#but some of you all have left the most wonderful tags on my art and for that I am very grateful

[plaguelily-art]

...and a Happy New Year?

So, sadly the end of the year has not been very productive for me. I have a handful of sketches, but alas, have not had the energy to really work on them too much, or even the motivation to work on them. Given how much stuff I've been juggling between life, work, and my health though, I suppose my body just didn't have the energy for art. This year has just been very rough for me, and I'm glad to see it coming to an end finally. Hopefully the new year will be better for everyone!

So, I'll see you all again next year. Happy New Year! May it bring good fortune to us all.

[local-dragon-haunt]

hey! i’m an artist and i was wondering what about the httyd crossover art made it obviously AI. i’m trying to get better at recognizing AI versus real art and i totally would have just not clocked that.

Hey! This is TOTALLY okay to not have recognized it, because I DIDN'T AT FIRST, EITHER. Unfortunately there’s no real foolproof way to distinguish real art from the fake stuff. However I have noticed a general rule of thumb while browsing these last few months.

So this is the AI generated image I used as inspiration. I will not be tagging the account that posted it because I do not condone bullying of any type, but it’s important to mention that this was part of a set of images:

This is important because one of the BIGGEST things you can use to your advantage is context clues. This is the thing that clued me in: right off the bat we can see that there is NO consistency between these three images. The art style and outfits change with every generated image. They're vaguely related (I.E. characters that resemble the Big Four are on some sort of adventure?) and that's about it. Going to the account in question proved that all they posted were AI generated images. All of which have many red flags, but for clarity's sake we'll stick with the one that I used.

The first thing that caught my eye was this???? Amorphous Blob in the background. Which is obviously supposed to be knights or a dragon or something.

Again, context clues come into play here. Artists will draw everything With A Purpose. And if what they're drawing is fanart, you are going to recognize most of what you see in the image. Even if there are mistakes.

In the context of this image, it looks like the Four are supposed to be running from these people. The thing that drew my attention to it was the fact that I Didn't Recognize The Villains, and this is because there is nothing to recognize. These shapes aren't Drago, or Grimmel, or Pitch, or any other villain we usually associate with ROTBTD. They're just Amorphous Blobs that are vaguely villain shaped.

Which brings me to my second point:

Do you see the way they're standing? There is no purpose to this. It throws the entire image off. Your eye is drawn to the Amorphous Villain Blobs in the background, and these characters are not reacting to them one bit.

Now I'm not saying that all images have to have a story behind them, but if this were created by a person, it clearly would have had one. Our group here is not telling a story, they are posing.

This is because the AI does not see the image as a whole, but as two separate components: the setting, and the description of the characters that the prompter dictates. I.E. "Merida from Brave, Jack Frost from ROTG, Rapunzel from Tangled, and Hiccup from HTTYD standing next to each other"

Now obviously the most pressing part of this prompt are the characters themselves. So the AI prioritizes that and tries to spit out something that WE recognize as "Merida from Brave, Jack Frost from ROTG, Rapunzel from Tangled, and Hiccup from HTTYD standing next to each other".

This, more times than not, is going to end up with this stagnant posing. Because AI cannot create, it can only emulate. And even then, it still can't do it right. Case in point:

This is not Hiccup. The AI totally thinks this is Eugene Fitzherbert. Look at the pose. The facial structure. The goatee. The smirk. The outfits. He's always next to Raps. Why does he have a quiver? Where's Toothless? His braids? His scar??

HE HAS BOTH OF HIS LEGS.

The AI. Cannot even get the most important part of it's prompt correct.

And that's just the beginning. Here:

More amorphous shapes.

So these are obviously supposed to be utility belts, but I mean. Look at them. The perspective is all off. There are useless straps. I don't even know what that cluster behind Jack's left arm is supposed to be.

This is a prime example of AI emulating without understanding structure.

You can see this particularly in Jack, between his hands, the "tassels" of his tunic, and the odd wrinkles of his boots. There's just not any structure here whatsoever.

Lastly, AI CANNOT CREATE PATTERNS.

Here are the side-by-sides of the shit I had to deal with when redesigning their outfits. Please someone acknowledge this. This killed me inside. THIS is most recognizable to me, and usually what I look for first if I'm wary about an art piece. These clusterfuck bunches of color. I hate them. I hate them so. much.

Anyways here's some other miscellaneous things I've noticed:

Danny Phantom Eyes

???? Thumb? (and random sword sheath)

Collarbone Necklace (corset from hell)

No Staff :( No Bow :(

What is that.

So yeah. Truly the best thing to do is to just. study it. A lot of times you aren't gonna notice anything just looking at the big picture, you need to zoom in and focus on the little details. Obviously I'm not like an expert in AI or anything, but I do have a degree in animation practices and I'm. You know. A human being. So.

In conclusion:

(Y'all should totally reblog my redesign of this btw)

[elfwreck]

I have a friend who isn't anti-porn but it makes her sad that fanfic has a reputation for being porny and usually not very good. I'm fine with both those things and my views mostly align with that of AO3. I disagree with the idea that porn and badness are treated as equivalent, but for most people that's just how they think. But I was wondering if youve ever written something about this?

There is a lot of smut at AO3.

There is a lot of bad writing at AO3.

There's a lot of badly written smut at AO3.

...None of those are problems except for the people who think there is something wrong with those existing, or that there needs to be some external value that "balances" those that make those acceptable to exist as unwanted side-effects of "the good stuff."

The badly-written smut is also "the good stuff."

It's part of the reason AO3 exists. It's not intended to be an archive for "the high-quality fanfic that could be published if it weren't about characters that someone else wrote first"; it's an archive for "what fanfic writers want to write." That makes the terrible writing and the tacky porn and the badly-written tacky porn part of the reason the archive exists.

Tangent 1 (I'll connect these points later): Theodore Sturgeon said "90% of everything is crud." He was more-or-less referring to the science fiction field in the 50s, but it definitely extended to politics, business, and writing outside of science fiction.

...He was talking about published books in the 50s. Turns out, a lot more than 90% of writing is crud when there aren't any gatekeepers between it and the readers. But also:

Tangent 2, from the book "Art and Fear":

[A] ceramics teacher announced on opening day that he was dividing the class into two groups. All those on the left side of the studio, he said, would be graded solely on the quantity of work they produced, all those on the right solely on its quality. His procedure was simple: on the final day of class he would bring in his bathroom scales and weigh the work of the “quantity” group: fifty pound of pots rated an “A”, forty pounds a “B”, and so on. Those being graded on “quality”, however, needed to produce only one pot — albeit a perfect one — to get an “A”. Well, came grading time and a curious fact emerged: the works of highest quality were all produced by the group being graded for quantity. It seems that while the “quantity” group was busily churning out piles of work – and learning from their mistakes — the “quality” group had sat theorizing about perfection, and in the end had little more to show for their efforts than grandiose theories and a pile of dead clay.

You don't get to "quality writing" without going through a lot of crappy writing.

