#anyway please talk to me about blade i have So Many Thoughts

[notoneglance]

Why the takoyaki amnesia doppelganger episodes???

So I think we can all agree that this whole plot line in Blade was wild and peak Inoue and definitely a comedic break in between two emotion heavy arcs. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t do anything for the narrative. Despite being a huge departure in tone from the rest of the show, it does actually fit thematically and in terms of character development.

As a refresher, the arc I’m talking about happens in episodes 29 and 30 of Blade where Hajime briefly loses his memory and meets an identical-looking guy who convinces him to switch places for a bit. This guy, Mikami Ryou, is the heir to a takoyaki-making group in fierce competition with a taiyaki group and knows nothing of the Undead.

As silly as this whole premise is, the “prince and the pauper” style identity switch thing is a well-established trope often used to explore a character and their situation, just as it does here in Blade. There are intentional parallels between Ryou’s life and Hajime’s, despite their completely opposite personalities, and by switching them around, this arc both gives us a new lens on Hajime as a person and foreshadows the ending of Blade.

So let’s recap Ryou’s situation: 

He’s the son of the head of an intensely competitive takoyaki-making gang, the Iroha clan, and was raised into this job. He doesn’t seem to have anything against making takoyaki itself—we first see him enthusiastically working at a stand—but he isn’t actually part of his father’s group. In fact, he hates the pressure to be involved in the conflict to the point where he switches lives with some random stranger just to leave it all behind. Part of this is because he is dating Michi, the daughter of the head of a rival taiyaki-making group who also seems a bit distant from her family. Both Ryou and Michi’s fathers discourage them from being together, each believing that their child is being “deceived” by their competitor.

Does any of this sound familiar?

The Battle Fight has way more going on than the simple two sided takoyaki vs taiyaki rivalry, but from the pov of the audience, it can be simplified into an Undead vs Human Kamen Rider fight. The show explicitly draws parallels between the two fights. When Ryou’s father says he wishes that Ryou would join the Iroha clan so that they could “win and survive”, Hajime despite his amnesia is instantly reminded of the Undeads’ motivation to do exactly that. 

Like Ryou, Hajime was raised in this competition but does not particularly want to fight, instead forming a connection with someone on the other side—Kenzaki.

Actually, the whole “win and survive” thing is really interesting. Because of their circumstances, both Ryou’s father and Hajime fully believe that their survival is dependent on winning. It’s a kill or be killed world out there, and even if Hajime is starting to wish that there was some other way, neither of them are willing to let themselves lose. I’ll come back to this point later, because neither actually end up needing to win in order to survive.

Anyway, we have a bunch of similarities between Hajime and Ryou’s situations, but what does that actually tell us about Hajime (other than that he and Kenzaki are in love)?

Well, first off, having those similarities sets up space for a distinct contrast to highlight some aspects of Hajime’s character. The plot going on with the Blade squad and the fake Hajime centers around Hajime’s humanity. In the beginning of episode 29 before Hajime loses his memories, Kotaro accuses him of not having enough human emotion to care about what happens to Shima’s bird Natural. When he is replaced by Ryou, Kotaro thinks that the personality change was due to Hajime taking his words to heart.

These episodes emphasize that Hajime isn’t human and he’s definitely not the friendly and open person that Kotaro seems to want him to be. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing and it doesn’t make him dangerous.

Most of the people besides Kotaro are just confused by Hajime acting so out of character, and Amane actively rejects this false Hajime. Even if Kotaro is happy about Hajime acting differently, he’s an outlier, and probably the only one in the group who has ever really held negative feelings for him.

Just like how Kotaro prefers the new Hajime, Michi initially prefers Hajime to the real Ryou, actively choosing to claim that this imposter is Ryou despite knowing otherwise. Ryou’s father goes along with it too, even after it’s implied that he has also figured out that this man is not his real son. Unlike Ryou, Hajime is focused and strong—a fighter. In the rivalry between the takoyaki and taiyaki groups, Hajime is the one who has the determination to “win and survive”, to fight for the Iroha clan.

We see the opposite on the other side as well, that Ryou is not a fighter. When thrown into a situation where an Undead attacks him, he runs away screaming rather than holding his ground. Which is a perfectly reasonable reaction for a regular human!

The part where the idea that “Hajime is superior to Ryou” to the people in Ryou’s life falls apart is when it comes to the emotional bonds. 

Kotaro might be wrong about Hajime not caring about people in general, but there’s no reason for him to specifically care about the people Ryou loves. When Michi asks the fake Ryou if he loves her, Hajime replies that he doesn’t know what love is, upsetting her. Hajime spends most of this arc confused and not really invested, vaguely going along with the events without particularly asserting his own will, whether others are expecting him to be a takoyaki maker or Michi’s boyfriend. He doesn’t have any real stake in all this drama because he doesn’t actually know them—he’s not their Ryou.

However, things get switched up when Ryou comes back and declares himself as the real Mikami Ryou.

Both Michi and Ryou’s father initially insist that Hajime is the real one, culminating in a takoyaki vs taiyaki bake off competition between the two Ryous, where both characters that previously seemed disinterested become fired up, breaking out of the lover/fighter dichotomy that has thus far been set up.

Despite running away from the fight, despite running away from his life, Ryou does actually care about his girlfriend and father, and he wants them back. He doesn’t actually want to leave them behind or for them to leave him, so when push comes to shove he stands up and puts his whole spirit into the competition in order to get back his life. Later, when an Undead comes to interrupt the competition, Ryou stands his ground this time, risking his life to defend Michi. 

Afterwards, Ryou puts a stop to the fighting between their two families by uniting them through marriage—something that Hajime was never capable of doing despite also almost getting married to Michi—because Ryou is the one that genuinely loves both Michi and his father. And when it comes down to it, they choose the Ryou they know and love over Hajime even if he seemed outwardly better.

Ryou isn’t naturally a fighter, but that’s fine because he can when the situation calls for it, and his reluctance to fight is what allows him to find a solution to this rivalry that benefits everyone rather than just one side.

Meanwhile, Hajime also participates in the “who is the real Ryou” competition not because fighting is just what he does, but because he cares about people in general. 

Even though these are strangers that he has no real personal ties to, Hajime feels a connection with Ryou’s dad and his motto for the clan to “win and survive”. Which makes sense, since it’s basically the whole idea behind the Battle Fight, even if he does not remember it. The first time that Hajime made takoyaki, it was extremely half-hearted, just knocking ingredients over into the pan with a confused frown, but now he is fully putting all of his effort into this competition because of his desire to see the Iroha clan succeed.

When the people he loves are threatened, Ryou acts against his nature to protect them. We don’t see this parallel on Hajime’s end here, since none of the Blade squad are in danger this arc, but we’ve seen it happen so many times before with Hajime saving Amane and Kenzaki and even Kotaro that one time. Even without showing it, by having these parallels, the show reminds us of this aspect of Hajime’s character.

The point of the Ryou/Hajime contrast in these episodes is to show that Hajime is an Undead, a fighter—and that he also is someone who cares about people because these two things are not actually mutually exclusive and in fact tie into each other. 

In the end, the thing that brings Hajime’s memories back is twofold: the memory that he is the 53rd Undead who will cause everything to be destroyed if he wins, and the memory of Amane saying his name.

That is a good set up for the next arc of the show where the other characters find out that Hajime is the Joker and what exactly that entails, and we start seeing more of the conflict in Hajime between his instincts to win and destroy and his desire to live a human life with the people he cares about. Having this more solid understanding of Hajime, of his strengths and shortcomings and the way he fits among the other characters, is important groundwork for the new set of information and conflicts.

But there is one last thing these episodes do, which is to foreshadow the ending of Blade.

The interesting thing about these episodes is the way that the taiyaki/takoyaki rivalry gets resolved: not by one side winning over the other, but by both sides surviving through Ryou and Michi’s marriage.

In Japan, when two people get married, legally one of them is no longer part of their birth family and is instead becomes a part of their spouse’s family. It can be either the husband or wife, though in practice it’s usually the wife that marries into the husband’s family, as it appears that Michi does here. Socially though, marriage can be viewed as more of a merging of two families, as is seen with Michi’s father also calling Ryou his son.

In the end of the show, the Undead/Kamen Rider conflict is resolved in a similar if more tragic fashion. 

There does not have to be a winner to the Battle Fight for both Hajime and the world to survive. Just like how Michi joins Ryou’s family to bring peace, Kenzaki ends up physically changing species into an Undead. Meanwhile Hajime does not physically (or legally) change his status, but he socially becomes human by living among them.

Despite the goofiness of the takoyaki episodes, Kamen Rider Blade as a whole is a more serious show. Their conflict—between the Undead and humans, between the characters and destiny—cannot be so easily resolved. While Michi and Ryou join each other’s families and get to live happily together, Kenzaki and Hajime can only partially trade places as species and are unable to ever see each other again, not really resolving the conflict of the Battle Fight but only putting it on hold.

Still, even if Hajime and Kenzaki are left separated and connected only by the violent demands of fate/God/the Overseer of the Battle Fight, there is a lasting bond between them. It’s not for nothing that the ring designed off their combined character motifs is called “eternal marriage”. 

TL;DR: The takoyaki episodes are important in how they set up Hajime as a character in preparation for the Joker arc and also foreshadow how Hajime and Kenzaki get symbolically married to bring peace

[nilesmoon]

infinite wealth if sawashiro said "who gives a shit about ebina im going to hawaii with ichi" and then the rest of the game is a family vacation

[luniusarahant]

Behavioral Issues

G!P Winter x F! Reader

Content Warning: Porn without plot (not much anyway), tummy bulge, degradation, nonconsensual sex, implied blackmailing, and unprotected sex.

Request: No, written because I have free will.

Author’s Note: This is my first fiction, please support me kindly! Oh, and also I got very embarrassed halfway through reading it. So it is only half proofread.

Your shoulder blades tense as you crash into the lockers, the metal cool against your skin as she grips onto you. “Do you know how much time that project took me,” Minjeong glares at you as she speaks, her eyes squinting through her black framed glasses.

You cringe at the feeling of her clammy hands against your own skin. “Who the hell are you talking to.. freak.. you should watch yourself,” you give her a quick scowl.

“I’m talking to you. How many years of torment have I endured because of you?” She adjusts the rim of her glasses while giving you a lookover. “The only reason you have any power over me is due to your popularity.”

“Due to my popularity? Have you ever once stopped and thought about how much of a geek you are? You should know your place you perv,” you give her a slight push on the chest, but she barely budges as she puffs her chest out in defense.

“What the fuck? Move..” you give her another shove only to be met with a fierce backhand on the cheek. “So cocky, but I’ve always wanted to hit you like that,” Minjeong snarls at you, her eyes laced with more than a hint of resentment.

“Y-You are so dead.. when I tell-” she scoffs, a cocky smirk written all over her lips. “What? Will you tell your boyfriend? So pathetic.. never being able to handle your own issues,” she plants a hand near your head, the locker door rattling as she does so.

Your heart drops as she leans in, her face so close to yours that you can smell her cologne. “You’ll have to pay me back now. All because of you. Because of you my project is ruined and I’m going to fail finals this week.”

Before you can respond she gives a tug at your skirt, the seams parting with a loud rip. Your hands instantly shoot down to cover yourself, your underwear now visible. “Why so shy now? You’re known as the campus whore. You should be conditioned to this.”

“Minjeong stop! Don’t touch me! I’ll tell everyone what you’re doing!” You squirm every time her fingers touch at you.

“You already tell everyone how much of a perverted loser I am. Might as well live up to those standards,” she coos into your ear, her tongue licking a stripe up your neck. “Mm.. I can finally have my turn with you.”

“Stop.. please stop. Leave me alone,” you whine into her shoulder as she tugs at your clothing. With each layer stripped of your body you become meeker and quieter. But that only stirs Minjeong up even more. The thought of you in a vulnerable state makes her hard as a rock.

In one swift motion she unbuttons her jeans, her zipper practically breaking as she reaches for her cock. Large is an understatement. Her dick is not only lengthy, but girthy as well. No hair in sight and one prominent vein near the left side. Her balls are full too. Heavy. Hung.

“Minjeong.. I’m sorry,” you sputter out in fear as she positions you below her until your face is parallel with her cock. With one hand she smacks it on your face, her sticky precum smearing on your cheek in one fast swipe.

“Give me a good polish and I might keep quiet about this whole situation,” she gives your cheek another quick slap before pressing her pink tip against your lips. You can taste the saltiness of her precum as she works her way into your mouth.

Each inch shoved down your throat causes you to gag in response, your saliva coating her cock as she uses you like a fleshlight. “That shut you up quick, didn’t it? You gonna drain my balls princess?”

You put both of your hands against her thighs in protest to absolutely no avail. She grabs two handfuls of your hair and jerks your mouth further onto her cock, a few loud groans eliciting from her. “Who’s a good cocksleeve? You gonna take this load like a good slut?”

You gag once again, your eyes red and puffy with tears and your throat sore from her rough throatfucking. Even as you cry she only continues to degrade you more as she throws her leg over your shoulder, a guttural moan emitting from her as her cock twitches in your warm mouth.

Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Three strong shots of semen spurt from her cock and hit the back of your throat. You can feel and taste her seed as it drips slowly down your throat. Minjeong pulls out, a satisfied smile on her face as she stares down at you. “Why are you even in college? The best profession you’d ever get is as a cum dump.”

You swallow hard, your pride destroyed as she pulls you up, her cock still twitching with excitement from her previous orgasm. “Minjeong please.. I won’t do it again,” you weep into her chest as she lifts you, your legs wrapping around her waist.

She just clicks her tongue at you, a hint of disapproval in her voice as she taunts you. “You’re only sorry once there’s consequences.” She pulls at your underwear until a loud rip reverberates throughout the locker room, your panties falling onto the floor.

Before you can speak Minjeong has positioned her tip with your entrance, her cock sliding in with an all too slow rhythm. It makes you cry out in pain as your walls stretch to accommodate her size, each sudden movement making your cunt grip on her shaft.

“J-Jeongie it hurts so bad,” you yelp while scratching at her back as she begins to quicken her pace, her thrusts getting deeper with each passing second. She grunts in response, her balls plapping against your ass as she pounds into you. You can feel your own wetness coating her cock as she bottoms out into you, her balls tightening as you hold her close.

Her legs begin to shake as she carries you over to the rickety (and practically ancient) benches. As she flexes her shoulder blades she drops you down onto the bench, one of her legs propped up to stabilize herself. With both of her hands she grips at your thighs, pressing them into your chest as she forces you into the mating press position. “This suits you,” she smiles down at you, her hair sticking to her face as she manhandles you.

Lowering your gaze from her eyes to your stomach you watch as her bulge moves inside of you, each action causing your body to stir in discomfort. You can feel her tip kissing at your cervix, her moans growing louder as she slams into you. With one final groan Minjeong falls onto you, all of her weight heavy against you as her seed spills out into you.

