards the front door, I take out my keys, unlocking the door, "Well my family had a decent amount of wealth on both sides, which then basically doubled when my grandparents married, then again when my mom and dad married. Then when the problem came around, they were some of the first people to create flares specialized for ghost hunting. Once that made a shit ton of profit, they then sold it making even more, so yeah my family is fucking loaded," I exclaimed, bitterly adding the last part as I unlocked the door.

"Seems like the next seven generations of your family are set for life," he joked, leaning against the wall.

I let out a small laugh, "Try more like ten maybe," I added, opening the door to the place, "And, this is only the east wing we're in. Wait till you see the entire main house."

His eyes went wide at my mention of this only being part of the place, "If this is only part of it, I can't even imagine the rest of the house," he said, in utter amazement of how my family lived.

I opened the door, letting us in as I turned on the lights, "Well, make yourself at home," I told him, walking toward the stairs in the front to head to the bedroom, "This part is actually quite small. Only two bedrooms, or actually more like one. I turned the other one into my own little space for random hobbies, so there's only one bedroom, but it'll be fine," I said, realizing we would be in the same room.

Climbing up the staircase in the entryway, we reached the 2nd floor, turning left towards the bedroom. The room was fairly big, there was a fireplace, a couple couches, a bay window, a desk covered in papers and pens I left, and the massive bed in the middle. Of course the room was painted my favorite color, and had some of the decorations I left. Alongside the posters on my wall that I didn't take down when I ran away.

I watched as Anthony took in the room, "This feels like a toned down version of you," he said, since my room at home was comprised of my favorite color walls that I begged Anthony to let me paint, more decorations than were in here which was saying something since my old room here was still somewhat fully decorated, posters on all the walls, and my room at home always had fresh flowers, since Anthony would buy them for me, even though I never asked him to.

"Well I couldn't take all my stuff when I left, so a lot of it stayed here," I told him, finally walking into the room, after just leaning against the doorway.

Anthony looked at me, then the floor, then me again, "If you don't mind me asking," he started, clearing his throat before continuing, "Why did you leave a place like this?"

I could feel myself partially freeze. I told him that I hadn't really told anyone else, but I never told him anything about why I left, or my family before I ran.

Taking in a deep breath I finally spoke, "I think that's a story for another time. Plus you have a job to get ready for," I told him, changing the subject.

He nodded, not pushing any further, "I should probably start heading out. I'll go call a cab," he said, moving closer to me before leaving, "Have fun, and don't worry about anything, okay," he told me, grabbing me by my waist, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. He rarely ever did this, only when he knew I was anxious or sad.

"Okay," I said, taking a calming breath in and out.

He then left, calling a cab, leaving when it arrived. I could hear the door close and that was when I knew I was alone for a little bit before my family showed up.

Usually before something big like this they liked to spend the day out. Letting the cooks and the rest of the staff prepare, undisturbed by my family's loudness. I took this time to unpack my clothes into the dresser, since I was gonna be here for a couple of days. Tonight was our families dinner, then tomorrow night was the actual party, and the day after would be when the immediate family stays and just congratulates my sister as we all prepare to make our departure for those leaving.

***

It had been about an hour since Anthony left when my family started to arrive. I could see through my window them entering the house, filling in one after the other. My sister getting married was a big deal to them, so everyone from my mom and dad's siblings, to their cousins, to my cousins, to great aunts twice removed, was here to celebrate.

I took a big sigh before heading down to the main house where everyone was. Making sure I looked good enough in my fairly new black dress, smoothing down my hair, and having to tone down my makeup since I was supposed to look like I wasn't wearing anything to create some illusion, or something. I don't actually know, I didn't pay attention when my mom was talking about that.

Opening the door basically alerted everyone of my presence. I entered the reception room where everyone was hanging around in, having a few drinks, and making the same small talk to the people they could and couldn't tolerate.

The first to notice me was my sister who came running at me, as if I had come back from the dead, "Oh I'm so glad you're here," she exclaimed, squeezing me so hard I think she forgot that I had to breathe.

"I'm happy to be here too, especially for you," I said, though she knew the first part was a lie, but definitely not the second part.

She finally pulled back, her eyes widening in happiness, "You have to meet my fiancé," she practically screamed, with a smile so big I'm surprised her face didn't hurt.

I smiled too, since her smile was always infectious, "I will soon, let me just make my way around the room before grandma writes me out the will for not greeting her the second I walk in," I joke, since I was probably actually already written out of multiple wills for running away.

"Okay, okay, I'll let you go, but you have too. Plus I think she'd rather give the dead hamster in the backyard more than us when she dies," my sister adds jokingly, referring to the hamster we had to bury when I was 7 and she was 5.

I take a deep breath, starting to move around the room. The second I see champagne, I quickly grab a glass to help encourage me to stay here and not just run out. Like I said, I started by greeting my grandma on my dad's side, who mentioned how I was 'too muscular' since I was an agent and being in top condition was basically a requirement if you don't like dying. My grandma on my mom's side was actually a lot nicer. Complimenting my hair, asking who my stylist was. She was never horrible, we just didn't talk much since her and my mom didn't get along well. My grandpa on my mom's side was nice too, admiring how I was an agent, and how I was in his words 'saving the world' which I thought was an overstatement.

Next came all the aunts and uncles. If I was lucky I could avoid the bad ones, or keep the small talk to a minimum, only spending time with the decent ones. On my dad's side I had three aunts and one uncle who were blood related. I caught up on some of my family's life from two of my aunts, and got more comments on how 'they could never possibly work such a vigorous job' and how 'I will one day realize how I made the wrong decision. I left those two quickly, heading to my favorite aunt who greeted me with open arms.

She filled me in on the actual family drama, who was mad at who, who divorced who, who was seeing who. She was an amazing aunt, and the only I truly remembered fully by name, the others I only really remembered when asked, or if they were at an event with me. But my aunt Kathy was amazing and always slipped me a couple of extra bucks, or nice shoes.

Soon I had to leave her and head towards more of my mom's side. My mom's side was...well...scary to say the least. They very much believed that I shouldn't be working, especially in a job like being an agent, so I knew I was in for some passive aggressive comments. My mom's side had three uncles, one of them being adopted, and two aunts who were like Madeline and Louise. They always gossiped, but not in a fun way like my aunt Kathy. More in a deceitful way, both of them were on their 4th divorce. I stopped keeping track at some point. Both talked about how my job was a crazy thing to do, and how they remember their teenage rebellious phase.

I left them before I got a headache, moving onto talking with my uncles. Besides that the two blood ones were a tad misogynistic, they were okay. They mostly talked about business, and how sales for equipment for agents was at an all time high, to which I just smiled and nodded, not really knowing what they were talking about.

The adopted one was my favorite uncle. While he wasn't blood related, he was the best in the family. He was always joking, and talked about how his sister was also an agent before losing her talent and becoming a secretary. We talked for a little bit till I spotted the person I was looking for.

My cousin Jade. I found her semi-hidden behind a plant, holding two glasses of champagne, mouthing the words to 'Maneater' as she hid her device that was playing the music she was listening to. I walked up behind her asking, "Are you listening to Maneater at a family party," which startled her.

"Christ, I thought you were one of the aunts coming to scold me," she said, relieved it wasn't one of our aunts, "And yes, it was. Its better than listening to stuffy small talk all night."

"You're not wrong," I said, agreeing with her statement, "Then again, drinking the fountain water is better than small talk." We continued our conversation for a while till we were all called for dinner.

The main dining room was big enough for both my mom and dad's side, plus their partners, and some of the older cousins from each side. The younger kids were sent to the other smaller dining room, where they were served their own stuff, and away from all the adult talk.

Dinner started off somewhat nicely. I stayed talking to Jade, who was next to me, my grandma from my dad's side on my other side, but she ignored me for the most part. Everything was going great, conversation was flowing, the food was nice, and everyone was giving my sister nice compliments and congratulations.

It was perfect, until it wasn't. My grandma who I was sitting next to had to pipe up and say, "You should take less food, no man would want someone built like you," while I was grabbing another piece of chicken.

Almost everyone either quieted down or went silent as her voice projected through the room. My uncle soon defended me, "There's no need to talk like that, let the girl eat." Sadly though that wasn't the end of that.

"Well, if we let her keep being like that then no man will marry her. Especially at this age, her sister is already getting married, and she doesn't even have a boyfriend," she said, meaning every word she said. I was only 20, my sister was 19. It was a one almost two year gap, yet she was still getting married young and before me. I chose my career over marriage, something I apparently wasn't supposed to do but did anyway.

Now others started talking. My two gossiping aunts said how, "Someone would probably marry me. I have to do something once my "talent" fades," putting talent in air quotes, as if my ability was nothing, or how, "Maybe he won't be rich like she was supposed to marry, but maybe she can trick some somewhat handsome guy."

"She's the one who's supposed to inherit their fortune?"

"I'd rather live in a swamp than look like her."

"At least I can get a boyfriend, and not have a job. She can't even get one and her job is just sad." My cousins said, insulting me like I wasn't there.

Everything felt surreal. I could feel Jade rubbing my arm trying to comfort me as she was talking to me, and on the other side of me was my grandma berating me for basically just existing. All the chatter around me of everyone pointing out my mistakes, and how I wasn't married felt overwhelming, making me want to cry.

What was worse though was how my parents didn't say anything. At least my sister tried to shush people and get them to stop. My parents did nothing though, maybe even added to the chatter.

I eventually got up, leaving the room. Tears stinging my eyes, the feeling almost as bad as the one my family made me feel. Jade tried grabbing my arm to get me to not leave, but she let me go, not following so i could have my space.

The second I walked into my part of the house and into my room, I could feel the tears pouring. I was leaning against my bed, trying to let everything process fully.

I didn't think I was that bad looking. I was usually complimented on my style or looks, even hit on once or twice, which I really didn't like, but still I thought I was still decent looking. My job wasn't the worst either. Especially at my age, most agents lost their talent by now, but I still had mine and it was working better than ever. Yet, no matter how much I tried to reassure myself, their comments still got to me.

I didn't even hear Anthony enter the house, or even my room. But the next thing I knew, he was right in front of me, holding me, asking what was wrong. I told him everything. I don't think I'd seen someone more shocked before.

He shook his head, looking me in my eyes, "Your family is wrong. You're gorgeous, don't listen to them," he said, trying to comfort me, "And, you're one of the best agents in the world, and I say that with full confidence. You're amazing, please don't listen to them darling." He held me for a little bit longer, continuing to comfort me.

Soon he got up, getting ready for bed, as I did the same. We got situated in bed for the night. There was only one bed, but we decided to be mature about it and just sleep in the same bed. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, and it's just for two nights.

We were originally somewhat far apart from each other, before I turned towards him, "Anthony," I said, my voice rather small.

He turned towards me, "Yes, darling," he said, his voice low and tired.

I took a breath before I asked, "Did you really mean what you said?" thinking that maybe he only said it to be nice.

"I meant every word, love," he told me, moving his hand to wrap around my waist pulling me close to him, "Why don't you get some sleep. Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it in the morning," he told me.

I didn't know what he meant, but I was tired from the day's events, and drifted off into sleep in his arms. He held me close the entire night, my head on his chest, with his arms wrapped around my waist.

Taglist (ask to be added)

@almost-gabrielle @scarlett-8 @archiveoftara

[sugoi-writes]

Scream Machine! Readers... here's some lightly-explicit juice to hold you over. 🥴💦

Keep in mind I'm still editing and some of this may or may not end up in the final version.

Alastor crawls over you, having to stoop so you weren't eye-level with his sternum," Keep in mind... I am not usually one to-- well--" You pick up on a flush crawling over the bridge of his nose, his eye twitching," I dont like being disrobed. And I especially dont like others to see me like that, either... but I still intend to give you every once of pleasure I can outside of it. For now."

You eyebrows raise as you nod," That's fair, that's understandable... you haven't seen me naked either.... yet." You move your hands to the straps of your dress, pausing before you move your hands lower," If you'd like to see, that is...?"

Alastor's eyes seem lost for a moment, a familiar haze crossing his features before he refocuses on your patient hands," I would like to see, if you'll have me."

You nod, your heart swelling at the stark parallel between earlier and now. His actions in alley were not unwelcome, but you almost felt more excited by his nervous, reserved energy. You start to remove your dress, Alastor assisting with slow, exploring hands. He relished the little noises you made when he caresses a spot you like, or shifts the fabric below your perk nipples.

You didn't mind that Alastor was hesitant about disrobing himself, and even with how suddenly your passions ignited... You've had a dreamt about this demon numerous times. Your confidence in presenting yourself to him was built up over a startling amount of sleepless nights, and evenings filled with desperate sighs of frustration.

Alastor discarded your dress with a flick of the wrist, eyes settling on your body with gleaming eyes. The energy he had wasn't to consume you, and it wasn't animalistic... it was warm, curious; filled with an almost innocent adoration.

There was so much to take in about your form, and so many things to appreciate with his eyes and hands... he couldn't tell where he should touch first. He wasn't sure what you preferred, and suddenly, he felt his body lock up, unable to perform. You chuckle as your hand comes up to his face, forcing him to look your way. You picked up on the anxiety almost instantly, making Alastor feel more self conscious. Was his guard THAT low???

"We don't have to do this, you know. If it's too soon, I don't mind waiting, sir." Alastor leaned into the touch, smiling and turning to kiss your warm palm. How forgiving and patient you were... he almost felt unworthy of it.

"Forgive me, I do want this. 'Just... lost in the possibilities." You look up to him with an honesty that has his heart clenching, and a heat starting to bubble in his core. He saw that bravado, that confidence take over: it served as a stark contrast to his eyes, which reveal the truest form of himself.

A deer in the headlights.

"I can show you what I'd like you to do to me, if that helps."

Alastor's eyes practically flutter as your hand teases along your hips, landing just below your collarbones. His ears twitch forward as you let out a pleased sigh, his chest expanding as he took a larger breath. His exhale shook with temptation.

Alastor straddles your hips and moves his hands underneath yours, allowing you to grab his wrists. Just this once, he would allow you the honor of taking the initiative.

" Then lead the way, darling."

[helloporcelain]

Brûlant

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Gale/Astarion Rating: Explicit Tags: porn without plot, dubious consent, inappropriate use of mage hand, blowjob, rimming, frottage, blood drinking, handjob, jerking off with blood, sex pollen

Summary: “…Precisely how much of this spider’s blood did you consume?” Gale asks, his hands brushing Astarion’s hair off his soaked forehead. The touch makes the unbearable, painful heat in his body squeeze around him like a heavy chain. “You’re scorching. You could give Karlach a run for all her gold.”

Read on AO3 if you prefer

It’s not the first time that Astarion’s thoughts linger too long on Gale. But it is the first time that the temptation to feed on him is truly born.

They’re at the goblin camp finishing off the last of their enemies when he notices the mage clutching his stomach. Stains mar Gale's usually pristine robe: vivid crimson mingling with golden embroidery and velvety plum fabric. Gale has never been injured to this extent before – and the smell of his blood is so insane that it takes Astarion a minute to actually register it as blood; it’s an unapologetic, scorching assault that stings his nostrils. It burns to breathe it in, like inhaling the acrid, heavy bite of smoke after lightning strikes the soil of the earth in a fury.   

His curious gaze is clearly too obvious because Gale huffs at him. “Careful, Astarion. I'd exercise some self control if I were you. I'm fairly certain that indulging in my blood would lead to some rather disagreeable consequences for you." 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he sniffs, scrunching his nose up. “What the hells is wrong with your blood? The stench of it – it’s utterly disturbing.”

A wry smile crosses Gale’s lips even as he winces over his wounded abdomen. 

“Perhaps the weave has granted me a natural act of defense. A deterrent to all creatures who might wish to devour me.” 