That doesn't mean the crappy writing is garbage to be thrown out. If you make 50 pots or bowls or vases, and only one of them is The Good One... most of the rest are okay. Maybe not sale-quality good, but your-kitchen-table quality good. Maybe some aren't that good and are kids-toy-in-the-sandbox level good.

Bad writing has a purpose for the writer: they can use it as practice to get better. It has a purpose for the reader: It can serve as inspiration ("I can do better than that") or grammatical instruction ("that...does not work; why doesn't that work?") or just as entertainment ("eh, so it's missing a few commas; I can still understand it").

Smut and porn writing works the same way. It's of some value to the writer, and some to the readers.

It's not of value to everyone. That's what tags and filters are for, and why there's a summary and list of stats (like word counts)--so you can figure out if you're one of the readers for whom this piece of writing is useful or interesting.

But AO3, like any library, is not there to take the top 5% of Excellent Writing and provide it a showcase. It is absolutely for all 50 lbs of pots.

If your friend wants to read the good stuff, there are rec lists and collections to help her find it.

If she already manages that, and is just annoyed at how much of the not-good stuff (however she defines that) exists... she's picked the wrong battle. She's arguing with the ocean that it has too many kinds of fish and some are poisonous a lot of them are ugly.

[skelly-words]

Knock First Next Time

(NSFW Levi x Reader)

MDNI 18+ only

I just woke up and this was in my drive, bro, idk it's crazy. I don't even wanna talk about it anymore, just read the tags and don't look at me.

Reader has a cooch

Tags: excessive porn, Levi being a loser, Monster fucking-ish, double penetration, anal and p in v, tail play (is that a thing), biting, choking, undiscussed kinks (but bffr it's fine in fantasy), he has two dicks and they're blue with bioluminescent cum, that's my tag

Synopsis: You walk in on Levi playing eroge, pls just read the tags and don't make me explain it.

Wc: 4.2k

“Levi?” you yell through the door to his room. “You skipped lunch so I brought you something.”

You knock persistently at the wood. It’s late in the afternoon and nobody has seen Leviathan all day. Most of the brothers aren’t worried about him, citing his commonly reclusive behavior. Even if this is regular, you want to make sure he at least remembers to eat even if he is wrapped up in his new anime or RPG binge.

“I don’t know if you can hear me or not but I’m coming in.” You knock a couple of times in warning before you swing the door open.

The lights in his room are so dim you can barely see his silhouette as he sits, hunched over, in his gaming chair. Levi’s playing some kind of RPG. An erotic one judging by the big-tittied anime girls and multi-colored tentacles moving across the screen. And it would be nice if you had respected his privacy and left his room, but that would be boring and predictable. You calmly set the plate and sandwich on the edge of his bed as you approach the back of his chair.

As you get closer, you can hear muffled sound coming from his headphones. No wonder he couldn’t hear you knocking. You stay quiet and out of his peripheral vision, slowly reaching to lift the left side of his headphones away from his ear.

“Wow, Levi,” you whisper into his ear. “I didn't know you were into tentacle hentai.”

“No!” he shrieks, frantically trying to close out of the game. He’s too shocked, shaking so badly he can’t get the mouse to the exit button before you’re pulling his chair back from his desk. “That's not what this is. It isn't what it looks like.”

“Really? ‘Cause it looks like you blew us all off to play eroge all day. Just wait until your brothers hear about this.”

“No, please don’t, it’s not in like a weird way. It’s an RPG. I can’t resist a good RPG even if most of the art and story arc is erotic.”

“How respectful,” you say half-sarcastically. You’re equally unimpressed and entertained. “You’re making me interested. Talk to me about it.” You lean against his chair, tilting him back to look up at you. 

“No!” He says for the third time.

“What? Is that your new favorite word?” You tilt your head to the side to see if he looks any less embarrassed sideways. “Can I play with you?”

You have ulterior motives when asking, but Levi doesn’t seem to pick up on that. He shakes his head and buries his blush in his hands. 

“Absolutely not. Get out, and please don’t tell my brothers. Especially Mammon, he’ll extort me for money. And I can’t handle the teasing from Asmo…” He keeps mumbling about whatever, but you aren’t really listening to it. 

You pull his chair further away from his desk to make room for you to stand in front of him. The art style is interesting, and you click through some of the dialogue, but he’s too far progressed for you to understand the story at all. For all you know, the excuse that he’s playing it for the plot could be total bullshit.

“Hey, stop that.” Levi stands up and snatches the mouse from you, unintentionally clicking the story along. He’s recovered from his brief heart attack enough to get up from his gaming chair, but not enough to notice how his body effectively traps you against his desk.

The screen changes to the actual gameplay, which is somehow more lewd than the story portion of the game. A woman is spread across the center of the screen with a slimy blue tentacle pressed into each of her holes. There’s a slightly smaller tentacle too that wraps up the woman’s leg and lays across her clit. A timer bar steadily decreases across the top of the screen. 

Levi’s frozen. You probably think he’s such a fucking pervert now, and it doesn’t help that he can feel himself getting hard while standing so close behind you. It’s even worse that he’s going to have to lose this level now, ruining his perfect run of the game.

Your hand overlaps his on the mouse as you drag the cursor to the pause button. His fingers still don't move, hovering the cursor uselessly over the button.

"You're gonna run out of time," you keep a playful lilt to your voice. "Either pause it or play."

He debates for a second longer, doing whatever mental gymnastics he usually goes through to figure out how to proceed. He barely misses a beat. The cursor drops away from the pause button. You don't really pay attention to the gameplay itself, focusing on feeling his hand beneath yours, the lewd sounds echoing from the abandoned headphones looped around Levi's neck, and his growing boner pressing against your lower back.

"You're good," you say, half-impressed and concerned with the dramatics of the female's orgasm. The level finishes, and Levi keeps his perfect record with a three-star score.

"Do you still want me to show you how to play?" It's the boldest thing he can manage to say, which isn't saying much when it comes out so pathetically. He's begging as if the answer is hopelessly 'no.'

"Sure."

You can feel when Levi exhales, relieved, against your temple. His hand twitches beneath yours on the mouse as he drags the cursor to exit the game and start a new save.

Apparently, his whole spiel about playing for the story wasn't complete bullshit. He points out important plot points and shows you different strategies, but it's hard to concentrate on anything he says.

As his nerves dissolve, replaced by pure nerdiness, he pulls his chair back up to the desk, sits down, and settles you in his lap. You doubt he's completely aware of what he's doing with how engrossed he is with the game. When he's teaching you how to play, he has complete tunnel vision.

Levi lets you hold the mouse, reversing the roles so that he's guiding your hand. His unoccupied arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him with a gasp whenever you come close to losing.

You find yourself surprisingly into it, despite never playing an eroge before. Your left hand stays glued to the keyboard, sprawled across the controls as you concentrate on the game. You're literally sweating as you struggle to finish the level (or make the level finish, either way).

A yellow banner unrolls across the screen, and the protagonist frowns at your one-star win.