You whine under her, your eyes rolling back and your breath hitching as she fills your pussy up with warm sticky cum. With the rest of her strength Minjeong pulls out of you, her semen spilling out of you and onto the tiled floor of the locker room. She swallows hard, her gaze still set on you as she backs up. “Smile for me,” Minjeong whispers under her breath before a white flash reflects off of the lockers. “Maybe this’ll teach you to respect me.’’

Before you can react Minjeong has zipped up her jeans and walked out of the locker room, the only evidence of her presence being the lingering scent of her cologne and her thick semen pooling out of you.

[feyascorner]

6 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You remember how the sunlight glistened against his skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press the sharp end against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.4k words,,,tav is better than me i would've thrown hands like twelve years ago,,,I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I WROTE THIS IN LIKE TWO DAYS???? also thank you for all your comments they really motivate me to write!! so have this monster of a chapter early as thanks!!

"You'll kill them, Astarion," you mumble. "They might not have had the power to help you, but they're still your siblings. I don't want them to die hating you."

"They're not my siblings--not really. I don't care what they think of me. Hells, they could haunt me even in the afterlife, as annoying as that would be, but they're no innocents either. They've brought in as many souls as I have," he responds, his jaw visibly clenching at the thought. "I don't care if all seven thousand of them die hating me as long as you're here."

And while you feel flattered, you can't disregard the worry driving a hole through your conscience. Ever perceptive, he lifts a hand to brush stray strands of hair out of your face, his fingertips tracing your jaw. His voice is but a hushed whisper.

"You understand, don't you, my love? It would set me free--after two hundred years of forcing myself through hell--I can finally free myself from Cazador," his tone sours at just the mention of his master's name, and he intertwines his fingers with yours, drawing your attention back to him.

"It is what you want for me, no? For me to be happy?"

It is what you want. Just not like this.

Music was your way of releasing the mountain of feelings you kept locked away in your chest, waiting for the right person to recognize them for what they are. You’d hoped someone would understand the meaning behind your lyrics without you telling them outright, and they’d know what it truly meant to you. And for a while, you’d believed Astarion would be the key to this safe.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“While I usually entertain your certainly out-of-the-box plans, this is bordering on just foolish, I’m afraid,” Gale sighs, eyes tracing you as you pace around the house, stuffing every possible weapon and healing potion into a brown sack. Despite his insistence, you ignore him, testing the blade of a knife against the edge of the table. It’s not entirely dull, nor is it sharper than the dagger in your drawer, but it’ll have to do. “Simply charging into the tavern won’t do much good if you’ll be overwhelmed in number anyway.”

“I know what I’m doing, Gale,” you hiss, snatching an Alchemist’s Fire and shoving it a tad too hard into your bag. He tenses. “If they want to talk to me so badly, then I’m not waiting around for them to attack another one of my friends—I’ll go to them.”

“Yes, your determination is certainly praise-worthy, but can we please just sit down and think this through before running into a battlefield with a few knives? This is basically a suicide mission.”

“The wizard is right, even if it’s hard to believe,” Lae’zel announces from the corner of the room, wiping a cloth on her sword. “When I arrived, they’d already fled. They could be anywhere by now, and they’ve had more than enough time to plan another ambush if we were to charge now. We must be smart about this. I am a warrior, but I am no fool.”

“I’ll go by myself,” you say, a sense of finality in your voice. “They already showed what they’d do if someone they didn’t want to talk to approached them. I’ll just talk to them.”

Gale stares with lidded eyes. “So why are you packing so many explosives, exactly?”

“...Precaution?”

Silence befalls the room, and you take it as a sign to finish your preparations. All you can hear is the crackling of the fireplace and the rain falling against the windows of the home. The lot of you had somehow managed to stabilize Shadowheart by the time Lae’zel returned, and while she’d been conscious earlier, you insisted she rest before she consumed herself with the investigation again. You didn’t miss the way she limped back to her room with little to protest against you.

“Take the spawn with you.”

Two jaws drop at the words, the only one remaining fixed belonging to Lae’zel.

“The kainyank is living here to help. Not cause more problems for us. And so far, he’s only done one of the two things, and I’m dangerously close to turning to my blade if he doesn’t choose otherwise,” she says. “The spawn are searching for him, too. If blood breaks out, you must use him to flee safely.”

Gale blinks. “As in…use him as a body shield?”

“What else is he good for?”

While the wizard seems positively appalled, you can see the contemplation flicker in his eyes before he shakes his head. He's always been more considerate than the rest of you. “No, Tav would never agree to such a-”

“Okay.”

They both whip their heads toward you, and you avoid their piercing gazes, staring down at the dull blade in your hand. “It might help, too, if we find out why they want him. There are nearly 3000 spawns in the city—we can’t kill all of them, at least not immediately. It’d be best if we convinced them to leave, and the best way of doing that is to understand what they want in the first place.”

Lae’zel narrows her eyes. “Then you must swear it. Swear that if Astarion were to face risks, you will leave him behind. If he were to turn on you, you slice through his throat without a second of hesitation. He is there to aid you–nothing else.”

“I will,” the words feel hot on your tongue.

And so, you soon find yourself standing in front of his door, hand reaching for the door handle. There’s a slight pause right as you touch the cool metal, but you bite your tongue and shove it open, praying he’s still not as ravenous as he was a few hours ago. And much to your surprise, he appears wholly composed.

He lowers his book to his lap, eyes training themselves on you as they dart from your bag and then back to your face. The window’s wide open, bathing him in the moonlight, with dark curtains tied to the wall to keep them from obscuring his view of the city. He raises a brow. “What could you possibly want from me at two in the morning? Come here for a cuddle?”

You’re scowling again.

“I need you-”

“I’m flattered, but I fear you may stab a butter knife into my eye, so I’ll have to decline.”

“Not like that.” Your frown creases deeper at his smug grin. “We’re going to the Blushing Mermaid to find the spawn.”

“Just us?”

“They want to see us.”

“And if I refuse?”

The answer is almost immediate, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife on bread. “I hear the bloody bedrolls in the Duke’s dungeon are very comfortable.”

He drops his smile at this, and a tiny spark of pride puffs your chest. He seems to weigh his choices before snapping his book shut and standing from the bed, snatching a comb from his bedside table before pacing up to you, pocketing it behind him.

"A comb?"

He shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, I doubt you’ll be giving me a weapon of any sort, so I must make do.”

You don’t correct him.

As the two of you make your way downstairs, you hear your other companions speaking.

“I didn’t expect you of all people to defend Astarion,” Gale says in disbelief, still comprehensive as Lae’zel poorly cuts up slices of an apple.

“I am doing no such thing, istik,” she mutters. “I am giving him a choice. Either to pick up his dead weight and prove his life is worth more than the dirt on my shoes or die at my hand.”

The walk to the Blushing Mermaid is painfully awkward. To you, anyway, because he seems positively unbothered the entire time. Seeing him leisurely follow behind you is irritating—and it bothers you more than you’d like to admit.

By the time you survey the area around the tavern, you’ve discerned they must be inside, considering there are no ambushes awaiting your arrival. While it’s a relief, it also increases the anxiety of what lies inside the tavern itself, and you confirm your knives are at your disposal if it were ever to come to that. You sincerely hope it doesn’t. Astarion sighs dramatically for the umpteenth time as you approach the front doors, and you finally snap to look at him with a glare.

“Will you stop breathing so damn loud?”

The change in your attitude toward him is apparent, but he doesn't seem to care. If anything, he seems more pleased with you than he was before every time you shoot him an annoyed glance or something along those lines. He responds with lazy answers, but it's better than the bitter ones he gave you before.

You're not terribly surprised, though. He's always loved pissing people off for his own entertainment, and it would be an understatement to say that he's been somewhat successful with you.

“I’m not breathing, my dear. I don’t need to, remember?”

“Then what is your problem?” you hiss between your teeth. “Are you trying to wake up the entire city with your insistent groaning?”

“Must we do this tonight, of all days? Couldn’t this wait till tomorrow?”

“No!” you say in exasperation. “That gives them too much time to heal and recover from Shadowheart and Gale. It has to be tonight, just in case they do decide to fight—then we’ll have an easier time because, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s just us two!”

He sighs again, and you swear you might pluck a strand of his hair for good measure. And just as you shove past him and reach for the door, he clears his throat again. Loudly.

“For God’s sake, what?” you nearly yell.

He smiles at you, pointing at the front door. “Well, if we’re looking to avoid an ambush, perhaps we should find another way in than the main entrance. Unless my prior knowledge as a rogue proceeds me.”

You blink. You recognize the validity of his statement and feel your face flare, and you immediately march past him again—the other way this time—and search for the nearest wall you can climb up to the roof. You hear him snicker, but you do your best to ignore it. 

Somehow, you manage to climb in through the window, admittedly a lot louder than him, but you don’t think it’s fair to compare yourself to him when he has footsteps lighter than a child’s. Hidden behind one of the tables, you peer into the rest of the tavern, which is completely empty save for the bottles of alcohol scattered everywhere. You turn to signal to him that the coast is clear, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Immediately, your face drains of color.

“Right here, darling.”

He drops down from seemingly thin air, and you gasp, nearly letting out a shriek if it weren’t for your hand covering your mouth. He grins at that.

Bastard.

“There’s nobody in the entire building–at least, not visible to the eye,” he confirms, glancing around the room.

“How do you know that?”

He points at the ceiling, and your eyes follow it. “Someone decided to build such useful beams on the roof. You can see the entire place from up there. Care to take a look?”

While you would have thanked him if he had been any other person, you only march straight by him. “Don’t do anything without telling me first.”

“No ‘thanks, Astarion’?” He quirks a brow but huffs when you ignore him. “Very well then, my liege. No need to acknowledge a humble servant such as I. But I shall let you know when I’m about to take any questionable decision.”

You’re starting to wonder if his presence is worth the headache it gives you.

Pacing around the tavern, it seems all too normal. No blood splatters against the wall, no broken chairs—hells, even the booze cups look clean, which is a rarity for the Blushing Mermaid. You check each room, inspecting down to the last cups in case there are traces of blood in them, but to no avail.

It’s like there was never anyone here.

“You look like you’re having trouble, my dear,” Astarion clicks his tongue mockingly, leaning back in one of the more luxurious chairs he’s decided is his own.

“Considering the only company I decided to bring along is lounging around like a bum, I’m not surprised,” you say back, now searching the smallest cracks in the walls for some sort of secret passage. It’s strange. Even though your companions had spoken of the bodies they encountered when facing the spawn, there’s not a single speck of blood in sight. Neither is there anything outside but the whistle of the wind.

“This particular wall must be quite fascinating.”

You fight the need to groan and whip around to snap at him, but he’s suddenly just a foot away from you, staring at the spot you’d been squinting at. Gods, you hate how quiet he is when he walks.

“As wonderful as it is getting a fresh breath of air,” he feigns disappointment with a half-hearted sigh, turning to walk toward the entrance. “I believe we’ve done what we can. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d love to return to my book–”

The wooden floor underneath him creaks. It sounds hollow.

As if there’s something underneath.

“The basement,” you blink, eyes wide. “The hag’s lair.”

He stares at you as if you’ve taken too many mushrooms. “It was sealed up after we rid of that dreadful woman. Good riddance, too, I mean, I’m not particularly fond of children, but eating them, even I wouldn’t be able–”

You rush toward the very corner of the tavern, sensing that he’s following you regardless of his obvious distaste toward your decision. There, you push against a table perched on top of the basement latch and test its locks.

It’s open.

“Heavens, it reeks here. How didn’t I smell it before?”

“Of what?” You sniff the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Blood, my dear. Fairly recent, too, if my judgment hasn’t gotten rusty in the time I’ve spent cooped up in that room,” he pauses. “And I haven’t gotten rusty, to be clear.”

“Right,” you retort, reaching down to pull the latch open. You don’t see him do the same, and you glance at him quizzically.

“Gods no,” he says, when he realizes why you’re staring. “I’m doing no such thing that ruins these nails.”

You sigh. Loudly.

The latch opens relatively easily, but you make an effort not to simply swing it open in fear the occupants inside might be warned of your arrival. You prop the trap door open against a chair and begin your descent down the stairs, remaining as silent as possible.

The first thing you can notice is that he’d been right.

The stench of blood burns in your nose, and you immediately cover it with your sleeve to avoid inhaling anymore. You’ve smelt enough of your companion’s blood today, and you’d rather not continue the streak with the blood of complete strangers. Astarion, however, frowns.

“Such a waste,” he mumbles.

When you turn to where he’s looking, there’s a pile of bodies—poor victims, no doubt—lying over a puddle of their collective blood mixing with one another. It almost feels inhumane to leave them that way, just hours after their death, as if they’re cattle to be used.

Though, in this case, they are cattle.

“Are you sure it’s them?”

“I’m telling you it is!”

“Where’s their lyre, then?”

“How would I know that?”

You locate the source of the whispers instantly, reaching for one of your daggers as your eyes bore into the corners of the lair that are obscured from your view. Astarion steps forward before you can figure out a plan to approach them, arrogance exuding from his very body as he holds nothing but the comb tucked in his back pocket. “We can hear you, you fools. Come out before I lose my patience.”

“What are you doing?” you hiss.

“They’re only a few spawns, my dear. Nothing like Cazador—no need to be so cautious.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a woman emerges from the shadows, her eyes trained on your own as she marvels at your mere presence. You realize she’s not alone as multiple vampires begin to emerge from different corners of the room, all a safe distance away but not enough to ease the nerves jittering in your stomach. She steps toward you. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

Another spawn steps beside her, and you immediately notice how ravenous he seems, eyes almost glistening with hunger as they bore straight into you. The woman puts a hand on his neck, seemingly soothing him, before he slumps his shoulders again, but the pure violence swirling in his head doesn’t seem to vanish. She then looks to Astarion, and the expression on her face morphs into something more akin to dread. “And you, brother.”

“Dalyria.” Astarion only stares with lidded eyes, visibly unfazed.

You instinctively scan the entire lair, searching for any differences you can spot since the last time you were here. The only glaring thing besides the bodies piled in the corner is the study desk on the other side of the room, scattered with different potions and concoctions. Behind the desk is an entire wall plastered with diagrams—most of which study the anatomy and functionality of what you can only determine to be a vampire judging from the fangs. There are also beds everywhere—though they look like they could collapse any second—and the room almost looks like a hospital.

The atmosphere between the siblings is so uncomfortable you’d think they’ll start attacking one another any second.

“Is Leon here?” you finally cut through, lowering your hand away from your blade. “I need to speak with him—technically, all of you.”

“How curious. We were hoping to speak with you as well,” she says, motioning all the other spawn to stand down. It does little to ease you. “By all means, feel free to go first.”

You take the opportunity, too exhausted, to demonstrate polite etiquette. “The spawn are causing too much trouble in the city, Dalyria. They’re killing too many people, and it’s getting noticed by more than enough people. At this rate, you’ll lose some of your own if the Fist figure out how you guys are hiding throughout the city.”

“...Yes, I’m aware.”

