#bree writes occasionally

[daveth-isnt-dead]

Overlock Stitch Part 1/?

Summary:

Viktor is just trying his best to survive his years as a student at the academy when a girl studying textiles suddenly begs him to let her tailor his uniform. She is right, it doesn't fit, but he isn't in the business of accepting charity from strangers. "Please?" She asks, "It would be fully anonymous on your part and we would both be better off." Then again, but with feeling, "please?" Viktor eyes her again and against his better judgement, presents an undeserved olive branch, "Will you be here tomorrow?" Her smile is so wide it almost makes him want to recoil. He wonders if her cheeks hurt.

Contains: Third person POV, She/Her Pronouns for reader

Word Count: 3,712

Read on AO3

The hallways of Piltover's prestigious academy are just as inhospitable as they have been the last eight months of Viktor's attendance. Far too many jostling students carrying loud and inconsequential conversations in the echoing hallways, ignoring him for the most part, which is preferred as he struggles to carry an armful of textbooks on one side and maneuver his cane with the other.

He bites back a curse, urging his expression to return to neutral when his left shoe slips on the tiles. He'd glued the loose sole back on last week, but years of wear has left the underside of the shoe entirely without grip. Not a big issue on rough cobblestones, but a recurring one on the well polished tile. Viktor breathes in deep through his nose, hiking his stack of books back up under his arm and continuing on. He has one class left for the day, then he can go back to his dorm and seethe however much he needs to, but he is here to learn and nothing is getting in the way of that.

It's an overcast day, the sun shining muted behind the clouds outside the academy windows. Filtering through in drips and drabs that catch on the well polished doorknobs and handrails. Viktor scoffs, long past the point of being shocked at Piltover's needless display of opulence, the feeling instead sitting bitterly in his stomach each time the loose fabric of his ill-fitting uniform rustles against itself, each time his shoe slips on the fucking tiles.

Class doesn't start for another two hours, but he has taken to walking the long way around, cutting through the fine arts wing and avoiding two sets of stairs, killing just over an hour in the library right across from the lecture hall and then taking his seat fifteen minutes (at minimum) before everyone else. Arriving early to class gets him dirty looks even now, but they aren't ones worth entertaining, even if he can feel them burning into the back of his head for the entire lecture.

Just as he reaches the end of the fine arts wing, he's startled by a voice behind him shouting. He almost moves to keep walking, assuming whatever outburst that was had nothing to do with him until the voice continues.

"Your uniform doesn't fit!"

Viktor's lip curls. He does not have time for this, but anyone with intention of talking down to the Zaunite will just follow him the rest of the way down the hall and waste even more of his time if he doesn't give them the attention they crave. So he schools his expression, raises his chin and turns.

It's a girl, standing halfway down the hall, hands balled at her sides, breath fast. She's mousy, with round cheeks and poorly styled hair. Viktor tilts his head, her expression seems more nervous than jeering. He straightens himself, "Really? I hadn't noticed."

She blinks at him with bright, confused eyes, "You're Viktor, right?"

"It seems my reputation proceeds me." He responds bitterly, trying his best not to wonder the circumstances under which this girl leaned his name.

Her mouth pulls in a tight line and she takes a few quick steps towards him. Those seem nervous too, "I can help." She blurts, avoiding his eyes.

Viktor appraises her some more, notices the glint of diamond studs in her ears, but the absence of any other jewellery. She is of some wealth, clearly, though nothing exceptional, at least not by academy standards. He also sees a pincushion tied to her wrist, "Ah, you are in the textiles course."

"Yes." She replies, nervous eyes darting around like some sort of prey animal.

Viktor just barely resists the urge to scoff, "Why are you acting like I might sink my teeth into you?"

She squeaks, eyes snapping up to his, "H-Huh?"

Viktor adjusts himself, taking a measured step towards her, "Do you think I am dangerous?"She blinks some more and Viktor finds himself quickly growing tired of her shivery little mousy behaviour, "I have places to be, if you need something from me you had best spit it out, unless of course it's another uninspired jab, I've heard them all before and it would just be a waste of both our times."

"Oh, no, nothing like that I um-"

She introduces herself, quickly and without any sort of proprietary. Viktor also notices that she doesn't bother offering a last name. Not from a house then. Not anyone of note at all. No Piltie worth their salt would introduce themselves without the needless gravitas of their surname. She must be here through patronage, which indicates at least some measure of expertise, however minor.

"I want to tailor your uniform for you." She says in what he can only interpret as her version of firm. Her voice still wavers on each word, but her hands are balled into fists again.

He scoffs, "I am not in the business of accepting charity from strangers."

"It wouldn't be charity!" She blurts, "I'm working on an assignment, I major in alterations instead of design. You get a uniform that fits and I would just need a few photographs, before and after, for my assignment." Then quietly, to herself, "provided someone will let me borrow a camera, of course."

Viktor had been nimble enough with a needle and thread to hem his trousers, but they barely hold up even with his belt done up to the tightest notch and both his shirt and vest hang loose around the barrel of his chest, dipping whenever he bends over his desk. He assesses her offer carefully, weighing the benefit of a better fitting uniform against the revulsion churning in his gut at the though of accepting some topsider's help. Charity or no.

"Please?" She asks, "It would be fully anonymous on your part and we would both be better off." Then again, but with feeling, "please?"

Viktor eyes her again and against his better judgement, presents an undeserved olive branch, "Will you be here tomorrow?"

Her smile is so wide it almost makes him want to recoil. It's as if her mouth is too big for the rest of her face, all white, straight teeth, "Yes! Yes I can be here, thank you!" She points behind herself to a half open door a little ways down the hall, "I'll just be in there! Morning would be best for me, but I can make afternoon work!"

Viktor doesn't have any classes tomorrow, it's usually valuable study time for him, but so long as it's only a few hours he's sure he will survive, "Morning is preferable."

Her smile doesn't wane, he wonders if her cheeks hurt, "perfect! I'll see you then!"

~~~

The next morning she looks nervously at the clock on the wall for the fifth time, it's still another quarter hour before Viktor said he would arrive and she has already organised and re-organised her sewing kit in preparation. She sucks a breath in through her nose to calm herself, Viktor is just a person and she knows the rumours are all made up so there is no reason for her to be so skittish. She still can't stop her hands from shaking and it's making her current task difficult.

"I didn't realise we took in charity cases." One of her classmates calls suddenly from the other side of the room.

She startles, almost dropping film cartridge that she is struggling to insert into the camera she borrowed from one of the journalism students, "What?"

Her classmate turns from where she is working on pinning a piece of delicate lace to a dress form, offering a knowing smirk, "You're taking pity on the Undercity boy."

She frowns, still fighting with the camera, "It's not charity or pity, Eliza it's for my assignment."

Eliza titters with false politeness and answers, "You should be proud of your capacity to do a good deed," she carefully folds the fabric of the skirt she is working on, pinning the pleats in place, and adds, "Some of us are far too busy to entertain the notion."

She has been at the academy long enough to notice a politely wrapped jab when she hears one and resists the all too familiar urge to tell Eliza where she can stick it, "As much as I enjoy our chats, it would be best for you continue your work in one of the other rooms." She says, finally succeeding in loading the camera with film, relishing in the satisfying click, "It would be rude for the two of us to hold a private conversation with someone else present."

Eliza hums, peering at her with a cruel smile tugging at the corner of her lip, "I see then," she finishes pinning her fabric and the quickly snaps her sewing kit shut, "I was thinking it was about time for brunch anyway. Would you like me to bring you anything? I know you haven't had the chance to try my usual cafe."

The unsubtle implication of you couldn't even afford the food there hangs heavy in the air, swinging back and forth. She has grown used to ignoring the pendulum, "No, thank you. Though I appreciate the offer."

Eliza gives her a pinched little smile before resting her hand on the doorknob, "Then I'll see you this afternoon," she opens the door a little and then whirls around as if she forgot something, "Oh and do try to keep an eye on his hands, I've had enough pins go missing this week as it is."

The door slams shut and she is left glaring at the wood. Now that Eliza can't see her, she thumbs her nose in her direction and curses under her breath, shaking away the itch of frustration in her hands before digging through her sewing kit for her set of pins. Just like Eliza's set, several of them are missing, but that's just because they are pins, exactly the sort of thing that goes missing every single day, like socks, or buttons. Plenty of her other classmates, including Eliza, love flaunting completely useless sets of luxury pins, with gemstones or pearls on the ends. Last year, she was the one that was blamed whenever they went missing, but these days their minds are otherwise occupied.

Rumours spread fast in the academy, they always have. She's been studying here for almost two years now and fluidity of the rumour mill is sometimes more difficult to stay on top of than her classes are. Truthfully though, there was never something or someone that generated rumours quite like Viktor. She's heard practically everything since he quietly slid into the academy at the beginning of the year, all of it a nebulous web of half-truths that the rest of the student body seems exhilarated to become tangled in.

Some students postulated that he wasn't from the Undercity at all, that it was an elaborate sting operation by the council. But to what possible end? Nobody seemed to have an answer.

One afternoon in the cafeteria she heard some biology students speaking in hushed voices at the table next to her. They seemed to believe that he wasn't even here to study, that he was collecting intel to take back to the slums in preparation for a full scale invasion. That's just silly. She catches his walk through the fine arts wing every Thursday afternoon and only someone truly passionate about their studies would move the way he does, determined and with purpose, clutching tightly to his textbooks like they are worth their weight in gold.

The most ridiculous rumour was started by one of her own classmates, made as if anyone in the textiles course could possibly know anything of consequence about a student from a completely different field of study. They said that Viktor hadn't even been officially enrolled, that he gutted a student on their first day at the beginning of the year and stole their place. That's why his uniform doesn't fit, they had whispered gleefully, failing to put their own textiles knowledge to use. His uniform is at least five years old, she can tell by the older button design, and the sharper lines on the piping.

So she knows that none of it is true, at least none of the truly awful parts. That's why she feels a little guilty at how relieved she was when the rest of the textiles students found someone new to spread lies about in her place. She at least has the guise of propriety to hide behind, but he doesn't have even that. Truthfully, thinking too much about him makes her feel cowardly, spineless.

She sighs, taking a seat on a low stool in the corner of the room, thumbing awkwardly at the camera she borrowed and trying to resist the urge to look up at the clock again, knowing that it can't have been more than five minutes since she last looked. This was a good idea, she tries to reason, she is going to help someone who actually needs it instead of catering to the whims and fancies of the rest of the student body who only ever ask for their waistlines cinched, or thigh-seams tightened.

Her work has to mean something, or she will have failed completely.