"Shit, that was kinda intense." You sigh and lean back into his chest. Intense is an understatement. Adrenaline was making your hands shake and breath stutter. It didn't help that Levi was being so generous with his touch. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was pulling you against his bulge on purpose, but he was probably just being absentminded.

"It's fun, right?"

"Yeah, and the art is pretty hot too. It's fucked up that you need both hands to play, know what I mean?" You let go of the controls to pry his arm from around your waist. It starts off with you innocently playing with his fingers as he contemplates what you’re talking about. While it's obvious, he tries to find an alternative meaning.

"Help me out, Levi?" You bring his hand down to rest on the front of your shorts.

He stops breathing and he freezes. A few seconds pass as his brain takes a second to catch up. Even when he relaxes, there's still tension in how he holds himself.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

You roll your eyes at his question and go back to clicking through the next segment of the story.

Levi's touches begin hesitantly, barely brushing you as he unties the drawstring of the loose shorts. You try to stay cool. Somebody has to, and with the way he struggles to untie the simple bow, it's not going to be him.

"C'mon, Levi." You'd been playing for at least an hour, becoming more and more wound up by the erotic imagery the entire time. Maybe at the beginning, you were being purposefully suggestive to tease him, but now it felt like you actually needed him to touch you. Not that you were into tentacles or anything. You especially weren't turned on by the way his tail had loosely wrapped around your ankle at some point.

"You're not even playing anymore." He tried to sound smooth and confident, but there was still a shake in his voice and hands. Even the hand guiding yours on the mouse felt a little sweatier.

You clicked through the rest of the story quickly, skimming over the text and pausing for longer when particularly provocative characters or lines flashed across the screen.

Levi's fingers slipped down the front of your shorts as you started the next level of the game. You'd barely managed to win the last level, and your gameplay only got sloppier as his index finger pushed your underwear to the side. The tip of his middle finger slipped up your slit, stopping when he felt your clit.

You squirmed in his lap, spreading your legs across his thighs.

"Pay attention. You're losing." He critiques your technique further as the pad of his finger loops lazily over your nub. He's back to being fully immersed in the stupid RPG.

You can't pay attention when he slips his finger lower to tease your entrance just to make you wetter. He plays with your pussy so easily. You don't notice anything weird about it until you moan and he laughs, mumbling, "Just like the game."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Levi?" You're not mad that he's doing it, more pissed that it's working. He's following the motions you should be doing on the desperate, slutty, moaning woman on the screen.

"What? I'm giving you hints."

You lose that level, but Levi doesn't. He gently coaxes an orgasm out of you with a finger on your clit. You cum around nothing, staring enviously at the character stuffed so full on the screen.

"It's too bad we can't recreate the whole thing." You try to sound nonchalant, but your legs shake a little as you turn to face him. You straddle his lap as best you can without the armrests getting in the way.

"W-what do you mean?" He stutters now that it isn't a game anymore. His eyes flick from the red losing screen to your face.

"Don't play dumb." You can feel his bulge against the front of your shorts as you lean closer to him. It's hard to keep eye contact when filth spills out of your mouth. "I wanna be full like that."

"Are you serious? 'Cause-" He cuts himself off with a hand over his mouth.

"What?"

"I don't wanna say it. It's so gross." He speaks between the small gaps in his fingers.

"I'm into slimy tentacles, how gross could it be?" You gently pull his hand away from his mouth. "Tell me."

"U-um, I, er-" He clears his throat and shuts his eyes, as if not looking at you makes it easier. "I have two, um, well you know. But it's not normal, so if you think it's weird don't feel bad, okay?"

"Are you shitting me?" It's your turn to cover your mouth. "Sorry, I meant, can I see?"

He nods, dropping his head and hands to untie his sweats. You push his hands out of the way when he gets slow and loses his first wave of confidence. It's impossible to pull his sweats down in the cramped position forced by the gaming chair. After thirty seconds too long of struggling, you huff in frustration.

"Let's just go to your bed."

"The tub?"

"Yeah, the tub." You start to wiggle off his lap, but he stops you.

Levi roughly grabs your thighs. He's clumsy when he stands up but makes up for it with the fact that you weigh next to nothing to him. Your hands balance on his chest, working upwards to hold onto his shoulders.

His tail slips higher to notch in the bend of your knee as he takes unsteady steps towards his bathtub. The cool porcelain bowl is almost overflowing with pillows and plushies. Your legs loop over either side of the tub as you spill out of his arms. You sink into the tub, submerging in the pillows as you would in water. Your hips stay lifted in the air, legs held up by the tub and Levi's cool fingers.

You can hardly feel his shaky touch as it creeps up your thighs, not until he brushes the hem of your shorts. He's so light and cautious, afraid for you to regret your decision and run, every movement is testing the water.

"Don't tease me, Levi." You gently tug the sleeve of his hoodie, dragging his hand between your thighs again so he can feel how warm you are. And as if he could ever resist you after that, you softly whisper, "Please, I wanna see you."

With a groan, his hand slides higher, cuffing the crease of your thigh. The loose leg of the night shorts bunches up to show off the lacy blue panties that barely cover you at all.

"I don't even know what to do with you." His other hand palms his bulge through his sweatpants, thumbing over each cockhead through the layers of material.

It's hard not to laugh, not meanly, but Levi's so cute like this. His hands fall to his sides, tightening and relaxing like he needs something to hold onto. He's focused on how you move while you slip the shorts off your legs.

He fumbles with his sweats, still as clumsy as he was before. There's a light tremble to the motions of his fingers as the knot comes undone and his pants slide down.

Levi kneels between your thighs in his light gray boxers. You're caged in by his arms, still clothed in your dark shirt. His hips slot against yours, and you can feel how much precum has soaked through the fabric of his underwear. The stickiness between you makes a mess of your panties too; it slickens the friction against your sensitive clit. His hips set a steady rhythm of rutting into you, shallow breaths beating against your neck with each rough roll.

"Okay," he says between breaths, "but you can't freak out."

Levi leans in to hesitantly kiss you. His left hand slips down to his boxers, shuffling them down and around his thighs. The kiss is a distraction, capturing your attention with the slide of his tongue against your bottom lip while he presses the head of his dick against your thigh.

You gasp into the kiss pulling away to watch him push your panties to the side. The flushed purple at the tip of his upper cock fades to a blue that almost matches the lace trim digging into the crease of your thigh. The tip of his lower dick is buried inside you. Precum drips onto your navel as he fucks further into you, forming a snail trail up your abdomen to mark how deep he is.

Your tight tank top bunches higher and higher around your waist, inching up with each thrust until the material is scrunched under your tits. Levi's mouth latches around your nipple through the thin cotton, soaking it through with his spit as he sucks on you. He tugs the strap off your opposite shoulder, letting his fingers trail down your chest. The cool touch makes your nipple stiffen as he rolls the bud between his thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale leaving your lips.