The resignation in her voice makes your throat bob, but you continue anyway. “I’m saying we need to get you guys somewhere more stable. Whether it be the Underdark or elsewhere, we can’t have you staying here.”

“I see,” she says slowly. “I appreciate you trying to talk this out with us, but I’m afraid I cannot grant your request.”

Your shoulders tense, and you can see Astarion shift beside you. “You don’t understand, sister. There’s going to be an outright war at this rate-”

“Baldur’s Gate is our home as well, Astarion. You, of all people, should know this,” she demands. “We have a right to remain here, and if the Fist insists on forcing us out, we have no choice but to retaliate.”

“But you’re killing the city off!” you gawk in disbelief, unable to believe what you’re hearing.

“We’re surviving,” she corrects, the corners of her lips turning downward. “Surely you can’t hate us for that.”

“Then…” you blink at her, positively appalled at her words. “Why the hells did you need to speak with me? What was worth putting my companion through hell?”

“...There is a way—for both parties to benefit.” She looks down at her hands, then back up at you. “I didn’t expect the both of you to come together. Our informants were correct when they claimed to see Astarion in your possession. In all honesty, we technically only needed one of you, but this makes things a lot quicker.”

Confused but desperately wanting an answer, you urge her to continue. Only you can see the way Astarion’s hand slips toward his pocket, where his comb lies.

“We were going to ask you to bring him to us, you see. But it appears you’ve already done the hard part.”

The dreaded intuition in the back of your mind tells you something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

“Me? What do you need me for?” he scowls.

She disregards him and continues speaking to you, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “If you turn him over to us, you’ll never have to see him again. That is what you want, yes?”

Both you and the pale elf freeze.

“I watched as my brother nearly killed you the day of the ritual,” she continues. “I understand how you feel being betrayed by someone you thought shared your pain. And I believe this is a way to relieve you of that pain—and finally move onto a new stage of your life.”

She acts as if Astarion is the only thing holding you from moving on from the past few months of your life. And if she’d said so a week ago, you would have nothing to defend yourself with. But you’ve cut the few strings left that tie yourself to him. You remind yourself that you no longer care for him, regardless of the slight squeeze in your chest. You’ve already sworn to force yourself to disregard him, and you want to say all these things to her, but nothing comes out. So, instead, you keep your mouth sealed.

Astarion scoffs from beside you.

“For God’s sake, please tell me you’re not actually considering this. Let’s just force the madwoman out and go,” his voice attempts to stay firm, but it’s high-pitched at the end. He’s panicking.

You don’t respond to him, and he stiffens. “...My main concern is the city. If you think you can use my personal matters to convince me to just let you keep killing all these people–”

“That matter will resolve itself in its own time. We’ll return to the Underdark—or wherever it is you wish, and you won’t have to spend your nights hunting us down anymore.”

With a dry throat, you fixate your gaze on her face, desperately trying to discern any hint of a crack in her mask. Instead, you find nothing. “Why would you do that? For one spawn?”

“I’m afraid that’s for me and my siblings to know. But I can promise you that no harm will come to you if you take this deal.”

For what seems like the millionth time this month, you have no idea what to do. Lae’zel’s words flood you like a wave crashing onto shore as you remind yourself that Astarion is here not as your ally but as a shield. If things are as Dalyria says, simply turning over the man standing next to you would end this entire ordeal. You could return to your everyday life of repairing the city, learning to heal and grow from the terrors of the illithid invasion. You could learn to let people in again.

You could learn to play music again in hopes of finding the person you dreamed would understand.

Such an enticing, perfect deal. It’s almost too perfect. But you’ve learned not to trust perfection, especially when handed to you by a vampire spawn.

Astarion, who had been observing your expression this whole time, almost seems to read your mind. Or perhaps he’s just feeling selfish, ready to defend himself. “You’ve created a lot of problems for me, dear sister. I’ve gotten accused of your own murders, thanks to your pets.”

The delirious spawn, who’d looked sluggish after Dalyria’s soothing, now bares his teeth at Astarion. Dalyria attempts to calm him again, but it’s no use. The bloodthirst cannot be satiated unless there’s blood spilled on his very hands.

Astarion doesn’t seem to take a hint—or maybe he does but chooses to simply ignore it. “I’ve always known you were strange, Dalyria, but really? Experimenting with your ‘useless procedures’ on fresh spawns? He looks positively possessed, sister. He might just resort to eating you instead.”

“They are not useless, Astarion,” she snaps. “I am a doctor. I’m only curing what needs to be cured.”

“Then tell me why you haven’t managed to cure yourself of our curse? You may be intelligent in medical aspects, but gods above, you are more foolish than Cazador himself if you really think you can cure vampirism.”

“I had nobody to test my ideas on for two centuries, Astarion! Now that I do, surely I can-”

“You’re starving them, Dalyria,” he snaps, tone drastically different from the banter you shared just minutes ago. “And they’ll give into the thirst sooner or later.”

His words are the final straw.

The spawn who’d been standing beside her launches himself toward you. Before you can even register what’s happening, his fangs are at your throat, your neck tilted so it shoots pain up your side. Just as you feel your skin split at the tips of his canines, Astarion rips him away from you so harshly that the spawn flies helplessly into the wall, which crumbles under his weight. Dust flies into your eyes, and you cough, wiping at them until it clears just enough to see Dalyria staring in horror.

“I told you, Dalyria. You are no doctor, not anymore,” Astarion scoffs, eyes narrowed into slits. “And I’m afraid I can’t let you kill my liege here, as I’d much hate to be trapped in a cell somewhere underground.”

You reach the specks of blood drops forming on your neck, horrified by the close encounter you had with death just seconds ago. The culprit of your injury lies unconscious beside the cracked wall, and you wonder just how hard he had to be thrown to be rendered in such a state. You can see the other spawns’ eyes practically glow at the sight of your blood—fresh, unlike the pile of corpses on the other side of the room.

She turns to you, desperation pouring from the wavering of her voice. “Please, don’t make me do this. Don’t make us enemies. All you need to do is give us Astarion. My brother, for heaven's sake!”

You think better of it. Something that obviously pleases Astarion if the way his face relaxes tells you anything.

“May I?” he glances at you.

Surely, there are ways–more civilized ways–-than drawing your blade, but the ferocious growling from the rest of the spawn tells you otherwise. You need to find out why she needs Astarion so badly, and clearly, she’s not willing to tell you unless it’s through pure force. You despise the idea as much as you despise the predicament you’re in, but you refuse to be attacked and deliver nothing back.  Just as you nod to his question, another spawn lunges, unable to resist the red staining your neck.

But it’s smart this time, choosing to eliminate any threats before turning to the full course. In this case, the only thing between you and the vampires is another vampire.

“Brother!” Dalyria shouts, horrified.

You don't bother calling his name, only barely manage to tackle Astarion out of the way before the spawn’s claw sinks into the very ground he was standing on just seconds ago.

As embarrassing as it is to practically crash on top of him, both of you wince because it’s more painful than anything. You force yourself up with your arms, and it’s then that you see even more spawn crawling from whatever shadows they hid in, and you realize you are terribly and most definitely outnumbered. By a lot. 

“Dalyria, if you’re truly a doctor, do something! Stop them, godsdammit!” you shriek in her direction.

“They’re not—they were doing so well!...” she gasps before she reaches for a tattered journal and desperately files through its pages in a frenzy. “They were nearly docile before. I don’t know why–”

You feel Astarion’s hands slip out of the sack you carry on your back, realizing you hadn’t even noticed him opening it. He’s still lying flat on the ground, and you look down at him, puzzled before he laughs bitterly.

“I’ll be borrowing this for a few minutes, darling.”

You barely dodge another spawn that comes flying at you, rolling off of him and practically slamming into the wall. And before you can crawl away, your knife—in Astarion’s hand—stabs through the spawn’s left eye through the back of their head, specks of their blood splattering against your cheek.

You want to throw up.

“No, don’t harm them! Please, just let us go!” Dalyria pleads, but you’re finished being patient with her. She clearly has no way of calming the spawn, and you’re tired of being thrown around like a ragdoll in the mess that is the lair.

You yank out the Alchemist’s Fire and chuck it at the nearest cluster of spawn—around 2 or 3—and flinch as the vial collides and explodes into flames right before your eyes, blowing your hair out of your face in a gust of smoke and wind. You swear you hear Astarion cackle in utter glee at the destruction, but you choose not to dwell on it, too busy figuring out how else you could get out of here alive.

“You’re ruining the patients!” Dalyria screams, and you almost regret not throwing the vial at her instead.

“Your spawn are the ones attacking us!”

Suddenly, her face goes impossibly pale, and you hear a hiss of pain from a few feet away. Astarion winces as one of the spawn claws at his chest leaves behind a reasonably deep wound following the path of their sharp nails. Your knife is kicked away from him, and you hear Dalyria again just as he reaches for the comb instead. “Brother, be careful!”

You’re not sure if she wants you and Astarion dead or not, but it’s seriously giving you backlash at this point.

He stabs the comb into the spawn’s neck and kicks him away, and you take the opportunity to send the knife he dropped through the air.

By some miracle, it pierces straight through the spawn’s arm. Astarion lets out a breathy laugh from the floor, attention glued to your handiwork. “Ha! And to think that could have been me!”

And while you want to admire your aim yourself, there’s no time. Dalyria’s footsteps rush up the stairs, out of the basement, and you realize you need to follow moments after Astarion, who’s already fleeing up the steps, cursing under his breath. “That demented wench!”

You stand to follow after him, but the remaining spawns are already blocking your way. There are only two more, but you brace yourself for the worst, reaching for whatever remaining weapons you have left in your sack. The smoke and debris feel suffocating in your lungs, but you have no choice but to push through, praying to whatever God you can remember at the moment that this be the last time you have to fight this many vampire spawn. Or any, for that matter.

You wish you had left your fighting days behind you when you defeated the elder brain, but you suppose even that was too much to ask for.

You arrive just in time to see the sunrise.

Lying against a wall is Astarion, who you find just before the sunlight hits the part of the ground he’s on. He’s clutching his shoulder, which drips with his own blood, and showing no signs of the quick vampire regeneration. You stare down at him, face stoic as you wait for him to say something.

Judging from his condition, you assume Dalyria got away.

“Leaving me to die here would be unwise,” he scoffs. “Though it’d be rather easy to let me burn to death in the sun, I must remind you that I much rather prefer decapitation if it’s all the same to you.” 

“I’ll consider it,” you reply curtly. "Can't promise anything, though."

He leans his head back, amused. The sunlight is just a few feet away now, and you wonder how long it's been since he's been outside to watch the sunrise. “You’ve always had a cruel streak in you. I just had to lure it out, sometimes, but when it did come out—Gods, you should have seen it yourself.”

“You’re delirious,” you remind him, observing just how much blood he’s losing. You remind yourself of your resentment when worry probes a small part of your heart. One that you hope dies soon. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“I haven’t been exactly feeding well, unfortunately. And days old boar’s blood can only sustain me so long, darling,” he lulls his head forehead, sneering to himself. “Now that I think about it, dying by sunlight sounds rather poetic, don’t you think? Perhaps you can make a song about my glorious death.”

He’s definitely unhinged from blood loss.

You sigh, tossing his arm over your shoulder as you deem the sunlight a bit too close now. It’s a slow process with your own body’s soreness, but you manage to drag him to a more shaded area, propping him against the wall there so that you can rummage through your sack for a healing potion. You stop when his hand latches onto your arm.

“What?” you frown.

“It won’t help. I need blood, my dear.”

“There’s none for you here.”

“The bodies in the basement,” he bites back a groan, more blood gushing out of his shoulder. “I can make use of them--give their deaths a sense of purpose."

The displeasure on your face must be apparent because he laughs.

You pause, lowering the sack onto the ground. While you’re illuminated by the sunlight now, he remains in the shadow of the building, only able to see the sun with how it reflects off of your skin. And you find that he’s no longer looking at you but looking past you into the glowing orb you call the sun. You remember how its light glistened against his own skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press its tip against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

His eyes widen, and the temptation is more than evident with how his mouth falls open as if he tastes your blood from a few inches away. But as fast as it had come, he tears his eyes away. “I’m not taking your blood.”

“Stop with your prideful act, Astarion. You’re going to bleed out.”

“I wouldn’t die, exactly. I would just remain unconscious until I can properly heal myself.”

You spare him a long, hard stare. He refuses to look at you, biting the inside of his cheek to ignore the scent of your blood. And it's painfully clear he's failing.

You have no idea why he's so insistent on avoiding your blood, but you refuse to spend your own time pondering it.

“Fine then.”

He watches in utter loss as you lick the blood off of your finger, shrugging. “Bleed out for all I care.”

You turn to stand, but his hand latches on your arm once more. You’re not sure if you’re imagining how warm he feels, but you think you must be. He's always been terribly cold.

“Do you hate me now?” he asks again, this time staring up at you through his lashes. “Have I finally run through your patience?”

The question remains the same as he asked you a week ago, but it feels different now. This time, you know your answer, and it feels so, so relieving. You just wish you could understand his own feelings, but his expression is so superficial you don’t even attempt it.

“Yes,” you reply blankly. “I hate you.”

He takes a moment to process your words. You have to admit it’s satisfying to say it to his face, even if your hatred for him is new. But perhaps because it’s new is why you feel it so strongly, and you silently thank it for how confident you sound saying the words. Even if they taste bitter. You think he might have some quip to respond with, but he only smiles, and as usual, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You never want to see it again.

Without another word, he pulls you down to him, and you nearly topple over before stabilizing yourself with either of your knees on either side of his legs. He breathes against your neck, and you think he might drink from you until you feel his fingers brush against your nape. Immediately, your body freezes like a deer in headlights, flinching at his touch as your mind involuntarily forces the last memories you have of his hands on your neck.

And ever so perceptive, he notices how you recoil from his touch.

You hate your body for reacting the way it does out of fear. Not the disgust or the anger, but something much more pathetic, and you want to go back on your own actions to stop yourself from appearing so weak to him. You think he might tease you--taunt you, even, but he stops, slowly pulling away and lowering his head from the crook between your shoulder and head.

You’re unable to see his face, but his movements seem more sluggish.

Instead of going for your neck, he lifts your wrist, brushing his lips against it before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh.

Despite the initial sting, it’s a feeling you’ve grown accustomed to over time. With him, it had always felt so intimate. It’s why you can’t help but feel heat bloom across your cheeks before you remind yourself you no longer care for him. Only when you think he’s drinking a bit too long do you try to pull away, but his arm loops around your waist, bringing you even closer as the amount of blood he’s taking increases with how deep his fangs are.

You feel so cold, yet heat burns through your very blood. It makes your head dizzy, and you take it as a sign that he’s had enough.

You only manage to speak a few seconds later, breathless. “Astarion.”

He pulls away, seemingly out of breath himself as he releases his hold on the rest of your body. He runs his tongue over the access, staining the side of his mouth. He uses his finger to make sure the rest is off his face. “I know.”