~~~

Somewhere across campus, Viktor is regretting his decision to leave his dorm this morning. The autumn chill bites through him as he crosses the open courtyard that separates the dorms from the academy proper, the cold has left his leg stiff and even more frustrating to work with than usual. He has a bag slung over his right shoulder, a spare set of clothes to change into after he forfeits his uniform over to that girl.

That thought alone nearly makes him want to turn back, he knows that he only needs to hold out for a few more months before he can request his own official uniform in the correct size, but the idea of getting tangled in his own pant legs for even a few more months has him gnashing his teeth. It's difficult to ignore the alarm bells, he hears them constantly, sometimes they are correct and the students around him want nothing more than to lie and deceive, to exclude him in any way possible. Sometimes, however, they are wrong. The first time a professor kept him back after class to congratulate him on a perfect assignment, that had not been a trick. When the dean of the academy summoned him to his office with a promise of official enrollment instead of the expulsion and banishment he had been expecting, that hadn't been a trick either.

And now, this girl is offering to tailor his uniform and every muscle in his body wants to tense at the thought, his gut churns at even the suggestion of giving up his uniform for her to alter however she sees fit. So he tries in vain to ignore the alarm bells, because while they do quiet, they never fully come to a stop. It's exhausting being always on edge, but he doesn't know any other way to be, even if it means he returns to his dorm each night with a migraine, the result of grinding teeth and a tightness in his jaw that he cannot do away with.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he finally reaches the large double doors of the fine arts wing, grunting as he pushes one of the doors open with his shoulder and feeling the warm air inside curling down into his bones. The wing is mostly empty today, there are very few classes running the last day of the week, it's mostly students work-shopping their own projects and Viktor's teeth grit again at the thought of how much it must cost to heat this whole building for the scarce few students inside. He adjusts the bag on his shoulder and winces as he begins walking over to the textiles rooms, trying to ignore the ache as his stiff leg adjusts to the change in temperature. He really should have just stayed in his dorm, this whole excursion cannot possibly be worth it.

There is no one else in the hall as he walks, the sound of his cane echos off the tiles and down the empty corridor. He isn't sure if he is supposed to knock when he reaches the girl's classroom, in the end he decides not to, grabbing the handle and yanking the door open before he can change his mind.

The girl is the only one in there, and she yelps when she sees him standing in the doorway. Quickly rising from the low stool she is sitting on with not an ounce of grace or poise, she stumbles, laughing nervously as she finds her footing.

"You're here!" She exclaims, almost as though she doesn't quite believe it.

Viktor is exhausted already, but tries not to let it show on his face, "Yes. I am."

"That's um-" she sounds almost out of breath, "That's so great, I'm glad you decided to come."

He doesn't have time for pointless platitudes, "Yes, you're welcome. What exactly do you need from me?"

Her bright eyes blink quickly at him again, processing. She lacks any of the uptight perfection of her Piltie counterparts, but exhibits none of the straightforward single-mindedness he aches for from Zaun. He misses it, when people would just fucking tell him what they wanted and why. Her tight pose and the way she clutches her hands behind her back exhibits an attempt to fit in, and on second assessment Viktor realises that her poorly styled hair is a failed imitation of the popular style he sees most of the other girls wearing these days.

"Yes! Sorry!" She says quickly, gesturing to a raised platform in the middle of the room, about half a foot or so off the ground, "If you could just stand up there for me, it will make it easier for me to take my first set of photos, and to pin your trousers, when we get to that."

Viktor eyes the platform, it does at least seem wide enough to accommodate his cane. So he does as asked without acknowledgement, stepping quietly up onto the platform, left leg taking the brunt of his weight.

"Oh! That was fast, thank you!" She replies and Viktor is growing tired of every one of her responses being an overenthusiastic exclamation. He watches quietly as she darts back to the stool she had been sitting on when he entered the room, grabbing one of the new cameras he has seen around the academy, a recent invention, capable of developing an image without the need of a dark room.

"Like I said yesterday, I just need some before and after photos of the areas I will be altering, just ah, just try to stay still and it should only take a second."

"I know how a camera works." Viktor responds.

She blinks at him again, "I-I… Yes, sorry. I'm not very familiar with them so I thought-" she shakes her head, "It doesn't matter. Sorry. I'll start now."

Viktor straightens himself, trying to ignore the way his heart pounds at even the thought of being photographed. He carefully adjusts his weight to mostly rest on his left leg, holding his breath in an endeavour to stay completely still. She chews on her lower lip, ducking down a little to get the baggy ankles of his trousers into frame. Viktor flinches at the sounds of the click and curses himself for it, raising his head and hoping she didn't notice.

"Hm? Oh." She mutters and he hears the click again, then three more times, "What- Why?"

Viktor peers at her, she's squatting down now, the camera held between two hands as she rotates it around, "Is something wrong?" He offers.

She looks up at him, appearing especially mousy from so low down. Her brow crinkles with confusion, "The camera isn't working and I don't-"

"Give it to me, I'll fix it."

Her breath hitches a little and he notices a blush blooming on her upper cheeks, "No, no, it's okay, I'll-"

Viktor huffs, ducking down and holding his hand out to her, "I am an engineering student, give me the camera."

"Okay!" she squeaks, handing it over. Her hand brushes his, it's sweaty.

"See? That was much easier than talking around in circles for hours." He stands back up, quickly assessing the device, "I do not understand you topsiders and your rituals. Never asking for anything unless indirectly and then declining it when it is offered, how do you ever get anything done?"

She wrings her hands together, "It's polite, I guess."

Viktor briefly lowers the camera so he can look at her, "What it is, is a waste of everyone's time."

She doesn't respond, adjusting herself to sit cross-legged on the floor as Viktor pops open the back of the camera. He sighs, "You have inserted the film in upside down."

"What? How? It clicked in and everything."

"Yes." He responds, sliding a fingernail down the side of the film cartridge and carefully wriggling it out of the camera, "You have certainly jammed it in there, in fact, you are lucky it did not break anything."

She whines, crossing her arms over her knees and burying her face in them, "I'm so sorry, I've used a camera before but it was a different kind and I thought I could just, I don't know, figure it out?"

Viktor nearly wants to roll his eyes at the sight of her, but instead finds himself feeling oddly solicitous. Maybe the sight of a Piltie on the floor at his feet is appealing, or maybe she is just so sufficiently pathetic that he can't help craving any way to make her self-effacing stop, "Look at me."

Her head lifts up from her arms, paying him great attention as he removes the film and inserts it back in the correct way.

"This is exactly what I was talking about." He says quickly, gesturing to her with the camera, "Stop standing on needless principle, or you will never get anything done."

[mcybree]

rewatching jimmy’s last life pov to ground myself in what his character actually is so I dont let my horrible skewed visions win

[dolladooley]

there was you | chase davenport

cw: spike

a/n: first time writing fr for this blog ! it was fun and i hope u enjoy :) this takes place in season two. gif credit goes to me 💯

-

chase was never the most... socially adept kid. he wasn't objectively cool, popular, or even likable. he was the odd kid. the nerdy one. even before he was allowed out of the lab, there was a clear and noticeable difference between how adam and bree behaved and how he did.

it had its consequences.

too many people had pushed his buttons, one of them being his very own brother, and he snapped. before he could process it, spike had come out to play.

it didn't take long for spike to start wreaking his havoc. cafeteria tables were flipped, the jocks were (once again, for some reason) covered in pudding. students were shouting both instigations and admissions of fear.

you could hear the commotion from the floor above. curious, you slowly wandered down the stairs, immediately taking notice of the panicked silhouettes beyond the cafeteria door's blurred glass. you looked around awkwardly as if anyone else was in the area before you continued your adventure towards the noise, gripping the handrails. and just as you were slowly reaching out to the cafeteria door open, it flung open and you were pushed back. laid out flat on the floor, you rubbed the back of your head and looked up, and the sight you were met with was not at all what you were expecting.

chase.

as if he didn't see or feel you, he aggressively walked toward a locker and ripped the door off its hinges. you squinted at him before you were startled by him throwing the blue metal on the ground. it slid beside you with a loud clang as he turned back to the cafeteria.

"who wants to join that pathetic piece of metal?!"

oh.

of course that wasn't chase. you knew better. you remember learning about this side of him.

the bionic side, that is.

how could you forget it? when you saw him nearly wax the floors with his own body at the sound of the school bell, you couldn't just turn a blind eye. no way. that's when leo just told you everything. he had new bionic siblings. you struggled to buy it, and thought maybe chase was just really autistic or something, but after they demonstrated with a feat of strength, speed, and a forcefield, you opened your mind a little more.

you'd heard of chase's hulk mode, but you never saw it first hand. you were unsure of what to do, but looking towards his siblings, it didn't seem like they had any ideas either. bree and adam were rather frantic. they never knew how to neutralize chase when his commando app was activated. leo tried to play hero and run at him with a chair but he got scared and dropped it, retreating to hide behind adam. you resisted an eye roll.

as for spike, he was on an absolute rampage. he felt great. but then he turned slightly to the right... and there was you.

in chase's eyes, you were a saving grace. an angel. yeah, he liked you. it was hard not to. fortunately for him, it wasn't obvious to you, only to everyone else.

he often thought about the day he met you. he freaked out at the bell, and you offered him your headphones for the day. he never realized people could be so kind. his whole life, he'd been belittled by his brother and his father, and even his sister would poke fun at him occasionally. but then there was you. you were there for him. you hadn't even known him, and you were there for him. the following days and weeks that ensued, you continued to be friendly, and thus continued to be a highlight of his life. deep down, in spike's subconscious, chase was there, and he knew you would be the one to release him from his mental prison.

he was so busy throwing stuff, he didn't notice when you started barreling toward him.