Levi's mouth becomes greedier as you moan freely. The seal of his mouth muffles his own sounds as his dick hits deeper, finding spots that make your hips buck back against him.

"I want both," you whine. Your hand drops to where his neglected cock slides up your tummy through a light-blue puddle. It throbs in your hand as you milk him for more precum until the slick drips between your fingers.

"Fuck, you were serious?" Levi pops off your tit to look down at you with a lopsided grin. The hand cupping your breast leaves, crawling down your stomach to collect some of his mess on the way to your butt. In the low light of his LED strips, the streaks on your skin almost glow.

He lets you keep him warm while he preps you. Hips stay flush with yours while he focuses on pushing his middle finger past your rim. He's so slow and gentle, groaning into your ear as he slides deeper. It's too slow and methodical, so torturous that you're breath catches with each push and pull.

Your messy hand slips lower, leaving the tip of his dick to help him out. The tip of your finger presses alongside his as he fucks into you.

"Shit, Levi." Your words come between hot pants. "I need one more."

"What a fucking filthy mouth." He laughs softly and catches your lips in a kiss. You're perfectly pliant, letting him fill you up, even his tongue tasting you too. A third finger stretches you open and you whimper into his mouth as your muscles adjust.

A sick squish comes from between your bodies, matching the milky stains that dotted the pillows beneath you. It takes all of Levi's self-control to keep his hips still when you're tucked under him like this. Thighs spread out while he fills up your cute pussy.

His breath catches as you tug his wrist away, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

"I think I'm ready, baby." Your hand wraps around his to guide it higher, up to the base of his lower dick. "Just, go slow, okay?"

"Uh-huh." He nods into your neck as he begins to pull out of you. The tip of his dick throbs when he taps it against your rim. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum so fast."

"I-It's okay," you stumble when the point of his tail bumps your clit. It's a shame that you're so empty, his pre dribbles out of your slit as you clench around nothing. "Me too."

The smooth scales of his tail raise goosebumps on your thigh as it moves across your skin. It winds down the crease of your right hip and up around to the left. He uses it to lift your hips up better and take the pressure off your legs. You can tell it's a good angle before he even pushes in. The head of his cock sinks into your ass, there's barely any resistance with how slick your pussy left him. His warm breaths dampen your neck, maybe some of it's spit with how it drips a little toward your chest.

You rub the tip of his neglected dick up and down your cunny, just enough to make him whine. His tail hikes your hips up and he sinks into you, not all at once, but enough for a sharp moan leave your split lips. He slows to a gentle grind, trying not to let out anymore embarrassing sounds in your ear, trying not to shove more into you no matter how good it feels.

His teeth sink into your neck, biting down to muffle the groans while he tries not to fuck into you.

"It's okay," you breathe out, "just go slow."

"Mmhmm," Levi hums, tongue laving over the indents of his teeth. The first roll of his hips is generous, and he bites back any noise when his dentition digs into you. Your moans pitch up as he fills you one inch at a time. The scales on his tail are cool to the touch, just like his fingers. The thin end flicks your clit up and down, making you leak and squish around him.

Your cunt is twitching as forces more dick into you, drooling down to lubricate your ass as you get closer. Just the way he bites you, grunting between gritted teeth as he ruts into you, has your poor pussy sucking him in more.

"You did it, baby." Levi's smile presses into your neck. He sits up on his knees, leaving a parting kiss on your lips as he pulls back. His hands trace the swell in your tummy, the fuzzy hair at the base of his cock bumping your swollen nub as he grinds into you. "I didn't think I'd fit."

A soft giggle trickles, rose-scented and sultry, out of your pretty mouth. "You fit fucking perfect."

A grin tugs at his mouth and he pulls back a little. The drag is delicious. You can feel every vein and ridge on him as your holes clamp down from sensitivity. He kisses you slow, shoving into your g-spot from the angle he has you bent at.

"You're so so tight," he murmurs against your mouth, taking shaky breaths between kisses. It's like you don't want to let him go and he'd be content to stay buried inside of you.

Levi doesn't let you reply, licking into your mouth when you try to speak, consuming your broken words when he bites those petal-sweet lips. Spit pools in the corners of your mouth, drooling to match the juice curving down your butt.

He has to swallow more of your moans as he starts to move. His hips start with a stutter because he wants so badly to stay stuffed inside of you, but he finds a rhythm. You cling to his shoulders, nails leaving angry crescents in his milky skin.

Your legs tremble each time Levi fills you up, squeezing into your tight ass while your pussy eagerly slurps in every inch of his heavy cock. They slip around his waist to lock in the back, one ankle crossing over the other so he can't possibly pull away. And he doesn't want to, whispering filth to you between tender kisses.

"Thank you," Levi groans as he rocks into you. "Thank you for being such a cute toy." His hands get greedier, slipping around your butt and gripping dimples into the fat.

He's smothers you with his lips until you're dizzy off his taste. Stealing more than just your breath, the swell of your bottom lips catches on his canine.

You cup Levi's jaw, drawing your thumb over his adam's apple on your way down his neck. The curve of your hand settles around the base of his throat as a warning.

"You think so?" Your voice is testy, but Levi doesn't seem to notice.

He nods, eyes too glazed over to really be listening. "Perfect fucking slut, all full of me." His breath fans over your wrist as he looks down at where you're holding him.

"Try again."

You keep him just a hair away from reaching your lips, digging the pad of your thumb into the hollow between his collar bones. There's barely pressure at first. He fucks into you harder, locking eyes with you while his dicks turn up your guts. As if that was the right answer, he leans in to kiss you again.

The palm of your hand flattens against the front of his throat, pressing him further away. You keep him held back, even has he strains against you, choking himself on your hand for a kiss.

"Gimme a kiss," his voice is thick, cut up too by the gentle squeeze of your fingers. "Please, baby." He punctuates each word with his cock, hitting you better with the heel of his palm flattening your stomach. He massages over the faint bulge. A thin string of saliva drips from his mouth to yours as he feels himself inside of you, prodding against his hand while you squirm beneath him.

A low rumble starts to build in his chest as he tries to get close to you, even to lay his pouting lips on your cheeks or forehead. His sounds are choked by the hand around his throat. He's almost silent as your fingers tighten around him except for a few strangled gasps that slip through.

You can feel Levi’s dick throb as his pace grows frantic, pushing you into the pillows like he can nestle any deeper. There's a hazy look in his eyes, partially obscured by the sweaty smear of his bangs. He's so cute it makes your grip loosen, bringing a pretty flush to his cheeks as blood rushes to his head. All that extra oxygen makes him whimper as he begins to spill out inside of you.

"Shi- Fuck I'm cumming." Levi's hands tighten around your waist as his thrusts become stunted and sloppier. His groans go straight to your pussy and the next swipe of his tail sends you over the edge. Your hips buck to meet him halfway as his slick begins to leak out of you. His cum glows a pale blue, running out as you tighten on his cock.