He rarely feeds so messily, so you discern he wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t been drinking well. Knowing he wasn’t deceiving you brings little relief, but it’s still a welcome feeling. Rubbing at your wrist and the two puncture wounds now residing there, you stand up and slug your sack over your shoulder. He watches you the entire time, and you hate that you can never seem to read his expressions—only one, and that’s whenever he claims to despise your very existence.

His shoulder has already stopped bleeding.

“Why didn’t you drink from those people at Sharess’ Caress?” you finally say.

“Their blood…” he pauses, trailing off, and suddenly he seems to change his mind. “...I've grown tired of it.”

“Blood is just blood, isn’t it?”

He stares at you for a moment, then laughs.

“I wish it was, darling.”

Tags:@ayselluna@littleenglishfangirl@bg3obsessedsideblog@iwillpissyourpants@cyberpr1m3@ukeia-uchiha@snowlotr@road-riot@spacekidnova@madislayyy@lordfishflakes@nicalysm@djarinsway@tinystarfishgalaxy@brainz00@hopeful-n-sad@ohdeerieme@madisban@chrismarium@chonkercatto@fanfic-share@sleepyred1703@miskouly@ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @aelieknox @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @bitterbeanren Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added!

[azrielsdove]

Don’t Blame Me: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Violence, Suggestive

(loosely based on the don’t blame me x LWYMMD mashup from the eras tour ngl)

***

You heard a desperate, strangled shout of your name as he went down. You screamed, anger and fear taking over. No, no, no, you chanted in your head, diving in the direction Azriel had fallen. This couldn’t happen, not to him.

The two of you were sent on a mission to investigate unknown creatures breaching the borders of the Night Court. Rhys wasn’t even able to tell you what they were, just that they were more dangerous than anything you’d dealt with before. You had been given explicit instruction to leave once you found where they were residing and report back the location. From there a larger team would be sent out to eradicate the threat.

You had been tracking them carefully for days, trying to find their home base. You were beginning to think they didn’t have one, that these creatures were nomadic. Until an hour ago. Azriel had practically dragged you as high as you could go in the sky, pointing to a cluster of trees a while away. “There,” he explained, “they reconvene there during the day.” You nodded, preparing to fly back to Velaris and tell Rhys. Azriel caught your arm, shaking his head. “I want to track them a little longer. Make sure I have the pattern right so when we come back we can have the best chance at taking them out.”

You didn’t have a good feeling about staying out, but you agreed anyway. It was important to ensure the information you had was as detailed as possible. That’s how you ended up here, wind rushing past your face as you free fell down to where Azriel landed. Please be okay.

You dropped to the ground and surveyed the area for any sign of life. There was nothing there. If you hadn’t seen Azriel fall yourself you would have assumed nothing was ever down here. You took off through the trees, heading in the direction of what you assumed was their camp. You listened carefully for any sound, whether it be danger or Azriel himself. You were nearing the clearing he had spotted earlier when you heard a slow hum, ducking back behind a tree and tucking your wings tight against you. You poked your head out to watch two of the creatures move farther in the area, Azriel dragged between the two of them. Your heart ached at the blood running down his face and his limp body.

You followed the creatures until you were at the edge of the camp, watching their moves intently. The tied Azriel to a tree trunk, moving and muttering around him. You were taking in how many you saw, estimating that about 30 of these things were living here. Your nose wrinkled at the sight of the insect-like beings, their long stingers the supposed most dangerous part of them. The creatures were roughly the size of an Illyrian soldier, resembling wasps more than any type of fae. Large, disgusting wasps. The hum grew louder as what you supposed was the leader approached Azriel. Your toes curled as you watched the way it yanked his face up, inspecting the unconscious male.

It turned to one of its workers, a horrible clicking sound coming from its mouth. The other responded in the same way, the language grating against your ears. They turned back to Azriel, continuing to talk about him. You wished more than anything you could understand what they were saying. You looked over Azriel again, noticing that his blades were still strapped to his body. Did the creatures not realize what they were? Or were they truly so deadly they didn’t need to worry about disarming their enemies? A chill ran through your spine at the thought.

The leader let out a loud screech and the others filed into neat rows in front of it. You paled at the sight of them all together. What were you going to do? You desperately called for Rhys in your mind, knowing he likely would never hear you. Even if he did, how long would it take him to get here? Azriel might not have that much time left.

The leader gave some sort of command, and you watched in horrified shock as they all opened their mouths. Long, sharp, straw-like tubes came out, heading straight towards Azriel. You didn’t have time to think before you ran out there, quick enough to take them by surprise and get in front of him. The creatures all stopped, taking in this new sight in front of them. Adrenaline was pumping through your body, the only thought you had was to save Azriel.

Don’t blame me.

You pressed your back to his front, reaching behind to grab on to one of the swords strapped to his chest. Your warrior eyes darted around the creatures, desperately searching for any sign of weakness.

Don’t blame me.

The leader moved towards you, that horrible straw coming straight to your face instead. In a split-second decision you ripped the sword from its place on Azriel’s chest, a loud scream tearing from your throat as you swung. Tense silence spread through the woods, followed by a sickening squelch as the creature split in half.

Don’t blame me for what you made me do.

The other creatures all swarmed towards you at once, your screams and the sounds of bodies hitting the floor echoing through the woods around you. You became feral, tapping into the deepest parts of your Illyrian training. All you knew was to not let them touch Azriel. One of those horrid straws sank into your thigh, a searing pain ripping through your skin. You yelled, the next strike aimed at the creature who attacked. The wound burned like acid had been poured into your bloodstream, and knowing the way these creatures worked it probably had. You couldn’t let that stop you, not when Azriel was in danger.

Look what you made me do.

You fought back with more anger, cutting down creature after creature. You were a force of pure power, midnight blue siphons a thing of deadly beauty. Another straw embedded itself into your arm, the sword clanging to the ground. You wrapped your uninjured hand around the pulsating thing, ripping it out of your skin. You squeezed your hand around it, harder and harder until you felt the satisfying pop of it breaking. The creature it was attached to howled and you shot it square in the chest with your power. You looked around, noting there were only three of these left. Even with your arm and leg out of commission, you felt you could finish these last few off.

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy.

Your uninjured arm slid down, pulling out a dagger you had strapped to your thigh. You surveyed the three creatures around you, deciding to go for the middle one. You roared, jumping forward and latching on to the nasty beast. Your dagger rammed into its chest and you slid down, your weight pulling the blade down its body. It screeched as you were showered with its sticky green blood, collapsing backwards. You turned to the other two, adrenaline dulling the pain of your injuries as you pulled out a second dagger.

Oh, Lord save me, my drug is my baby I’ll be using for the rest of my life.

The two convened on you at the same time and you swung out both arms, spinning in a death dance with the blades. You landed on one knee in front of Azriel, twin thuds from behind you letting you know you struck true. Your breathing was heavy as you looked up, up into his wide eyes. He murmured your name and you dropped the daggers, the adrenaline rushing out of you. You winced at the sudden pain in your arm and leg, spreading quickly from your intense use of them. You fell forward, body shaking while you tried to push yourself up. You had to untie Azriel, he had to get out of here.

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy.

You forced yourself up with a cry, fingers undoing the knots the creatures had used to keep Azriel trapped. He pulled out of them the second he could, catching you as your weakened body fell against him. “I got you, I got you,” he whispered, cradling you tight to his chest before shooting off into the sky. Far, far away from the carnage you unleashed on those creatures who dared to threaten him.

***

“No, Rhys, i’ve never seen anything quite like it. She took out all of them. Heavily injured on top of that.” You recognized Azriel’s voice, muffled as if he was standing behind a door. You tried to open your eyes, but your eyelids felt as if they were ten thousand pounds each.

“That can’t be. You’re certain no one else was around? I’ve never heard of one single person taking out 30 of them. I’ve rarely heard of someone taking out just one on their own.” Rhysands voice was contemplative, trying to understand how you could have pulled off such a feat.

“I know that. I saw her do it Rhys. She was a true force of raw power.” Azriel sounded…in awe of you. You forced your eyes open, blinking as you adjusted to the soft light pouring in from the windows. You looked around the room, realizing Rhys and Azriel must be standing right outside the cracked door. You tried to sit up, a loud gasp of pain ripping from you at the action.

The sound alerted the two males outside, the door flinging open as they rushed in. “How are you feeling?” Azriel demanded, immediately coming to your side. You tried to sit again, the pain knocking the breath out of you. “Let me help,” he said softly, gently pulling you into a sitting position.

“I think i’m okay. In a lot of pain. What happened?” Your throat was sore, voice gravelly. You assumed you had been out for some time. Rhys observed you carefully, like you were a specimen he was investigating.

“You took on a hoard of those creatures. Alone. Do you remember that?” His question was almost accusatory, as if he didn’t believe the story.

You nodded. “Yes.” The reminder of those horrible bug creatures made you shiver, the sounds of them dying echoing in your ears.

“Can you show me? How you did it?” Rhys’ eyes bore into you, almost a threat. You stared right back, not appreciating the doubt from your friend.

“Go ahead. I have nothing to hide.” A claw stroked your mental shields and you dropped them easily. The memories of the fight began playing, the anger you felt overtaking your senses. If you hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have believed the strength you showed to defeat all of them. The reminder of your wounds stung your healing skin, Rhys even wincing as he watched. He could feel your rage, your power.

He could feel the dedication and love you felt towards Azriel.

You threw your shields back up at that, not wishing to let him in any further. He had seen enough. Rhys blinked at you, eyes flitting between you and Azriel. “I see,” he mused. “Well, you certainly did kill them all. That’s quite some feat of power. I think perhaps I should tell Cassian to up your training.” He winked at you and moved to leave the room. “I’ll let the healers know you are awake. I will be back later to check in.” He left, closing the door quietly behind him. Leaving you with Azriel.

Azriel, who was looking at you like you were the most delicate flower he had ever seen. “Are you sure you’re alright?” His concern struck a chord in you, a hand reaching out for his.

“I will be just fine. How are you? Is your head okay?” Your eyes scanned his hairline, relieved that there seemed to be no permanent damage.

“I’m good. My wounds weren’t half as bad as yours. They knocked me unconscious once I hit the ground.” His eyes lowered and he ran his thumb over your joined hands. “I should’ve been there for you. To help.”

You squeezed his hand in your own. “You were attacked, Az. I’m just glad I was able to get to you in time. If I were a moment later…” your voice trailed off and tears pricked at your eyes. Those straws were so close to stabbing into his body, sucking the life out of him.

“Hey,” he said, looking back up at you. “You saved my life. That’s all that matters.” He gave you a smile, your heart squeezing tight.

“Yea,” you agreed, even though you wished to say more. You wanted to tell him you loved him, be honest about your feelings. You were so close to losing him, to losing any chance to be with him. The fear of rejection stopped you from continuing, the way it always did.

Azriel was looking at you intently, eyes seeming to read your mind. You put on a small smile, pushing your feelings back down. His eyes dipped down to your lips, gaze heavy. Your heart skipped at his expression of hunger. “Az,” you whispered as he leaned closer to you.

“Hm?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your mouth.

“What are you doing?” Your voice was a whisper, so quiet you weren’t sure he could hear you.

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago.” He ducked his head down then, pressing his lips to yours. You went completely still at the touch of him, mind in overdrive. He began to pull away when you came to, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back. You kissed him hard then, the way you wished you had when you thought he was going to die. When you thought you’d never get the chance to.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tight to him. You ignored the protest of pain in your arm and leg, focusing on the feel of Azriel pressed up against you. Of his mouth on yours. The way one of his hands began traveling down your thigh, fingers running along the edge of your nightgown. He bit gently on your lower lip, a silent question to open your mouth. You obliged, moaning at the taste of him. His fingers dug into your thigh at the noise and you let out a cry of pain.

Azriel pulled away from you quickly, apologizing immediately. “Maybe we should wait until you’re healed.” You sighed at the statement, but unfortunately agreed. You wanted to enjoy your first time tasting, feeling, loving Azriel. You pouted at him as he readjusted you, laying you back down on your pillows. He brushed a stray piece of hair off your forehead, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your skin. “I love you.”

Your heart was going to thud out of your chest. “I love you too.” Your declaration was a tad breathless, trying to decide if you could actually ignore the pain long enough to get on top of the male. He laughed, sensing your thoughts and gave you a soft kiss. You had waited so long for this moment, to have your love reciprocated.

“You need to rest.” He moved to hover slightly over you, carefully moving his way down your body. His fingers found the edge of your gown again, eyes looking up to yours from between your legs. “There are plenty of other ways I can please you.”

***

I needed to write something that was a request or a series, so this is what happened. I hope you guys enjoyed it!!! <3

[pastelwitchling]

Alex was so tired. Tired enough that he’d had to leave work early because Eduardo Ramos had taken one look at him and said he didn’t want to see him for the rest of the week. Tired enough that he fell into bed the second he’d changed into sweats and hadn’t gotten up again. Tired enough that he’d left Michael’s text message from earlier on read without a response.

Tired enough that when he’d seen his husband next, it was after waking up from an unplanned nap. A bad sign, as Alex had trouble sleeping on the best of days. Drifting off without noticing did not bode well for where his head was. Michael seemed to realize that as Alex’s groggy vision cleared and he noted the concerned furrow of Michael’s brow.

His head fell back onto the pillow with a heaving sigh. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like a man in love?” Michael hummed, brushing Alex’s bangs back. “Sorry, I can’t physically do that.”

Alex chuckled sleepily. “You’re such a dork.”

“I’ll take it,” he shrugged a shoulder, and started to lay down beside him. He still smelled like the afternoon sun and sand from the junkyard and the delicious rain smell that made Alex’s head spin.

“Don’t,” Alex said, “I’m getting up.”

“Why?” Michael said, putting a hand on his waist and grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. “I’m tired too, we can take a nap together.”

Alex smiled, rubbing his eyes. “You’re not tired, you’re worried, and you shouldn’t be. I’ve just had one too many sleepless nights, that’s all.”

Michael pursed his lips, cupping Alex’s jaw and rubbing his thumb across the dark circle under Alex’s eye. Alex’s eyes fluttered to the warmth of his palm, and he turned into it, covering Michael’s hand with his own and breathing him in. He vaguely remembered Maria—what felt like forever ago now—making some joke about how Michael smelled, and he remembered wanting to snap then at her and feeling like he wasn’t allowed to. How did anyone not fall in love with Michael’s scent? He was the sky and earth and everything good about the world, he anchored Alex in a way nothing and no one else did.

“Can’t you just let me hold you anyway?” Michael murmured, his lips quirking with the faintest trace of amusement. “For my sake?”

Alex exhaled shakily, and crawled onto Michael’s lap, straddling him and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, burying his face in the crook of Michael’s neck and closing his eyes.

Michael seemed to sense that he couldn’t or wouldn’t speak, and just rubbed the space between his shoulder blades. Alex melted deeper into him, cuddling as close as he could until Michael was all he was breathing in, Michael’s arms around him and body underneath and around him all he could feel.