"chase?!" you stood up, running towards him and pulling him aside with all the strength you could muster. "chase! calm down, man-- breathe!"

he snarled at you, and you stepped back cautiously with an glint of fear in your eye.

he huffed.

commando app disengaged.

"...[name]?"

"yeah! yeah, it's me. are you okay?"

he pondered on the question. looking at you, he could see concern had replaced the fear in your eyes.

and now that you were here, he felt fine.

"yeah... yeah, i'm okay."

[agaypanic]

can u write a chase davenport x baddie like everyone knows she’s fine asf and has no clue why she’s dating him and he’s just super lovey and fluffy

Chase Davenport Dating a Baddie Headcanons

Masterlist

Request Something!

A/N: a bit suggestive in one part but that’s it

***

Everyone’s surprised that he pulled someone, period

But seeing that he pulled you specifically?

They act like this is earth-shattering news

Lowkey thought that it was a prank or that he was paying you 

“So, Chase, when are we gonna meet this girlfriend of yours?” Leo asked as he and the bionic trio entered the school. To be honest, they half thought Chase was joking when he told them he was in a relationship, but wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Uh… Oh! Seems like right now.” Chase left his siblings to go to his locker, where you were waiting for him. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to him.

“Oh my gosh, she’s gonna slap him,” Adam said as you raised a hand to Chase’s face. But to everyone’s surprise, you used the hand to pull his face to yours and kiss him.

Adam, Bree, and Leo slowly approached you and Chase, clearly shocked. When you pulled away, you noticed them and gave a wave.

“Hey.”

“This can’t be real.”

Chase is absolutely smitten with you

Follows you around like a puppy

He just wants to do anything that’ll make you happy

“Chase, you don’t have to carry my bags.” You tell him, but you still let him take the bag of things you just bought from your hand. Watching his muscles flex as he grips the multiple bags is definitely a plus.

“I want to.” He shrugs, jutting out his elbow to signal you to take it, which you happily do. 

The two of you go through the mall, occasionally popping into another store. Before getting to the food court, you stopped in front of Victoria’s Secret. Getting an idea, you bite your lip to stop from grinning and turn to look at Chase.

“You know Build-A-Bear?”

“Yeah.” Chase nodded, soon perking up. “Oh my gosh, we should go and make mini us’s.” You couldn’t help but smile at the idea and his excitement.

“I was thinking something similar to that.” You say, looking at the store, yourself, and then back to Chase. “More of a… real-life Build-A-Bear.”

Despite being a genius, it took Chase a minute to realize what you were insinuating. But when he did, he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Really?” He asked. You nodded, and the next thing you knew, Chase was running into the store with the excitement of a child.

Before you left the mall, you did end up going to the real Build-A-Bear.

If you like getting your nails done, he insists on paying

When you let him pick the color, he gets all giggly

Almost always chooses blue tbh

When he chooses the color, you ask for his initial on one of your fingers to surprise him

“Hey!” Chase greeted you as he entered the salon. Whenever he dropped you off, he’d always pick something up for you after your appointment and would come back right when you were finished.

You met him at the counter, where he gave your nail tech his card before looking at the hand you were holding up for him. He held your hand, smiling as he looked at the nails.

“You got my initial.” He softly cooed, thumb brushing over the white ‘C’ on your ring finger. “So pretty.”

You blushed as he kissed your knuckles, taking his card back before leading you out of the salon by your now interlocked hands. Even though Chase had treated you like this since the beginning of your relationship, and you should’ve been used to it, he never failed to turn you into a giggly, bashful mess.

“I got your favorite,” Chase said when you got in the car, handing you the bag of food. You took a bite, moaning at how delicious it was.

“Ugh, I love you.” You said, grabbing his face with a freshly manicured hand and kissing him. He gently latched onto your wrist, thumb rubbing over the joint.

“I love you too.” He said, stealing another kiss before reaching over to steal some of your food.

[a-witches-riddle]

✨✨Pinned Post✨✨

Hiya! I’m Bree! I’m a trans-pan foxgirl that hangs out on the internet doin gay stuff! My blog is primarily a random/personal blog, with no real theme other than my love for women and being transfem :3

Here’s a lil’ bit of personal info for y’all to get to know who I am a bit better!

I’m a trans woman! I found out who I was in 2017, and through a slow and gradual process I eventually socially transitioned. I’ve been on hormones for over a year now, too!

I’ve been a lot happier since I’ve been on hormones, and it’s drastically improved my mental state. I finally feel good in my body.

Despite my general affinity and attraction to women, I am pansexual, which means yes, I find just about any one of any gender attractive, I just have a preference towards women.

I have a partner that I love dearly and more than anything in the world. We have a very special and unique bond together that can’t quite be explained or rivaled, and we’re happy together 🖤💜🦊🦇

I consider myself a “Furry Lite”™️. I don’t really have a fursona or anything, but I’m a creature of some variety. My newest thing is a foxgirl, which was really surprising to find out but das okay :3 i do kinda fluctuate back to being a wolfgirl sometimes, and occasionally a raccoongirl when i’m feeling extra silly (Thank you to @pan-tran-dndfan for convincing me of this, and now we are kit bffs ☺️🦝🫂🦊)

I’m definitely a puppygirl, though!! I’m very whiny and needy, and I will bark and make various puppy noises at you, so be prepared for that >:3

I don’t really have that much shame about my kinks. This is an 18+ blog so obviously expect adult content.

I have a few hobbies, including playin vidya games. I play a lotta random things, but one of my favorites is Cyberpunk 2077. I also tend to play a lot of survival horror and just survival games in general. Big Resident Evil nerd and Project Zomboid enjoyer. Also very into Fnaf and Cod zombies lore… don’t ask because I will loredump.

I’m not the biggest into movies or tv, but I’ve seen my fair share of the popular stuff. I’m a big horror movie junkie, Saw being one of my brainrots. I also was absolutely obsessed with Arcane, which swiftly became one of my favorite shows of all time, until season 2 happened. Season 1 is still the GOAT, but I will not argue about it because my god it’s like talking to a brick wall.

I have a few genres of music I’m in love with. I grew up listening to rock/metal and it stuck ever since. Huge A7X fan (minus their nft shilling :/), and Halestorm enjoyer. I also am in love with grunge, Chris Cornell (rip) and Eddie Vedder you have my heart.

I also love making OC’s! I’ve been writing since I was like, 8 years old, and making characters has always been a passion of mine. Lilith and Tara are my main OC’s, and my writing has been fairly private. Not sure if I want to share any of my writing publicly or not, but who knows! Maybe one day I’ll muster up the courage for it.

I’m not really public in general on most platforms; tumblr really is the main place that I’m at all active save discord. Not necessarily an active choice I make but a situation that happened more out of circumstance.

uhhhh i think that’s it! I hope y’all like my blog of random gayness and silliness! My dm’s are always open if you have a question or just wanna chat! Love y’all 💙🏳️‍⚧️

[panlight]

What is something that you thought when you first read the books and how did that develop over time?

My opinion of Renee was initially a lot more positive when I first read the books. She reminded me of my mom, and my mom isn't by any stretch of the imagination a bad or neglectful mom. She was just the kind of carefree extrovert who liked to try on new hobbies that Renee initially seemed to be. I also didn't read Bella's "I've been running the house since I was six" as literal, I read it as hyperbole. I read the "at least Phil will make sure the bills will get paid" as a joke, since my dad has always been forgetful (but again! in no way bad or neglectful!) and we make similar jokes. I still maintain that Renee wasn't initially meant to be terrible and as SM kept writing books she wrote her worse and worse. Again, I don't think SM would have named the miracle baby "RENEsmee" if she had a poor opinion of Renee. Remember, she wrote Forever Dawn right after Twilight; all the other books, including New Moon and Eclipse, came later. I've since accepted a more negative view of her based on how she has been written in Life & Death and Midnight Sun, and come to realize that maybe SM/Bella DID mean it literally when Bella was doing the taxes as a child.

I thought the James bite was going to be a Big Deal. Bella was, as far as we know, the first person to be bitten by a vampire and NOT die or turn, and that, to me, should have been a big thing?? But it's not? It never went anywhere? Other than to occasionally look at her silvery scar. I had initially thought it could have gone in so many interesting directions (did the experience work like an inoculation and now she's immune to venom? could they use her blood to great a cure? conversely would it slowly be turning her into a vampire? or give her some kind of powers?). I still feel like this was a HUGE missed opportunity, and while i still wouldn't have loved the halfpire baby and 'Bella's the best newborn ever' plot points, using this one-of-a-kind situation with James' bite could have at least been a way to explain them better. Maybe she was able to conceive BECAUSE she had that exposure to venom; or maybe that exposure was what made her able to skip all the newborn stuff. Like this one was thing where Bella WAS legitimately special and unique and SM didn't really do anything with it.

A minor one, but when I first read Eclipse and it talked about how Bree surrendered and "only Carlisle would think of offering" and I originally read that as Carlisle offered surrender to all the newborns and Bree was just the only one who accepted. I had this image of him standing on a rock in the clearing being like, "We don't want to fight! This isn't your battle! If you surrender we will spare you! We are merely defending ourselves and the town!" as the raging newborn horde is running toward him until Jasper and Emmett have to drag off the rock before the newborns overrun him. The Eclipse movie and Bree Tanner book ruined that interpretation, haha.