This time, you don't stop his kisses. Your fingernails scratch through the hair at the base of his neck, curling and tugging on it harsher than you mean to. The roll of his hips doesn't stop until you're both shaking and oversensitive. His breathing is heavy and getting slower as he comes to a stop.

Levi's breathing almost stops too when he looks down at the mess. "I'm sorry." His face pales as he pulls out of you. Rivulets of his release drip out, glossy and translucent to leave a cool shine to any skin it got smeared on. Your underwear is stretched to floss, sticking into place between your soaked pussy lips when your thighs snap shut. The love bites he left are beginning to darken as well, threatening to stain various shades of red and purple. "Like really seriously sorry."

A/N- nite then <3

<lightly edited bc I didn't do his orgasm justice>

[valeriianz]

Summary: Part 2 of my Hard of Hearing!Dream. Part 1 here! Dream struggles with his new disability and Hob tries to help... along with Dream's new friend, Jessamy.

Square/Prompt: A1 - Why Did You Do It?

Rating: T

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: human AU, deaf!Dream, angst, happy ending, established relationship

Fill for @dreamlingbingo! (thank you @mallory-x for the read through!)

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

When Dream turned 30, he celebrated it in a crowded bar that doubled as an art gallery, close to his apartment. It was his favorite bar, because it was an eclectic gallery first, with a bar open for events. Luckily, there was a local exhibit on the night of Dream’s birthday and he knew it would be the perfect place to celebrate. This way, he could appease his friends who wanted to go out and drink and celebrate, and Dream could stare at art and make a quick escape if need be. It gave a chance for everyone to focus on anything else but him after the initial round of shots. 

Hob never took his focus off Dream, though. Even when they would float away to opposite sides of the room, Dream would turn his head and find Hob staring at him, smiling at being caught before turning his attention back to the person he was in conversation with.

At that point, it had been two and a half years since Dream had told Hob about his diagnosis… that he would go permanently deaf. In that time, he did indeed completely lose his hearing in his left ear, but his right was still working pretty well. He had just gotten used to tilting his head slightly to the left so people would understand to talk directly into his good ear.

And Hob was still here. Patient, sweet, loving Hob. Who Dream secretly had a crush on probably since they were first introduced. They’d moved in together last year, and while there were some bumps in the road, complications that arose with moving in with a lover, Dream was surprised to find that he was… happy.

He couldn’t stand it, sometimes, how happy Hob made him. Even his friends had noticed how he smiled more, seemed to have a more positive outlook on life and even on his disability. And it felt natural, like Hob just brought out all the good traits about Dream, like they had been lying dormant and just needed the confidence, the reassurance that he was allowed to feel this way. This happy.

And then, 45 days after Dream’s birthday party, he woke up to Hob shaking him awake, because he was sleeping through his alarm that was apparently blasting through his phone.

But Dream couldn’t hear him. Or the alarm. 

He watched with horrifying realization, as Hob’s lips moved, hovering over him, but no words came out. 

So much for five years. 

Hob had clocked Dream’s blank stare relatively quick, his lips shaping the letters of Dream’s name with a hand on his face, Hob’s brows pinched up and–

Dream cried. 

He felt foolish for it. He knew this would happen eventually. He just thought he’d have more time. 

Dream speaks with his audiologist the next day, with Hob by his side. Dream had wondered about hearing aids while he still had a modicum of hearing, but had been hesitant. His insurance barely covered them and, while hearing aids may have helped in the past, after several tests, his audiologist confirmed with Dream that now, they wouldn’t even be able to pick up background noise. They wouldn’t help at all.

Dream and Hob had left the office with defeat hanging heavy in the air. Mostly from Dream. 

He’s not proud of the person he had been in the week following his permanent hearing loss.

But in time (and therapy), Dream was able to move on. And it really wasn’t so bad, once Dream accepted that this was his life now.

If he closes his eyes, he thinks he can still hear Hob’s voice, especially with his lips pressed against his throat, behind his ear, murmuring sweetness into his skin and sending vibrations into his skull. It’s one of the most calming things Dream has ever experienced; laying in bed with Hob, in the absolute darkness and absolute silence, his remaining senses heightened, it’s both relaxing and unexpectedly erotic. To feel Hob completely surrounding him, grounding Dream, warm and solid and safe, it lights Dream up from the inside and reassures him that everything would be okay.

And in time, Dream comes to appreciate the silence. It’s nice, it’s peaceful. Living in a large city, with constant chatter, cars honking and sirens blazing, used to be a sensory nightmare; that creeping, prickling feeling of overstimulation has vanished and now it’s just… nothingness. 

It was scary at first, Dream would be a fool to not admit it; watching the world continue around him, people living their lives, living his own life, all in absolute silence. Not being able to hear the beep of the microwave, indicating when his food was done, or water coming out of the faucet while he washed dishes, or the sizzle of oil in a pan while cooking… little things that Dream had never really perceived whilst hearing them every day. All of that sound just– gone. Like hitting the mute button on a movie.

Dream tries to convince himself that he doesn’t miss the mundane noises, he could barely hear them anyway… but he often feels lost without them. So learning to welcome the quiet was the only way Dream could stay sane.

Though going deaf after decades of being able to hear (albeit poorly) and speak gave Dream the advantage of continuing to communicate in spoken English. He still has an inner voice, can still read lips very well, and so the communication gap with his friends and even strangers isn’t as wide as Dream had feared.

It makes learning sign language difficult. Dream at first did not take the lessons very seriously, especially with Hob being the only person to practice with, in those early days. Hob did help, though; he fumbles and signs broken ASL and Dream fumbles back. But it had been so easy to fall back on the habit of using his voice. But as months turn into a full year, Dream learns by trial and error that he realistically can’t continue traversing through a hearing world without sign language.

The hardest challenge he’d run into, for example… Dream never thought he’d need to prove his deafness.

Of course people get confused when he can speak perfect English, out in public spaces like a cafe or a bookshop, only to then turn around and seemingly ignore everyone around him. It is a strange experience, for Dream, to go around communicating as usual, speaking when he can’t even hear his own voice and reading lips. But he can’t be constantly on the lookout for anybody trying to get his attention. Watching belatedly as someone he had been exchanging dialogue with, roll their eyes and walk away in a huff. Dream truthfully has no idea how he might come off to a complete stranger who can’t realize that he’s deaf. Rude, perhaps. Or uncaring.

It’s enough to convince Dream to get fake hearing aids… he feels ridiculous wearing them, like he’s giving in to a social construct that only exists in his own head. But, annoyingly, while wearing them, the way people communicate and treat him improves exponentially. 

Funny, that.

Hob, of course, notices.

“When did you get these?” He touches the little device in Dream’s ear, his fingers turning into a caress. “I thought aids didn’t work for you?”

Hob speaks while he signs, they both do, to help make the hand motions stick. Though Hob often slips up and signs exact English, not proper American Sign Language, which he’s doing now. It doesn’t help in the learning process, but it’s a start, and Dream has no leg to stand on when it comes to corrections.

Dream swipes his index finger across his nose.