“Tighter,” he whispered, not daring to raise his voice any more than that. He didn’t know how else to put his exhaustion and its source into words. “Hold me tighter, baby, please.”

Michael seemed to have been waiting for permission, his grip on Alex almost bruising as he squeezed him to his body. A weak moan rose up the back of Alex’s throat; for the first time all day, he thought he could feel his own heartbeat, his body turning heavy enough that he was sure he was going to fall asleep again despite having just woken up.

“M’sorry,” he murmured, his eyes burning for reasons he couldn’t even fathom. This wasn’t the first time he got like this, when he felt like this inexplicable grief lingered just below the surface, waiting for the chance to show itself, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. What bothered him though was the inability to talk about it, the inability to tell Michael just why he got like this. Sometimes, it felt like there was no reason for him to grieve, and sometimes it felt like there were too many reasons; too many to name, too many to think of, too many to bear.

“I hate this,” he groaned, brows pinched with the same headache that had been plaguing him all day. If he kept telling himself it was the sleepless nights, he might be able to endure it better. Except that here, in Michael’s arms, it was impossible to not feel safe enough to confess the mess in his head. “I hate . . . I hate this, Michael.”

“I know, baby,” Michael whispered against his ear, inhaling deeply as though he, too, couldn’t get enough of Alex’s scent. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re okay.”

Alex was so, so tired. He closed his eyes and buried himself in Michael’s warmth, shoving his hands under Michael’s shirt to feel the heat of his skin and get as close as possible. He felt Michael shudder against him, and squirmed until there was no space left between them.

“You want to sleep now?”

Alex considered it. “Can you get something to eat first? I’ll feel bad if you don’t have dinner.”

Michael chuckled. “Sure, I’ll get something to eat.” Alex made no move to get off of him, and Michael made no move to ease his hold. “You want to come with me?”

Alex swallowed. “If you really want me to.”

He could feel Michael’s smile against his ear, Michael’s hand running down his spine. “I really want you to. I can’t eat if you’re not there. Please, baby, for my sake?”

“You’re such a dork,” Alex murmured, pushing his face into Michael’s neck and snuggling into him. “Fine, since you really need me.”

Michael chuckled. “I really do, baby. I really, always do.”

[maximotts]

OKAY OKAY wing okay cool yes. But wing and nipple play AT THE SAME TIME but refusing to touch angel anywhere else. She cums from that and not at all

ALRIGHT ALRIGHT SO HEAR ME OUT!! R showing Nat how sensitive Wanda is because one day they were talking about it and Nat looked curious so ... ya know.. gotta help the bestie get hands on knowledge! (For anyone who doesn't know, in this AU, Natasha is a demon and R's best friend)

Can't believe you got me to spend my afternoon writing a whole angel babie fic, kit kat, how dare you... anyways this is extremely unedited because I didn't expect it to be this long so.. ya get what ya get, homos. I have gnocchi to cook

read the rest of the AU here. wc: 2.6k cw: 18+ only please . angelWanda/demons!Natasha and reader . threesomes, wing play, nipple play, innocence and corruption kink x2 because Nat has some Thoughts about her bestie's new angel girlfriend, orgasm denial, a sprinkle of degradation, kinda manipulation but not really because Wanda just doesn't understand why these two demons are giggling like they have an inside joke

When you first bring it up, it's over a few drinks because in any state, you never stop talking about your pretty angel girlfriend.

"Her wings always look so soft, but I think she might be offended if I ask to touch them." Nat's met angels before, but she's never been friends with them; as much as she enjoys trouble, she hadn't tread that far. Yet.

You shrug, understanding her point. It was a while before you asked to touch them on purpose, part of you scared the second you intentionally laid a warm hand on her bright white wings, Wanda would be banished instantly. "Nat, I'm telling you, if you touch her wings she gets so sensitive. It's like a magic button, drives her wild."

Alcohol always makes your tongue looser, but even sober, you'd tell Natasha anyways. The two of you shared everything with one another- which gives you an idea.

And maybe you'd teased Wanda already with the idea of having Nat join in to which she always tries to deny how often she stares at your friend, how eagerly she climbs into her lap when she's allowed... the handful of times you'd caught Wanda trying to sneakily grind down on the bulge from Nat's pants when she felt it under her thigh for too long.

Nat notices, but she's never touched Wanda in any way not strictly platonic. Still whenever those soft feathers flutter near her, she has to wonder. "If she says it's alright and you won't kill me for getting close to her, I wouldn't say no to trying."

So then it's a few days later when Natasha is over and the three of you are lazing about when you decide to put your plan into action. It's easy enough when Wanda's always cuddled up to you, your fingers lightly running between her exposed shoulder blades until she's shuddering. "Stop it, that tickles!"

It instantly pulls Natasha's focus, watching Wanda's previously still form twitch and fidget with every touch you put on her skin. You weren't doing much at all, but it was enough to make your girlfriend distracted. She was always mortified when you teased her in front of your friends, mostly because she didn't mind them watching and just realizing that made her want to shrink away from the exhibitionism.

But this was worse because right now it was just Natasha, the girl you'd made Wanda admit many times how attracted she was to her and the ways she tried getting off on her as if the other two wouldn't notice. Something about it being just the three of you affected Wanda in unexpected ways. "What's the matter, I thought you liked back scratches?"

"I do!" Wanda didn't want to risk one of her favorite things, shooting up to face you on the couch, "Just... lower. It's different when you touch there!"

"Different because it makes your tummy all fluttery?" The brunette nodded quickly, trying to shush you and diffuse the conversation before you could reveal too much with your friend around. But this is exactly what you wanted to reveal. "Nat doesn't mind, she wants to see too. She told me last weekend, right Nat?"

Wanda stopped then, shyly twisting around to face the other woman who was amusedly watching the discourse between you two. "I said only if she says it's okay. Doesn't look like she wants me to know."

You pushed Wanda closer to Natasha's spot on the couch, settling behind her and dropping your chin to rest on Wanda's shoulder. "Oh she wants you too. She's told me before she loves the attention you give her when you're over," Sly hands wrapped around Wanda's waist, keeping her still so that even in shying away, she's still in full view. "Go on, angel, tell Natty what you told me."

"I don't remember..." Wanda didn't like lying, but how was she supposed to admit to Nat's curious face that she wanted to try things with her.

It'd been comparable to pulling teeth getting her to admit it the first time, but you weren't as willing to wait today. "Lying isn't very nice, sweetheart," Even if Wanda wouldn't admit it, you wouldn't let it stop you and your friend having some fun. "I know you remember being laid on our bed all pretty for me, stretched open wide because you teased yourself with Tasha's strap all afternoon and begged me to use the big toy on you after she left."

This was the first Nat heard of that particular incident, but she wasn't surprised; while she'd never laid an intimate hand on her, Wanda certainly used her however she pleased and you laughed about it with the redhead frequently. "Luckily for her, I don't want to see what she looks like filled and stretched today."

"Show me what you were saying about her wings. I saw that with my own eyes just now so she can't deny it," Natasha sat up on her knees now, matching you and Wanda, and she couldn't help but laugh watching the girl visibly gulp. "Don't be scared, angel. I won't bite."

"She actually loves when you bite her a little." Wanda huffed at your comment, but she'd rather keep quiet than provoke either of you any further. Despite her earlier denial, she'd suffered more than a few dreams featuring her sandwiched between the two of you and she knew enough not to risk ruining whatever was happening here.

She didn't protest when you slid her dress straps off her shoulders, letting the silk fabric pool at her waist, and you rewarded her with a kiss to her rosy cheek. "Be a good girl and let me show you off for a bit. You trust me, right? We won't hurt you, Natty just wants to see what a beautiful angel I have."

Wanda nodded her agreement as you rubbed soothing circles into her hips, focusing on that instead of how riled up just being nearly fully exposed to Natasha made her feel. "I know neither of you would hurt me, but I don't want to do the wrong thing..."

"You couldn't possibly do anything wrong," Nat cut in then, hooking her finger under Wanda's chin and giving her a kiss of her own on the tip of her nose. She'd kissed various spots on her face a handful of times, but in this context, it felt different and the older demon couldn't wait to see how Wanda would react. "Poor thing looks cold, let's warm her up a bit."

"She's a huge fan of demon warmth and now she's got two! She won't be cold for long," you chuckled, finally moving one of your hands back up to where you'd first been teasing your girlfriend. You always started out lightly at first, knowing Wanda's hypersensitivity at the base of her wings could easily turn pleasure to pain. The same circles you'd placed on her hips worked wonders on her back, the tiny motions forcing her back into the starts of an arch. "See, told you it doesn't take much."

Natasha was effortlessly mesmerized by the sight, promising to commit the picture of Wanda knelt on the living room couch, whimpering and balling her fists into the cushions to memory. Eventually she watched you duck your head down and trail your nose over the top curve of Wanda's wings, murmuring something Nat missed mere seconds before Wanda shook.

The first orgasm always took Wanda by surprise, the feeling overwhelmingly euphoric and she fell forward on instinct, colliding into Nat's front with a quiet gasp. Natasha took Wanda by the shoulders and pulled her upright, grip tight as she pulled her gaze from the still recovering girl to you. "Can I take a turn?"

"That's what you're here for," The two of you switched positions easily, petting Wanda's cheeks as they grew tomato red from Natasha's experimental strokes over the length of the wings she waited so long to finally get her hands on. "They're just as soft as they look, I know."

Wanda cursed the coil in her tummy for being so tight over simply being talked about, but the way you instructed your friend to touch her most sensitive places, revealing every secret spot that brought her to her most vulnerable...she had no hope keeping her composure.

"Okay now try scraping your teeth right there," You reached over Wanda to point to the area where her baby feathers grew, letting her rest her head in the crook of your neck as Natasha lightly dragged her sharp teeth over where you'd shown. She moaned something deep and heavy, an uncommon noise from the typically soft-spoken angel. "You like when Natty uses her teeth, don't you, sweet thing."

"Mhm... want you to touch me too..." The most Wanda could do was lazily kiss your neck, her hands busy twisted behind her back to guide Natasha's arm where she needed to feel her play with the tips of her feathers. Thankfully the other woman relented, sliding the end of her wings between her fingers until Wanda was bucking against the air.

At her request, your hands went to her breasts, toying with her already hard nipples. Rolling them with your thumbs left Wanda panting, the sensation almost too much combined with Natasha's continued torment at her back. "Pl-Please, can't hold it—"

To Wanda's dismay, Natasha pulled her mouth away, leaving a trail of saliva to quickly cool on her overheated skin, a lingering torment. "Are you close to cumming again, baby doll? Just from playing with you for a little?"

The brunette nodded, feverishly clamoring for Natasha's hand to force it around between her legs. She was tired of clenching around nothing, needing to further her fantasy with Natasha's fingers deep within her. Besides, she knew better than to touch herself down there without permission, but you'd never said your friend wasn't allowed to venture that far.

Honestly you didn't mind the idea of Nat fucking Wanda, countless thoughts of how gorgeous she'd look being taken by someone else, but you had to punish Wanda for lying somehow. So right before your girlfriend could clamp her thighs around Natasha's hand, you stopped her. "Ah ah, did Natty say she wanted you to do that?"

"No, but I—"

"Did I say you were allowed to try whatever you wanted?"

"No..."

"But you decided you could get yourself off like a greedy little slut." Your free hand twisted Wanda's puckered nipple until she cried out, slapping her breast as she shrank back into Natasha. The only thing that turned her on more than the groping adoration she'd been receiving was just the right amount of degradation; something you'd never expected Wanda to actually enjoy, but never complained once you found out.

Natasha knew this, another one of your drunken ramblings about your bedroom adventures, but she'd already seen evidence of it herself each time she'd teased Wanda for her needy behavior and caught the pitiful pout she used to distract from how red her ears and cheeks grew. "You're so hard on her. She's such an innocent angel, I bet she doesn't even remember what she wants us to do."

Her phrasing hit Wanda like a brick, realization and disappointment drawing on her the instant she understood you'd make a point to leave her untouched everywhere else. The two of you continued your torture in sync now, both getting your mouth on her, licking, sucking, biting wherever you could reach and ignoring Wanda's hurried pleas. "I'm sorry, 'm sorry! I remember now! I just- I need to-!"

You pulled away from Wanda's nipple with a pop, making a show of laving your tongue over the pink bud while Natasha nibbled at the nape of the angel's neck, fingers ruffling through the currently shivering mass of feathers that made up Wanda's wings.

"I didn't say you couldn't cum, Wands. You can all you want." And oh Wanda wanted so badly to rut herself over your bent thigh, but Natasha was holding her too tight, her strength easily overpowering and making Wanda feel more trapped with each struggle she put up. She didn't think that was supposed to make her feel fluttery either, but she no longer cared.

"Make a mess of your nice new panties until you're dripping onto the sofa, I'm sure we'd love to see that...but you do it like this or not at all." Ripping Wanda's dress was easy as a piece of paper, exposing Wanda's ruined underwear as the fabric slipped away. You could smell her and if Natasha's feral groan was any indication, so could she.

Another choice set of bites from the two demons and Wanda felt an even bigger wave crash over her, forcing her body not to sink down and rub her neglected sex over the couch cushions, but she couldn't stop herself from whining about it. "Can Natty touch me now? I'll be so good, I'll never lie again."

Her wide, pleading eyes were convincing, but your own devilish inclinations is what made you change up your game. "Never again, promise?"

Wanda was adamant, shaking her head and pawing at you with as much energy as she could manage in her weakened state. When you beckoned Natasha to join over to your side, Wanda was hopeful, even more so when you two shared a look before guiding her to lay on her back. But Wanda had too much faith in your generosity.

"You want Natty to make your needy cunt feel better, pretty girl?" You almost felt bad for how giddy Wanda looked; she always thinks she can skirt by her punishments and some days she manages, but today you were eager to show your friend all of Wanda's limits.

Natasha wasted no time in dragging her nails over Wanda's clothed mound, delighting in how easy it was to get her spreading her legs wider. "I heard you got worked up easily, but who knew you made such a mess.. No wonder you're always so wiggly in my lap."

"You make me feel weird, it's not my fault..." Nat laughed as she pressed her thumb over Wanda's clit, her contented sigh yet another sign of how downed her guard currently was. "Do that again, please?"

She did and Wanda bit down on her lip, happily humping against Natasha's outstretched fingers. As her eyes slid closed, she felt your hands find her breasts once more, massaging them just as gently as Natasha's touches were and slowly but surely, the two of you worked her to the brink of another high. But that's when the hand between her legs disappeared. "No wait, don't stop! I'm allowed to!"

"Only from your wings or tits, baby, your rules haven't changed." Nat pat Wanda's thigh with faux sympathy, her grip turning harsh only when the angel attempted to close her legs. "None of that now, I'm allowed to play wherever I want, and I'm far from done with you. And don't you dare cum unless you want to find out how easy your girlfriend's punishments have been."