[prouvairesverse]

bree’s intro post <3

My name is bree (jehan if you’re feeling fancy!) & i use she/they pronouns!!!! i’m 7teen & autistic. i’m also the irl jehan prouvaire but if he had 10x more anxiety ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

i mainly post about les mis and some other musicals with a dash of classic gothic literature poured in (or the occasional sonic and arcane posts too)

i’m the biggest shipper for jehanparnasse around. i will never shut up about them. also big fan of raymond walsh as grantaire <3

additional side blogs :

@lesmis-prompts -> this is where i post seasonal prompt ideas for les mis!

the main tags you’ll see me use:

#art 2 share -> this tag is where all the fanart by other artists that i reblog goes! so if you wish to see some awesome artists, go check that out!

#🪻art-> as you can guess, this is where you’ll find my art (when i post it…)

#💟cosplaying -> my cosplays!

any other tags i use are pretty self explanatory & usually relate to fandoms!

ASK BOX IS OPEN !!!!! feel free to use this to request some silly art ideas for me to do! i struggle with art block frequently so having some ideas to get me going is so so helpful!

（っ＾▿＾）that’s it for now!!! dms are always open if you wanna send me a random message or whatever! i’m always down to talk about any shared interests <3

additional links:

insta -> i post my cosplay & art on here!

ao3 -> i write sometimes!

tik tok -> cosplay stuff!

[e-b-reads]

Books of the Summer: 2024 (June-Aug)

Back into the routine: of creating Books of the Month posts about halfway into the following month. Hey, I'm caught up now, though! As always, it was fun to look back at what I read this summer now that my routine and schedule and focus have shifted so fully (out of summer camp mode). Here are my books of the summer!

Marple: Twelve New Mysteries (various female authors): This was a fun read: short stories by current mystery authors, featuring Christie's Miss Marple. I enjoyed that several of the authors chose to write about situations dealing with things like race in a way that Christie probably couldn't have, with the assumption that Miss Marple (as, occasionally, opposed to her creator) would be capable of being logically open-minded and kind.

The Invisible Library (Genevieve Cogman): I reblogged a post recently with some notes suggesting that this is a series that some people really don't like? (Possibly because they didn't feel like it lived up to the neat premise - adventures in a series of universes with varying levels of magic connected by a reality-bending library.) So, you know, don't just take my work for it, check with other readers you trust. But I really enjoyed this book (and sequels) as something engaging and fast-paced to read during my busy season. Large twists were sometimes predictable, but the smaller details of how characters would extricate themselves from situations weren't, so it kept me reading! I also liked the relationship between three of the main characters (though was disappointed not to end up with a poly threesome by the end. Oh, well).

Becoming (Michelle Obama): And now for something completely different: I've had this book for a while but only finally read it this summer (slowly, in between various mysteries). I really enjoyed it; it painted a really sympathetic and detailed picture of her (and her husband's) priorities in terms of both political ideals and personal family life, and the ways they have tried to balance those. Also was reassuring to read a book about hope as a political force in the current U.S. political climate (or to be more precise: I read it before Biden dropped out, so during that climate especially).

The Body in the Attic (Judi Lynn): I tried various cozy mystery series this summer, and I am shouting this one out not because of the mystery plots (which were fine), but because of the cozy part. Jazzi Zanders works with her cousin and a friend (swiftly her boyfriend and then her husband) flipping houses. Only they keep finding bodies, and after the first case, their new detective friend keeps asking her to tag along and help him solved the mysteries. (I also enjoyed that aspect; instead of this being a series where the amateur is getting in the way going "let me help!" the 60-something detective [not a love interest] keeps being like "hey, want to help?" and Jazzi goes along reluctantly.) What I really liked is that the mysteries are almost an excuse the author to write the cozy mundane details of Jazzi's life: shopping with her man, dinner with family, the work they do on the houses. Not a series for when you're looking for drama, but a nice one for escapism.

Dishonorable mention:

Live and Let Chai (Seaside Cafe mystery series; Bree Baker): Haven't done this before but I need to call this (cozy mystery again) series out! To be fair, I did read all seven books in it, so it's not like it was so bad I stopped reading. But part of why I kept reading was because I thought maybe the main character was going to learn. In the first few books, she stumbles on a body, insists on trying to solve the mystery despite the handsome broody detective character telling her to stay out of it, and then gets kidnapped or otherwise harmed by the murderer, which does at least do the service of letting the handsome detective find and arrest them. This wouldn't be so bad, except that as the books go on, she begins to insist she needs to help investigate, because she is so good at it. Lady, you keep getting the murderer wrong! She does snoop and gather clues, but she doesn't usually put them together properly until the actual murderer is trying to murder her, at which point she figures out her mistakes (too late!). When this happened yet again in book 6, I finally realized she wasn't going to learn, but at that point I went ahead and read book 7 partly to make sure and partly to read the resolution of the tortuous, twisty romance between her and the detective. Anyway, this isn't even to mention the issues I have with a modern white character super proud of her southern heritage and ancestors without even a consideration for any bad things those ancestors might have done? But that's another post all its own.

[daveth-isnt-dead]

Restlessness

Summary:

She usually only lets Astarion feed on her while she is asleep. Not that she has any problem with Astarion, the case just is that him feeding from her while she is still conscious is profoundly intimate and she can’t really be sure if Astarion has noticed or even if he particularly cares, about how quickly her heart races when he does it. So while she is asleep is better, it's much better. But she can't get to sleep tonight, so she is just going to have to make do.

Contains: Fem Unnamed Tav, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood stuff (comes with the territory) Word Count: 5,143 Read on AO3

Astarion has been feeding on her almost every night for the past month now. Most nights while she is still asleep, though he is always surprisingly insistent about obtaining direct consent before she moves to her tent for the evening, by this point she has just assumed that the agreement is mutual and that there is little need for him to keep asking. Though she doesn't have it in her to be upset about the courtesy. 

She generally prefers that he drinks while she is sleeping, only knowing that it happened when she wakes up the next morning with a dull throb in her neck and Astarion giving her a knowing smirk from across the camp. 

Not that she has any problem with Astarion, the case just is that him feeding from her while she is still conscious is profoundly intimate and she can’t really be sure if Astarion has noticed or even if he particularly cares, about how quickly her heart races when he does it. So while she is asleep is better, it's much better. 

Being the vampire’s resident midnight snack does occasionally earn her some uncomfortable looks from other members of their little group. Especially after one of the few nights she had been awake for the ordeal and the feeling of his hand moving to her hip caused her body to jolt so intensely that Astarion accidentally tore her throat up with his fangs. Shadowheart dutifully healed it, but gave her a stare so oppressive that even a slight uptick of the half-elf’s judgemental eyebrow would surely have killed her on the spot. 

Astarion did apologize, but then quickly switched to insisting that she needed to let him know next time she decided to experiment with interpretive dance while he was firmly latched to her throat. 

That was the night they both agreed, it might be better if he only feeds while she is out cold. 

This night, however. Sleep will not come. She knows that it has been nearly a day and a half since Astarion has last eaten, any and all the fighting that took place today in the dark remains of Shar’s gauntlet were against foes severely lacking in the blood department, and tomorrow will likely be the same. To be honest, they were lucky at all, to find somewhere safe and quiet enough to camp in this miserable place. 

She rubs her eyes, still sitting upright in her tent despite all efforts to lull herself to sleep. She sighs heavily, tucking her knees up and wrapping her arms around them, usually a long day like this tires her out completely, and she is a very heavy sleeper, but today’s journey has left her so exhausted that even sleep evades her. 

The rustling of her tent flap nearly has her topping over with shock, hardly expecting any visitors after the terrible day they had all endured. The realization hits her when Astarion climbs in.

“Oh.” He says, freezing halfway into the tent, “Apologies, you are not usually so…well, conscious, at this time of night.” She had agreed to him feeding on her again this evening, assuming that she would be well asleep by now like usual. She sighs and gives him a wan smile, “Sorry, I can’t sleep.” “I suppose dinner is off the table then, isn't it?” He replies, wearing a smile that seems far tighter than his usual lazy smirk. 

“No!” She says quickly, “Gods no, there’s nothing else for you to eat down here and it’s been almost two days.” Astarion frowns, suddenly becoming very interested in his fingernails, “I can always go back to eating rats if I must, there is certainly no lack of them in this miserable place.” He tries to maintain a casual air, but there is venom behind those words. His voice does return to being playful when he says, “Or, should the situation become incredibly dire, I’m sure that our resident hero would let me have a bite if I asked very nicely.” For some reason, the thought of Astarion feeding on Wyll instead of her causes a thick cloud of jealousy to build behind her ribs. She ignores it, “Just come inside, we’ll figure something out.” she says, shuffling backward a little to give him more room, “And close the front of the tent, please.” 

When he turns back to her and takes a seat on the hard ground, she can’t help but notice just how etherial he looks in the soft orange glow of her lantern. Even on the nights when she does sleep, she prefers to keep the lantern on, both because the darkness makes her uneasy, and because (even though she knows he can see in the dark) it feels like common courtesy to leave a light on for Astarion. 

“So.” He says

“So…” she replies

Astarion sighs, “Look, darling. If you are simply too delicate for me to have my meal while you are awake, I’m sure that I can find a way to occupy myself for now.” He levels his gaze with her, “Something more entertaining than just staring at each other.”

She bristles, “I’m not delicate, I’m just-” she can’t finish the sentence. She’s just what? Too shy, embarrassed maybe, certainly nervous, “I’m fidgety.” she lies, “and I don’t want to cause another…incident.” He laughs, “Oh yes, not willing to suffer another of Shadowheart’s glares, are you?” “No.” She begins, averting her eyes as she feels her cheeks burning, “Not at present.”