“Fake.”

Dream offers no more explanation, turning a page in the book he’s reading. They’re sitting on the couch, Hob properly facing the TV, and Dream lounging sideways, his legs draped over Hob’s lap.

Hob taps the edge of Dream’s book, getting his attention once more.

“You’d rather put a sign on you that announces to the world you're deaf?”

Dream sighs, knocking his head back.

“I know I shouldn’t have to…” Dream starts, his fingers fumbling, a new sign of nervousness he never thought he’d had before. “But it might make things easier.”

“Things?” Hob finger spells, his hands coming down, palms up, in a sign of confusion.

Dream moves a hand to his mouth.

“Communication,” and then to his ear, “understanding.”

Hob’s brows furrow and Dream slowly looks back to his book.

Dream wonders if they’re thinking the same thing. Remembering how difficult it became, living together, after Dream lost his hearing permanently. Hob would forget that Dream couldn’t hear, which was frustrating enough, but the slip-ups were near constant in the beginning. 

They’d get into arguments over it, a flame that Dream wasn’t proud to admit he’d always fanned. He hated that his hackles were constantly rising, always on the offensive, like Dream was expecting Hob to take the bait and fight back. That would, of course, spiral into meaningless fights over something stupid like leaving the laundry in the dryer for too long, or forgetting to pick up a particular ingredient they needed for dinner at the grocery store.

Dream was ashamed to admit he didn’t help in the situations, often coping out by just– not looking at Hob so he couldn’t see his lips moving or his awkward signing. He’d turn around and stomp away and Hob would be left to chase after him, hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn around so they could communicate.

It got easier… Hob was so patient with Dream. He never got so angry he would give up. He always apologized, even when Dream was just being dramatic. 

Hob knows by now that Dream would never take the easy route. And sure enough, Dream ditches the fake hearing aids. With them on, people started treating him with gloves on, or stare at him nervously, wondering how to approach. It’s frustrating and annoying– how Dream can’t seem to find a middle ground.

It takes unloading to his new deaf friends about Hob; seeking advice for how to temper these unexpected feelings of disappointment and changes in Dream himself… they never used to fight, before Dream lost his hearing. This is unknown territory for the both of them. 

Dream had discovered the community in his city, for deaf people. He’d found a meetup online, after his therapist suggested looking into attending the weekly meetups.

As always, Dream was at first skeptical. His sign language was still spotty at best, and he wasn’t a social guy even when he could hear so. He wasn’t hopeful.

Luckily the deaf community in his city is more than accepting of him, patient when he slips and signs exact English. And when Dream is done airing out his grievances, they encourage patience with Hob. That having a hearing partner is always going to be a struggle, but Hob is clearly coming from a place of compassion and wants to learn. That’s more than can be said for most people. 

Dream feels foolish, all the sudden, for his actions against Hob, looking sideways at Jessamy. She was one of the founders of these d/Deaf meetings, and they clicked immediately. Unlike most of their peers in the group, she too had been born hearing and then lost it due to illness. Her and Dream were a lot alike, though she was older and had been wading through this new world for over two decades. She was fluent in ASL, and didn’t even speak while communicating.

“It’s considered rude to speak here, during these meetups,” she had explained during Dream’s first time with the group. 

Jessamy becomes something like a confidant for Dream. She too has a hearing partner, Matthew. The amount she and Dream have in common is almost frightening. But in time Dream discovers it’s nice… to be seen. To be understood. She helps Dream comprehend the beauty of the silence even more. And that they can still attend hearing events just as before. 

So with her encouragement, a few months down the line, Dream and Hob join her and Matthew at a music festival. Jessamy excitedly points out interpreters several of the bands have on stage, and Dream feels a bit of relief. He can also feel the vibrations all around him from the loud speakers, though it’s not as pronounced as they would be in a venue with wooden floors; the earth beneath their feet grounds the pulsating bass lines to something dull and unrecognizable.

Dream’s not quite fluent enough in ASL to understand every word the interpreters use, especially at the speed they’re going in to keep up with the song, but he gets the gist. And he has to admit it’s��� fun, doing this. He hadn’t been to a concert or music festival in almost five years, and spending it with both Hob and his new friends is nice. It’s easy to stay within their safe space and not feel pressured to speak with strangers or awkwardly ignore them; everyone here minds their own business and in time, Dream loosens up.

After finding available, good seats for the next band they’d all agreed on, Hob and Dream set out to the nearest vendor to grab drinks and snacks for the four of them, while Jessamy and Matthew hold down the fort, so to speak.

While standing in line, Hob asks if Dream is enjoying himself. And, surprisingly, Dream is. He says as much with a smile and taking a playful nudge from Hob.

As the line shrinks and they come closer to the counter, Dream’s gaze moves from the short menu taped to the window to the man taking orders. His lips move sluggishly and hesitantly, speaking with an accent that makes it difficult for Dream to parse. But it doesn’t phase him, what everyone wants is on the menu and the transaction should be simple.

Now, Hob could just place the order for him– for all of them, but Dream had been determined, lately, to converse in transactions like this himself. It was good practice not only for Dream, but also whoever was taking his order as well. To learn patience and practice his communication skills. It was a little nerve wracking, but for the most part it was easy. If a cashier or barista or medical professional had trouble exchanging words with Dream, well, that’s what he carried a pen and pocketbook around for.

The person in front of them moves to the pickup counter and Dream sees the man behind the counter call out what must be a, “Next!” but the way his lips move, it looks more like, “Nect!”

Dream swallows and signs as he speaks, to– hopefully– indicate how this would potentially be a one-sided conversation.

“Two orders of fries, one mac and cheese, three shots of Bacardi, one shot of vodka, and a lemonade, please.”

The man barely looks at Dream while he types the order into an iPad. Dream nods, mostly to himself, and looks down as he reaches into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

When he looks back up, the man is in the middle of saying something to him.

Dream’s brows wrinkle.

“Can you repeat that? I can’t hear you.”

After he speaks and signs, Dream offers up his card, assuming the man just told him the total.

But the man visibly sighs and leans forward a bit, his mouth opening widely.

Dream focuses but only manages to make out the words “fries,” “double,” and “which do you want?”

“Um…” Dream licks his bottom lip. “One more time? Slowly, please.”

With a truly agitated face now, the man moves his lips again, but as Dream studies them, hoping to fill in the words he missed, instead new words are added and Dream finds himself stumped.

“Fries, yes. And singles, for the shots,” he guesses.

The man types something into his iPad but looks again at Dream with a growing look of irritation in his gaze. Dream looks behind him and sees a line of customers, before facing the man again, once again catching him in mid speech.

“Hold on,” Dream grumbles, settling the card down and digging through his pocket for the pen and paper. “Clearly I am deaf and raising your voice is not helping–”

Dream nearly jumps as Hob steps up suddenly to the counter, almost getting in front of Dream.

They exchange a few words before finally Hob nods and hands the guy his own card.