"Well, it didn't do you any good here, did it?" Astarion drawls, playing his part of disinterest. "Consider me deterred, darling. A carrion crawler would be a treat compared to your freakish blood.” He tips his head backwards lazily towards the rest of the group fishing their arrows and swords out of fleshy goblin chests. “Somebody better tend to the soft little mage before he bleeds out.” 

Gale clears his throat, maintaining his composure. “I can manage this just fine, thank you,” he insists. “The sooner we distance ourselves away from this fetid pile of corpses, the better.” 

His bloodied form taunts Astarion the entire time as they get back on the trail, his head full with the noxious scent, pouding at the back of his skull – he barely contains the urge to shove Gale into Shadowheart so she can heal him, but the mage is too stubborn in making a show of how able he is. When they finally reach their home for the night, the group splits apart, and Astarion does his best to maintain some distance without coming across as too disturbed, even as Gale’s blood still accosts him in the air. With his feet aching from the long day, Astarion settles on a log and pulls out his arrows to wipe them clean of any lingering fleshy bits. Tav and Karlach start gleefully comparing all the stolen fruits of their labor they’ve gathered from the day as Wyll and Lae’zel hover over them to stake a claim on any well-crafted weapons.  From the corner of his eye, Astarion sees Gale waving Shadowheart off, trying to step away to his tent, but her hand shoots out to pinch the fabric on his shoulders.  

“Don’t be stubborn,” Shadowheart demands. “Let me see.” 

“Ah, it’s just a scratch, really. Nothing I can’t sort out myself.”

“Sit, Gale, or I might just have to tie you down.” 

Gale’s face flushes at the idea, but he relents and settles down on the bench next to Astarion, who tightens his lips at the proximity of him. Get away from me, Astarion wants to snarl. The smell of Gale is— is horrible, it’s awful. And irritatingly fascinating. He focuses his attention on his arrows, fixating on making them completely spotless, ignoring the gooseflesh rising on his neck from the pungent scent filling his head.

Gale shrugs aside his blood-soaked robe. He doesn’t notice when it misses the bench and falls to the ground in a heavy crumple. But Astarion does.

Halsin pops up behind the two — he’s chosen to spend the night here, and Tav is eyeing him suspiciously fondly — towering over and eclipsing Astarion from their view. Gods, he is big – the sheer magnitude of the elf is staggering, leaving Astarion momentarily awestruck. 

“Might I suggest an alternative?” Halsin asks. “I am a healer of some renown, if I may cast aside modesty for a moment.” 

Shadowheart considers this, and amidst their back and forth (with Gale flitting his eyes between them and wondering when they’ll decide to finally heal him already!), Astarion snatches up the garment discreetly and slips away. He doesn’t know why he does this— he wants to say he’s been compelled! That some mysterious force is urging him to do this! But that would be a bold-faced fucking lie. No – there’s an even worse reason – something innate, something primal that guides him to steal the damn robe. 

In the dim privacy of his tent, Astarion carefully unfurls Gale's bloodied cloak. He turns it over in his hands and presses his fingers into the wet fabric, the stains practically pulsing underneath his touch. He traces his fingers along the ridges and then raises them to his lips. Astarion’s throat goes dry. The smell of it sends a searing burn down his throat.

The idea of consuming the essence of magic itself is fucking tantilizing .

But he takes heed of Gale’s warning. The wizard is many things – a love-bruised, disgraced prodigy being one of them – but an exaggerator? Hmm. Perhaps not. The blood is probably (no, definitely) vile, and Astarion is in no mood to try a sample and contend with the potential of vomit and the subsequent clean up. Still, it doesn’t mean he can’t just… ponder it. Heat pools in Astarion’s stomach as he contemplates the way it would feel to have an inkling of the power living in Gale’s veins, to claim a fragment of it for himself.

His cock twitches when his mind inadvertently takes it a step further: how Gale might sound pinned under him, how he might arch and drool as Astarion fucks him into the ground. To shut Gale up for once and claim him , bent over, hands tied behind his back, neck stretched out.. 

It sends his mind into a tailspin, and Astarion knows he needs to go back out there and toss the dirty, unsightly thing back on the ground.

Instead, he brings the cloak up to his nose and holds it close, breathing it in. Astarion is near intoxicated from the razor-sharp scent of it alone, barely aware of what he’s doing as he stuffs a hand into his pants, grabbing at his length. His cock springs free from its confines, exposing itself to the cool air. He strokes up and down, working it to a full hardness, then he holds his breath. An intense idea overcomes him. What is wrong with his brain? Why is he doing this? No answers come to his mind as he wraps the fabric around his cock. His hips buck against it, cock drooling precum into the soft friction of the velvet, mixing in with the blood. 

Astarion concentrates on staying quiet even with his tent being the furthest away from the others, what with the others still unpacking from the day and chattering about, but the sensation has him hissing. It becomes a mission: there’s urgency in the way he moves, anger even, to come as fast as he can. He arches into both hands and fucks into Gale’s cloak, struggling to keep his breath steady amidst the strange, charred scent that fills the air. 

The sight of Gale’s blood coating around Astarion’s cock gets him off so fast that he’ll never have the gall to admit it, and he allows himself a quiet grunt as his cum soaks into his fabric wrapped fist. When his orgasm dies down, Astarion bites out a humorless chuckle. Well , he thinks flatly, I really need a bath now .

He also somehow really wants to eat still, he realizes, his stomach churning despite dining on bugbears and goblins. 

Astarion remembers some boar tracks on the trail east of the camp and doesn’t spare another second –  he grabs the cum soiled cloak and throws it into his sack, along with a change of clothes and a fresh jar for any extra blood. Not that he ends up needing it — Astarion is particularly vicious about his meal, for not only does he drain the boar completely dry, but he makes an utter mess of it too: ripping apart its neck and clawing its chest open for no reason at all, other than that he simply can . 

An hour later, he emerges from the woods, freshly bathed and belly bloated. The camp is quiet now, save for the sounds of an owl hooting nearby and the gentle licks of the campfire’s flames. Everyone has gone to bed, eager to start a new day. Everyone except for Gale, who’s tracing his steps in circles to find his missing cloak. It's no ordinary cloak; it's his absolute favorite one, he can’t help but grumble to himself.

"Did someone really just toss it away?”

Astarion skulks up to him from the shadows, causing Gale to lurch with surprise, hand flying to his chest. “Oh!” 

“I washed it for you.” With zero grace, Astarion throws the cloak at Gale, damp, but now clean of cum and blood. 

Gale catches the garment, eyes furrowed as he untangles it with delicate care. His eyes scan it over to see if Astarion has perhaps messed with it – which, well… 

“You know, I really could’ve just used my magic to clean it.”

“I was gagging at the foul odor, waiting for those two to finish with you, so it was either that or burn it in the fire. Gods know I would not be able to handle you drone on about how you missed such an antique article of clothing.”  

“I’m going to go ahead and choose to believe that you were just being uncharacteristically thoughtful, Astarion, so for that, I will thank you.” Gale waves his hand to the bottle of wine nestled up against the log. “Care to join me for a drink? Tav swiped this vintage red and it feels far too selfish for me to finish the bottle myself.” 

Astarion purses his lips. “Why not,” he replies, grabbing a goblet and letting Gale fill it halfway with the wine. “What’s so special about this cloak anyway? Surely not because it’s in fashion.” 

Gale proceeds to yap on and on about why the cloak is so near and dear to his heart, how his mother had painstakingly sewn it herself, and Astarion actually sits there and listens to the whole thing while he sharpens his dagger with a whetstone in between sips from his chalice. The worst realization of the night is not that he needs to keep his distance from an injured, bloodied Gale from now on (lest his brain gets carried away with the notion of devouring and fucking Gale again), but that Astarion finds him… endearing? 

How twee. 

✼✼  

Tonight, Gale cooks entirely without any magic.

Karlach and Lae’zel return from hunting with a bountiful sack of rothe meat, fresh for the hearty stew that Gale intends to prepare for their supper. 

“You'll see,” Halsin tells him, igniting the fire beneath the cauldron as Gale extracts an assortment of spices and herbs from a weathered wooden box. “To appreciate the experience of cooking with only your bare hands – without any arcane assistance - it's a fresh perspective, a new joy.” 

“I believe you,” Gale acknowledges, tenderizing the meat with a small mallet. “That’s not to say that I completely understand the appeal of taking the longer route. Work smarter, not harder, eh? Multitasking is a wondrous thing! Back in my tower, I could have the pot simmering, a pin kneading dough for my bread rolls, and savor a delightful cup of earl grey – all without worrying about keeping a watchful eye on it.” 

Halsin smiles, rising from the floor. “Well, here, you are not alone. There are many eyes to assist you.” He proceeds to enlist some of the others to help out with chopping vegetables, setting up plates and silverware on makeshift tables. Astarion is relaxed and reading as this goes on, taking in the last of the day’s sunrays. (Warmth hasn’t lost its novelty – it never will.) 

The rest of the group buzzes as everyone waits for Gale to work his culinary magic. Tav can’t help but hover over Gale’s shoulder with curiosity (‘ The onions I found weren’t too moldy?’ they ask), asking how everything is coming together and Gale is so enthusiastic about it all that his big eyes seem to just sparkle with delight — and ugh – isn’t he just adorable . Astarion buries his nose back into his book – some terrible pulp erotica he’s picked up somewhere – not at all interested in the commotion around him. 

When supper's finally prepared, the group gathers with hungry anticipation. Moans of delight fill the air as they all dig into their meal, and Gale looks particularly satisfied with himself. “You’re right, Halsin,” he says, holding his bowl on his lap, surveying them all. “Something special about tonight’s dinner indeed.”

“It is acceptable,” Lae’zel muses, staring thoughtfully into her quickly emptying bowl. Wyll grunts with admiration, his mouth full of food. 

“Why even bother trying to be the greatest wizard of all time?” Shadowheart jokes. “You’d make a fine house husband with the way we’re all fawning over this meal. I mean, Halsin is practically in an otherworldly state right now,” and she nods at Halsin who’s finished his meal so quickly that he’s just sitting there with a satisfied smile. 

Karlach shoves in a mouthful of potatoes with gusto. She looks at Astarion with a sorrowful shake of her head. “Aw, Astarion, it’s too bad you vampires don’t need to eat, you’re missing out on some culinary genius here.” 

He looks up from the pages of his book and lifts an eyebrow at the mess on the corner of Karlach's lips. “Well, I can still enjoy the flavor of something, if you’re curious about that; though I have a taste for the luxurious – and a meal made with the leftovers of near rotten produce is not exactly something that appeals to me. But! You know. I’m sure it’s very good. To a plebian without a refined palette.” 

Gale offers a good-natured rebuttal. “I admit, I don’t exactly have the farmer’s market available to me right now, but I think I’ve done an all right job with what I was given.”

“Oh come off it Gale, this is the best meal I’ve had in ages.” She points accusingly at Astarion with her spoon. “And nothing about you is luxurious right now,” she says, making a face at the word, “You’ve been wearing the same doublet for the last week.” Astarion scoffs and straightens up in embarrassment at her comment. “Try it. I dare you to try and tell me it is not fucking delicious .” She grabs the book from his hands, squints her eyes at the cover, and pushes her bowl towards him.

Gale looks at him somewhat expectantly with those damned puppy eyes and the entire party is now goading him to try it, so— Astarion decides he’ll humor them. It’ll be funny when he’s correct about the food being perfectly average.

“Fine.” 

He takes a spoonful from Karlach’s bowl and brings it to his lips. The moment the stew touches his tongue, his flat expression changes and his eyes widen. It’s an unexpected delight. It’s savory and rich and perfectly seasoned and damn it, where did he learn to cook like this? In truth, Astarion hasn’t thought about “real food” in so many years. In the moments where he was at a tavern scoping for victims or entertaining Cazador’s guests at a ball, it never crossed his mind to indulge just for the sake of flavor – it would’ve felt like a cruel, pointless delusion to partake in when he was so starved of blood.

And though the stew does nothing to sate his true hunger; it’s a bittersweet joy, a tugging reminder that at one time, he could’ve been here as another version of himself, filling himself up on a meal made with such careful tenderness. The corners of his lips curl upward as he takes another bite, and then another. Gale, who’s watching him with anticipation, practically beams with satisfaction. 

“Was I wrong!?” Karlach exclaims, slapping at her thighs with enthusiasm. 

"You’ve forgotten a key part of this meal," Gale says, reaching over to the wooden trunk acting as a serving table. “You have got to try it with some of the bread, the crunch makes it a perfect little bite.” He reaches for the loaf, slicing a portion for Astarion. But before he’s done with it, the blade slips from his fingers, nicking his thumb in the process. He tsks, and blood quickly wells up from the cut, a droplet falling onto the ground as he brings it up to his mouth to suck the rest away.

“Ah, and this is why magic is a man’s best tool, in and out of the kitchen.” 

Gale wipes his finger on his pants and swaps to the other hand to hand Astarion the piece of bread, but Astarion is stiff and locked onto the sight of the petite ruby droplets rising from the tip of his thumb. He blinks, and Gale looks down at his hand, then raises his eyes back to meet Astarion’s. When he opens his mouth to say something – no doubt something unhelpful and insufferable – Astarion cuts him off.  

"It isn’t that good,” he snaps, not letting the look on Gale’s face stop him from getting up from his seat and slamming the bowl down on the wooden trunk. “I think it's time I go get my real dinner.” Astarion needs to eat something, anything . With heavy, tense steps, he storms off, disappearing into the forest. 

He can’t recall later how many carcasses he leaves out there in the woods, or even what kind of animals had the misfortune of being found by him  —  perhaps some rabbits — but he remembers that he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, until the only feeling that remains is a piercing ache deep within his belly. That’s one way to keep your appetite in check, he supposes. 

✼✼  

In all honesty, Astarion’s not even hungry. But he figures it can’t hurt to eat one last big meal before they make it to Grymforge and into the Shadow-Cursed lands where they’ll be stuck mucking about in for Gods know how long. 

He slips away from camp to skulk around the caves near them, unfamiliar with the territory and wary of all the strange little creatures hopping about. He scopes over the area to ensure there aren’t any poisonous spores floating in the air and wracks his mind over his mental notes to remember what animals Tav had told him to avoid out here, and that’s when he smells it: a plump spider nestled away in a small cavern. 

Sure, Astarion is used to mammals, having sworn off the idea of insects completely since his newfound freedom, but it smells positively mouthwatering, and there’s no rules, no person, to tell him what he can and cannot eat – or do – anymore. 

He considers the spider, looking over it not once, not twice but three times just to consider its viability, and he decides that it is perfectly suitable for a meal. He descends on the creature without any resistance whatsoever – it seems like it is sleeping, or sluggish, but Astarion can hardly question it as he drinks from it, mind clouding over from the craving he has for it. The spider’s ichor is a peculiar blend of something sweet and milky and almost sour, and Astarion drains it all from the creature until it shrinks away to a withered husk of its former glory.

There’s a mild cramp at first as the blood courses through him slowly, and he chalks it up to simply overindulging – he’s gotten somewhat used to gorging himself over the past few weeks, like a youngling set loose in a kitchen full of sweets. But with each passing step, Astarion feels an unfamiliar, searing warmth spreading from his stomach, a sensation that grows increasingly intense. He swallows through his prickly throat, trying to focus on his steps to navigate his way back. 

He’s hot, and gods, it is a foreign sensation, is this how it normally feels? He doesn’t remember. But better question is – why is he so fucking hot? Astarion starts to burn up as if scorching needles are being threaded through his veins. The heat is centered in his face at first, making his pallid skin flush with a ruddy hue as it snakes through his chest, twisting through his tendons; then, it is everywhere inside, the worst of it contained within flames coursing down his thighs, threatening to send him sprawling to the ground. The pain coils through his body, the intensity of it rising higher and higher as he trips over the tangled roots of plant life.  