“Then what do you suggest? Since you don’t seem to be planning on getting your beauty sleep anytime soon.” She chews on a knuckle, mulling it over. There’s no way she could handle him leaning over her like that again, his scent surrounding her, one of his hands cradling the back of her head as he finally sinks his teeth into the side of her- 

“It might be better, if i’m sitting upright.” She offers. Astarion blinks, “Upright?” “Maybe. I think.” 

It would at the very least, be far less intimate, more clinical. Astarion hums to himself, “As you know, i don’t have all that much experience in the matter, but i can hardly see how you would expect to stay upright and the last thing we need is you cracking your skull open on the ground.”

“Then I would just need something to lean against.” She says quickly, “I just think I would be far better at sitting still this way, that's all.”

“Well, I’m right here, darling.” He says, almost dismissively, upset that she wouldn’t consider it herself, “You could always lean against me.” 

Her eyes widen. That would defeat the purpose of this whole exercise, but she can’t very well tell him that. 

“As long as it wouldn’t make things more difficult for you.” She begins, choosing her words slowly and carefully, “I would at least be happy to try.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” He says, leaning backward a little and letting his thighs fall open, “The last thing this could possibly be for me is difficult.” She stares down at him, eyes wide as she realizes that she has only managed to make this situation worse. 

“Oh….kay” She says, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. In the end she opts to face away from him, sitting cross legged between his legs and shimmying backward until she feels his chest pressed up against her back. She sucks a difficult breath in through her teeth and though he isn’t warm, he might as well be, the way she immediately breaks out in a nervous sweat. 

“Come come, my dear.” He says, his tone hushed as he carefully draws her hair away from her throat, “I’ve had plenty of time to practice being gentle all those nights you were asleep, no need to be so nervous.” She’s more than a little embarrassed at how instinctively she tilts her head to the side for him, almost beckoning him to bite down. It’s not that part that makes her nervous, not at all. It’s that she recalls a conversation, brief and quickly dismissed, that the two had by a campfire many nights ago. A mention of disgust, words spat like bile about the man who forced him to use himself night after night. A disgust of her own, when she remembered how many days she’d spend staring at him, nights under his body as he fed, wishing and wanting for him to touch her. 

She had been far too forward that night, prodding where she shouldn't. Astarion had just laughed, dismissed her concern and refused to elaborate. 

“I trust you.” She whispers when she feels the ghost of his breath on her neck.

Astarion tenses behind her, and she closes her eyes as he descends, waiting for the bite that never comes. His lips press against the side of her throat, softly, lightly, the way a lover might kiss. She gasps aloud, and quickly covers her mouth with a hand, trying to hide the sound. 

One of his hands wraps around hers, gently removing it from her mouth, “No.” he says, pressing another kiss to the cut of her jaw, “Let me hear you.” 

A whimper climbs its way up her throat when he wraps a possessive arm around her, his thumb gently brushing across the lower swell of her breast. She feels his teeth against her neck, not biting, gentle and tantalizing. 

This is what she had been afraid of, that she would encourage something like this and then lack the restraint to tell him no. Her head inclines backwards, resting on his shoulder and releasing a keening moan when he sucks on her pulsepoint. 

“Astarion-” she tries, breaking off into a moan when he slides his hand up and squeezes her breast in his palm. 

He chuckles against her throat, “I do so love hearing you say my name like that.” he croons into her ear, his hand sliding down the collar of her loose linen shirt to cup her breast directly, “Say it again for me, would you?”

“W-Wait, please” She forces out, trying to ignore the growing warmth between her thighs, and the cool press of his palm against her breast. 

At her words, Astarion freezes completely. She can barely even feel him breathing anymore. 

“Yes, of course.” He says quickly, too quickly, there’s something that sounds like panic in his voice, “I- well, I hope i didn’t misread the situation.” “No! That’s- that’s not what I meant, it’s just-” She reaches her hand up backwards until she finds his face, cupping his cheek in her palm, “Astarion…you don’t have to if-“ if you don’t want to, if it doesn’t mean anything, if it hurts too much, or Gods forbid if you think you owe me something. 

He stays still for long enough that she begins to worry she said something wrong, that she overstepped a boundary and he was just going to laugh dismissively again. Instead, he turns his head so he can lightly kiss the palm of her hand. 

“I know.” He breathes, and it somehow soothes all her worries at once, “I know I don’t have to, but I do want to.” She can almost hear his smile when he says, “That is, of course, provided that you don’t want me to stop.”

“Gods no…” she exhales, leaning back against him, “That’s the last thing I want.”

“Good.” He nearly moans, his hand jumping to the laces at the front of her shirt and quickly undoing them until it hangs wide open all the way down to her sternum. It surprises her a moment, how familiar he seems with undoing her clothes, but then she remembers each morning, waking up with a bite at the join between her shoulder and neck. A courtesy, so none of the others would see it, but he would only be able to reach that low by loosening her shirt. 

She feels herself growing warm at the thought, smirking when she asks, “You’ve undressed me before, have you?”

Astarion huffs, licking a stripe up the side of her neck, “Nothing more than was necessary to get at your shoulder, darling.” his cold hands grab both her breasts at once, and he groans, “I was trying to save you from any judgemental stares.” 

Her head lolls backward and she moves her hand to his hair, tangling her fingers in tight. His hands are cold against her bare skin, but she is already so warm all over that any reprieve from the heat is a welcome one. 

“Is this why you could never sit still while I was feeding on you?” Astarion breathes, one of his hands sliding down the front of her torso to rub over the front of her woolen breeches, “Because you couldn’t stop imaging this?” his hand slips beneath her breeches and into her smalls, “Gods…” he hisses through his teeth, “You’re so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.” 

“Don’t act so coy.” She replies, gasping aloud when his talented fingers dip inside her just enough that she is quivering in anticipation for more, and when his thumb reaches up to circle her clit, she whimpers desperately, “You have all the clarification you need right here.”

“Do I?” He asks slowly, fully removing his fingers from her cunt and resting his hand on her hip, “What if I want to hear you admit it?”

She whines, missing his touch already, “Please…” “No no no, you know what you have to do.” He murmurs, breath ghosting across her neck as he presses another kiss to her skin, “You did lie to me about it earlier, don’t I deserve to hear the truth from your delectable lips?” “F-Fine.” She mutters, shame dissolving into something far more sinful as she finally confesses what she is certain he already knew, “The real reason I asked you to only feed while I was asleep, was because I-” his free hand joins the other on her hips, slowly edging her breeches and smalls down over her thighs, “Because I didn’t think I could control myself.”

He laughs warmly against her skin, fingers just barely skirting around the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs, “My my, with talk like that, you’d think that it is I who should be afraid of you.”

“Maybe you should.” She says, trying and failing to maintain a casual air even as his fingers slowly descend, “After all, who knows that I might- nhg!” “Hm? Sorry, what was that?” Astarion asks, two of his fingers now knuckle deep inside of her. 

“I’m h-hardly in a state to offer much witty banter, Astarion.” She stammers, barely even able to speak as his fingers start moving, slow and precise, like he is savoring it. 

“But I do so love when you try.” He smiles against her neck, a third finger easily wriggling in alongside the other two. She goes practically boneless against him, unable to keep her hips still as he curls his fingers upward just right and when his thumb teases another utterly devious circle around her clit she feels herself tightening around his fingers. Astarion groans, hiding his face in her shoulder and grinding himself against her lower back, “Hells, darling, you are perfect.”

One of her hands moves to his thigh, struggling to find purchase as she completely loses herself to the pleasure. If the full weight of her body essentially collapsed against him gives Astarion pause, he doesn’t show it, his fingers never falter. The pace he maintains is utterly languid, slow and warm and wet, fast enough that she wouldn’t call it teasing but like he wants to work for it, to enjoy the luxury of taking his time with her. 

She moans when his other hand returns to her breast, rubbing addictive circles around her nipple with his thumb. Everything starts to turn hazy at the edges, her body is twitching and desperate. 

“Gods…” She hisses through her teeth. Astarion chuckles against her throat, “Come now, darling. There’s only one god here.” she feels the light graze of his sharp teeth, “and he’d much prefer you call him by his name.” “Astarion…” she tries, “Please.” He exhales a shaky breath, but otherwise maintains his composure, “Please what, my sweet?”

She’s on the exhilarating precipice of her climax, barely even able to speak, her body feels so hot that Astarion’s hands nearly burn in their coolness and she can scarcely imagine a world where she doesnt have them pressed against her. Whimpering and mewling under his touch and so unsure of what it is she even wants until: “Bite me!” comes bursting out from her mouth.

Astarion chokes on a breath, and she feels the soft lick of her tongue over his pulsepoint, “Are you sure?” “Yes!” She hisses, practicaly fucking herself on his fingers now, “Gods yes.” She feels more than hears the rumble of his moan, “Do try to stay still.” he purrs, and then sinks his fangs into her throat. The immediate pain feels almost electric jumping from her throat, to her fingertips, to her toes, a quick sharp jolt that is near instantly replaced with a nauseating bliss. 

Her head lolls to the side, relishing in the feeling as he begins devouring her. The beat of her heart is loud in her ears, and the pump of his fingers is no longer so tender, with each movement his thumb brushes firmly against her clit and her whole body tenses. He curls his fingers upward, and her hips cant forward violently. 