Dream stands silent, his pocket notebook in his hand and blinking slowly at Hob, who gives him a sheepish smile over his shoulder before nodding again to the man and taking both their cards back as well as the receipt.

They walk to the pickup counter without exchanging a word, meanwhile something begins to burn the back of Dream’s neck, prickling down his arms and coiling in his stomach.

Dream tugs on Hob’s arm as they settle next to the mobile vendor. 

“What just happened?” He doesn’t speak. Dream can’t find his voice right now.

Hob rubs the back of his neck, his gaze focused on something behind Dream.

“No french fries,” he signs without confidence. “Curly fries only.”

Dream blinks. The uncomfortable feeling in his gut tightening.

“Did you just order for me?”

Hob’s shoulders deflate, nodding.

Dream gapes like a fish for a few seconds, his eyes darting from Hob to the man that just took their order, and back.

“I don’t want curly fries. I hate curly fries. We could have gone to another vendor. You didn’t have to–”

Dream cuts himself off, balling his hands into fists and taking a long breath, closing his eyes, shaking his head.

Hob always did this. 

It took a while for Dream to notice, how if they were together, Hob would finish a conversation for Dream. Would speed an uncomfortable situation along with an interjection or provide unnecessary context with a stranger “He’s deaf, sorry…” without consenting with Dream first. 

When Dream realized Hob was doing this, he would go quiet, unsure whether or not to stop him or correct him in some way. Dream never knew exactly what to say. Did Hob think Dream was incapable of handling tricky conversations himself? Did he think Dream was a hassle?

When Dream opens his eyes Hob’s hands are out, placating, his eyes apologetic.

“Why do you do that?”

Hob blinks. “What?”

Dream’s heart rate is steadily rising, his fingers shaking slightly. 

“Make my decisions for me.”

“I didn’t realize I was,” Hob starts, his own signing gone fumbly. “I thought I was helping.”

“Yes. That’s the problem…” Dream starts, finally speaking again and letting his hands fall to his sides, his brain struggling to interpret correctly.

“What do you mean?” Hob asks.

“You don’t need to rush me out of an uncomfortable situation,” Dream starts again, his hands gesticulating uselessly. “If I’m communicating with someone whom I can’t understand, we can figure it out. They will learn. They need to learn.”

Judging by the way Hob is nervously looking around, Dream’s volume is surely rising. But he finds he doesn’t care.

“I’m not this thing you need to handle with gloves. Let me see a problem through until the end. No matter how long it takes.”

Dream is breathing heavily, he realizes, sucking in a gulp of air.

“Of course not.” Hob finally speaks, forgetting to sign. “I'm sorry.”

Hob’s eyes are welling up with tears and it somehow makes Dream more agitated, more words stumbling from his mouth without his permission.

“Then stop treating me like a burden!”

Dream turns and walks away. 

It’s foolish, and childish. And as Dream stomps away, his own vision becoming blurred with tears, he knows it’s not just this moment that’s made him snap. It’s the culmination of events from the past year of being fully disabled. He hates that he can’t hear. He hates this adjustment period. He wishes he’d been born deaf so at least this hurdle, this life change wouldn’t feel so mountainous. 

Dream wipes his eyes shamefully as his pace picks up to a run, pushing past people blindly. Regret screams in his bones with every step he makes, with every inch he puts between Hob and him. His chest aches with the urge to turn around and apologize, but he shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t! 

Dream’s shoes clumsily connect with the dirt underneath him, his face becoming hot and, as he rounds the corner of an unoccupied stall, Dream collapses to the ground and allows the tears he’d been fighting back to fall freely, a sob choking in his throat.

He grips his hair as he cries, his face stuck between his knees. The past year flashes before Dream’s eyes, all of the hardships, the doctors’ visits, the fights with Hob. He didn’t deserve Dream. All of his kindness and patience and for what? For Dream to snap on a dime and expect too much out of him all at once? 

Dream groans loudly, agitated at himself for seeing the problem; him, and unsure how to change. He knows he has a right to his feelings, but communicating them was so difficult. He’s becoming impatient with himself, with his slow learning curve, with Hob’s complacency to stay in their safe little bubble and treat Dream like this breakable thing. 

Dream couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but his sobs had stifled down to sniffles, and by the time he felt a hand gently land on his shoulder, Dream was doodling shapes in the dirt.

His head snaps up and finds Jessamy staring back at him, her brows creased in worry.

“Hey…” She’s bent over, her hair falling in her face. “What’s wrong?”

Dream ducks his head, shaking it, officially feeling foolish for running away. The regret he’d felt for leaving Hob starts up again and he suddenly feels so scared. At this rate, Hob would break up with him. Surely he was getting sick of Dream’s dramatics, him lashing out.

“Hob and I never fought…” Dream starts, his hands moving sluggishly. “... when I was hearing.”

Jessamy plops on the ground in front of Dream.

“It’s me,” Dream continues. “I’ve become so… sensitive, since going deaf. I feel like, sometimes, Hob treats me like a child. Like he wants to wrap me in bubble wrap. It’s so infuriating– I’m not some helpless thing that can’t figure things out!”

“No, you’re not…” Jessamy starts, reaching a hand out and giving Dream’s knee a shake. 

“It is OK to feel like this. You’ve only been deaf for a year…” her brows come up encouragingly. “The transition is tough, but it will get easier, in time.”

Dream nods solemnly, tracing lines in the dirt again. Jessamy waves her hand to get his attention once more.

“And you’re not alone, you know.” She smiles gently. “You got me and Matty–” she huffs a laugh at the look Dream gives her. “... and the entire gang to support you.”

Dream knew she meant everyone at their d/Deaf meetups and offered her a small smile. She’s right, of course. Despite how withdrawn and antisocial Dream had been in the beginning, even now still creeping out of his shell, the people he’d surrounded himself with had been nothing but kind and accepting and willing to listen and connect in ways Dream hadn’t thought possible. 

“Hob is still around, too,” Jessamy interrupts his thoughts, her brows lifting knowingly. “That man loves you so much; you should see the way he looks at you– it’s disgusting.”

Dream manages to crack a real, genuine smile at that, especially with the way Jessamy is fluttering her eyelashes and putting on a spot-on impression of Hob’s puppy dog eyes. 

He pulls a hand through his hair and looks down again. Images of Hob’s easy smile flashing behind his eyes, his hands caressing Dream’s skin, his strong arms lifting him in a hug, his sweet lips tracing the lines of his jaw and ear, murmuring sweetness that Dream could no longer hear but feel instead. Could plainly see Hob’s devotion and affection in their everyday lives together, how he would always start the coffee in the mornings so Dream would wake up to the smell of it. How Hob would leave the hallway light on during the day so Dream would come home– late from work– and have something to see by. How he always offered to help with dinner prep, chopping veggies or stirring something, often using the excuse to crowd Dream against the counter and kiss Dream silly.

“That man would pull the moon down for you, I hope you know.”

He would, Dream realizes, swallowing thickly. And he would do the same for Hob.