Astarion makes it to the camp, but just barely. 

He stumbles back in a daze, mouth fuzzy as if stuffed to the brim with cotton, eyes delirious as he searches the camp for the tiny basin Shadowheart found earlier to dunk himself in. I just need a bath, he thinks dizzily, a nice, cold bath. 

With hazy vision and a throbbing head, he finally spots the tub, hidden in a little corner around the camp. There's a tiny moment of relief as he hobbles toward it. His hands tremble as he gets closer, ready to dive into it even with his clothes on. But as Astarion approaches, his focus sharpens, and he realizes that someone is already in it.

“Get out,” Astarion demands. 

The water swishes as Gale swivels his head around to look at him. He raises an eyebrow. “I took you as a man with more manners than that, Astarion. I only just got in and I would greatly appreciate not being rushed.” 

“I’m not joking around, Gale, get out of the tub,” he says, his fingers twitching at his sides. He’s always lamented the lack of warmth in his body, but now it just seems like a particularly cruel joke that he feels like he’s been set on fucking fire. Astarion lets out a sound of frustration as his hands lunge into the water, unable to wait for Gale, and not caring that it's warm. His movements are frenzied as he splashes water onto his overheated face over and over, gasping as the liquid does nothing to soothe his skin. 

Gale leans back with a baffled expression as Astarion’s fingers plunge around in the water. Beads of sweat trickle down his neck. “Shit,” Astarion says, wiping his face dry with his sleeve. He flicks his eyes back at Gale, actually taking in the sight of him sitting in the tub (the sight of his soft chest, his surprisingly broad arms) and he stumbles backwards when his cock twitches and his stomach lurches at the scent of him. 

He smells so good: a whirl of black tea, mugwort, hints of acacia, woody and clean – “Shit.” 

He runs his shaking hands over his face and looks away, breathing deeply to try to calm himself down. To try and make sense of the savage feeling building underneath the thin barrier of his embarrassment. 

“Something is wrong with you. What in the hells did you do, Astarion?”

Gale’s voice brings him back to looking at him, but thank Gods — Astarion’s not sure if it is magic, or if his sense of time is off or if Gale is simply more dexterous than he seems, because he’s out of the tub and fully dressed in his robe, adjusting the collar back into its proper position.

“I –” Astarion scoffs, indignant at the idea that this is a result of his own actions. “I didn’t do anything. I had dinner. That’s– that’s all I did.”

“And what exactly, pray tell, did you eat? Were you mindful of all the animals that Tav said you could feed from?”

“Of course I was, I’m not a nitwit.” But he hesitates when Gale squints his eyes at him. “I found a spider.” 

“A spider? Is that a frequent occurrence for you? Imbibing on the blood of arachnids? I admit, I lack extensive knowledge about vampire diets, but it doesn't seem to be particularly suitable –” “It smelled good ,” Astarion replies defensively, his voice cracking under an increasing sense of panic. “So I drank from it. As I am wont to do.” 

“And how did it taste? What did it smell like?” 

“It was – oh, I don’t know, milky? Bizarre in hindsight, but it was strangely appetizing. And — come to think of it, it didn’t even stir when I approached it.” 

Something goes off in Gale’s brain and his eyes open with understanding. "Succubi spittle perhaps," Gale remarks as he scrutinizes Astarion's increasingly haggard appearance. "If my understanding of the fluid is correct, it's something one should be very wary of.”

“Get to the point, Gale.” “You consumed tainted blood from a spider that was likely dying from the effects of succubi spittle. That is… very bad.”

“Clearly – what’s going to happen to me?” Astarion chokes out, taking a step towards Gale. There’s a furious, irritated rash blooming now all over his skin, going down his torso and disappearing under the trousers that are stretched tight against his body. “I feel like I’m going to rip my skin off.”

Gale doesn’t seem nearly as alarmed as he should be as he cups his chin with his fingers and thinks. “The longer this spittle is in your body, the sooner you are bound to deteriorate. From what I’ve read, you’ll eventually find yourself reduced to hallucinatory, almost euphoric state, and if you’ve consumed a high enough concentration of it – you could move on to causing bodily harm to yourself, perhaps even death; which could happen through a few methods, such as incessant scratching or–” 

"Enough!" Astarion silences Gale with a wave of his hand. “I’ve heard enough! I'm going to Shadowheart.” 

Astarion’s stomach twists and turns as he moves past him with urgency, but the mage’s fingers shoot out like a bolt, wrapping firmly around his wrist. The touch sends an electrifying surge through his body and straight to his cock, making him recoil from Gale in shock. 

“Fuck,” Astarion hisses. He glances down at his pants and can see them straining. And if Gale notices, well, he doesn’t comment on it.

“I’m afraid she can’t help you with this – well – unless… Ahem, allow me to clarify. There isn’t an antidote for this particular affliction, not in the form of a potion or spell, anyway. But you’re lucky, the cure is quite simple. You need to…” 

Gale chooses his next words carefully. 

“Well, normally, you could bed someone and be rid of it. So, essentially, in a manner of speaking, you need to flush it out of your body immediately.” 

Astarion narrows his eyes, letting the insinuation sink into his brain. 

“I see. Well. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Right.” Gale steps to the side, scratching at his head.  

An agonized groan escapes from Astarion on his second step. The world swirls around him, and he loses balance, crumpling to his knees. His arms tremble as he tries to maintain his precarious balance. “This can't possibly be how I meet my end! This is far too pitiful for me."

“My fanged friend,” Gale bends down slightly to grasp his shoulders, unaware that his touch makes his cock pulse with precum. His voice stirs something fizzy in Astarion’s stomach, his brain swoops, and he can’t help it – he moans . Astarion tries to push the invading thoughts out of his brain, but they beat back at him, filling his mind with images of ripping away Gale’s clothes, shoving him into the ground, stretching him out – 

"No need for the dramatics. I can help you back to your tent, but after that, you’ll need to muster the strength to combat this condition." 

Never in his life – even throughout the endless forms of torture he’s endured under Cazador’s hands – has Astarion ever felt like his cock might rot and fall off, but he’s certain he’ll have to prepare a eulogy for it now. It takes everything in him to not reach out and grab Gale to ravage his mouth, his stomach twisting in agony at suppressing his urges. With desperation, he tugs at Gale's robes. 

“I can’t feel my legs.” 

He heaves a cough, and then a deafening ringing weighs down in his ears. Gale’s lips are moving but there’s nothing coming out of them. Astarion’s mind glazes over so quickly that he’s hardly aware of being carried back to his bedroll, where he ends up sprawled on his back. Throbbing, white-hot lust singes through his body and coats deep in his core as he sucks in rapid breaths of air. His eyes clench shut in agony when the unbearable itch moves through his body and settles on his thighs.

“Astarion,” he hears Gale’s voice floating back into his head. He sounds so far away, but Astarion knows he’s right there, because a hand gently smacks at his cheek. He flinches as another wave rolls through his body at the touch. “I’ve brought you to your tent. Can you open your eyes? I should take my leave, though it would be very uncomfortable for me to explain to the others how you died.” 

“Died? Don’t you dare leave! No, no, stay and help me.”

“I’ll remind you again, Astarion, you can’t be healed of this, you need to–” 

“I heard you the first – gods, ugh – the first time.”

His eyes flutter open to see Gale sitting beside him, tense with worry. Astarion doesn’t register it, because suddenly, everything is so much slower around him. Everything in his vision dips, and then he only notices the wizard’s eyes swirling like rich brandy and dissolved sugar cubes so bright they could burn a hole in his body. There is a whole galaxy swimming and humming in Gale’s chest and all Astarion can think of is how he wants to plunge himself into it, to wrap his hands around the magic nestled deep inside and to squeeze until Gale comes undone under him and — 

“ Oh ,” Astarion breathes, eyes drooping into glassy little crescents. Well, if this is how he dies, Astarion thinks, this is how he dies. A shame that he’ll never get to plunge a stake through Cazador’s chest. “Death is so beautiful.” 

“...Precisely how much of this spider’s blood did you consume?” Gale asks, his hands brushing Astarion’s hair off his soaked forehead. The touch makes the unbearable, painful heat in his body squeeze around him like a heavy chain. “You’re scorching. You could give Karlach a run for all her gold.” 

“All of it,” he barks out a harsh laugh. “Of course. Of course you drank all of the tainted spider blood. And of course – I'm the one that has the misfortune of being the only one awake when you come back from feeding on said spider...” Gale trails off, shaking his head.

"I loathe," Astarion grits out as he aggressively scratches at his neck, his long, sharp nails scraping vivid red lines under his jaw, “wasting a good meal. Wouldn’t you know something about that?”

Gale stays silent, taking in a deep breath of frustration as he conjures a spell and casts it on Astarion. His arms drop sharply to his sides and his eyes shift to Gale’s face in confusion and anger.

“Clearly, you cannot be trusted to be in charge of your own limbs right now.” There is an agonizingly long pause before Gale sighs, and continues, “And yes, you’re right, I can't fault you. I do know what it means to quell your hunger, lest the maddening thirst overwhelms you.” 

Astarion’s eyes grow wider and wider until his mouth falls wide open into the most feverish smile. “A lesson in overindulgence, slow down on your next decadent meal of boots, wizard…” 

His face drops. 

“Wait, I’m dead. I’m dead?” 

“You are not dead.”

“I’m dying, then?”

"While I'm certainly no cleric, I can safely say you’re not dying – but you are in a state of delirium."

“Okay. Okay, if I’m not dead,” he says, blinking up at Gale, trying to get rid of the stars speckling in his eyes. “Then you can help me purge this from my body – and I do mean help.” 

“Help…” He stares down at Astarion with a look of disbelief. “Help, help? Ha! Yes, you are definitely out of your mind.” 

“You’ve only made this worse by touching me and– and smelling so good – only a buffoon would touch the person in literal heat. My body has decided that it – needs you.” 

“I,” Gale starts and stops, his mouth settling into a thin, mortified line. 

“What good is a mage who doesn’t make use of his magic in times of true need?” Astarion babbles. “I can’t do it myself, and you don’t have to either, just. Let a mage hand do it. It’s not like it’s you’re actually touching me – we wouldn’t want that – but this way we can get it out without provoking me into a frenzied itching fit."

“I suppose I can make some concessions and — help you. We are both grown men, after all, and this is an emergency. However, we will be having a long chat about your lack of self preservation later,” Gale warns. He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable, but then he conjures up the mage hand, and Astarion strains his head to glance in its direction. His vision corrects itself a few times, eyes crossing under his half open lids until he sees spectral hands, glowing a dim sapphire, poised and ready for its next command. Its cool fingers brush up his thigh, the vague touch causing little pin pricks to shudder down his spine, stopping at the top of his waistband. 

“Err — are you ready?” 

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Astarion hisses. 

His head feels too heavy for him to lift up anymore, and it falls back onto the pillow with a thud. The itch in his body is so extreme that he doesn’t even care how pathetic he looks right now, but a voice in the back of his mind shouts at him: it's not too late to turn back – you’ve lost enough of your dignity, tell Gale to leave! Deal with this on your own, weakling! Astarion stuffs it back into a crevice in his mind; right now, relief is all that matters. This – this desire is weakness, he knows, but he has an excuse this time. It’s the spittle… it’s not him. 

“I’m only looking to see if there’s anything else abnormal going on,” Gale assures him. “Not a second further.” 

The hand tugs at the fabric of his pants, then, his underwear; and he holds back a groan as his length is freed from the confines of his pants, rock solid and rigid. His cock is so extremely skin taut and bulging to the head, it looks like it’s suffocating at the tip. It seems almost bruised, tinged with deep shades of purple, nearly black at some spots. Gale coughs as he sees it for just a second before turning his head to the ceiling. 

“What? What is it?” he strains, unable to muster up the strength to lift his head up to take a peek at what’s happening between his legs. 

“The hue of it… I can’t imagine that such discoloration is normal for you, regardless of your undead nature.” 

“Speak. Plainly.” Astarion grits out between his teeth. 

“It’s purple.”

“Purple? My cock?”

“…Yes.” 

“Oh –  gods. It’s going to fall off. I’m going to lose my cock. I’m going to be a eunuch,” he splutters.

“You are not going to lose anything. If I can’t fix this then I’ll have to truly evaluate my skills as a wizard.”  

He shudders out a heavy breath as Gale commands the hand to touch his cock. It’s a gentle touch, hesitant to do anything more. “This year, Gale,” Astarion croaks. The fingers wrap loosely around him, and that’s enough to make him take a sharp breath. It starts to slowly stroke up and down, squeezing when it reaches the head, the magic radiating from the conjured hand seemingly sparking through his cock. "Faster." The hand falters for a second, before it follows his directions and works along his cock with more intensity. A tense minute of this passes before Gale breaks the heavy, shuddering silence. 

“Is… is it all right?” 

“Yes,” Astarion answers, but he thinks what he really needs is Gale’s touch – his real hands, not some conjured imagination of them. “No – yes, but no, I need – I need – touch me,” he begs, fucking begs. If he was in a less unhinged state, Astarion would throw up from how pitiful he sounds. 

“I am touching you,” Gale reminds him.

"Gale, damn it.” He barely notices the heavy way that Gale swallows through his dry mouth. “That’s not what I mean.” 

The mage hand continues to move up and down in a seamless glide, spreading his precum around, coating his cock slick. Astarion’s so hard he could cut through steel, it’s so painful, and he’s leaking a puddle against his stomach. It feels good— yet... It’s. Not. Enough. He can’t come from this alone. His head tilts back as he pants, his hips attempting to hump up against the conjured hand for more. “It hurts. It hurts so badly.”

Gale finally turns his head away from the tent’s ceiling to look at Astarion. His perturbed eyes bear into his skull. He’s thinking, weighing an idea.

“Please remember,” he mutters. “You asked me to touch you.” 

With some degree of hesitance, he reaches a hand out to rub his fingers along the outside of Astarion’s right ear, gentle as he moves root to tip, running his thumb along the inner surface. Astarion lets out a gravelly moan, eyes crossing over as his mind is flooded with even more pleasure. Such an intimate act – reserved for the most cherished of lovers, Gale must know this – is not one that he can recall ever experiencing. Astarion’s reaction is instant; the caress has him trembling and on the brink of tears. At the same time, the arcane hand wraps its slick fingers tighter around his cock and gives faster, firmer strokes, twisting at the base and rubbing its thumb over the head with each pull.

“It feels – okay?” Gale asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion chokes out something between a laugh of disbelief and a whiney moan – what a stupid question, what a completely insensible thing to ask!

“Ta,” he slurs, mind short circuiting, unable to push the answer – yes –  out in common tongue. 

Gale thankfully knows Elvish, he remembers, though it wouldn’t matter much if he didn’t, because anyone with half a brain can tell that whatever is going on is very much alright with Astarion. Another hand reaches out to curl over the shell of his left ear, fingers rubbing back and forth between the tip, down to gingerly pinching his earlobe.

Astarion writhes, deep gasps turning into shuddering purrs from his ears being stimulated. Frankly, it feels fucking shameless – the sensation overshadowing the thrusts of his cock against the mage hand. The only thing better that he can possibly imagine would be to have Gale’s pretty lips wrapped around his cock – and though he knows vaguely that there isn’t a chance Gale will relent to that idea, he groans at the image, terribly pained, and horrifyingly, overwhelmingly aroused. 

Gale probably mistakes the groan of pleasure for only a pained sound, because he whispers to him with sincerity, “You’re okay, Astarion. It’ll be over soon. You’re doing – you’re doing good. ”

The comforting tone pulls a pathetic whimper from Astarion and he looks up at Gale, eyes pitched dark in lust as the hand pumps his cock. Astarion meets each one with a thrust of his own. Gale tries to break his gaze and fails, his own face flushed with arousal, his chest dimly glowing in the darkness of the tent. Astarion doesn’t recognize the voice coming from his throat, whining for more, quicker, harder.