Unlike last time, Astarion is quick to pull his fangs from her throat, before any real damage can occur, “You really can’t sit still, can you?” He groans in her ear, his voice void of any of its usual musicality as he grinds himself up against her in time with his fingers. A bubbling laugh escapes her mouth as she revels in the feeling of his length pressed firmly against her lower back, at the way his own hips don’t seem to want to stop moving, “N-Neither can you.” she says through her moans. “What can I say?” He murmurs, mouth slowly returning to the open wound on her neck, “You are positively delicious.” He does not bite again, instead lapping and sucking at the blood as it flows freely out of her. She can barely breathe, lost in utter exhilaration as the lightheadedness takes hold, his fingers curl and thrust inside of her, skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat as she finds herself completely unable to hold back her whimpers and moans. 

Astarion completely covers the bite mark with his mouth, sucking with true fervor now as she teeters closer and closer to her climax. Her eyes squeeze shut, and she frantically grinds herself against his awaiting fingers, the warmth builds and builds in her belly until she feels like she is about to turn to lightning in his arms. 

“A-Astarion, I-” Her words collapse into a desperate, aching moan as she tumbles over the edge, the world turning white behind her eyes and the heat rushing out from her core all the way to her fingertips. The euphoria is so encompassing that she nearly sobs as his fingers begin to slow their movements within her. 

He has the sense not to say anything, at least for a moment, and she can scarcely imagine how she looks right now. Her hair clings to her forehead with sweat, tears are beading in her eyes and- oh gods had she been drooling? She quickly raises a hand to wipe her mouth, and as she is doing so, she turns her head to look at him and oh.

Astarion blinks down at her, and the look in his eyes is heady and lust drunk, but there is something else to it as well, bordering on reverence. His cheeks are flushed, and she knows that can only happen when he has just fed. She swallows thickly at the red colouring of his lips, where her own blood is currently spread. Curiosity does something sinister to her, and she wants to taste it herself. 

His eyes go wide when she kisses him, and wider again when she darts out her tongue lick over his teeth. Astarion’s chest is heaving when she pulls back, his red eyes watching cautiously, as though unsure of her next move. She reaches out and takes his cheek in her palm, his skin is warmer than it was before.

“Your turn.” She whispers, trailing her hand from his cheek, down his sternum to the waistband of his breeches. She looks up at him quickly and is emboldened by the desire she still sees in his eyes, untucking his shirt and pulling it up over his head. He’s all perfect, smooth, porcelain skin, but her eyes can’t help being drawn to the way her rough undressing has left his hair disheveled. She tangles her fingers in it, smiling at how boyishly handsome he looks with his hair in disarray. 

“If it’s all the same to you, my dear.” He breathes, beginning to sound impatient, “I’ve waited for you long enough.” She laughs, edging his breeches and undergarments down over his hips, “So impatient for someone with your lifespan.”

He frowns at her, but she is surprised to find how easily she can tell he doesn’t mean it, “If anything, that should speak to just how much I crave you.” He croons as she swings one leg over his hips, hoving just over his lap, “You should be flattered.” “I am.” She replies with not a hint of irony, “I consider myself incredibly lucky.” Astarion reaches up to her face and tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “As do I.”

She wraps her arms around his shoulders to steady herself as she slowly lowers herself down, stutting a gasp when the head of his cock meets her entrance. It’s as cold as the rest of him, and she has to bite down on her lower lip to keep herself from crying out when she takes in the first inch. She’s still incredibly sensitive from her first climax, and the coolness of him feels so alien and utterly addictive that she is already panting and whimpering by the time he bottoms out inside of her. 

Astarion lets out a shaky moan when she finally sits down fully, his hands jumping to her waist and his head falling to rest on her shoulder. They stay like that for a moment, just clinging to each other, no sounds but their breathing and the rapid tattoo of her heart. 

When he looks up at her again, Astarion’s smile is utterly salacious, “You have me now, darling.” he whispers, pressing a cool kiss to her shoulder, “Perhaps it would the perfect moment for you to show me some of those, things you have been thinking about doing to me all this time.” 

Astarion isn’t usually that much taller than her, but even still, there is something addictive about their current positioning and the way he has to peer up at her. She tilts her head to the side, taking in the sight of him, his blood flushed cheeks and the glint of his teeth behind his wide smile. 

“Would it be…strange-” she begins, tangling one of her hands in the back of his hair, “-If said that i had often imagined biting you.” “Hah!” Astarion exclaims, grinning broadly, “Well, it would be hardly fair for me to ask you to keep your teeth to yourself, wouldn’t it?” Her brows pull together, “You can say no, Astarion.” His eyes go wide for a moment, and his face is awash with a sudden vulnerability, “I- Yes, I know that I can.” His smile returns, but now the look in his eyes is warmer, softer, “But I don’t want to.” He inclines his head to the side, exposing the length of his throat, “Go on, darling. Let me know how I taste, would you?”

She leans into his neck, breathing in his scent as she presses a soft kiss to his skin. He makes a noise, a startled intake of breath, his hands on her waist gripping tighter and she opens her mouth and bites. Astarion cries out, and his hips stutter his cock deeper inside of her. She moans against his skin, grinding her hips down to meet his and languishing in the feeling of just how well he fills her. 

Her teeth are far blunter than his, and actually drawing any blood would take a considerable amount of force and cause a considerable amount of pain, but even without the taste of blood in her mouth there is still something so delectably perverse about biting down on him, about burying her face in his throat. She moans, kissing from the base of his neck and up to the curve of his jaw, sucking gently on the skin there and smiling when she pulls away to see purple marks blooming on his pale skin. 

Astarion’s breath is heavy when he looks at her, but his eyes are soft and relaxed, “Admiring your handiwork, are you?” He laughs a little, peering up at her coquettishly, “Does it suit me?” She traces a finger over the crescent shaped bruises left by her teeth, smiling at him as she whispers, “Very much so, and now I believe we are even.” “Are we now?” Astarion replies, a mischievous look crossing his face as his hands move down to her hips, “Because as far as I can recall, only one of us has seen stars this evening.” 

“We’ll need to rectify this situation then, won’t we?” She says, her breath quickening as she grinds down on him. 

Astarion’s grip on her hips grows tighter and he chokes on a groan, “You look beautiful up there, my dear.” he thrusts up into her, slowly and deeply, “Sitting pretty on my lap, just for me.”

Her head lolls forward, whining as his cock brushes against that perfect spot inside of her. 

“Look at me.” Astarion whispers, and she tilts her head up to meet his eyes. His breath stutters when he sees her expression, desperate and adoring, “I want to see your face as I’m fucking you, darling.” She giggles shyly, resisting the urge to hide her face in her hands and Astarion smiles, “Good girl.” 

He uses the grip on her hips to lift her up and she whimpers as his cock leaves her, only to cry out when he drops her back down. Shifting her weight to her knees, she follows his lead bouncing on his cock to meet him on the upstroke. He never breaks eye contact, staring as her breath leaves her, watching reverently as she pants and moans with each of his movements. 

“A-Astarion…” She moans, leaning forward and pressing her forehead to his, “You’re so good, you feel so good.”

He laughs breathlessly, “Would you believe that you feel even better?”

One of his hands moves from her hip around to her front, his talented fingers rubbing encouraging circles on her clit. She keens loudly, digging her nails into his shoulders, “Didn’t I say it was your turn.” She forces out, “You really don’t have-” “You greatly underestimate just how much making you climax arouses me, my sweet.” He groans when he rubs her a little faster, feeling her walls clench around him in response, “I have been thinking about it, constantly.” 

She can feel her orgasm building again, the combination of his fingers and his cock driving her absolutely wild. He’s so warm now, her own growing heat slowly warming his cold skin over time, she wants to grab onto him and never let go. His hips are losing rhythm beneath her, driving his cock up into her with short, stuttered thrusts.  Gods she can feel him throbbing. 

“I’m-I’m close again.” She breathes. 

He groans at even the thought of it, “Good. So am I.”

“Fill me, Gods, Astarion- please” She moans, tightening her arms around his shoulders, pressing him flush against her. 

His own arms wrap tightly around her waist as he fucks up into her at an utterly desperate speed. His breath coming quick and fast, he buries his face in her shoulder, mouthing at the side of her neck, waiting as always, for her permission. 

“Fuck! Yes, Please, bite me!” She cries out, feeling the warmth of her oncoming climax already blooming in her belly, “Gods, Astarion, I am all yours.” His breath hitches at that, the frantic movement of his hips stopping for only a moment, “Mine…” he breathes, and then sinks his fangs into the side of her throat. She can barely comprehend what she is feeling, him all around her, inside her in more ways than one. She’s open, vulnerable, yearning and Astarion is all she ever wanted. 

Her second climax of the night is louder, twitchier, her whole body quivers as it feels like she is shoved over the precipice, her insides clenching desperately around him and her hands digging into his hair as she howls into the open air. 

“H-Hells!” He stammers at the feeling of her coming undone around him, clutching to her as tightly as he can before emptying inside of her. 

There’s warmth, for some time, as the two of them return from the white hot afterglow. She gently runs her fingers through his hair, and Astarion softly laps at any of the mess left on the side of her neck before kissing tenderly over the bite mark left behind. 

“Would you stay?” She whispers, hiding her face in his shoulder, nervous for his answer. 

Astarion chuckles, “Are you that insatiable, my dear? Can’t get enough?” She shakes her head, “No, I mean it. Stay with me until morning, we can talk, or sleep, I don't mind.” His breath is shaky now, and one of her hands comes up to rest on the back of her head, “I don’t really know what we are doing.” he breathes, “But I’d like to try, with you.” She sits up a little, meeting his eyes. There is apprehension there, yes, but more than that there is something warm and real. She smiles, “I guess we’ll have to figure it out together.”

His smile is lopsided and effortless, “Though I’m sure Shadowheart will have something entertaining to say, come morning.”

She laughs, “I’ll have to get used to withstanding her glare, I think, as I plan to make, well, whatever this is, a regular occurrence.” 

Neither of them feels a need to define what they are feeling, or even what comes next. But she smiles when Astarion presses a kiss to her temple, and decides that for now, it hardly matters. They’ll figure it out eventually. 