[angelismmm]

hello! can you please write for liyue’s men (with like tartaglia/baizhu/scaramouche too) and their types? like what they look in a s/o and what kind of s/o they’d like/it would suit them best? thxxxxxx

⟢ my kind of woman ft. liyue men + tartaglia & scara ・synopsis. what kind of person are they into? or really who'd match them best? ・notes. yay jing yuan and blade theme my baes, anyways!! i love this sm ive rly wanted to write ab smth like this!! oh also this is really just my thoughts plus relationship headcannons :D ・warnings. suggestive , GN!READER. title is inspired by mac demarco's song :)

opposites attract, the olive theory, i like to believe that most lovers are usually the opposites of each other, or atleast disagree with something in a way. ・for zhongli, having to deal with childe and hu tao everyday, it isn't a breath of fresh air when it comes to an s/o that's overly affectionate and loud, not that he finds it annoying, finds it very cute, every little bit of affection you give him makes his day always. other people might find you overtly obnoxious, but he'd never, everything about you honestly is really.. perfect.. to him. can't describe it in words, even if you were to be similar, he's the type to always expect it, and be the only person not being scared by you, and he's honestly okay with that, hu tao is probably your guys' matchmaker! will trap you both in a closet together while you visited the funeral parlor, gives it about... 15 minutes.. and small hickey can definitely be seen on you and him, is both happy and goes "ew... get a room!!" and also the person to stash both of you guys into a cramped area when she knows very damn well you both like each other.. well took you both long enough honestly, definitely got impatient and pushed you guys... a bit..

・alatus xiao... definitely will tell you you are annoying at first, but you are the annoying he loves <3. the only annoying person he will listen to, and give forehead kisses to, and cuddle all night 'till he sleeps. you really are an exception... but if he'll be totally real with himself, he loves it when you bug him to tell him about what happened today, or who you've talked to, or if you've seen anything new, falls in love all over again every time that you do. likes zoning out when you rant, and all he can see is your pretty smile going on and on about some vendor who gave you free food. likes to shut you up with a kiss, does it often, and makes both of you red. whenever you hear him say something like "do you ever shut up?", it translates to "please keep talking with that soothing voice of yours." i promise he loves you so much, just is still getting used to it.

extrovert x introvert kind of way, one that talks alot, one that listens alot. ・oh loverboy childe/tartaglia.. literal devil x angel type of relationship, in this case, he's the devil. loves bothering you, like even if you give him something while he waits for you to be done with whatever you need to be done, he can't be distracted from distracting his lover?! still a huge sweetheart, don't get me wrong, the type to really memorize things about you too, notices so many little things about you, like even things you don't even notice. but someone who can tolerate his shenanigans are the best match for him. the best hugs ever too, so when you're stressed, just ask for cuddles and kisses and he'll be there to talk to you, even if you don't wanna talk about it, he'll talk to you about his day to comfort you instead. loves you like you are an angel from heaven that blessed him, because you were, and you did.

・kaedehara kazuha.. in this case you are the extrovert, likes to listen you rambling about something from work, the type to hold you close to his chest and hum a familiar tune to get you to sleep, likes to just watch and listen to someone who tends to talk a lot with no one listening to them, but he's always there for you. such a sweetheart with it too, loves to hold your hand while you do, if anyone tells you you're annoying best bet he'll deal with them, with words. isn't shy to say you're his s/o, unintentionally tells everyone about you, "honestly s/o is such a dear for me. they ---." he's ranting to a toucan by the way.

grumpy x sunshine, this is scaramouche with his s/o, if i do say so myself. literal showers of affection in private, 'cold-hearted' in public, promise he doesn't mean the insults he spits at you. still willing for a bit of pda though, basic holding hands is the only kinda he allows tbh, lowkey flexes you when he's with someone else, "oh you know, s/o would've done better than you." so even if you haven't even met them, probably one of his coworkers or friends are already fed up with you (as a joke and seriously), if he's ever upset, he'll really just come over to you, ready for your little kisses on his cheeks, and your head on his lap, just adoring each other, like no one else would.

sun x moon is what baizhu and you would be. and goes so far to already decide what to call your children together. stars. in this case, you're his sun, loud, kind, caring, everything he could imagine, him? oh he's not all that special. he thinks you fell from celestia because wow you really shine, and he's more than thankful everyday that, and likes to spend time with both you and qiqi. so he also does call qiqi a star too <3. just like kazuha, he likes listening more than talking, does the zoning out thing too, changsheng has to tell him to stop so he listens to you, a bright person with someone like him really just.. he knows how much he's been blessed by archons.

❀ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈）taglist: @edit-me-prettyplease | wanna be tagged for my posts? click here!

[stupidlittleace]

Marriage, and other such bindings

Pairing: Barbatos/gn!Reader

Rating: T (kinda suggestive though nothing is stated)

Word count: 1063

Summary: Reader brings up the topic of marriage, and both lovers quickly find themselves becoming possessive (in a sexy way)

Tags: gender neutral reader, kinda dommy reader, cuddling, bed sharing, established relationship, pact/brand markings

AN: I’ve just been thinking about Barbie’s love survey where he talks about wanting to be bound by his lover…and that’s canon. Anyway, I wish they’d do more stuff about his sin, maybe it’ll come up as part of his motives if he really is NightBringer. Kinda very self-indulgent. 🎉🎉 First fic on tumblr

———

“Marry me.” You whispered to his lips, pulling back a minuscule amount to unseal the kiss. “Properly.”

“Properly?” He asked, the movement of his lips brushing against your skin, pushing his nose into yours to nuzzle against your face.

“How many times have we married each other in shared dreams and worlds? Bound ourselves to each other to be freed from some game or illusion?”

“And is that not “proper”?” He teased.

“Do you consider it real?” Tracing your fingers lightly along his hairline, you tucked the stray hairs behind his ear without needing to look. “I want to be able to call you my husband. To stake my claim on you and know you are bound to be. And to be completely owned in return.”

His shiver under your fingers was small, but you caught it. He was a greed demon, after all.

You asked him, “do you want to be owned by me?”

“Please.” You thought you heard him sigh, but he didn’t speak up to repeat it. Instead, he pulled back slightly to be able to look you in the eyes, twined your hands together where they sat on the mattress, and said to you: “I’ve never been married before.”

“Never?” You asked as you pulled up your free hand to stroke over his jaw. He really was so pretty, it was a shame you weren’t allowed to say it. “Never is a very long time.”

“No one has ever treated me like you treat me. No one has ever made me crave being treated like you treat me.”

“Barbie~”

“Beloved.”

“I wouldn’t ask you for a pact, I don’t need you to be subservient to me. I just want you. Forever.”

He stewed in that for a moment, closing his eyes and bringing his lips to yours in a series of quick, shallow kisses.

“I could brand you.” The demon’s free hand had moved to sit on the bare skin above your heart, tasting the calm and heady pulse beneath his palm. “Brand you with my name and mark, taint your aura with mine.”

You hummed indulgently at the statement, moving your hand to instead press his harder into your skin.

“It would show here,” he continued, staring through your skin. “Always. And everyone would know it’s mine. You’re mine.

“The brand would lend you some power, not unlike a pact but with less pull. Instead of commanding me it would be more like asking politely; I would get to pick and chose which orders I am to follow, despite feeling a desire to serve you.”

“Perfect.”

“And, in return, I would always be able to find you, feel your heartbeat, be pulled to you across any and all plains.

“This is a demon marriage, an equal exchange of souls.”

He moved to press his cheek to the skin previously covered by his hand. With his movement, you leaned backward into the pillows, taking him with you to lie down. “I want it.”

“As do I.” He murmured into the skin of your chest, your hands coming up to stroke his head and run your fingers through the hair at his nape. “Although, I do lament you cannot brand me in return.”

You ponder on his statement for a moment, pretending that you had not already thought it over many times, before. “One day,” you start, pressing the hand not otherwise occupied into the space between his shoulder blades. Applying pressure to the skin; fair, unblemished—for now. “When I am a sorcerer in my own right, I will forge my own sigil and burn it so deep into your skin it will never fade.”

He went still against your chest, breaths stuttering before evening out with a squeeze to your body. “We could do it now.” He seemed to test the statement, worried about the possibility of a negative response.

“I will have no regrets.” You tell him, sure and steadfast in the statement.

He breathed into your skin, huffing hot breath onto the valley of your chest, before bringing his lips to your skin and beginning his incantation.

“I, Barbatos—first of my name, first of my kind—chose to bind myself to the soul beside me. In turn, I have been chosen, I impart my brand upon them: Apprentice of the Sorcerer Solomon, bearer of The Ring of Light.”

You feel the binding and the words come over you—although it was a spell you had never learnt, the oath fell easily from your lips. “I—Apprentice to the Sorcerer Solomon, bearer of The Ring of Light—take the brand of Barbatos—first of his name, first of his kind—and in doing so, bind my soul to his for as long as we should exist.”

“With this brand, I acknowledge our bond of trust and love, I see it returned.” He finalised with a kiss to the skin.

Under his mouth, you felt the tiny pinpricks of a soul pact come into place. Watching as the skin changed colours under his breath, you relished into the feeling of the binding. Strings pulled tight between the two of you, and you felt your soul burn brighter as it became enveloped in his. Your soul and his, forever.

The brand revealed itself to you as your demon pulled slowly away to admire it. A sigil spelling his name, as well as a protection spell, and a few other symbols you didn’t recognise from your studies.

“This one,” he whispered, pointing to a shape you couldn’t identify, “is the demon symbol that detonates this mark as a brand between two.” He moved his eyes to beam up at you. “It is similar to a wedding band.”

Cupping his chin, you tease him: “I think I’d still like a ring.” Managing to get the statement out before cutting yourself off with a yawn—all of your energy spent from the ritual, physically demanding or otherwise.

“I believe I’d also be interested in partaking in the custom.” He said softly—admiring the brand again, and you chuckled slightly at the idea of him wearing the ring under his gloves before yawning a second time.

He looked up into your eyes, your natural colour now ringed with green and speckled through with gold. “Sleep well, my beloved, my darling, mine.”

“Good night, Barbie.” You mumble. “You’re mine forever, I love you.”

[satoruxx]

congrats on 200 followers!!

im thinking of hsr blade + reader who keeps throwing him corny science-y pickup lines :3

examples:

"if i had to choose between DNA and RNA, i'd choose RNA because it has U in it"

"are you an arrhythmia? because you just made my heart skip a beat"

"are you rheumatoid arthritis? because you make me feel weak in the knees"

(inspired by @/nathan_fang_'s science rizz on ig, theyre absolute gold)

pairing: blade x reader | 1.3k+ words summary: all fluff and crack, just a teensy tiny bit suggestive at the end but it's harmless, blade is TIRED, classic sunshine x grump trope bc we all secretly love it hehe a/n: AHHHH hello anon! this was so much fun to write omg !! blade is such a grump i love him. i don't know if i did him justice though lol. i really wanna pull for him but i spent all my savings on luocha sobs. anyways thank you thank you for your support and i hope you enjoy this <33

blade didn't mind working in pairs. normally, he worked well with the teammates he had. following kafka's plans usually ended with a success, and even as irritating as silver wolf could be, she had enough knowledge in her brain to get them out of sticky situations. he definitely didn't mind working with either of them.

you on the other hand, blade was unsure of. ok yes, in your defense, he knew that you were quite intelligent. you were well-versed in the lifestyles of many different galaxies, and you were the type of person who liked to research as much as you could before you stepped foot on a new planet. so the first day blade met you, he did truly believe you were a mature, all-knowing researcher joining the stellaron hunters.

that was before, though. while you still did come off as all-knowing, he now knew you were far from mature.

"will you please quit it?"

you grin cheekily, watching him pace back and forth in front of the locked door you both were hiding behind, on the look out for guards. his red eyes dart back and forth between the door and you as you sit at one of the computers, extracting some files for the mission.

"i'm just saying you could try to smile more, blade."

he scoffs, eyes lingering on you and your annoying grin for a second longer. "nothing to smile about in my life."

you snort, shaking your head as you absentmindedly tap at the screen. "well that's dramatic. you just need something to make you laugh."

"I don't see any funny people around here." he sneers, eyes narrowed as he shoots you a sarcastic grin. you place your hand on your heart in mock offense.

"i'll have you know i am very funny!" you say defensively, shooting him a glare. blade only raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

"sure thing. because everything you've ever said has got me positively giggling. now will you shut up and work faster so we can get out of here?"

a mirthless smile graces your face as you narrow your eyes at him in retaliation. "you just have no sense of humor." you mutter, turning back to the screen. blade rolls his eyes before resuming his lookout, though his gaze does wander back to you more times than he cares to admit. the room is silent save for the occasional clicks of the software you were accessing, and for a second blade thinks he misses the sound of your talking, but he pushes that thought aside.

you somehow seem to pick up on it though, because you speak up again. "hey blade?"

"what?"

"are you rheumatoid arthritis?"

he can't see your face with your back turned to him, and he seems to think you're seriously asking him a question, because he frowns and begins to speak. "are you stupid? do you mean to say do i have rheumatoid arthritis? because, you know that i do not-"

"because you make me feel weak in the knees!"

there's a tense silence as he stares at you, his brain trying to process what you just said. when it clicks his lips curl into a sneer and he groans.

"aeons, will you please shut up? you are so stupid why am i stuck here-"

"hey blade, if you were an element you'd be francium because you're the most attractive!"

his clicks his tongue as you giggle, finally standing up and making your way over to him after downloading all the data you needed. you peer at him mischievously, eyes scanning over his sour expression. "what, not even a smile? tough crowd."

he scoffs, opening the door and ushering you out in front of him so that he can keep an eye on you. "what, that was your strategy? stupid nerdy pick up lines? try harder."

"you're underestimating my resolve, bladie. i will get you."

he hums absentmindedly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at you as he peers down halls for any enemies before sending you the signal to keep walking.

you clear your throat, and he sighs as you begin your inane antics once more. "you must be a good benzene ring because you are so aromatic!"

"stop it right now."

"you must be made of uranium and iodine, because i can see U and I together!"

he pauses, eyes narrowing as a weird tumble occurs in his chest. he glares down at you from the corner of his eyes, trying his best not to dwell on it because aeons above you were just being stupid. he hears you laugh under your breath, and he's about to scold you once more before he hears voices approaching.

"shut up. guards." he orders quietly, pulling your arm back so that you're now hiding behind the wall with him. he watches them carefully, scarlet eyes scanning for any sudden movements as he keeps you behind him. suddenly he feels your finger poke at his bicep as you whisper:

"are you a carbon sample? because i really wanna date you!"

blade feels his face grow hot as he glares at you angrily. he immediately turns around and presses a bandaged hand over your mouth, leaning in close to hiss at you. "you idiot. didn't i say shut up? they're right there!"

you reach up to pull his hand away from your face, though your fingers continue to hold his as you give him another cheeky smile.