“Déithe. Le do thoil.” 

Gods. Please. 

The pace of the mage hand stroking his length speeds up, fist clenching more and more each time as it reaches around his tip, and Astarion feels the wave of his orgasm spiraling out from his belly already like Gale is actually pulling it out from him with a spell. His breath hitches, and his cock pulses with cum – so much cum –and it spills all over the blue fingers, thick and hot and seemingly endless. True relief washes through him, but it’s also agonizing in its own way, and Astarion can't help when a grateful, broken sob wrecks through his chest. It’s over. Finally. 

“Buíochas, buíochas, thank you–” 

Before Astarion can even register it, the relief is short lived, and his cock is still hard as ever, still the same unsightly shade of purple. What the fuck. It’s as if Gale didn’t help at all. The only comfort is that the itch burning through his body has subsided. He can feel his legs again, and it seems that the spell on his arms has worn off. But his lust is full throttle, somehow worse than before; Astarion continues to want, to need. 

“You're still–” Gale begins incredulously, but Astarion scrambles with all his strength to push him down on the ground before he can finish his sentence. His hands are all over Gale, fumblingly groping at his chest. He’s hysterically turned on, mindlessly driven to seek more pleasure, more flesh, more anything from Gale by whatever the spittle blood is doing to his mind and body, and he makes a strangled noise when he pushes apart his cloak and sees it.

The outline of Gale’s cock straining in his pants. 

A dark, wet spot at the top of the waistband. 

Astarion’s hands tremble as they run down Gale’s chest to his soft thighs. “You’re almost as hard as I am. Did you also drink something suspicious?” He leans in and braves just enough to place a finger at the outline of the tip. “No. I caused this,” Astarion salivates. “Not an uncommon circumstance.” 

“You—” Gale gasps, snatching Astarion’s wrist away. “You are not in the right state of mind, Astarion.” 

“Why state something so obvious?” Astarion gives a maniacal laugh. “No! No, I’m not fully in the same realm as you right now. But it doesn’t matter. I want to thank you. It’s only good manners, and I am nothing if not a gentleman.”

“There’s no need to thank me. I mean, really, I’m being completely sincere when I say I've changed my mind – you don’t have to bring up this terribly maladroit situation at all –” 

“Then forget about thanks, darling, and just allow me the pleasure of pleasuring you,” he implores, looking back up at him, pupils blown wide. Let me, let me, let me . “I’m not so completely rat-arsed to not know that you’re hard because of me .”

His fingers trace over the waistband of Gale’s trousers, pulling them slightly so that he can see the soft, brown hair that deliciously trails from his navel. Astarion marvels at the feeling tugging at his chest: how he wants , and what’s more, he carelessly wants to want. 

Gale’s eyes flit across Astarion’s face, his own expression fraught with anxiety. “I need to go,” he says weakly. “Once you regain your regular state of mind, you’ll regret that I was the one to find you, to help you at all –  this is a product of transient folly, spurred on by the spittle –”

“Please spare me from the precious coddling, it doesn’t suit you at all.” 

Astarion spits the words out with venom. He wants to touch Gale so badly he might throw up, and for a second he’s sure that Gale is going to get up and walk away.  Good . Good, he should get up and leave. How fucking embarrassing, how utterly uncouth and vile is it of Astarion, to push himself further on a man who simply wanted to help him not writhe around in agony due to a stupid mistake he made? 

But Gale.

Gale – he doesn’t make a single move, his body might as well be frozen as he only offers a shaky breath, hand falling down to his side. Astarion can’t let another second pass him by, just in case Gale does come to his senses and Astarion doesn’t have the strength to accept it. He tugs his britches down to his thighs and Gale’s cock springs out against his stomach, already leaking and waiting at attention for him. 

He swears there’s two versions of himself – one in control of the body, the other one floating outside– Astarion can see through another perspective as he drools, spit leaking onto Gale’s hard cock; he can hear the exact second when it hits the tip. He slobbers more saliva in his hand, then spreads it all along the veiny length, admiring the difference compared to his own pale cock – it’s not as long, but it’s curved, and thick enough that Astarion practically feels the phantom weight of it already in his throat.

His thumb dips over the dribbling tip, swiping over beads of precum. Astarion is mesmerized by the sight of it, by the erratic breathing from the man under him. It’s like he’s been bestowed a holy gift — and it’s all overwhelming for someone as impious as Astarion to accept it, but accept it he will. He drinks it all in at first, savoring the way he slowly works his fist; base to tip, then tip tortuously slow back down to base. Then, he speeds up with a fervor, and that’s when Gale’s hands reach to fold over his — and he’s so entranced he doesn’t even look up. 

But it’s not that Gale makes him stop. He doesn’t make him pull off from him. He doesn’t even say anything at all. He just forces Astarion to slow down. 

They're like that for a while, quiet, two pairs of hands moving up and down together, making the maddening lust inside of Astarion simmer and boil. The slick sounds and the way that Gale’s chest quickly rises and falls threatens to set Astarion ablaze if he doesn’t get his mouth around his cock immediately . 

“Did Mystra ever deign to get on her knees for her darling little mage?”

“She— she is the Mother of Magic , Astarion,” Gale chides him, like he is some kind of unruly child. 

“That’s a no, then.” 

He takes his left hand off and pins one of Gale’s hands to his side and leans in to trace his lips along the fat head of Gale’s cock. The groan that falls from Gale’s lips makes it obvious that it’s been a long, long time since anyone, no less Mystra, has shown the worshiper what it means to be worshiped. 

Poor Gale. A man who has had the unique privilege of making astral love with a literal Goddess, and yet, he is so starved of basic touch. Astarion feverishly contemplates what it means to be devout as he licks a slow stripe up Gale’s cock, savoring the taste of vaguely herbal skin, tongue lingering on the veins that line his length. Mystra be damned – Astarion will find out how it feels to hold Gale in his hands and pull tautly at all his strings.To desire and to be desired, oh, isn’t it all the same, so foreign in their intertwining? It’s a near violent, possessive urge: the need for Gale to remember the way his tongue works like a prayer, to recite it over and over in his memory long after tonight. 

He realizes, grimly, that Gale will be the first living, free person to remember him in this way.

Astarion then looks up through his lashes, dismayed to see Gale’s expression: curious but somewhat flat, like he’s simply observing. Writing mental notes to review later. That’s certainly not an expression Astarion has ever seen while in this delicate position, and he decides he’s not fond of it – it better change, he thinks, before he says something needlessly cruel. He slides the head of Gale’s cock between his lips, before closing them around the crown; then, he drags his tongue along the underside and then up the slit, tasting the droplets of precum pooling at the top. He watches Gale the entire time, unblinking, and he hums with satisfaction when Gale’s eyes widen in awe; his attention shifting to suck all around the leaking cock, making it messy with spit and flat tongue.

“Gods above,” Gale whispers, voice raspy, hands sliding up to his silvery curls. Astarion groans, closing his eyes, letting the fingers in his hair guide his motions, slurping and tightening his mouth when he feels Gale involuntarily jerk against it. “This – ah, this , isn’t any form of gratitude I’m familiar with.”

Astarion hollows out his mouth and slides his cock all the way back, so far down his throat that Gale makes an incoherent noise. The sounds of Gale teetering on the edge of his hushed composure is too much for his over-stimulated brain – Astarion juts his hand down to his still viciously hard cock, tugging at it harshly.  What is a prayer compared to the sanctity of Gale’s moans? They’re such sweet, hesitant little cracks under the way Astarion’s throat works like it wants to wring his cock out completely dry. 

Astarion’s head wobbles from it all. Is he really after Gale’s cum or is it still his blood? Maybe he’s only after some of the sanity he’s currently missing, rattling around in Gale’s brain. Maybe it’s all of the above, everything. He gasps for air as he pulls away, long strands of spit and precum connecting his mouth to Gale’s cock. 

“Tell me, Gale,” Astarion grins like a madman, pupils so blown that there’s just a sliver of crimson around the rims. “Is the regret settling in yet?”

“Yes,” Gale groans, frustration lacing his tone. Astarion’s face falters at the answer and his stomach almost drops, but then he feels fingers grasping around his curls. “I regret knowing that mouth — it’s completely wicked.” 

“You’re not a liar, right?” Astarion asks, fluttering kisses all around Gale’s cock. “Have you thought about my mouth before?”

Gale nearly hisses in disapproval at the question: “ Astarion .”

“You have, haven’t you?” 

“Anyone would, when you’re constantly boasting about your skills ,” Gale grimaces, as if admitting such a thing is painful. 

Astarion nail’s scrape against the base of Gale’s cock, causing him to tense against his grasp. He’s not sure why he needs to hear this so badly. “Have you touched yourself, thinking of me?”

Gale is breathless, but he gives him a straight answer, no wit involved.

“Yes.” 

Something snaps in Astarion at the admission and his hands shake when they go to tug Gale’s pants further down to his ankles, eliciting a surprised groan from him. Astarion pulls him apart and palms his ass, watching as he shudders, then dives in with a long, messy lick along his perineum. He laps at him, rolling his tongue around the tight rim of muscles, then sinks inside, burying his tongue in while Gale’s whole body shakes under him. Astarion’s cock leaks as he buries his tongue in and out, completely and blindly overtaken by desire. He's frantic and needy as he alternates between sucking sloppy kisses against the rim and intense licking; one hand hooking under Gale’s knee to lift him, the other snaking down to grasp Gale's cock to pump it in tandem with each lap. He listens as Gale’s breathing becomes more raw and ragged as he pulls at Astarion’s hair.

“Astarion,” Gale strains, “ Astarion, please, just –” 

The moan that tumbles out from Astarion feels like it has been punched out of him. Oh, he thinks, how lovely – Gale has never sounded better than with Astarion’s name on his lips, it’s such beautiful pleading — he could get used to it.

His original goal was to make Gale come apart under his tongue, but he thinks of something else, another wicked way to make the mage fall apart, to come closer to the same raving lunacy that Astarion is experiencing. One that involves less mental juggling of hand and mouth. Astarion pulls his mouth away, pushes forward and climbs onto his lap. They look at each other with a shared gasp when their slick, aching cocks meet, rubbing together. 

“You– we– we should stop.” Gale strains, angling to push him away. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” 

Astarion scoffs, sinking further over him. “I know exactly what I’m doing to you.” Gale’s cock twitches against his and he licks his lips, baring his teeth as he simpers. “And you like it.” 

“This – this could be too much for the orb in my chest – no matter how stabilized it is. I could be in danger of exploding, quite literally.”

Sweet Gale, exaggerating and trying to do the right thing, however late – and fruitless – at this point. If they stop now , what difference does it make?

“What a delightful death we could have,” Astarion ignores him, before he sways his hips and lines their cocks even closer together.

Gale whines as Astarion reaches over to put his palms on top of Gale’s, guiding them to wrap around both of their cocks. He gathers up more spit in his mouth to drool over each one; they both shudder as they squeeze their lengths together, sticky cock against sticky cock, threads of precum connecting their heads during the seconds they separate. Their cocks slide together, slippery with Astarion’s spit and Gale’s precum, rocking jointly in an ungraceful motion. Gale’s clearly overly stimulated, but Astarion doesn’t let up, he can’t even if he wanted to – he is a man, no, a creature possessed – he pumps faster, rougher, and makes their cocks push up harder into their palms. 

“Astarion,” Gale chokes out, and he sounds so wrecked, it’s almost enough to convince Astarion that he’s under the influence of the same spittle as well. Gale’s head hits backwards on his pillow, eyes rolling as Astarion’s wild stare burns deep into him, unable to look away from his face. “Ah, I can’t –” 

“You can,” Astarion breathes, stroking and tightening their grips on their cocks painfully. “There’s absolutely nothing you can’t do. You’re the great Gale of Waterdeep. Bí buachaill maith, agus tar chugam.” 

Be a good boy, and come for me.

Immediately, Gale keens and his whole body lifts off, thick pearly streaks of his cum spraying across his stomach and chest. Astarion quickly follows with his own orgasm, panting, drooling over Gale, eyes fluttering with satisfaction. “There you go,” Astarion breathes, milking Gale through his tremors, nearly unphased by the way his own muscles constrict and release like a spring. “You deserve it for being so helpful. My little laoch .” My little hero.

And even after Gale is done, when he’s shaking and cumdrunk from emptying himself, Astarion strokes his raw and still hard length against Gale’s softening cock, playing with the cum pooling between them. Astarion swipes his sticky fingers through their cum and brings them to his lips, sliding them deep into his mouth. He makes a show of lapping between his fingers, holding eye contact with Gale, who is so delightfully flushed he looks like he can barely breathe. Gods, he is so pretty like this. 

“When were you going to tell me you were so delicious?” 

Gale shudders in sensitivity as Astarion goes back to swirling his thumb over Gale’s cockhead, rubbing up and down their cocks. He’s so unbearably hard, he thinks madly that he’s going to have to slit his wrists and force some of his tainted blood into Gale’s mouth to make him understand. “Astarion, for the Gods sake,” Gale stutters, trying to regain his coherency and attempting to pull away. “I’m not in an altered state like you – t-there’s nothing left from me.”

The utterly detestable thought of ignoring Gale crosses his mind, and Astarion is tempted to listen to it. To give into the sickly demand of his body. He thinks he would kill for it, could kill for it: to flip Gale over and hook his fingers around his pink lips and plunge his cock inside and fuck him deep until there’s nothing left, nowhere to go, until one of them – it doesn’t matter which – sobs from it, passes out from it.

No, he thinks, horrified.

Rational. Be rational. Think. 

It’s the spittle. 

He needs it gone , Astarion tells himself, it’s making him drag this out, glossing over the uncomfortable reality that’s bound to settle in between them after all is said and done. His jaw tenses as he looks down at Gale, nervous, jelly-soft, not anywhere near fucked out like Astarion desperately wants. 

“Fine, fine. I think there’s another way I could flush the rest out…” Astarion murmurs, eyeing Gale’s neck. 

“My blood ? Let me remind you that it's not exactly a delicacy, Astarion.” 

“It doesn’t matter – the weave magic pulsing through has to be strong enough to combat what’s in my body.” 

“If you think you can choke it down,” Gale takes a deep inhale. “Far be it from me to prolong your… condition. Intriguing to see how my blood interacts with yours, given the current circumstances, but don’t expect me to do anything if it happens to set you on fire, or something of the sort…”

There is no gentleness to it – no trepidation like the night when Astarion first grazed his two tips against Tav’s neck. Hardly a second passes by before his sharp nails dig into Gale’s shoulders, pinning him down, fangs sinking into his neck with reckless abandon. Astarion draws in deep, greedy pulls of blood and Gale’s pulsing life source gushes into his mouth and down his throat, bizarre and laced with a sharp, arcane bitterness. He chokes after the first few gulps, pulling away to suck in air, “Hells –” 

Gale wobbles his head at him. Despite the pain in his neck, he’s concerned.

“Astarion, are you–” 

He snakes his fingers through Gale’s hair and forcefully yanks his head back, baring his neck again. Astarion’s teeth pierces the flesh once more, latching on and swallowing despite the intensity of it prickling down his throat like jagged shards of glass, driven solely by the way Gale’s blood thrums with furious energy. Small trails of blood drip out from his mouth, sliding down his chin as he desperately drinks and drinks. He delights in the whimpers it draws from Gale and rubs his cock against his stomach, angling for another release like an animal.  Astarion feels like he could suck the very soul out of Gale, steal it for himself, fit it right within his chest, he wants to, he wants to, he wants to. When Gale slides a hand up his abdomen and wraps his fingers around his cock, a moan gurgles from Astarion’s throat, and his thoughts fizzle out as he completely surrenders to the feeling. 