[inastarlesssky]

About Me

Hi! Name's Ella. Pronouns are She/Her. You can call me Ella, Starless or Star. I'm 28, currently studying a difficult foreign language, writing fics in my free time and pining after fictional characters. I'm into more fandoms than are listed here, but these are mostly my main ones. Currently obsessing over The Umbrella Academy.

(Basically the fandoms I'm a part of and my respective ships)

⚜ The Sandman ➵ Dream x Calliope (OTP, I love them, your honour.) ➵ Dream x Johanna Constantine (Doomed to fail but I just love the idea of them, alright. Let me.) ➵ Dream & Hob Gadling (Do I even need to say why I love them?) ⚜ Dead Boy Detectives ➵ Charles Rowland x Crystal Palace ➵ Charles Rowland x Edwin Payne ➵ Edwin Payne & Niko Sasaki ⚜ Doctor Who ➵ Ten x Rose ➵ Ten x Clara ➵ Eleven x Clara ➵ Twelve & Clara ⚜ Good Omens ➵ Crowley x Aziraphale ➵ Eric the Disposable Demon & Muriel (I don't really legit ship them, but come on, they'd be kinda cute) ⚜ Harry Potter ➵ Draco x Hermione ➵ Harry x Hermione ⚜ Marvel ⚜ Pirates of the Caribbean ➵ Will x Elizabeth ⚜ The Legendborn Cycle ➵ Selwyn Kane x Bree Matthews ⚜ Star Wars ➵ Anidala ➵ Reylo ➵ Oshamir

About Me

Firstly, if you're running a blog that's The Sandman, Good Omens, Dead Boy Detectives or The Umbrella Academy and you see among your followers but realize I don't really post any of that stuff, this is my main blog and where I can follow from. You'll see below but I do have seperate sideblogs for those fandoms and am posting stuff there for such content, so just to keep in mind. C: ❦ Tags & Their Uses ❦ It's pretty self-explanatory. Fanart, fic recs are what it says on the tin. I usually tag fandom specific with the particular fandom, so by topic, my tags are: Fandoms - (really it's mostly the Sandman here fyi) The Sandman - #the sandman netflix #the sandman Harry Potter - #dramione #harry potter (though I post about this very rarely now) Personal Stuff - me and life stuff, #my ramblings Art - #fanart (for art from shows, movies etc) #my art (MY art as you can see below)

❦ My Stuff ❦ Fanfiction: I'm an author, so I'll occasionally post links to my works here though I post firstly and primarily on AO3 which can be found here. I always tag my fics with #ella writes stuff and #my fic: [insert title of the fic here] so anything related to a particular fic can be found under that tag. You can also find a list of my current projects organized by in-progress and completed here organized by in-progress and completed. (But that particular spot needs to be updated bc it's been a hell of a long time since I updated it and things have changed since) Art: I use a pencil sometimes when I'm so inspired. I tag that with #ella draws stuff. Meta: I sometimes write this when I have strong emotions about things I've seen or have really big unanswered questions or wonder things. It'll be tagged mostly with #my ramblings and the respective fandom it pertains to, though you'll find it's mostly The Sandman right here. So until I find a better tag, #the sandman meta will be that for now.

❦ My Sideblogs ❦

Good Omens: ineffablenlghtingales

Dead Boy Detectives: ghost-husbands

Pirates of the Caribbean stuff: ofblacksmithsandswanns

The Umbrella Academy: snarkyfivehargeeves

The Legendborn Cycle (mostly stuff about Bree and Sel): kingsmageandlionheart

Star Wars (Mostly Skeleton Crew with stuff from the original movies and a bit of Reylo + Oshamir bc I've started shipping them since finishing The Acolyte): jedisandspacepirates

I do have discord! If we're mutuals, you can definitely ask for it via message. :]

Lastly (if you've come to this point, wow, you're amazing], I am not a minor and I do not take special care with the things I post here. That being said, I don't post much content that's explicitly adult, but if you are a minor, please be aware I am not.

Note: If you'd like to translate my work into another language, I think that's awesome and that would make me super happy, but please do ask first. C: There's currently a Russian translation of When the Day Loved the Night in progress, so I'll have a link to that on the original work on AO3

That's about it. Come say hi if you like, I'm into a lot more fandoms than the ones I've just listed, so if you're curious, ask.

By the way, my messages ARE open, but maybe just gimme a heads up or something or ask before if you wanna chat about any of these above fandoms. Sometimes I get random ass messages and I'm a little bit confused about them...you're welcome to! Don't be afraid, I love chatting about my fixations, just gimme a heads-up, eh? ^^

[you-are-my-king-now-cariad]

I need motivation to write, so I’m sharing all my fic ideas with y’all-let me know which ones sound good so I have a reason to open Wattpad again and actually get started. I want to write, my brain just refuses to give the happy chemicals until I have an excuse to weave those words.

Fairly long timeskip, 4 years at minimum, and just kind of exploring how everything’s changed. (Also Willark would be 100% canon and I’d probably kill off Tor for my own enjoyment.) May or may not end with a ruby ring and our favorite Merlin on one knee.

Let’s take that fluffy energy and run with it-a mixed bag of scenes that are post-kiss and pre-Mageguard, in that perfect universe where there is occasionally time to relax. Inspiration drawn from several ‘what would they do if they had the time’ posts.

Time to ruin everyone’s lives with a Sel death and Bree pleading with her ancestors to let him in, please, do whatever magic you have to, I just need to see him again, I would do anything. Unsure if Order spirits/non-blood relatives could access Mediums in the same way, but I feel like if anyone can it would be Selwyn.

Alternative BM ending of Sel not fully succumbing-I don’t know exactly what would have to change but basically he finds out about Bree’s deal (which would still happen-in this case it’s probably something close to demanding protection/stopping the hunt for her friends, idk-) and… let’s just say Nick and William don’t do a very good job of explaining anything to a Very Emotionally Unstable cambion and it goes badly for everyone involved. Partially because there’s a lot of bloodlust once Sel learns it was Erebus that took her.

Traumafluff at an Order event-probably a Selection Gala a year or so after BM/Camlann, everyone having to pretend they haven’t seen their friends suffer at the hands of the Order, it’s very much ‘we murdered SO many demons look at us isn’t this so awesome�� so I’m sure all those traumatized teens won’t be at all upset… fortunately, it doesn’t last forever, and the physical manifestation of you’re safe here doesn’t leave her side.

Alice being Alice. Just oh my god, Matty, are you even trying to be subtle you keep running off with the damn incubus-do what you want but you don’t get to be surprised when I ask if you two are a thing now-

And that’s most of them. Again, lmk the one(s) that y’all are most interested in!

[not-glorfindel-stop-asking]

I do not dare asking your age, Lindir, it is rather uncouth- But have you visited other places? And if so, which one was your favourite?

Ah, a most courteous inquiry! You are wise not to ask my age, for while Elves do not wither as Men do, the passing of years can still weigh upon one's soul. Time flows differently for us, and yet, even I must admit—there is something remarkable about the lands I have seen.

I have wandered far beyond the walls of Imladris, though my heart is ever bound to its flowing waters and whispering halls. I have stood upon the white shores of Mithlond, where the scent of the sea clings to the air and the call of gulls tempts one toward distant horizons. I have seen the towers of Annúminas, though they stand now in solemn ruin, ghosts of a time long past. I have walked beneath the golden boughs of Lothlórien, where the very air hums with an ancient song, though it is a place both beautiful and perilous—one does not leave unchanged.

Ah, but as for my favorite… Rivendell will always be my home. It is written into the very marrow of my bones, woven into the fabric of my soul. Its waterfalls sing with voices as old as time, its halls hum with the whispers of lorekeepers, and the very air carries the weight of history, of music, of wisdom passed from one age to the next. To stand beneath its arching bridges, to hear the wind dancing through the trees, to know that no matter how far I wander, Rivendell will always be there—a beacon of knowledge, of peace, of belonging… There is no place like it.

And yet.

There is a quiet charm in Bree. Yes, Bree, do not look at me like that. The village may lack the grandeur of Elven halls or the solemn grace of ancient strongholds, but it possesses something many noble places do not: warmth.

True, it smells distinctly of damp wood and overcooked stew, and yes, the roads are often riddled with mud (which is, let me tell you, a horrifying experience for the hem of one’s robes), but there is something undeniably cozy about it. To sit in the dim glow of The Prancing Pony, wrapped in the scent of mulled wine and spiced bread, listening to the cheerful ramblings of Men and the occasional wandering Hobbit—it is a rare delight. No ancient prophecies, no high expectations, no scholars peering over my shoulder as I write—just the simple pleasure of existing, of drinking, of being.

And—and—I have thought about this, about what it means to call a place home. And in that thinking, a ridiculous idea has taken root. Imagine, if you will, a humble cottage on the outskirts of Bree. A little house with ivy climbing up the stone walls, a well-tended garden bursting with wildflowers, a cozy study stacked high with books that are absolutely not organized in any logical fashion. A small river nearby, its waters cool and clear, where one might sit with their feet in the shallows and simply breathe. A retreat. A sanctuary.

A place untouched by the weight of history, where I could—just for a little while—set aside the quill, forget the burdens of time, and simply be.

And on that note, I could even take holidays. Yes, holidays. Do not look at me like that, Elves deserve vacations too. Imagine it—weeks spent away from the endless scrolls and scholarly debates, away from the ever-watchful eyes of those who insist I should be working at all times. No, Elrond, I will not return to the archives, I am on break.

And, of course, since I would have a river nearby, Eredin could take a swim. Yes, Eredin, I have decided this for you. You will enjoy a summer swim while I sit beneath the shade with a book and a drink that is absolutely too strong for my own good. Perhaps I will even join you in the water. Perhaps I will simply watch and offer unhelpful commentary about your technique. Who can say? The future is an open book.