"ooh," you whisper dramatically, grinning at his close proximity. "are you a heart arrhythmia? because you just made my heart skip a beat!"

blade's eyes dart all over your face, and he ignores the way that it feels like his brain is short-circuiting since it's probably just because of how reckless you're being. instead he just opts for rolling his eyes and clamping his hand back over your mouth. you let him this time, though he can still tell you're smiling by the way your eyes crinkle.

as soon as the coast is clear, he's leading you back to the ship without a word. the entire way there, you continue to drop more of your stupid lines, and he only gives you annoyed groans in response.

by the time you both are safely back, he's had enough of you.

"-you have 11 protons? because you're sodium fine!" you giggle, and blade's eye twitches once before he's turning around and getting in your face once more. his eyes bore into yours as he smirks.

"oh yeah? if i was an enzyme, i'd be dna helicase, just so that i could unzip your genes." he says, keeping his voice even as he stares at you.

your jaw drops, face heating up at the unexpected turn of events as you stumble over a response. "w-wait, you-!"

"what? you've been yapping my ear off about how great our chemistry is. don't you think we should do some biology together too?" he smirks, red eyes lighting up as he takes in your flustered expression.

"well that's not what i-!" you pause, breath hitching as he leans closer and brushes a strand of loose hair out of your eyes. he chuckles under his breath, peering at you through his bangs.

"damn. you must be an alkali metal. one touch and already highly reactive, huh?"

"blade!" you hiss, eyes darting away from him and he finally relents, pulling back to watch you with an amused grin. you clear your throat, almost like you know how caught off guard you look. "i have to go...report to kakfa."

he bites back a grin, watching you leave through the dark strands of his hair. so flustered that you didn't even realize that in the end you did get him to smile? how amusing.

he laughs quietly to himself, shaking his head. maybe, just maybe, he could try to ask elio to make you his partner permanently.

[sturnioloblogs]

Socs

Fem!reader x the outsiders gang!

Summary: You go for a walk, but will happen?

A/n: holy shit I am so sorry I have not been on here in months. That’s actually kind of crazy but I have recently been getting into the outsiders and I absolutely love them so this is a random fic about them… feel free to read or don’t I don’t really care. Also if you want more like this just request.

⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲

“Y/N! SUPPER!” Darry called my name from the kitchen. It was a mild night, not too cold not too warm, just the perfect temperature.

I jumped up from by bed to go eat supper, man i was hungry. Us greasers don’t eat in the cafeteria at school- or eat at all, stupid socs make fun of us and we honestly can’t be bothered to deal with their shit.

The dark beaten up hardwood floor was cold on my bare feet, which made me feel all tingly inside.

I turned the corner to the dinning room to find the whole gang here eating supper. Usually Johnny would eat at our house since his parents couldn’t care enough about him, but of corse he was always welcome at ours. Me and Ponyboy were the closest to Johnny out of the whole gang- well besides from Dally but he was older than us.

“Oh hey y’all” I said, sitting at the head of the table was Darry, and across from him was Twobit. There was an empty seat next to Ponyboy, which he probably left for me. We always sit next to eachother. Since we are twins it sometimes feels like we are the same person, but not exactly but close enough. And everyone knew that nothing could get between me and him, but of course we would fight we are siblings after all.

“Hey y/n, how was school?” Soda asked me with a soft smile. “It was alright you know the usual” I replied. Man did i ever hate school, always wanted to get outa that hellhole. I’ve only mentioned dropping out once to Darry, let me tell you one thing. It did not got well at all.

The soft chatter of talking was always nice to me, i never liked the silence, especially at dinner time.

“Darry can i got on a walk after supper? Please?” I asked. Everyone knew i loved walks, but they were dangerous at night, especially on a Friday. But i asked anyway.

“God y/n no, it’s too dangerous” Darry said with a straight face.

“Please i will bring my blade with me, i just need to clear my head” that was partially true, I had a lot on my mind recently and needed to let out some built-up stress.

“You are only going if one of the boys go with you!” Darry raised his voice. Now everyone had stopped eating to watched the scene that was going on at the dinner-table. It wasn’t uncommon for me and Darry to get into screaming matches, but right now i don’t even want to try.

The whole gang is very protective over me. I guess because im the only girl and well i’m not that big either. Only 5’1 and roughly 95lbs. Considering Darry Dallas and all the other Socs were well over 6ft it was a little scary not being to big.

“Ugh Darry please??! I don’t want anyone to go with me, i’ll only walk up the street and around the block” i Pleaded.

“Fine! just go, I’m not getting into another fight with you again.” He rolled his eyes. I gave him a small ‘thank you’, and got up from my seat to put the dishes in the sink.

⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲⟲

I had only been walking for about 5 minutes when i heard a loud “GREASER!!!” from behind me, i glanced over my shoulder. A blue mustang driving fairly fast towards me. Well oh shit.

I started speed waking, well almost sprinting now, hoping they’d lose interest or just wonder off somewhere else.

Before i could even think or process what was happening, i was ripped from my train of thought by someone coming up from behind me and pushing me to the wet concrete road. I couldn’t figure out how many there was but it was somewhere between 3-5.

I grounded and rolled over in pain before I felt a harsh punch to my left cheek. Screaming in pain, Warm liquid was oozing out of my nose. They were drunk. I could smell the awful smell of cheap alcohol on their breaths.

As they still had a hold of me another punch came out of nowhere, a brutal strike that slammed into my gut like a sledgehammer. Air whooshed from my lungs, and I tried to curl up into a ball, the sharp pain spreading through my ribs like wildfire. Laughter rang out around me, their voices rough and mocking, as one of them grabbed my shirt and yanked me upright. My vision blurred, but I caught a glimpse of their faces. Another punch followed, this time to my cheek- again and I tasted blood as my knees buckled. The ground felt cold and unforgiving beneath me, I clenched my fists, trying to steady the spinning world around me.

In the distance I heard a faint “Hey get the fuck away from her!!” It was the gang.

All the socs scurried away into the blue Mustang and drove off with a screech.

“H-holy shit! Help her!” Twobit yelled? I think it was him, I was still sorta out of it so i wasn’t completely sure who i was hearing.

Next thing i know i’m being shook slightly by Darry and sodapop. “Y/n? Can you hear me?” Darry asked trying to stop the blood from pouring out of my nose with his jacket. I slightly opened my eyes and above me i saw a spinning Darry Sodapop and Dallas. and the night sky.

“D-darry?” I coughed out and rolled to my side only to spit out the metallic taste of liquid. “Woah woa take it easy, it’s okay we’re here now..” Soda said while patting my back gently.

I got scooped up by Darry before everything going black.

When i starting to wake up again i heard faint whispers around me, and shuffling around.

I growned and slowly opened my eyelids to find 4 figures standing over me.

“Guys guys she’s waking up!” Ponyboy exclaimed.

I sat up quickly, almost to fast because i all of a sudden i felt a throbbing pain in my head and felt onto my back.

“Geez y/n take it easy don’t get up!” Soda said. Then everything came flooding back to my memory. The socs, getting jumped, and the pain.

“ay shit, it hurts” I said while a few stray tears fell down my face. I mean at least i was laying on the couch- not the cold concrete that i was recently laying on.

“Well i bet, you got jumped by a bunch of Socs. I told you to not go! but of corse you did anyway.” Darry said walking towards my head. I honestly couldn’t reply i was so fed up with everything i didn’t care.

“Darry give her a damn break!” Thankfully Soda stood up and said something for me. He always did.

[skelelephant]

i cant remember if you talked about this before but i think youve mentioned it before?? can you discuss your thoughts on griff's head scar and his relationship with wolfstan i cant seem to remember where you discussed it. definitely not

HI WOW THANK YOU TOTALLY ANONYMOUS USER FOR THIS QUESTION

I’m SO glad you asked I have so many thoughts on this. SPOILERS FOR BLACK DEATH (2010) UNDER THE CUT. PLEASE (please) WATCH THE MOVIE THEN COME BACK

The cool thing about Black Death is that it gives you juuuuuuust enough hints about the connections between its characters but never actually lays anything out so you’re left to piece together things based on context clues alone (did you know Osmund and Averil were childhood friends? Because until I watched the behind the scenes content on the DVD I Didn’t Either)

But ANYWAY. We’re here to talk about Griff and Wolfstan

(One of my favourite shots of my pretty princess <3 also you can see the scar really well here)

Their relationship is one that’s so fascinating to me (obviously) but is also so very brief within the movie as a whole. Griff’s total screen time is like. Maybe 10 minutes if you’re being generous with shots where he’s in the background. It’s Fucking Dire Out Here.

But first things first. We’re introduced to Griff and Wolfstan as a pair. Dalywag, Mold, and Ivo all get their own separate introductory shots, (and obviously we’ve met Swire and Ulrich by this point). But Wolfstan and Griff are continually referred to as a pair. In the first scene we meet them and Wolfstan jokes “God has no men left, He sends us a boy” he’s directing that joke at Griff. He’s looking at Griff when he says it. Already we’re lead to believe these men are familiar with each other

“Erin how does this relate to Griff’s scar?” I hear you asking.

WELL.

The first real juicy piece of character information we’re given about these two comes from Swire, when he tells Osmund how he spent time in the King’s army with Wolfstan and Griff. This information is delivered along with a shot of the two of them bringing up the rear of their company, watching over their shoulders for any approaching threats.

So. We’ve now learned that these two were soldiers together. And now, after the war, they find themselves travelling as hired muscle under the command of a holy man. (I’ve made a post about how I interpret the relationship between the Company and Ulrich, so I won’t get into that here. But you can read it if you want.)

So. Where does that leave Griff’s scar?

Well it’s never actually addressed at all in canon, it’s not even acknowledged. It’s just a character detail that has no bearing on the story at all.

So. This is where we get into my own interpretation and headcanon.

I think Griff and Wolfstan were close even back in the army— pointedly never intimate but skirting the line CLOSE— and Griff sustained a critical head injury during one of the battles. A wound like that would certainly threaten a man’s life, and if he managed to survive it he would likely never hold a sword again. So Griff is dead weight, and this is a war zone. And my THEORY IS: in order to make sure Griff was able to recover from his injury, Wolfstan deserted the army and took Griff with him. Forfeiting any sort of glory or honour from the battles they’d been a part of, but at least they’d be together.

Wolfstan is the reason Griff survived and in the years that followed he helped Griff relearn the motor function he’d lost, including how to wield a blade. (Griff barely draws his blade in the movie so I think he’s still not as confident as he once was, but he can fight again!) Also during that time where Griff was in recovery the two of them finally broke down and got together. So by the time the events of the movie come around they’re well involved with each other.

So you can IMAGINE how this adds heartbreak to the scene where Griff finally succumbs to the plague and Wolfstan has to be the one to kill him. After fighting so hard to keep Griff alive, in the end it was just borrowed time, and Wolfstan has to end his life all the same. (I made a post rambling about this specific scene as well! Smile)

You know that Margaret Mead quote that gets tossed around a lot about how “the first sign of civilization was a healed femur”? I think Griff’s scar is a sign that someone once cared enough to save him. And I think that someone was Wolfstan.

Anyway! I need to go collapse into a heap about them again. Dear fucking god. Please talk to me more about this movie PLEASE. I could talk about it for ages.

[mirai-e-jump]

Hero Vision Vol.14 (2004/Spring) ft. Kamen Rider Blade Cast Interviews Takayuki Tsubaki & Hironari Amano Segment (translation below)

Publication: May 20, 2004 (between episodes 17-18) Takayuki Tsubaki (Kazuma Kenzaki) & Hironari Amano (Sakuya Tachibana)

"In the show, you play the roles of senior and junior, but in real life, from Tsubaki-kun's point of view, Amano-san is his senior when it comes to the entertainment industry. Do you ever confide your problems in him?"

Tsubaki: Yes, I do.

Amano: (suppressing his laughter) That's a liiie~.

Tsubaki: Ah! But, what about the time we went out to dinner together, or……ah, actually, I can't remember (said lacking confidence).

"When on set, who's the one that's most supportive and follows up with others?"

Amano: No matter who it is, if someone was yelled at or feeling discouraged, everyone follows up with them by saying, "Don't worry about it!" Everyone's so upbeat, and we're always laughing on set.

"When it comes to acting, do you ever talk about things like, "Going forward, let's do this"?"

Amano: Hmmm……For me, I'm not sure where my role is heading. I try not to establish the role from the beginning, but rather, add new elements as the opportunities arise. At first, I thought Tachibana was a calm, cool person who didn't show any emotions, but to my surprise, there are scenes of him losing his temper and yelling early on in the show.

"Do you and Tachibana have anything in common?"

Amano:……The tendency to worry. But, even though in the past I wouldn't tell people about my worries, recently, I've started to actually do so. I've come to realize just how easy it is.

"Tachibana also has a soft side for Sayoko."

Amano: I want to make Tachibana look more human. It's normal for a human to have many sides. There's the face you have during work, and the face you have in your private life. Now, Tachibana is trying to be strong by not relying on others, and it makes me think, "This isn't how a Rider's supposed to be!" (laughs). It may not be the usual justice of the past, but I think it would be great if Tachibana could overcome his obstacles and gain some confidence.

"Tsubaki-kun, do you think there are any similarities between yourself and Kenzaki?"

Tsubaki:……(vaguely) The stupid part of him? (laughs).

"Is it true that you became an actor because you wanted to learn how to express your feelings due to not having any?"

Tsubaki: I don't have any emotions at all, it's like I'm not a normal human, so it's really fun to "become" a human being when I get into the role. When I was younger, I was so loud, that people would often tell me, "You're noisy!"……Various things have happened since then, and I think I've calmed down abit. I also thought that while I'm a Rider, it would be easier for me to be Kenzaki if I didn't have "myself" in mind, so I've decided to think only about Kenzaki for the rest of the year. That's also why when I'm on set and Morimoto-kun is standing right next to me, my blood starts to rush. I think, "Why can't we fight even though I'm here?!"

Amano: Before we start filming, I try to reduce any tension (in order to become Tachibana), but this guy, he does the role the entire time. That's why he speaks in such a weird way. Even when we all eat together, he'll suddenly say, "You Bastard!," and "Get lost!" He would then start beating on Morimoto-kun, whose face looked as though it were saying, "Ehhhh~?!" (laughs). Morimoto-kun would then also act back.

Tsubaki: Morimoto-kun and I have to fight everyday anyway…..

"You'll soon start filming for the movie, where you'll have to think even more about Riders.

Tsubaki:……I don't know what will happen to me if Tachibana-san betrays me any further (said seriously).

Amano: I like how over such trivial things, you'll suddenly start speaking normally! When he talks to me over the phone, he's like, "Tachibana-san! it's Kenzaki! Where are you right now? Please call me back!" It's like he's prank calling me (laughs).

Tsubaki: For Morimoto-kun, "Hajime?!," is what I'll say when I call him. "I'll kill you," is what he'll say in response……

Amano: Ah, but when you talk to me and Morimoto-kun, you do talk normally.

"Morimoto-kun seems like he's trying to match Tsubaki-kun's pace (laughs). Maybe Tsubaki-kun is the type of person who needs to be taken care of by everyone?"