His body surges forward with all the grace of a rabid creature as Gale pumps his cock vigorously and clumsily, biting down pained noises as Astarion sucks and sucks from the juncture of his neck. He groans something guttural, and then, he comes so hard his vision blacks out entirely. His cock shoots out ropes of cum across Gale’s body, marking his thighs and stomach, causing a sticky, mess between them. 

The world finally, finally starts to slowly realign.

He feels utterly weightless as he retracts his fangs from Gale’s tender flesh. They’re both perspiring profusely, sweat pouring from their bodies, panting against each other in the stillness of his tent. When his ears stop buzzing, he can hear Gale’s thundered pulse ringing a vibrant rhythm in his ears and – it’s beautiful. It’s so alive . Astarion doesn’t want to mourn the loss of it yet, holding on to that crackly feeling beating unsteady around him. He presses their chests and thighs together, bringing a trembling hand up, smearing what’s left of the blood on his jaw into his mouth, pressing it along his tongue and against his gums. 

“Your blood tastes so…” Astarion closes his eyes. He mulls it over, tracing around the ridges of his mouth, under the tip of his fangs. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever had . I’m not sure what the right word would be. Nauseating. Or perhaps revolting?” “Don’t act like I didn’t caution you.”

“Rancid? Putrid? Could be used as a torture method for prisoners of war?” 

“Alright, you’ve made your point very clear. I sincerely apologize that my blood is not to your refined taste.” 

“Hmm. Well. Taste can be acquired.” 

Astarion leans his head in and licks at the wound, contemplating it as Gale shivers around him, a hand snaking up to his waist with a firm squeeze. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. If you think that’s happening again,” Gale says, with the world’s worst conviction, “You’re sorely mistaken.” He waves his shaky hand, muttering a spell quietly, and then, the both of them are clean from the mess they've made of each other. 

Even though he’s wired , Astarion’s simultaneously exhausted. He could retort something about how Gale should be afraid – should feel absolutely foolish – now that he’s gotten a taste of what it means to be filled with such special, arcane energy. Now that he knows how it feels to actually enjoy making someone come undone under him. That perhaps Gale has made an addict out of him, in more ways than one.

He could tell him all that, and it would all be true. But he’ll settle for being honest about something much more mundane. 

“You know what was good?”

“Do tell me, Astarion, I’m dying to hear all your revelations tonight.” 

“For once, everyone was right about one thing. Your stew, darling, it was delicious, I’ll never doubt your culinary skills again.” 

“Well, I already knew that, but I’m glad you’re admitting it. Maybe next time you won’t run away if I happen to offer you some sourdough.”

“Only if you leave the bread slicing to someone else,” Astarion snorts as he draws away from the nape of Gale’s neck, exposing the fresh wound to air. He pushes himself off from his chest and falls to the side, draping his legs lazily around the other man’s legs, resting a head on his shoulder. 

“I’m completely drained – pun intended, ” Gale mumbles, “And not too righteous to admit that I can't keep my eyes open…” 

There is so much of Gale in his veins that Astarion is sure that he will burst if he moves even an inch, that it will all leak out of his chest, a violaceous firecracker just waiting to erupt from every pore in his body. Yet it’s the way that his legs are gracelessly hooked around Gale’s thighs that makes it all die down. He wraps himself a little more around the sanctuary of Gale’s body, sinking into the embrace. There’s no chance that he’s getting up any time soon; he’s on a cloud, bathed in sunlight, and there’s no more scorching pain. Just warmth, and only the right amount of it. 

Three breaths are all it takes for Gale to slip into the realm of sleep, and Astarion stiffens at the unfamiliar concept of spending the night with him. “Gale,” he whispers.

Even his name fizzes on Astarion’s tongue. 

When Gale doesn’t stir, Astarion thinks it would be unkind to disturb him any further. Not that being kind really matters at all to him, but, well. I’ll blame it on the spittle in the morning, he thinks, hypnotized by the gentle, barely there rhythm of Gale’s heartbeat and the rapid torrent of magic coursing through his own veins. 

Before he realizes it, he slips away too. 

[weirdmorefics]

Unmasked Chpt 1- The Call

Word Count- 1,461

Morning came slowly I stayed up most of the night with nightmares. The nightmares are usually worse this time of year, I think it is my mind's way of reminding me of the anniversary of the first Ghostface murders. My brain is wrong though I need no reminder. The only thing keeping me at all sane during the night is the fact that Spencer is not lecturing today and I will get to see him in the morning at work.

I walk into the BAU with a box of donuts for the team since we are all stuck doing boring paperwork today.

"Morning kid, you look like shit. Long night?" Rossi says full of humor.

I roll my eyes and open the box of donuts, "Hey, don't bite the hand that feeds you."

Rossi puts his hands up in surrender then grabs a donut, "Thanks, kid."

As he walks away I shout "Could you stop calling me kid too because that would be great!"

I set the donuts down in the breakroom and picked out one of Spencer's favorites to set on his desk.

I approach Spencer's desk and set the napkin-wrapped donut down on his desk. "Morning Reid,"

"Thank you, Y/n morning to you too. Did you know Americans consume ten billion donuts every year?"

I smile "Well let's make that ten billion and one." My phone cuts off the conversation and I see my sister's contact photo, "Excuse me I have to take this..." I hope he didn't notice my face shift to an anxious one.

Sidney never calls only texts and she still barely does that. She thinks I am an idiot for chasing after the crazy people who kill when enough killers already come after us.

"Do not come to Woodsboro," Sidney states in a serious tone as soon as I pick up my cell.

"Wow, what a lovely way to begin a call! No, hey sis how are you?" I bite back sarcastically.

"Did you hear me Y/n? Do not come to Woodsboro!" She repeats.

" I wasn't planning on going to that hell town anytime soon. What's going on with you? Shouldn't you be busy with your book tour or something?" I respond trying not to sound concerned.

"He's back Y/n," she whines out.

I swallow deeply and walk away from the desks and towards Penelope's office she is never here this early anyway. "This isn't funny Sidney."

"I am in Woodsboro and my rental car has a murder weapon in it and ripped-up pictures of my face and yours. Oh and did I forget to mention two kids were murdered in the same exact way as the original ones... so yeah I'd say he's back." She responds quickly in an angry panic.

I slam open Penelope's door and proceed to vomit my guts out in her trash can. I hear the wheels of her chair squeak as Penelope looks at me with concern as I dry heave in her trashcan. I definitely should have checked if anyone was in here first.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" Penelope asks softly.

"Sidney, I got to let you go," I breathe out and hang up on her.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead. Why does no one ever mention how exhausting dry heaving is?

"I'm fine Garcia," I try to sound detached. I can't be here. One thing that makes the Ghostface all the same is they want to kill the Prescotts and everyone they love.

"You really don't look fine," she says full of concern.

I try to exit without a word but Penelope is quick to follow to make sure I am okay. It must be an odd scene as Penelope chases me and I speed walk away. Especially since we are always attached at the hip.

I ignore everyone's gaze and walk into Prentiss's office without a word.

Prentiss was doing paperwork of her own and did not even look up, " I need a leave of absence as soon as possible... preferably today"

That statement made her head quickly whip away from her mess of papers, "This is awfully unlike you Y/n... has something happened."

The stress of the anniversary, Ghostface, and the worry of losing Spencer Reid after we just got him back from prison seem to boil all over at once. "I JUST NEED A LEAVE OF ABSENCE IS THAT SO HARD TO DO EMILY!" I shout so loud and instantly regret as I see all my team members' eyes on me from Emily's office window.

"I am sorry Prentiss," I put my hand to my forehead fighting back the anger and fear-induced tears. I have seen so many murders I should be used to it at this point but Ghostface will always be different he always comes back as someone new.

Emily stands up shutting the blinds to her office to halt the onlookers. "L/N you need to tell me what this is about, right now! I have never once seen you act like this."

I pace back and forth the last name I made up did nothing to protect me I will always be a Prescott. I just need to get out of here before they find that out. I take a deep breath, "I am really sorry I can't, I just can't tell you. It will just get you hurt. It will get the whole team hurt and I can't do that! Spencer just got back, Scratch is gone, and the team is almost back to normal I will not ruin it. I am going to leave either way I just needed you to know."

I turn to leave but Emily grabs my arm, "Agent, if you are in danger I need to know. One more thing you also seem to be forgetting is this team won't be normal without you."

A knock follows her statement, "Is everything okay? Garcia told me Y/n was sick. Does she need a drive home?" It's Spencer's voice I can tell immediately. The question makes this even harder. Why must he be so kind? Why can't I stand to leave him?"

Emily's gaze meets mine, "I recognize that look."

"Prentiss I don't have time for your profile," I whisper shout to prevent Spencer from hearing me.

"I know all too well what it's like to be undercover Y/n," Emily states compassionately.

"I have no idea what you mean?"

"Your file is suspiciously blank and sealed of all past background and Strauss assured me it's for the better. It is similar to what my file used to look like." Emily unfortunately continues to profile me.

I feel trapped I can't go to the door Spencer is there and there is no escaping Emily's questions.

Spencer proceeds to knock again, "Everything alright in there?"

I sigh, "Emily I will tell you everything if you leave the team out of this."

"Y/n you know I can't promise that," she frowns.

I grab her hands tightly, "You have to because I know how to deal with this but every time he comes back someone around me dies!"

"Who comes back Y/n?" Emily's tone changes to a demanding one like the one she uses in the interrogation room.

"Promise me you won't tell the team! Promise me you won't let Reid get involved." Tears prick my eyes I don't care that I am being blatant about my feelings for Reid nothing can happen because I am cursed to repeat the same horrors for the rest of my life.

Emily sighs, "I promise."

"Ghostface is back... and my last name isn't L/N... it's- it's Prescott," I stutter as the words come out like saying them would make this more real than it already is.

"As in the Woodsboro killings?" Emily asks in utter disbelief.

"Unfortunately... and I have to go back there, for my sister," I state. "You can not convince me not to, I can't lose her."

"Y/n we solve cases just like this we can do this as a team," She soothes.

"Tell that to the last agent who tried to help my sister and nearly died," my stress getting the better of me causing me to shout and not notice Spencer opening Prentiss's office door.

I felt the eyes on me once again, I doubt I can talk myself out of this one. The chance of a silent escape gone stuck in a room of profiles who could sense I am on the urge to bolt out the door. Then my phone starts to ring in my pocket, none of the team seems to notice when Emily gives me a knowing look. She clearly knows the Ghostface cases well they all start with a phone call.

Taglist- @bunbunbl0gs

[ofmdsalt]

i really enjoyed con and taika’s implied backstory/headcanons for izzy and ed’s past and how they met at kids, grew up together etc etc and i was always really bummed that we never get a flashback to see that.

then I saw the fandom discourse and it’s sheer unerring devotion to misread every single one of Izzy’s relationships & interactions in the worst possible faith, and I’m pretty sure that if we’d gotten that flashback in canon, the gentlebeardies would say some shit like “it’s so clear now that Izzy groomed Ed from the beginning” because that is level of media illiteracy we are at.

hey op! if you have any links to where con and taika have talked about their backstories for there characters, i'd love to check them out and see what they said!

the one part on Taika's take on Ed and Izzy's relationship is him saying to Con that they were like Jesus and Judas Iscariot from the musical Jesus Christ Superstar and i for one find this imagery very interesting! indulge me for a moment here.

many people raised within a Christian context and/or society all likely know of the story of Jesus and Judas. Judas, as one of the original 12 disciples, being the one to eventually betray Jesus and lead the Romans to him in the Garden of Gethsemane all for 30 pieces of silver. the guilt of this leads Judas into killing himself. the interpretation of his character is predominantly about how bad he is. how evil he is. how he is responsible for Jesus' death and it's largely simplified his character. i prefer more modern interpretations of him, and i think Jesus Christ Superstar made him a much more nuanced character than say others media have done (Mel Gibson's fairly antisemitic Passion of the Christ comes to mind when it sort of also supports the over-simplification of Judas' role in Jesus crucifixion)

but this is all to say the interpretation i like the most comes from the understanding of Judas being more concerned and hesitant about Jesus when he started kicking up more attention. more attention directed at them. like clearly Judas was comfortable with what Jesus was saying and preaching. he stuck around long enough to be called a disciple, but the moment those words turned into actions? when Jesus started flipping tables in the temple? when he started miraculously healing and calling people back from the dead? well, now, hang on, Teacher. all this noise will draw the ire of the Romans. is that what we want? is that what you are calling us to do? what if they come and jail us? what if they kill us? Jesus' radicalism in a time of oppression may have scared those too willing to keep their head down. consume some radical materials on the side, but otherwise not stick their necks out too far out of fear they would get themselves killed. i mean, Peter likewise denied ever knowing Jesus for fear that he would be crucified too.

but even after all that, Jesus was killed. murdered by the state for his beliefs. perhaps Judas didn't think they would take it that far. that he wouldn't be made a message, but he was. and it's that grief that pushed Judas into committing suicide

going back to the parallels of Ed and Izzy, it's easy to see where Taika would get this inspiration. Jesus Christ Superstar starts with Judas warning Jesus against Mary Magdalene because accepting a prostitute would go against his teachings. Izzy is frustrated by Ed's growing fascination with Stede because it goes against his teachings of keeping pets on board, and Izzy tries to get Ed to see how Stede is nothing more than a pet project to Ed. and pets are not allowed.

i can see Izzy's frustration with Ed's changing path of being more "why would you give up the image of Blackbeard when that fearsome reputation has kept you and your crew safe for all this time? why would you give it up to be this gentleman? to be this fish out of water?" just as Judas might wonder why Jesus is as outspoken as he is. why draw more attention to yourself? why make yourself a deliberate target in this way? why why why?

Judas does what he thinks is best in the moment and so does Izzy, but Izzy doesn't let Ed go to his doom. he pays his bail and tries to show him why it's dangerous for people like them to give up on the things that have kept them safe. even if those ways of being are no longer required. the world has changed, is changing, and they should change with it.

it's a tragedy what they have become. too used to the pain and violence that has become a reality for them to even see that there is another way of existing.

all we can do now is speculate on how Ed and Izzy came to meet and how they came to be friends. how they came to be what they are. i think there's a lot of potential for people to play around with who they were, how they rose to infamy, and how they ultimately destroyed each other. it was mutual self-destruction and it's frustrating to see how certain other fans try to over simplify the relationship. either by removing Ed's agency entirely to say that it was all Izzy's doing, despite how they also assert that Izzy is actually a terrible planner and has never done anything successful in his life ever.

im sure David and co had more plans for Ed and Stede flashbacks as they did throughout s1. it would've been interesting to see how Ed took on the name Blackbeard. where he started. where it all came together because we all know how it fell apart

[thecubspeaks]

@resting-meme-face i happened to see that today's whumptober prompt is the entirely too perfect "swamp / wound cleaning / "no, i can't feel anything"" so here, some galeheart for u

Gale is of the view that, had they known it was a fetid hag-swamp and not the pleasant marsh it initially appeared to be, they would have approached the whole situation differently. But, well, hindsight and all that. By the time it's clear what an entirely bad idea this is, they're so deep in that it would take them until well past nightfall to get out, especially at the slogging pace they have to take through the bog.

"We are not sleeping here," Shadowheart hisses after both Wyll and Lae'zel wade through some kind of vile necrotic muck.

So slog they do, finally emerging back into the hills long after the time they usually set up camp. They're all soaked and muddy, so fresh clothes and a fire is the priority, which means Gale is able to get to work figuring out some kind of supper in fairly short order while the others set up camp. He hopes someone will kindly pitch his tent for him as he cooks, as they sometimes do. But everyone's exhausted, so he isn't holding his breath.

"You should change out of those clothes," comes Shadowheart's voice at his shoulder. She looks particularly drained. Having also expended all the magical power he could possibly muster, Gale rather thinks he can relate. But Shadowheart holds out a hand anyway, and Gale passes over a potato peeler.