Ah, but look at me, rambling. The point is—while Rivendell is my heart, there is something undeniably tempting about a life lived simply. A quiet retreat, a place of my own, a home among the flowers and rivers and—Eredin, stop looking at me like that, I am not actually moving to Bree.

But Mirkwood? Mirkwood? Oh no, absolutely not. Some may call it grand, some may sing odes to its so-called majesty, but I? I call it a choking tangle of gloom and bad decisions. A forest so thick with darkness it feels like the trees themselves are judging you, and trust me—I have no desire to linger where even the foliage seems passive-aggressive. The air is thick, the paths are treacherous, and every step deeper feels like an increasingly poor life choice.

And if I am to be completely honest? My distaste is not merely for the forest itself. No, my grievances are personal. Very personal. I have little patience for Thranduil’s brooding theatrics, for his “look at me, I am the epitome of Elven grace” attitude, nor for his incredibly annoying habit of throwing people in jail the second he decides he does not like them. Oh, forgive me, O Magnificent One, for existing in a manner you find mildly inconvenient. I shall endeavor to breathe more quietly next time.

And while we are on the subject, no, I have not forgotten the Wig Gate, nor will I ever. The sheer audacity—the absolute gall—to claim that Mirkwood possesses the finest hair among Elves, as if Rivendell is not home to centuries of carefully maintained, immaculately braided locks. As if we do not wake up every morning and commit ourselves to the sacred art of looking effortlessly elegant.

Better hair? BETTER HAIR?

I think not.

We do not speak of the incident that followed, but let it be known that to this day, there is a debate within Rivendell’s halls on whether Thranduil’s hair is truly that magnificent or if he simply uses an ungodly amount of enchanted oil. I have my suspicions.

Petty, you say? Perhaps. But if that is the price of my dignity, then let me be the pettiest Elf to ever walk Arda. No, I shall keep my boots far from his halls, my words free of empty courtesies, and my wine untainted by whatever smug vintage he deems superior. Even the finest drink turns bitter when poured by insufferable hands.

So, tell me, traveler—where would you go, given the choice?

[lighthousenewsnetwork]

ENGLEWOOD, CO - In a move that surprised absolutely no one familiar with the NFL's endless loop of "rebuilding," the Denver Broncos have secured the coaching services of Sean Payton, a man who seemingly possesses the magical ability to transform any team into...well, a team that consistently finishes 8-8. Yes, folks, rejoice! Gone are the days of frustrating playoff misses and the existential dread of watching Drew Lock throw interceptions. With Payton at the helm, Broncos fans can now look forward to years of a meticulously crafted offense that consistently stalls inside the opponent's 10-yard line, gut-wrenching fourth-quarter collapses, and post-game press conferences filled with Payton uttering the phrase "we just have to execute" with the air of a man unveiling a revolutionary new philosophy. Let's not forget the media frenzy surrounding this "dream team" pairing. Analysts are practically salivating at the prospect of Payton working his magic with Russell Wilson, a quarterback who, if recent trends hold, is about two fumbles away from requesting a trade to a team with a functioning offensive line. The narrative writes itself: Payton, the offensive mastermind, will unlock Wilson's true potential, turning him back into the scrambling, interception-machine of his Seattle glory days. It's a win-win! For fantasy football enthusiasts, at least. Because when it comes to the actual outcome of this "retooling," one can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. After all, wasn't Payton brought in to elevate a team with a shaky foundation? Didn't the Saints already possess a generational talent at quarterback in Drew Brees? Sure, Payton maximized Brees' potential, but let's not rewrite history and pretend he magically transformed a mediocre roster into a perennial powerhouse. Speaking of that "coaching carousel," wasn't it just yesterday the Broncos were convinced Vic Fangio was the answer to their prayers? Now, after a single underwhelming season, he's been tossed aside like a week-old bagel. It's a vicious cycle, folks. Teams desperately fling money and draft picks at coaches, hoping that somehow, someway, the coaching magic dust will finally stick. Newsflash: it rarely does. And let's not forget the real stars of the show: the fans. Broncos Country, once a haven for passionate (and sometimes frighteningly orange) supporters, has become a land of cautiously optimistic delusion. "This is our year!" they chant, seemingly oblivious to the fact that "this year" has been every year for the past decade. But hey, who are we to rain on their parade? Let them bask in the warm glow of Payton's arrival. Let them dream of hoisting the Lombardi trophy. After all, isn't that what professional sports are all about? A carefully crafted illusion of hope, punctuated by the occasional heartbreaking disappointment? So, buckle up, Broncos fans. The Sean Payton era is upon you. Prepare for a future filled with strategically timed timeouts, questionable play calls on fourth down, and the ever-present knowledge that, no matter how close they get, a Super Bowl victory will likely remain as elusive as a competent offensive line. But hey, at least you'll be consistently mediocre! Share this article with your fellow Broncos fans and let them know they're not alone in this thrilling journey to perpetual disappointment. And who knows, maybe Sean Payton will eventually coach the Cleveland Browns just for the challenge. #Coaching #DenverBroncos #Football #Humor #nfl #Satire #SeanPayton

[cafeconbrujeria]

a couple of new people here, it looks like! presumably from Bree-land?

this is my occult side blog where I routinely fail to document anything I'm actually doing. occasionally I reblog some stuff or yell into the discourse void.

I am a South American and Caribbean blend Latina and grew up practicing what you might call Santeria, or Lukumí, and neither of those words exactly conveys it right but I usually use the former. I was initiated as a child and I am, proudly, a daughter of Oshun.

Here is my thesis statement: the sexy and rebellious thing to do if you grow up in one of the Afro Caribbean Diaspora traditions is to go through a very cringe Wiccan or Nordic magic phase. This is actually vital. Everybody I know who carries any aspect of their cultural specific practices into adulthood went through a sulky teen phase via Silver Ravenwolf or whatever.

Thesis two: a lot of the people writing about the ATRs right now are grifters.

These things are actually connected. IRL, your average real deal latin occultist carrying the torch into adulthood is a fucking nerd. Particularly if you're from an immigrant family, if you grew up doing legit magic, and you enjoy it, you end up learning about a lot of different magic, based on whatever else is around you when you are, specifically, not in the homeland anymore.

so while there are many, many workings that are done strictly as taught, and if you add a crystal to it, no, it's not the same--

most real people incorporate a ton of syncretic stuff into their practices.

anyone who makes their living screaming at random people about how their personal practices are invalid because said person is also into runes or yoga? red flag. that's somebody playing a role, and not very well. it's someone embodying a stereotype to bully their potential competition out of the market. it is someone weaponizing your guilt to make sure you buy THEIR brand of candle/oil/whatever.

and they probably don't actually know any old traditional shit, either.

that said, it's not fucking "road opener" oil without Abre Camino in it. it's the name of a fucking plant. the end.

[bigmeandragonlady]

am i going to treat my tumblr like a rubber duck? yes

alright so it even think about posting my dumb tvd fic i want to establish her place in the whole shbang and her relationship with Damon. it's messy and so much fun to deal with BUT that means writing the first couple weeks or so right

she doesn't really participate in the main story at first but she does have to meet bonnie and sheila before sheila dies. by the time to tomb opening thing happens she knows about katherine and the whole timeline and is pissed about it.

i'm debating even letting her participate in the tomb opening b/c it's just as likely she'll try to bring down the whole joint as help open it

i don't have anything for the time between Lexi and whenever she breaks things off with Damon. and i wouldn't even call her relationship with damon an actual romantic relationship. it's more of they occasionally have sex while she's wants things to go back to the way they were but is acutely aware everything is different and he's focused entirely on something (someone) else but has these weird lingering feelings he can't really make sense of until after he's rejected by katherine and/or after ash gets kidnapped and burns down a building

i also really need her to meet bree (lexi lives meaning so does bree), i want her to meet more witches, this is probably where she figures out the whole 'damon came here for katherine fucking pierce' and breaks things off within a couple episodes. so for a season and a half it's an awkward, angry, moderately slutty relationship (it's so messy and i love mess)

[ofstonehaven]

STONE HAVEN CODE OF CONDUCT

THE BASICS

Hi. I'm Mary. 21+. EST. I am an actual, real life potato who (despite these rules) is definitely more afraid of you than you could ever be of me.

With that said, I am waaaaaay too old for the drama. Please remember that IC and OOC are not the same thing and that nothing my chars say IC should be taken personally.

Same goes for anon hate. Too old for it. Either sign your name to it or shut the fuck up.

SELECTIVE-NESS

I like to keep my dash clean and am terrified of people. But chances are, if you follow me, I’ll follow you back. Provided, of course, I have some understanding of your muse.

Occasionally, I may not follow someone back. And usually there is a reason. Not like a bitchy reason; more a practical one. Like posting an excessive amount of NSFW photos/artwork. I tend to pop in and out of tumblr while at work and well…I just can’t risk having dicks all over my dash.

SHIPPING

Most of my chars here are bisexual, which means their ships will be a mix of f/m and f/f. Really, I will ship almost anything provided there is chemistry.

That being said, this blog will be multi-verse and multi-ship. Unless discussed as a plot point beforehand, none of my girls are cheating on anyone.

However there is an exception to this; both Nora and Bree are single ship. They will only be shipped with their husbands, both of whom reside of @ghxstwrxter's blog.

THEMES & TRIGGERS

While I am more than old enough to write smut, I am actually not that good at it. Or at least I don’t seem to think so. I mostly prefer the ‘fade to black’ approach. Of course, this is subject to change depending on the scene. And the partner.

Anything that does get overly explicit will be placed behind a read more and tagged appropriately.

Same with triggering content. While I, myself, do not have any triggers, I am more than willing to tag whatever people need me to tag. All triggering material will be tagged ‘topic tw’