Tsubaki: That's right. But, it can't be helped, since Tachibana-san is currently acting so violent.

Amano: You're talking about in the show, right?

Tsubaki: Ah, right.

"Do you have a favorite line from the show?"

Amano: For me it's, "My body is falling apart!" People will constantly say it as a joke when on set. Hearing it actually makes me very happy.

"It's known that Tsubaki-kun's lines and way of speaking have become a popular topic of conversation among the fans (laughs). I think it's because they love the ridiculous feel of it."

Tsubaki:……I have mixed feelings about it. I'm glad it's being talked about, but still……(saddened).

Amano: During the dubbing process, the tension is so high, that it gives me alot of energy. In the recording room, everyone goes, "Hah! Hah!" (panting) for even the smallest action scenes. Recently, Tachibana's body has been falling apart to the point of hyperventilating due to the excessive panting (laughs).

"Have there ever been times during filming where you thought, "I really messed up big time!"?"

Amano & Tsubaki (at the same time): The snowy mountain scene in episode 3!

Amano: It was so cold that I couldn't move my mouth.

Tsubaki: My face was frozen. But, you can't tell just how hot or cold it is on when watching on the screen, so either way it's still bad.

"We'd like to thank you for all the hard work you go through when filming everyday."

Amano: Before that, I fell asleep for the first time on the Yamanote Line and circled it completely. I got on the train at Ikebukuro, then suddenly realized, I was back in Ikebukuro again. I looked at my watch and said, "Huh, I'm still here, so why is it so late?! Shit! I circled the line!" (laughs).

Tsubaki: I'd be totally fine with it if that happened to me.

"Would you consider yourself athletic and physically fit?"

Tsubaki: No, I'm just young.

Amano:……Would it be alright if I got upset? (laughs). He's not athletic at all! When we were at the snowy mountains, we all snowboarded together, but after like 2 or 3 times, he said, "I'm leaving. I'm tired. I'm sleepy." I was like, "Hey, hey, hold on, Blade!" (laughs).

"You really go at your own pace, don't you? Since you were young, have you always thought you were alittle different from other people?"

Tsubaki: By the time I realized it, people were already calling me weird. But, since we all start out by crawling, in a way, aren't we all weird?

Amano: Oh, that's pretty deep.

"Amano-san, what was your childhood like?"

Amano: I wanted to become independent as soon as possible, so I started looking for part time work by the time I was in my fourth and fifth year of elementary school. One of my friend's mother recommended becoming a child model as a way to earn money with ease, so I ended up joining an agency on my own. I've been in the entertainment world ever since then.

Tsubaki: I become easily emotional when I watch dramas, so….

"So you also wanted to inspire people?"

Tsubaki: (firmly) No, I just wanted to do it myself.

"How honest of you (laughs). Do you feel you're more likely to grow when receiving praise?" Tsubaki: I want to be criticized for my performance. I'm obviously still not good at it, so I need to be told these things in order to become better.

Amano: Well said, I can see just how serious you are (is impressed). I tend to get carried away when I receive praise. But, I also become discouraged when I'm criticized. It's like my weakness…..

"Finally, would you please give a message to the fans?"

Amano: Eh? Ah…(timid) please pay attention to how I grow in the future……

Tsubaki: Tachibana-san! You're the senior here!

Amano: Ah, you're right. We're all working very hard on this, so please continue to watch us!

Tsubaki: Please watch usss!!

[anonymouszephyrus]

Galra keith headcannons?

I have so many requests to do this week- NFAKJN so, I'll do this one first. Thank you for the question!! - I'll do this as full Galra Keith so he was most likely raised by his mother, taken away from Earth. He's still half but more Galra characteristics showed in his birth so Krolia thought it was better if she took him and raised him in the blade. - I always give him a long tail with a bit of fluff at the end, I just think it's cute and it would be great to see Keith with more Galra characteristics, not just his teeth, eyes, skin, or ears changing. - Have y'all seen Ikimaru's Galra Keith design?

^ Basically this absolute bean <3 - I love the idea of him having lavender/soft-purple skin. Just the idea of it matches so well and contrasts with his otherwise dark color palette.

- Krolia eyes. His eyes are like Krolia's, except maybe a bit darker. But I just love the idea of him being a mini-me of his mother. - Keith's teeth, specifically his canines, grow slightly when he is mad or feels strong emotions. - Since I'm doing this as full Galra Keith. His hair is much longer and grows a lot faster too, I would love to say he keeps it that length but no. Whenever it grows, he cuts it off and makes it into his fucking mullet again.

- I love the idea of Galra's being cat-like. Purring, chirping, or mewling if they were pleased or even just sleeping... it gives them such a cute aspect to the otherwise "evil" Galra most people know. So like.. imagine Keith just sleeping and purring in his sleep. That's just the image I wanted to see.

- I'm also gonna add some Krolia + Baby Keith headcanons here: When Krolia first brought her new kit back to the blade, she couldn't leave him alone at all as Keith would cry until she was back at his side once more.

- Baby Keith loved being held by his mom around the headquarters and whenever she tried to put him down, he would cry and cling to her like any other kit would. (Is it obvious I wanna talk more about Galra kits and their whole deal?)

Anyways. I probably could think of so many more headcanons but I legit have no brain space to think this early in the morning so yeah <3

[foreststranger]

BLADE - There’s A Major Problem: II

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ(ꜱ) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ you’re dragging around a dead body for like the first half or so and mentions of blade wanting to die (bc he’s blade)

ꜱᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ 『honkai: star rail』blade x gn!reader ft. kafka as emotional support and sam as worried sibling (SAM IS A WEIRD ROBOT TRANSFORMER LOOKING THING??? IN LOVE 😍)

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ a continuation of my last post (read it here) since it was fun to write and i think it’d be nice to continue bc i’m so many ideas. anyway the synopsis for the last post was:

“a kinda (barely) angsty-hurty/comfort-maybe-ish-sorta (?) unpolished short-tiny-small-lazy fic where blade dies so you gotta drag him back home and wait for him to heal himself back to life or wtv” which makes complete sense

in this post, you bring blade home with the help of kafka and take care of him as he recovers.

𑁍 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.1k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ OMG BLADE INSIDE A LITTLE HOUSE IN KAFKA’S NEW QUEST RAAAAA BLADE LOVERS STAY WINNING 🦅🦅🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸 NOW MY FANFIC IS LITERALLY CANONICAL 💯💯💯 #domesticblade #imnotdelusional #bladeisliterallyinlovewithme #weliveinahousetogether #andwehavesevenkids #real please bear with me and my tangents bc i swear i’ll write for other characters (when i come up with ideas) but there’s so many thoughts i have about blade ajdhsmaksjhshakaksjs anyway sorry for this unpolished, rushed, messy thing i just want to complete it now so i can move on to NEW IDEASSSS

“[name].” She leaned in, grabbing the phone out of your hands and scaring your spirit out of your body.

“*Xianzhou profanity*! Kafka! Oh… you scared me.” You rub your forehead. Your splitting migraine had only worsened after Kafka’s sudden appearance.

“How’d you make it here so fast? I mean, I thought you were on-“

“I thought you wanted to get him home first. You can ask as many questions as you’d like after, hm?” She always had a tendency to cut you off. You leer at her before responding.

“…Right, yeah. Yeah… we should, uh, get him home first. Okay. Let’s… let’s go.”

“Are you alright there, [name]?” She giggles, bringing her face closer to yours. “You sound… nervous.” Tension grows in your brain as if it were being pulled on.

“Sorry. Just a headache. How’ve you been?” You try to make some small talk to distract yourself. Though Kafka doesn’t reply. Your hands grapple for Blade’s forearms while Kafka reaches for his legs, the two of you easily lifting him off the ground. His body dangles so limply that it causes you to wince.

“I can carry him myself, if you’d prefer,” she offers. “Blade isn’t the easiest to bring around.”

“No.”

“No?” Kafka lets out a soft snicker, her voice soft and sultry as usual. “And why’s that?”

“Because I want to help carry him.” You walk backwards, trying to maneuver Blade through a fence.

“You’re struggling, dear. Maybe I should just-“

“I’m fine, Kafka.”

It’s been several hours now. You’re tired and thirsty and hungry and in pain. Everything is sore and you’re not sure how much longer you can walk.

“Kafka? I… I don’t think I can walk any further.” She sighs as you screech to a halt. You set Blade down as gently as you can, his arms bouncing as the collide with the ground.

“I can tell. I told you before, didn’t I? You can walk home. Bladie and I will follow. Get some rest, [name].” Despite her kind words, Kafka’s ‘I told you so’ smirk makes you internally groan.

You crash through the door, kicking off your shoes as you race to the bedroom. From the nightstand, you snatch up some first aid supplies — a roll of bandages, rubbing alcohol, and an antibiotic ointment. You’ve treated Blade’s minor injuries before but never lethal ones. Cuts and scrapes were what he came to you for, not enormous gashes.

“Kafka…? Will this be enough?” Your head turns to the doorway as she pulls Blade along, gracefully lifting him onto the bed. There was poise in every little movement of hers, even while carrying corpses.

“Sure,” she answers. Vague answers were the bane of your existence. Maybe Kafka in general was the bane of your existence. Like true in-laws, you didn’t really get along with any of the other Stellaron Hunters, either. Their line of work was… questionable, and they were an interesting bunch.

“Would you like me to stay and help, dear?” Kafka asked, staring at you intently. Her eyes always freaked you out a little. You can’t help but look towards her ear instead. From her earlobe dangles a glistening pearl earring.

“I can take care of him on my own, don’t worry.” You give her a tired, pathetic thumbs up as reassurance. “He’s in good hands.”

As Kafka leaves the room, Blade begins to stir. His eyes tightly shut as he rustles around on the bed. You’re at his side immediately.

“Blade? Don’t move, please. I’m gonna patch you up first.” You’ve never been good with your hands and you weren’t exactly a doctor, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. He opens his eyes and glances up at you. Blade looks exhausted. As if he was on the cusp of achieving a goal he’s dreamt of all his life, but failed just at the finish line.

“Are you alright? You look so sad.”

“I’m fine,” he answers, his tone clipped. It’s evident that he was holding out hope; hope that perhaps this would be the last death of his.

“Sit up for me. I need to see your stomach.” His tailcoat has a long cut at the front, though it was hard to see much due to the drying blood. Blade did as you asked, dangling his legs off the edge of the bed and leaning on you for support. You hold up his upper body with one hand while the other undoes his button. It pops open without much resistance. He doesn’t seem to be looking at you as you slowly slide his sleeves off his arms. The sight is… not as gory as you’d prepared for. Blood coats most of his chest, and thankfully, it’s all you can see.

“I’ll be right back, Blade. I have to get a towel.”

After a gruelling few minutes of bandaging his wounds, you toss him one of your shirts. It’s a little small on him, tightening around every one of his curves, outlining his figure perfectly. Maybe you liked seeing him wearing your clothes.

“How do you feel? Is everything okay?” He nods in reply.

“Blade? You look… just adorable right now.” You lean in close and pinch his cheek. He doesn’t seem to have a reaction, but you swear you can see a hint of redness on his face.

Then, you hear the ding of a notification coming from your pocket. You take out the phone to be greeted with another text from a Stellaron Hunter.

“…What are you doing?” Blade stands up, leaning over to see what you’re doing on his phone. You turn it off before putting it back into your pocket.

“You got a few texts from Sam, so I thought I’d respond. They were just… checking up on you.”

“Mmh.” He sits back down onto the bed. Your hand reaches out to support him as he does so.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Need anything?”

“…Just you,” Blade sighs. The sudden silence of the room fills you with a quiet peace. Like, despite just seeing your lover dead, everything might turn out okay. Blade lays down and you decide to join him, right by his side. His arm wraps around your waist, limply pulling you close to himself. A feeling of warmth fills your heart as he spoons you. Then, in that moment, you’re sure that everything will turn out okay.

ask before translating, taking inspo from (not copy), reposting, etc. my work. remember to credit me and if you’re taking inspo from it, please @ me as I’d like to see what you do with my ideas!

[shadowmonkstone]

Right, we’ve got ourselves a pretty settled system now. Me, Kay, Lae’zel and Wyll go out to try and find the Crèche and the cure while Gale and Astarion wait at camp with Shadowheart researching what they can on Mind Flayers and all of the books and shite we pick up on the way. It keeps Shadowheart and Lae’zel from killing each other and Astarion and Gale talking at me with words that don’t make any fucking sense.

Like agog. What the fuck does agog mean? I give up.

We were heading in the direction of the Crèche that the tiefling showed us on the map when we came across a Balurdurian outpost. At least it used to be, it was on fire after a Drow and Goblin raid. We helped as many people as we could…well, I say ‘we’ but Lae’zel was a less than enthusiastic member of the team.

She still helped anyway, which says to me that beneath the growls, threats and big fuck-off sword at my throat she does have a heart. A walnut sized heart, but it’s there nonetheless.

After we had rescued everyone, it turns out that the Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate himself was there and was kidnapped.

So what, you might ask? Just another posh bloke in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But…no. He’s fucking Wyll’s fucking father.

Wait, that sounded like he was fucking Wyll’s father. He’s not. I mean he IS Wyll’s father.

Because of course he is.

Fuck’s sake.

Just one, normal, no one’s connected with anybody else and has a dark bloody secret kind of day. That’s all I’m asking for.

FUCK.

So yeah, The Blade of Frontiers’ old man is the big daddy Duke of Baldur’s Gate, and like all good families they haven’t spoken in fucking years. Of course, I said we’d go and rescue him from some tower. Kay thought this was a good idea, Lae’zel thought this was a good opportunity to hold the pointy end of her magic, fuck-off sword at my throat.

So we reached a compromise. Find Wyll’s dad after we’re cured in her Crèche.

Why after? Because we spoke with some of the dead Drow (magic amulet from Withers - don’t ask) who said that this Absolute wanted the Duke and wanted him alive. Says to me that the bugger’s going to be a prisoner, not goblin scran. So we’ve got time.

Plus, I’m no father (that I know of), but the last thing any dad wants is for a happy family reunion to be spoiled by the long lost son sprouting fucking tentacles from his gob halfway through a toast.

At the other end of the scale we saved a bloke from the fire but he’d lost his wife in the attack. Poor bastard. They’d had a fight about a dowry and with his permission we spoke with her corpse…which sounds a lot fucking worse when I say it aloud…but she said it was in the barn at the back. And we’ve just found it.

We’ve agreed to have a quick sit down out here because this has all been pretty intense, and even Lae’zel’s agreed to it. Wyll’s contemplating seeing his old man again, Karlach’s dancing…fuck me she’s got some moves…and Lae’zel is exploring the other bar-…hang on a second.

What do you mean there’s someone in there?! …Yes I know you don’t talk in fucking riddles Lae’zel it was a rhetorical bloody…yes of course I can sodding see th-…please stop fucking threatening him…I don’t bloody care if the dickhead’s got a fireball in his hand, he looks ready to fucking piss himself!

Sorry, gotta go, bye!