"I already changed," he says. His clothes must be looking more road-worn than he realised, he thinks ruefully.

But Shadowheart slams down the peeler like it's on fire. "There's blood on your shirt. You're wounded."

"I... what?"

He looks down, and... oh. She's right. Distinct blotches of blood on his tunic. That's... hm. Instinctively, he brings his hand to the spots. His fingertips come away reddened. Fresh blood, then.

"But it doesn't hurt," he says, feeling strangely dazed.

Shadowheart is already on her feet, hauling up him and over to her tent as she shouts for Wyll to see to supper. Gale willingly stumbles after her, and lets her force him down onto the stool inside her tent.

"Take your shirt off."

"Ah." He clears his throat. "I'd really rather--"

"Take off your shirt, Gale, I need to see this wound."

He realises, as he reluctantly unfastens his belt and pulls the tunic off over his head, that she brought him in here deliberately. She guessed he would want some privacy.

He tosses the shirt aside and forces himself to look down. He's very curious about the wound, but looking at it requires looking at the scar from the orb, and that he-- prefers not to look at. Just the sight of it sends a squirming discomfort through him, visceral and almost painful, like an echo of the orb's hunger. And oh-- there. Just beneath the heart of the scar, bisecting some of its creeping black tendrils, a rather deep gash. Mephit, he'd guess. He vaguely remembers getting hit in that fight, though mostly what he remembers is mud.

"What have I told all of you about being stubborn about wounds?" she snaps.

"I truly didn't notice it," he insists.

"It's practically deep enough to stick a finger in, you really think I'm going to believe that?"

"But-- no-- I really can't feel anything."

Maybe it's the ambient pain of the orb itself, or maybe the magic has rendered him numb? He can't touch the orb directly without being instantly sucked into the vortex of its insistent, all-consuming need, so he's never considered...

He sees Shadowheart considering the same question. She looks queryingly at him and he nods, trusting whatever she's going to do. She reaches out and brushes her fingers, whisper-gentle, along the tendrils near his collarbone, well away from the wound.

A beautiful woman teasing her fingers along his chest, it should feel--

Shadowheart, touching him. It should feel-- he should feel.

He swallows and shakes his head. Shadowheart's hand lingers there a moment longer, the she abruptly snaps away and stalks out of the tent without a word. Gale just sits there a moment, utterly bewildered, and it's as he's gathering up his shirt again that she returns with a bowl of steaming water.

"Sit down," she snaps. Gale obeys. She hands him the bowl and sets about digging through her belongings, eventually finding a clean cloth and a little bar of soap. "I can't heal you tonight. I'm too... I can't. But if I don't at least clean it, you'll have a fever by morning and it'll be even more work to set you right."

"I understand." He looks at the bowl. "You realise, of course, if the area is numb... it doesn't matter if the water is warm?"

Shadowheart freezes. Then she goes rigid, curling in on herself in the way he has come to know means that her wound is flaring. When she turns back to him, there are unshed tears still standing in her eyes, and she has dug indents from her nails into the soap.

"Just-- shut up," she says, and just sounds tired. "Just let me work."

[the-fiction-witch]

The Wedding In White Habour P4

Media Game Of Thrones

Character Jojen Reed Age Up

Couple Jojen X Reader

Rating Smut af

Concept Consumating the Marriage

Smut sexual discussions / making out / breast play / fondling / nipple play / nipple sucking / bj's / biting / love bites / raw sex / full sex / riding / virgin x Non virgin / nudity / face sitting / eating out / fingering / screaming / jizz / cum on stomach / cum inside / slapping / spanking /

I had grown accustomed to my room in grey water, spending my days with my books and my harp as I rarely saw my husband. We had been married now for over six months and our wedding was not yet consummated. I rarely saw him at all and even rarer we exchanged words, it saddened me but what choice did I have? I suppose I should think myself lucky, many girls are sold off to men who view them as meer ovens for heirs never allowed to leave the bed merely sheth for their sword, others are merciless cruel and abusive drunks, I should count myself lucky to have a husband who just ignores me.

I finished my bath and wrapped my robe loosely around myself just to keep out the cold heading towards the bed but I stopped short as the bedroom door opened and closed quickly after revealing an annoyed Jojen. He walked in frustrated putting a hand through his hair but stopped dead in his tracks as he saw me eyes wide glancing from ankle to neck

"Ohh good evening Jojen" I smiled adjusting my robe to give me more coverage

"Let's just get this over with," he says undoing his shirt throwing it to the floor and sitting on my bed stroking up his bare arm

"What's going on Jojen?" I asked carefully approaching him

"My father's angry at me, he knows we haven't… yet."

"I see. Jojen, we don't have to do anything you don't want to" I reassured sitting beside him to take his hand gently

"We do though. I don't have a choice" he says moving his hand away from my own "he'll feed me to the lizard lions If I don't"

"I see. If I may ask, is there any reason you don't want to? Because I can perhaps do my best to accommodate things, perhaps you'd prefer just my back or my feet, or we could bring someone-"

"No. No y/n. It's nothing like that" he says "I'll be honest it was mostly stress and stubbornness that prevented it on our wedding night I was so angry at my father for forcing me to marry someone I didn't love, having to travel halfway up the north t get married"

"That's understandable, but then why have you waited all this time?"

"Fear." He says "I was just frustrated that night, the next morning when I saw you- I thought you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen and honestly… that morning I wanted nothing more than to throw you again the bed and make you my lady" he explained "but I feared I had pushed you away too far, that you already hated me, I feared that I'd be no good to you and I just…never got the courage to come and see you after that"

"Thats sweet Jojen but your my husband it's alright, whatever fears you have I'm sure we can quell them"

"You- you'd be willing to do that?"

"Of course," I smiled giving his cheek a small kiss

"I uhh I must ask what uhh what experience do you have?"

Immediately I forced down thoughts of my childhood, my past and my home forcing a smile "Well let's just say-"

"In plain words. Please. I need to know"

"My innocence was taken from me many years ago, I learnt many things and have a decent amount of experience, and you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? No handmaids? No girls in the marshes?"

"No. My father forbid it so I uhh I'm going to need to rely on you a little"

"That's all right, I'll lead just trust your instincts and if you want to stop just ask" I reassured and he nodded I smiled and pulled him gently into a soft kiss he slowly and shakily kissed back his hand coming to rest on my upper arm even if I was being gentle I couldn't help my hands stroking down his chest being as impressed as our wedding day when we pulled back I slipped off my robe leaving me completely naked he took in every inch of me much as he did the morning after our wedding but this time more intense allowing his face to show his true feelings

"You're beautiful my lady"

"Thank you Jojen, is there anything you'd like to touch?"

He didn't answer his hands merely instantly clamped onto my breasts making me giggle a little watching as he experimented squeezing groping fondling them in his hands as he tried to learn everything about them I happily allowed him his time and gently kissed his neck while he plaid his favourite seemed to be holding his hands under my breasts feeling the weight of them in his hands gently squeezing and rubbing on the skin

"You like them?"

"Very much, I uhh I think there- you're very beautiful"

"Thank you" I giggled "You know of you just' I guided his hands to slightly take a different grip so his thumbs which seemed to like rubbing on the soft skin could circle and rub my nipples which he seemed to quickly understand this instruction helping to harden them "then it feels very nice"

"It does? You uhh you like when I-" he asks rubbing on them a little harder and I bit my lip and nodded "uhh okay" he let a small moan slip "uhhhh I uhhh can I ask something?"

"Of course Jojen"

"I uhhh I uhh" he stuttered nervously his face turning red glancing to the door almost checking we weren't heard "Could I uhh could I suck - on them?"

I was taken back by his question unable to prevent a giggle which only made his face drop upset I laughed at his question

"Sorry I shouldn't have-"

"No no it's alright, I'm sorry Jojen you just surprised me is all. Of course, you can if you'd like to"

"I uh I can?"

"Of course" I nodded

He was nervous but came close kissing my lips then my chin and down my jaw, I smirked leaning my back against the post of my bed as he kissed down my neck making sure to suck a little on the crook of my neck before kissing down slightly tickling me as he kissed my chest and down between my breasts he picked the left clearly as his right hand was more than happy to continue he softly stroked my breasts before kissing my hard nipple causing my playful giggles he looked up unsure but I nodded and he took my nipple between his lips gently sucking while his other hand continued and it was very pleasurable feeling his sucking get more and more intense often flicking his tongue against my hard nipple or even gracing it with his teeth it was enough to force a moan from my lips which only seemed to fuel him making him intensify his hand and his mouth

"Uhhh Jojen" I gasped pushing him back even if he didn't much want to stop I pushed him completely off the bed to stand beside the bed I opened my legs and pulled his hips to stand between them I took his hand gently letting him pet my hair as I kissed his lower stomach gently untiring the laces of his trousers It didn't take long for him to get excited knotting his fingers into my hair as I worked with each inch I exposed as I unlaced I kissed further down exposing his rather prominent v and the small trail of blonde hair leading below, once completed unlaced they dropped to his ankles allowing me for the first time a good look at my husband and I was impressed. I was gentle not wanting to overwhelm him pressing little kisses to him and stroking his shaft but that seemed to only wind him up more he was nervous but I blew him a kiss before I took him into my mouth being so gentle as I began my sucking and gentle licking which made him utterly melt honestly of not for me holding his hips he may have collapsed on the floor or at least lost his knees out from under himself his face read of surprise and shock which worried me and made me move back "everything alright?'

"Yeah uhh yeah your uhh you're fine I uhh I didn't think it uhh"

"If was that intense?"

"Yeah" he nods

"I'll be slow" I smiled returning him to my mouth slowly but surely getting more intense now moving my head back and forth and the sounds that came out of him were enough to make me soaked listening to his gasps and groans of pleasure above me reacting to the tiniest of movements until he pushed me away so hard I fell onto the bed

"Oh sorry-"

"It's alright, enough?"

"For now anymore I uhh I don't think we'll get to do anything else" he says "How uhh how should I?"

"How should you what?"

"Well you’re more experienced than I am, I know I'm supposed to put you on your back but I heard about having you on your knees is easier I don't know"

"It's alright, it's alright how about we be gentle the first time?" I asked holding his hands as I moved to my knees he nods so I guided him into my bed giving him pillows to make sure he was comfortable

"What uhh what do I do?"

"You don't need to do anything' I smiled as I climbed onto his lap at first I merely settled on him moving my hips back and forth so I could know the sort of angles I could work with he seemed to meet with me unsure in his face but his body seemed to know what to do "there we are just like that okay," I told him giving him a soft kiss before I carefully lowered myself letting him slip inside of me having to stop a moment once I reached the base as I was a little overwhelmed "uuughhh…" I gasped rolling my head back a little "ummm you sure fill a girl up good Jojen" I giggled

"I uhh I'm inside you. I'm actually inside you"

"Fully inside me my sweet husband" I smiled giving his lips a kiss

"You look, incredibly gorgeous on top of me"

I giggled "I shall have to do it more then"

"You can do it whenever you like my lady" he Cooes his hands settling on my hips and ass "uuhhh… why did I wait so long?"

"I don't know" I smiled "I'll be slow okay," I asked and he nods so I settled a hand on his stomach and began to move my hips to ride him his hips worked into my own his mouth hung open often moans escaping his head thrown back against the pillows

"Uuuughhhhh! Uuuuuuuhhh y/n! Y/n! Uuuuuuuhhh"

"It feels nice my sweet husband?'

"Amazing my beautiful wife" he smirked his innocent blush seeming to disappear leaning up to bite at my neck wrapping his arms around my back fueled by his desires I giggled pushing him back down and changing my angle a little allowing myself to bounce and grind harder and faster against him so much so the bed began banging against the wall and I leaned down to kiss and leave a love bite on his neck "uuhh yes! Yes! Uuuughhhhh y/n!" He moans loudly his nails digging into my hips and forcing me down as deep as possible "Y/n… y/n" he whines before letting loose a loud and throaty moan releasing his grip on me immediately and releasing his seed deep inside me

"Ohhh Jojen, you could have warned me," I asked sitting up and making sure to let him rose it out and making sure his seed got as deep inside me as possible for a better chance of me getting pregnant then again if not I certainly wouldn't be opposed to a few more nights like this and I'm sure he wouldn't either

"Sorry y/n. I uhh I didn't have a lot of warning either" he chuckled between his breaths

"Did you enjoy it, my husband?"

"Very very much my beautiful wife" he Cooes holding my hand and peppering it with kisses "I shouldn't have waited so long, I'm sorry for making you feel like I didn't want to. But now it's over with my innocence is gone and were officially married and I couldn't be happier" he smiled sitting up to kiss me

"That's sweet Jojen I'm very happy too" I smiled nuzzling with him

"I uhh I got mine, did you get yours?"

"My what?"

"I got to release my seed. Did my wife get to reach the sky too?" He asks

"No, but that's okay our first time and all of takes practice ladies are very complicated Jojen"

"But I want to, it's not fair. Surely there are secrets you can show me?"

"Well I don't know any, spent my life learning to be a lady and how to please a man never the other way"

"Oh… uhh could I try something then?"

"Of course" I nodded

He smiled and cupped my breasts again kissing down my neck as he firmed them up in his hands rubbing on my nipples as they once again got hard for him "You like that?" He asks and I nodded he smirked and kissed up to my neck "You liked this?" He whispered between kisses and I nodded trying to hold back my giggles his hand moved down my stomach and then around my hip taking a firm grip on my ass and giving it a gentle slap

"Ohh" I giggled

"You like that sweetie?" He smirked and I couldn't help but nod biting my lip a little and burying my head in his neck in embarrassment "awww cute, you like what I'm doing or what I'm saying?"

"Both"

"Both? You like it when I call you… sweetie?" He smirked milking the word and I nodded

"Humm okay" he smirked biting his lip as he intentionally stared down at me "You've been a bad little thing, sweetie." He growled slapping my ass hard

"Ohh Jojen"

"Umm yeah, you like that?" He smirked moving my hips to slowly ride him again "You like that sweetie? You like it when your sexy husband comes and uses you?" He smirked and I nodded blushing hard "fuck-" he groaned pulling me into a kiss his hands moving to just my hips when he pulled away I was utterly shocked by his words "I want you to sit on my face"

"What - Jojen I uhh"

"Please, I've heard people talk about it. It sounds amazing, it's all I want right now" he groans

"I don't know Jojen I mean you were innocent an hour ago" I giggled

"Please I'd you don't like it I'll never ask again, but please it's all I can think about" he groans "I want your sweet pussy ridding my face sweetie"

"Well… okay but carefully I don't want to hurt you"

"If this is how I did believe me I will die happy" he says laying back with his head on the pillow eager and excited I was nervous having never done it before but I moved holding the wooden headboard my knees on either side of his head I was slow moving slowly until his lips met me he happily held my thighs to keep me still and at this level as he kissed and sucked as he had on my nipple

"Uuhhhh Jojen!" I gasped feeling the sharp pleasure he didn't speak merely working hard to pleasure my aching clit clearly enjoying himself he began to move my hips the same as when I was riding him which only intensified the pleasure letting him work into me better to send more accurate waves of pleasure as I rode I could barely contain my moans my hands leaving the headboard to play with my breasts as he worked, after a while I knew how close I was getting feeling so on edge but one hand left my thigh and he thrusted two fingers deep inside me moving them in and out as he merciless licked and sucked which caused me to scream his name loudly and slightly squirt

Immediately he pulled his fingers out and flipped us over so I laid on my back and he now sat over me looking as happy as I'd ever seen him my wetness soaked across the lower half of his face

"Like it?" I asked

"Everything I hoped it would be" he smirked "Did you like it?"

"Very much"

"But still no?"

"No." I blushed

"Say no more sweetie" he smirked kissing down my neck and then down between my breasts making a stop to suck on each nipple a moment before kissing down my stomach he opened my thighs as far as possible and buried his head there returning to his pace returning his fingers inside me as he became utterly merciless on me leaving me to scream in pleasure my only outlet gripping my sheets or attempting to pleasure my breasts which he noticed and batted my hand off using his other hand to play with my breast often rubbing and twisting my nipple as he worked until I hit a wall of pleasure squeezing my legs around his head screaming so much my throat slightly shredded

"Uuuuuuuhhh uuughhhh Jojen!"

He pulled back but only to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand looming over me excitedly "uuhhh sweetie" he gasps and it was then I noticed the hand that had been fingering me now wrapped around his hard shaft "fuck you made me hard just watching you like that," he groans his hand working hard as he jerked himself off over my naked body I blushed but batted his hand away

"That's a job for your wife Jojen" I smirked stroking my pussy which he only smirked at

"Ummm yes it is sweetie" he growled biting his lip before pushing as deep inside me as he could "fuck! More.."

"What?" I gasped feeling him once again fill me up with his shaft

"More" he growled wrapping my legs around his waist "I want you sweetie. Now" he demanded grabbing my hips and thrusting so mercilessly that it was almost as if he found a new angle leaning down to leave hikes across my neck pounding my pussy so mercilessly that all I could do was scream he held my hips so hard my hips were actually completely off the bed the whole bed shaking as it banged repeatedly against the wall "yeah you like that, you like your husband fucking railing you"

"Uhhh yes! Jojen please!"

"Uuhhhh just a little longer sweetie please, I'm so close too" he groans moving a hand to rub on my clit which was enough to tip me over the edge sending me almost off the earth itself for my second orgasm he melted against me feeling me around him "uuuuuuuhhh! Fucking hell" he moans as only a few more thrusts later he pulled out and send his seed across my stomach before collapsing among the covers with me "okay… I wanna be inside you every time you do that"

"Really?"

"God yes" he gasps "Holy fuck your amazing"

"Thank you, my wonderful husband did very very good too" I smiled nuzzling up to him as we cuddled up against the bed

"Yeah? I did a good job for my first time?"

"A perfect job" I Cooed

"Well we have time to learn all the little secrets about each other" he smiled "and… what we each like" he smirked wrapping my leg around his hips and stroking my ass and thigh

"I think I can guess what you like Jojen"

"Humm can you now? Well, I know what you like too, sweetie" he smirked almost growling that last word and I couldn't help but blush and slightly squeeze my legs together "hummm" he chuckled "Again sweetie?" He whispered in my ear

I couldn't help but giggle "Later Jojen when we have some energy"

"Your right, I really am sorry for being a dick"

"It's alright you had your reasons, so long as things will be different now?"

"Of course, I promise" he Cooes kissing my nose making me giggle "You are such a little giggler it's so cute," he smiled "Hey what would you say to maybe… a couple days together just you and me?"

"I'd like that"

"And maybe we could move our rooms in together?" He suggested

"That sounds lovely Jojen"

"Umm I love you y/n"

"Aww I love you too Jojen" I smiled nuzzling close to him as we tucked the covers up around us

"Can I stay tonight?"

"Of course as long as you'd like"

We got cosy and snug cuddled up together comfortably  

[fyeahnix]

Been thinking about Sevika a bit and I had some thoughts.... Vander included as well.

First off I'm leaving this untagged because I don't want the wrong people to get a hold of this but you can reblog if you want.

Second, to be clear, I have not seen/read/consumed any leaks about anything related to Arcane out of choice. I wanted to see this series unfold on release days and enjoy being unspoiled with most of the rest of the fandom. Nothing I say here regarding theories will have anything to do with leaks. If they do, I promise you it's coincidence or I'm just good at reading the tea leaves. That being said, please for my sake and the people reading this post, don't be an asshole and say anything related to any leaked content, vague mention or not. Actually if you read any leaks related to this, I'd really prefer if you kept any and all comments to yourself. This is primarily for folks like me who are just theorizing for fun until we get more officially released info.

Anyway let me start..

Life and Death

As I've said before, I am still fearing Sevika's death. That remains true even after Act 1 of the season has concluded. We know from the teasers and trailers that Sevika is getting a wardrobe update and a new look for Act 2 and beyond. But I still fear what will happen. I do think her situation can either go one of two ways:

Sevika Lives

I haven't had a chance to actually write this out in a fic yet but one of my headcanons for Sevika is that she'd heavily reconsider the real fight for Zaun if she met someone who she really and truly grew to care for and love. And not because she's flaky or Zaun doesn't matter. But because these life and death situations are incredibly more difficult when you have people in mind to protect. What happens if you die? Who will protect them when you're gone? Is it worth setting them up for heartache by putting yourselves in the line of fire? That's a lot to consider.

Season 1 showed us that Sevika thought Vander was weak for not taking the fight to Zaun a second time. But what she didn't understand was that he had loved ones to look after—kids. Would it be worth making them parentless a second time for Zaun's liberation? Who would look after them? That's a tough question to answer. And I think the rest of this season will build up to Sevika coming to the same realization that Vander and Silco did before her—is putting my home and life in danger worth risking losing my loved ones or my loved ones losing me?

I hate that now I just look like a damn copycat if this ends up coming to fruition but that's just the stress of being a slow ass writer. Oh well lol.

In any case, since it looks like Jinx is gonna be the real deal when it comes to taking the fight to Piltover, I'm willing to bet that Zaun will win their independence. It looks like they have it now in the current (now old) League lore so I don't think that outcome will change. If that wasn't the case, I'd say Sevika would probably give that fight up and live or straight up leave Zaun to go elsewhere.

Sevika Dies

I can see Sevika's death happen one of two ways:

1) Killed by Enforcers. This is obvious. Unfortunately it happens to a lot of Zaunites. I can see this happening to her either by getting caught somewhere unawares or protecting either Jinx and/or Isha.

2) Warwick*. This is...a tricky one. Most of us who know the absolute bare minimum of League lore know that Warwick is a genetically modified werewolf created by Singed but outside of that, I don't think we ever got his full identity (I know Riot has a short story for him but I haven't read it). It's pretty obvious by now that Vander is becoming Warwick. The big question is going to be what does that mean for the rest of the characters and Zaun? And how much of his memories will Warwick retain from being Vander?

If he does retain flashes of those memories, I can see him being pissed about what he may see as a betrayal and decide to kill Sevika for supporting Silco.....

More On Vander/Warwick

....HOWEVER....

I think it's also completely possible that Warwick retains some of his memories BUT encounters Sevika while she's with Jinx and Isha. And his memories of Jinx stop him from killing Sevika which would be VERY INTERESTING for two reasons. One, I think it would mean a lot to him to see his kid being protected and accepted by someone he felt betrayed him. That maybe he thought wrong of her because this kid he once knew as sweet and innocent likes her. And two, Jinx says to Smeech right before their fight that people close to her usually end up dead. Well what if Sevika ends up alive when confronting Warwick because she's around Jinx? That would be an interesting flip from last season and that statement overall.

Second point here. About Zaun's liberation, what if Warwick ends up being a key weapon to helping liberate them? The Chem Tanks attack on Piltover was devastating and if it wasn't for the Noxians, they would have caused quite a lot of destruction. Warwick's abilities are unknown right now and it doesn't even look like he's fully completed his transformation. The Enforcers hear about a giant ass wolf man monster roaming the streets of Zaun or too many die at his hands and are like "actually nvm they can fucking have their independence."

I'm almost sure the creators have said it's possible for more Arcane characters to become Legends in League so maybe Sevika could become one at some point? Idk

So yeah I am still bracing myself for the worst but ultimately just enjoying any screen time we get with her. According to the intro sequence, she ain't important enough to make a main character, so it's possible she's doomed OR she might be one of the characters who has their story expanded in a future League universe work when Arcane ends, which I'm almost sure will happen with Ambessa.

[dreamyelectronicmusic]

I'm loving your Wilmon fic so very very much! I was feeling mostly done with YR and all related media and ready to let it go - in a happy, pleased-with-season-3, it's all wrapped up and my hectic job is demanding my attention way - and then it was like your fic just broke through my walls and reminded me why I fell in love with the show and its characters. Your Wille and Simon are so good to each other. Their anticipation and nerves and exhilaration as they begin to reconnect - it's everything.

I was surprised to see it's your first YR fic! I'm curious about your story of finding the show - when did that happen for you, when did you first feel inspired to create this beautiful extension of the YR world?

Aw, thank you so much for this lovely ask, I'm so happy you like the fic! 💜💜

I discovered YR literally on day one! Or even before day one, because I remember scrolling through Netflix’s coming soon page and watching the teaser. I remember thinking it looked like an Elite-type trashy teen show but that I would probably watch it because it’s Swedish (I love Nordic languages). Then on July 1, 2021, at like 10 pm, I was looking for something to numb my brain and YR popped up on the Netflix homepage and I thought, oh I think that's the Swedish show I said I’d watch, let’s give it a try. So I watched the first episode and needless to say it did not numb my brain, I was immediately hooked. But I decided to be responsible and go to bed, and I watched eps 2-4 the next day, and then the day after that was a Saturday and beautiful weather so I went on a hike, and all the time I was trudging up hills I kept thinking “omg omg Wilhelm and Simon are so cute and August is such an asshole omg omg what is going to happen I need them to live happily ever after”. So yeah, I’ve been obsessed from the start 😂

I was never inspired to write fic for it before because I tend to prefer canon to be complete before I write anything, but mostly because I have this weird mental block about reading/writing fic in a different language than the one I consumed the original in. It just doesn’t sound right! (I watch the show in Swedish with English subtitles, so I want fics to also be in Swedish with English subtitles. Yes I know it doesn’t make sense). I guess the inspiration for ‘maybe now’ was strong enough for me to overcome that but tbh it still doesn’t sound right and I have to do weird mental gymnastics to write it 😂

Inspiration for the fic struck very shortly after the show, this is a post I made on March 19:

Ok so who's writing a fic where Simon didn't notice Wille running after the car, or noticed him but couldn't bear to talk to him again, and they have no contact for a year until Wille's decision to give up the crown is made public on his 18th birthday, prompting Simon to reach out and tell him how proud and happy for him he is?

And then I guess I didn’t wait for an answer and wrote it myself!

The inspiration came from the fact that while I love the ending we got and I am so happy that we got it, I do agree with people who think that it was rushed. Given what the first 17 episodes were like, we got the best possible episode 18, but in an ideal world, I would have liked another season, or the three seasons to have more episodes, or the episodes that we got to have a different pacing so that there was more time between the breakup and them getting back together. This is what I wrote in a reaction post after the first five episodes:

If this weren't the last season, I think I'd want them to break up now, take some time apart and get back together after some separate personal growth. But there simply isn't time for that.

One thing about me is that I love it when characters go their separate ways, have some separate growth and find out that they can live without each other, but they just really don’t want to. So in a way it’s a kind of fix-it fic for me.

Anyway, thank you for the ask and sorry I wrote a novel in response!

[silverynight]

The werewolf chronicles

<---Previous

Part II

Sawamura is definitely mad at Kageyama, but Shoyo has no idea why; they haven't gotten in a fight in a while and the setter has pretty much done everything right during their practice matches.

Then why does it look like the captain is scolding him right now? And why Sugawara telling Shoyo not to interrupt them?

"Did Kageyama scent you?"

If it's not about volleyball, Shoyo easily forgets certain terms when it comes to werewolves.

"Yeah, but it was like what you guys did the other day when you told me to become part of your pack," Shoyo is actually very proud to remember all that information.

"No, it's not the same," Sugawara argues with a pleasant smile, although sometimes is just to hide how pissed he is. "You smell different now."

"Oh..."

But what is it such a big deal? Can't they just move on and keep training? Shoyo really wants Kageyama to set for him.

"Don't do it again without properly asking," Sawamura scolds the younger boy. "You'll have to explain to him what it means."

"I'd rather die," Kageyama hisses, looking certainly pissed, although he often looks like that.

"Then don't ever scent him again."

Kageyama grimaces and looks away from the captain while closing his hands into fists, but he nods in the end.

"Alright, everyone! Gather around because we have to scent Hinata again!"

There's another group hug that only makes Kageyama's scowl more deep, but after that everything seems to go back to normal.

***

Something weird happens after their match against Aoba Johsai; they're all on the ground, trying not to shake and cry after being defeated when Oikawa gets closer to the net.

"Oi, shorty."

Shoyo thinks the werewolf is going to make fun of him or tell him how much better than him he is.

When playing a match, werewolves usually keep their human form, but sometimes they can make appear their wolf ears and tail.

The Aoba Johsai team prefers to play like that, however, it's against the rules to use the tail to touch the ball during a match.

"What?" Shoyo pouts, feeling a tear escaping from one of his eyes.

"You're cute when you cry."

Shoyo huffs, narrowing his eyes at him. However, he notices Oikawa's tail wagging.

"You smell nice too, can I–"

Kageyama growls, pulling Shoyo closer to him.

"Don't be like that, little Tobio," Oikawa smirks. "Besides, it's not like you scented him... don't you think he'd prefer a much more capable, handsome and talented setter like me?"

Sawamura has to grab Kageyama from the collar of his shirt in order to stop him from attacking Oikawa.

Shoyo would be more confused and alarmed if he wasn't consumed by sadness and frustration already.

It's a devastating day.

Perhaps that's why Kageyama starts acting weird; he follows him around the school and even grabs him by the sleeve at some point.

"What is it?"

Kageyama turns his head down, making it impossible for Shoyo to see his expression.

"Let me... hug you."

Knowing Kageyama is not a very affectionate guy, Shoyo looks up at him with confusion, but then gives in because actually, he could use a hug too.

"Okay."

The werewolf doesn't waste any time; he pulls Shoyo into his arms and buries his face in the curve of his neck.

"Sawamura said–"

"I'm not going to scent you," Kageyama cuts him off, slightly irritated. "I just want to smell you again. Your scent makes me feel better."

Shoyo is sure that's something Kageyama wasn't supposed to say out loud so he pretends he didn't hear it. Besides, he doesn't know how to respond to something like that.

"Alright then," he mumbles, before hugging him back.

***

It's even worse the next time they play against them.

"Shorty, if we win, you'll let me scent you."

Behind him, Kageyama is growling and being held back by half of the team. Oikawa has a mischievous smirk on his face, but for the first time, Shoyo is not worried at all.

"Okay."

"Oi, Hinata!"

Shoyo turns around before smiling at Kageyama; the soft expression on his face makes the grumpy werewolf stop struggling completely; the others finally release him, after a quick nod from their captain.

"It's okay," Shoyo says. "Because we're going to win."

Kageyama grins back at him.

They win.

"Next time we'll win," Oikawa promises. "And I'm going to scent you."

"We'll win again and you'll never get close to Shoyo ever again." Kageyama bares his teeth at him, standing in between the orange haired human and the other setter.

Shoyo? Since when Kageyama calls him by his first name? And why are werewolves so obsessed with scenting other people?

It seems there's so much Shoyo still needs to learn.

***

Next--->

Patreon

[sketching-shark]

Laios Dungeonmeshi- i mean, Laios Touden for the ask game, cuz i think you've already been asked of all of the JTTW crew alot

Thanks for the ask @seasonalsummers! And apologies to you and everyone else who's sent me asks only for me to take 5 billion years to reply (X_X)

But Laiooooosss...seems like everyone and their mother is talking about him these days, and for good reason lol. I guess for the most part I'd go with the majority of saying that he's a neat character for a number of reasons, from being a genuine freak but not a pervert to his strong desire for friendship & the way that gets messed up and repaired to the way his love of monsters is significantly defined by how alienated he feels from much of humanity. I can't remember who said it, but he kind of reminds me of this quote I stumbled across where the speaker was noting how a reason many prefer the company of animals to that of humans is the way that animals are often very direct with their intentions and desires, whereas humans have a habit of hiding who they are and what they truly want. So especially for a manga that's all about the nature of desire, the potentially cataclysmic consequences of misreading intent, but also the absolute necessity of forming bonds with living things of all kinds to survive, Laios does make for a great protagonist.

I honestly didn't really ship him with anyone on my first read-through of the manga, but after seeing some posts on how well the compliment each other Kabru x Laios is growing on me. I think it really helps that both Kabru and Laios have goals, interests, and friend groups that lie outside of each other, but that they can complement each other so well thanks to each one possessing skills that the other one lacks and both sincerely wanting to help their loved ones. I do think it helps as well that Ryōko Kui didn't feel the need to demonize or dumb either Laios or Kabru down to make their friendship work. Hell, while Laios does become king Kabru becomes his advisor, and the manga itself stands testament to why that's a partnership that's likely for the best.

AUGH it's really hard to pin down but one non-romantic OTP for Laois given how much he loves each member of his party, but I guess ultimately I'd have to say Senshi. Besides being a fun character it was thanks to this dwarf's culinary skills with monster bits that Laios and his party were able to make the attempt to get Falin back in the first place, after all! More importantly for me however is the way Senshi has a deep understanding of the cycles that need to be maintained in order for a world of eating and being eaten to continue, and his explanation of them is something that I do think helped inform Laios's decisions which ultimately resulted in him saving the world from being consumed.

I don't think that it's a deeply unpopular opinion, but I do agree with others who've said that Laios's bouts of insensitivity and even outright bigotry shouldn't be dismissed as just him being autistic. Ryōko Kui made it pretty clear that biases of all kinds have an important hand in shaping what the world of Dungeon Meshi is like, and it definitely decreases the richness of the story to pretend that the main characters, Laios included, don't have any.

I do think that Dungeon Meshi ending where it did makes a lot of sense, but tbh I wish that we had seen more about what Laios is like as a king dealing with the more mundane day-to-day tasks of ruling. I do like that he apparently spends a lot of time and energy on the production and distribution of food, but I'd be keen to see what that would actually look like in practice, especially given the state of the island and the way a lot of the fantasy races which have long histories of being hostile towards each other are living alongside each other there. Dungeon Meshi is quite clear about Laios having a lot of difficulty reading people, and it would be interesting to see how that would play out with him in a position that's largely all about telling what people want and why and responding accordingly. Of course keep in mind this is coming from someone who's list of favorite books includes Moby-Dick (which contains lengthy descriptions of what's actually involved in boiling down whales for their oil) and the obscure sci-fi Grasp the Stars (who's hero is a middle-aged woman dealing with diplomatic emergencies at a space port), so my desire for this kind of expansion of Laios lore is probably not what most people want lmao.

[panelshowsource]

this is such a great episode!

for anyone who hasn't listened yet — it deals with some heavy things including food addiction and eating disorders, death, and more, so anyone who wants to check it out should be aware it's about richard's own history and his self-identified "failures", and it's not particularly light-hearted or funny even though it's endearing and inspiring in many ways

i really appreciate his honesty and how carefully he speaks. he has every right to be angry — with his father leaving, with his relationship to food and shame, with the ever-present confines of modern masculinity making life so lonely for men — but he never seems to be. he just cares about being the best, healthiest version of himself. and i appreciate that he doesn't talk at people, preach, act like he knows more or best; he just knows what he knows all while seeking to always be learning more. i really appreciate him!

i've never heard of a podcast by tailors, how interesting! i listened to the episode with alex and it was really sweet! i'll post this in case anyone else wants to check it out :)

(of course 💜)

same, i'd only really heard of it because i got a bunch of messages about it! (i was a little unplugged from scripted tv when the first series came out 😅)

TOTALLY AGREE about jon pointing! his comedic timing, his facial expressions, he is just too hilarious — even though...can i just say...why was that old ass man playing a uni student X_X

anyways — i knew him from plebs!! that's quite a famous itv2 series, so you should check it out and see if you like it! i love tom basden ugh and if you check my non-panel shows masterpost i have live at the moth club and he does standup in ep1!

i am somewhat familiar with it as someone who likes to watch some of the nextup specials (alistair barrie was one i enjoyed recently!) and tries to keep abreast of the festival nominees & winners, but i don't have as much time as i'd like to really weed out my favourites only because there isn't enough time in the day and i'm already trying to watch 100 things a day 🥲

one thing i find funny is how i pay more attention to who would do well on tv opposed to who is just GOOD. like, i didn't get john kearns until stopped thinking about him in the context of dictionary corner and started acknowledging his written set as a very, very specific piece of work that really shouldn't be disassembled and consumed in morsels. but i do see my interest in — and potentially my preference for — panel shows reflected in some of the circuit guys i like, such as alasdair beckett-king, huge davies, larry david. i just know they would kill panel show world if they were pushed properly :')

i find that i like standup a lot more live than i do on screen — which i think a lot of comedians would understand!

as well, i find the discourse about how difficult it is to get started/off the ground now that edinburgh fringe is becoming less and less accessible extremely fascinating and try to listen to all of the podcasts/convos about that that i can. it's costing comedians upwards of 5k just to debut a modest set at edinburgh — which is madness. here is tom mayhew talking to bbc news about this just a couple of weeks ago...

anyways, is there someone you wanted to recommend? i would love to check out anything 😚

—

daniel sloss standup — added a couple of those to drive! god i looooooved him when i was in high school and still do! highly recommend him on roast battle uk if you need extra sloss content. i'll work on the others over the next couple of weeks

alma's not normal — added to drive!

here we go — i know exactly where this is so i can hook you up but imma need you to dm/ask me off anon for the deets!

hold the front page + the unofficial science of home alone — sorry anons i don't have these on me but they're very easy requests someone can hook you up with on r/tv_bunny, so post them there!

—

PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS / NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS FAQ / TAGS / ASK

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Who is the most powerful version of tails in the sonic franchise?

Hmmm

I wish I could give a better answer, but unfortunately I have not yet consumed the bulk of the Sonic franchise, so I will do my best!

ㅤ

To me, the answer depends on your criteria. Personally, I think my criteria for "most powerful version of Tails" depends on a couple things.

How much innate power he has (and how well he uses it)

How well he balances his fighting prowess and his technological/menanical/strategizing skills on the battlefield

And if he does obtain any extra power (usually through usage of magical artifacts or the chaos emeralds or what have you), how well does he use them?

ㅤ

Using this criteria, I'll start with Nine as an example (as I do see him as one of the more powerful and efficient versions of Tails).

Innate power: He's not some secret chosen one or overflowing with chaos energy or anything. He does have some baseline innate physical power, given that he *can* spin dash, but he largely utilizes his mechanical tails or other external devices he has control over to do damage. So he ranks lower on the innate power scale, but not the lowest (let's say ehhhh 2/5?)

Balance: Nine is one of the versions of Tails that is better at this. Though we don't get to see him fighting personally for the bulk of the runtime of Prime, we have evidence that he can play the role of fighter and strategist. Even though Sonic was holding back, his backstory, the way he fought Sonic physically those few times he did, and moments such as in S2 where he dismantles a number of eggforcers guarding him all imply that he doesn’t prefer to fight, but he can and will fight on his own (and do a good job of it) if driven to it. Plus, even when Nine does hang back and play strategist, there are still many moments where his vantage point still allows him to fight (like when he directs Sonic's movements so he can blast Chaos Sonic in S2). I'd place him higher on the balance scale, but not the top (closer to a 4/5).

Extra Power: I hate to do this to him but like...2/5 at best. I love him. He's great. Unfortunately, despite having a large goal, he didn't have much of an idea of what executing the goal in question looked like. So when he had time to spend on his "perfect home", he didn't add much to the Grim aside from a lab for him and some palm trees for Sonic. And when he finally obtained the paradox prism, despite his large shows of power with the thing, he largely used it to protect the Grim or to persuade Sonic to give himself over. So when he was more fully utilizing the kind of power the Prism can give, it was earlier in S3, while he largely just used these shows of power to get to Sonic. He messed with gravity and projected his head across shatterspaces, but the former he only took as far as he did while believing Sonic would save the people and only as long as Sonic hadn't surrendered, and the latter he pretty much did (yes as a show of power also) largely to keep contact with Sonic so he could convince him to give in. Essentially, at his most mentally sound and well rested, he used the prism for easy and low stakes shows of power, or only as much as he needed to win over Sonic (and while keeping the danger level manageable), so he hardly was using it to its full potential. In the beginning too he made very few robots. Then, as the battle waged on to a climax and everything was on the verge of falling apart, he pretty much just used the prism to keep the Grim together and to protect it. So he just...made a bunch more robots (ironic, given his "all that power at your disposal, and all you could think to do was build a bigger robot" in S2). Point is, Nine has the potential to wield great power well, but unfortunately during the events of prime, he didn't much do that (which is largely because of his lack of visualization in terms of what his "perfect world" actually looks like, and his tactic of doing the bare minimum of messing with the other shatterspaces so he can get what he wants and isolate himself again).

ㅤ

Now, another example is Archie Tails.

Innate Power: Wow. Okay, if not for the inconsistent handling of his character, I'd put him at a 5. He gets a 4.5 by virtue of his chosen one powers and the fact that he generally cleans house when he becomes Hyper Tails. However, as I said, he loses .5 for inconsistencies in his character. There are times in which he utilizes his raw strength to fight or to assist in battles, but these moments are few. Kind of like early Sally, when Tails isn't in his chosen one form, his physical prowess varies based upon what the narrative demands. So sometimes he's just some kid who no one lets fight and needs to be saved a lot. Sometimes he can fight side by side with Sonic, but he can't hold his own. Sometimes he proves that he has some genuine strength but is benched as the strategy and technology guy afterwards.

Balance: Ehhhh 2.5, largely due to the inconsistencies in his character, the fact that earlier depictions of him are benched due to his age or the writers keeping him at a "stay back at the base" role without also characterizing him as more useful back at the base, and that later depictions of him place him in the "guy who can provide strategy or help back at the base who is good with technology" more often than putting him in the middle of any given fight. Essentially, he stays back at the base more often than not, and it was well into the comic before he was even given the "smart kid who's good with technology" trait. I'm being a bit generous with the 2.5 given that there are times he decently balances the whole technology prowess thing with fighting in the field.

Extra Power: 4/5. He ranks so high because he doesn't come into this kind of power incredibly often, but when he does so he generally handles it well. It's a bit cheating I suppose since usually he and Sonic (at the very minimum) fight together while in super forms, and they both have epic fights with the current bad guy when they do utilize power rings or chaos emeralds together. However, as with Nine, this is quantified less by potential and more by the examples at hand. The only reason I didn't rank him higher is because (at least as I remember) he doesn't really use power rings or the chaos emeralds for anything other than fighting a bad guy (usually with Sonic) or for powering his devices. This is to say that there is more room there for him utilizing higher powers (that aren't innate) to their full potential or experimenting with them.

ㅤ

But, anon, if you're still reading, by now you're probably looking for an answer. My personal answer to your question "Who is the most powerful Tails?" is, surprisingly enough...classic Tails?

Sure, classic Tails doesn't really have any inate chosen one power or anything, but during classic era games he's decently balanced out as the technology guy and the guy who can fight in the field. He can fight alongside Sonic and has gone on more than one solo journey. He apparently can be trusted enough on his own that he went on vacation alone (the only classic game I remember off the top of my head where you explicitly have to save Tails)?? In fact, Superstars best shows off the balance criteria, as Act Tails depicts Tails as proficient enough to mess with Eggman's tech while he fights badniks alone (at least, I assume alone). I guess my point is that (despite any innate chosen one power or anything), he fits the balance category well (I personally think about equal or better compared to Nine), and the Extra Power category pretty decently (in this case, I'd say about the same as archie Tails in one of the examples).

So yeah classic Tails turned out to be my answer! 😂

Although I'm curious what other people think

ㅤ

Thanks for the ask, anon!

[mosneakers]

Hi! It's me again, haha!

Question/Request regarding Sawyer and Brick's kids - (if you've already done this please just ignore me lol) but can we get a little bio on each of them? They are all so cute and I'd love to know more like their likes/dislikes, fave parent, fave foods, what they like to play/do in their free time - and any other lil' details you'd like to share. I know they're young, but I'd love to know more of them .. They are ALL so cute and man, Brick's genes run strong! LOL

Anyways, I love you.

Hi lovely 👋 I love this question so much, thank you!! Those genes really DO run strong, don't they?! 😆

A little info on each of Brick and Sawyer's kiddos:

Gerbit Darling

For those who don't know, Gerbit seems to mean "llama" in simlish. He's pretty much named after this cheer, which is incredibly near and dear to my heart 🥺 I wanted all of Brick and Sawyer's kids to have very classic sims names!

Gerbit is the first Gen 5 Darling, Brick and Sawyer's oldest child, and was born pretty early into Brick and Sawyer's relationship, when the two were very young and hadn't been dating long. Sawyer just left university early, and Brick just got out of jail and cancelled on the internet, losing his celebrity status as an influencer. Despite life being up in the air for the couple, Brick and Sawyer were hopeful when Gerbit was born, he was their little beacon of light ❤

Just like Brick, Gerbit isn't very gifted intellectually. However, he makes up for this with his heart of gold. He's a very sweet boy and enjoys visiting his grandparents more than anywhere else. His relatives think he'll become a family sim for sure. He's not great at making friends quite yet, but his closest friends are his cousin Minnow, and distant cousin Budgie Sparrow. (Birdie's youngest)

When it comes to Gerbit's interests, he enjoys watching heavy machinery, such as planes, trains, cranes, bulldozers, and excavators. He looooves to eat and has the glutton trait. His favorite thing to eat is Taco Casserole, but only if it's made by Grandma Donna! Like his other siblings, he loves his dad but doesn't see him much so he's a lot closer to Mom.

Belo Darling

Belo, the middle child, is named after the Belomisia Jungle in Selvadorada, to honor Sawyer's heritage.

Out of the three kids, Belo takes the most after his mom in personality, although he seems to have inherited his father's lack of intelligence, similar Gerbit. He has the angelic trait but does seem to have a short temper like Dad. However, he displays his attitude in mannerisms similar to Sawyer, with sassy eyerolls and pursing his lips in disapproval.

Belo looks up to his big brother and usually tries to emulate his behavior. If Gerbit misbehaves, Belo will too. But if Gerbit is a good boy, which is usually the case, Belo follows his lead. Belo didn't grow his first tooth or say his first word until after 18 months old. He still isn't very advanced at speaking, and the speech he does use has an impediment, he's unable to pronounce his "R"s.

He loves singing, most sports, especially baseball and football (both Simerican and real), and experimenting with Mom's makeup, which can usually be found scattered on the bathroom, livingroom, or bedroom floor. He often consumes and prefers processed foods such as microwaved chicken nuggets, microwaved breakfast burritos, and animal crackers.

Rosebud Darling

Baby Rosie, or Rosebud, is Brick and Sawyer's youngest and only daughter. She is biologically Brick's, conceived from Zoe Flores's and Brick's scandalous and juiced session that they shared in a hot tub at a party in Del Sol Valley. Most of us know the dramatic story, but basically, Zoe and her boyfriend Drew's relationship could not withstand the burden of raising another man's child, and Zoe forfeited her rights to Brick's side, and Sawyer ended up adopting her for full custody.

Despite being thrown into quite the chaotic storyline, she's always been such a happy and social baby, who just goes with the flow. She also has the angelic trait, and loves to cuddle and be carried. Being a Darling and being surrounded by the hustle and bustle of Evergreen Harbor, she's constantly surrounded by loud sounds, which she has fully embraced, and always can be kept content by playing sound for her. Like Belo, she also loves singing! When she was a baby, Sawyer's Dad and Stepmom brought fresh avocado and papaya grown from their property in Selvadorada for her to try, and she's been hooked ever since.