Dream nods, wringing his fingers out as Jessamy continues on.

“Remember, this is a learning experience for him, too.”

Her painted nails move with perfect fluency, always slowly for Dream to understand. And as one thumb comes down from her forehead to meet the thumb on her other hand, Dream nods again, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her lips curl sweetly, gaze flicking sideways suddenly.

She nudges her head. “Speak of the devil…”

Dream looks too, and finds Hob approaching them.

He curses to himself, wiping his eyes with more urgency and catching the almost giggle that Jessamy makes.

“I’ll leave you two alone?”

Dream takes a steadying inhale, pushes his shoulders back, and makes a weak fist and nods it back and forth.

Jessamy stands just as Hob steps up to them, his eyes guarded yet hopeful. She makes a sign of texting before stepping around Hob with a clap to his shoulder.

Hob watches Jessamy leave before meeting Dream’s gaze again, but says nothing. His eyes never leave Dream as he crouches down and takes a seat next to him, leaning back against the wall.

Dream stares back, studying the lines of Hob’s face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, which are shiny and puffy, like he’d been sobbing, too.

“I’m sorry,” Dream whispers, pushing a fist into his chest.

Hob sighs, his shoulders going with it. He speaks as he signs.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Dream shakes his head. “You’re always the one apologizing for my outbursts–”

“But you were right,” Hob interjects, his eyes pleading. “Dream, can I say something?”

Dream’s heart leaps into his throat, swallowing harshly. He nods.

“You need to tell me…” Hob’s gaze shoots up to the sky, as if searching for the words for his hands to convert. “... the first time, when I do something that makes you uncomfortable. So I can remedy it immediately.”

Dream takes a deep breath as Hob continues, his hands moving slowly but surely. 

“Don’t let bad things fester and build. Talk to me.” His hand comes to his mouth in a motion similar to how Dream explained on the couch months ago. “Communicate. If you don’t correct me in the moment, I’m bound to repeat it.”

He takes Dream’s hands, his thumbs tracing circles over the knuckles. 

“I want…” Hob awkwardly makes the simple motions with his hand still clasped with Dream’s, making him bite back a smile. “... to do this right.”

Dream takes another breath that rattles, his eyes prickling at the corners.

Hob’s eyes have gone watery, too, his smile lopsided.

“OK?”

Dream nods. “OK.”

Hob rises up on his knees just as Dream does, falling into each other. Dream squeezes his arms around Hob’s shoulders, tucking his nose into Hob’s hair and breathing in the scent of him, letting it envelop him and calm him.

Hob’s lips brush the skin behind Dream’s ear, pressing a kiss there, before he feels them move.

I love you.

[anamelessfool]

A Naming

Rated Teen, Papa Emeritus II’s Son and Family

Tags: Halloween Hijinks, Eldest Kid Anxiety, Suburban Dad Secondo, Disabled Secondo, Post-Retirement Life, Magic Rituals, My AU

CW: Underage Drinking

Dedicated to @kissingghouls thanks for cheering me on you’re my little Hell Pumpkin🎃 I’m on AO3 with all my other fics but Tumblr gets mad at me when I post links

Part One (of 5)

Oct 31, 2017

The Leider residence was the only one on the cheery suburban block that was bare of decoration. The house year round was neat, sensible; a single floor ranch with the occasional hearse out front. Neighbors thought the lack of decoration, especially during Halloween, was a choice made out of propriety. One would hope the family responsible for interring your loved ones would have a sober outlook on the macabre. Their entire modus seemed to be one of complete disregard for any happenings outside their own home. Unavailable, discreet, out of the way. A little fortress meant only for its occupants.

And in a way, it was. Its unassuming nature was by design. The patriarch of the house, known to his neighbors as Michael Leider, was a severe man in appearance and temper. His entire family was full of noise and cheer and life but he himself preferred to stay out of the way. The only completely peculiar thing about him was each morning just after sunrise he’d step out onto his back concrete patio and scowl at the sky. A journal would come out, he’d scrawl a few lines, and then return to his kitchen to make that morning’s coffee.

What his neighbors didn’t know was that the man had journaled daily about the weather for fifteen thousand one hundred and seventy-eight days so far, give or take a few due to illness or inconvenience. It wasn’t that neighbors didn’t know, it was more what they have not seen. Or were allowed to see. Mr. Leider’s life was carefully constructed, like the life of any true magician. He had been once the hub of arcane power as Papa Emeritus II, known as Secondo; master magician and the spiritual leader of the Satanic Church of the Void. The Void itself was closer to a true hell than any suburbanite could ever comprehend, but it had been a large part of most of his previous life. For over forty years Secondo had balanced this world and beyond this world. Spirits called to him, demons obeyed his commands. Now all that was left was the old practicum of documenting the weather, but this ordinariness was his choice.

Because a seasoned magician knows of the dangers of attracting attention.

“Yesterday…” Eden Leider’s eyes got wide. The half-nibbled pizza was abandoned on her plate as the eight year old regaled a tale slowly and with great reverence. “Yesterday…there was a kid…at my school…at recess…”

She was surrounded by her family, as always, in the kitchen strewn with handmade Halloween art projects. She had hurried home with her younger brother Sam from the bus and immediately wanted to try on her costume, only to be met with the torture of having to eat before she went out tonight. Pizza AND the green beans. If she was going to be doused in sugar later that night then at least some half-attempt at healthy food was a requirement. Her father Secondo had insisted on it.

“Oh I saw this!” hissed her younger brother Sam. “I saw this!”

“No you didn't you were in gym,” snapped Eden.

“No I saw, I saw the ambulance!”

“He fell…and his arm? His arm was like this!” Eden held out her arm crooked, a primal little grin stretching across her face. “There was his bone sticking out.”

“Bone sticking out?” Their mother Sandra lowered her pizza slice, her eyes wide in amused interest. There was nothing more she enjoyed than encouraging her younger children’s odd sense of wonder. It was like watching kittens attempt to navigate themselves out of a paper bag.

“His bone! Was sticking! Out!” shouted Sam.

The eldest brother Paul let out a too aggressive sigh, subtly glancing down at his phone on his lap. There was another message. He disguised his gasp as a cough.

Dana: u coming

Paul L: trying

Paul nervously cycled through his apps, arriving at Dana’s photo again. A perfect face, a winning smile adorned a photo of her in a theatrical costume. Below, her favorite quote that Paul recently decided was evidence of her profound understanding of reality: Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world! Let your soul take you where you long to be!

I will, Paul always thought.

His father didn’t even have to make a noise for Paul to know he was watching him. Paul looked up and met the Eye embedded in his father Secondo’s skull, white and shark-like. It was usually concealed behind a colored lens but still burned through all the same. Paul was not normally afraid of it, but in this circumstance he swore it could read his mind. It was something that existed beyond his father, an interloper perched on the man’s broad shoulder. The human eye beside it had its normal expression of cool assessment. While his father’s left eye expressed an understanding of the beyond, the rest of the body was that of an intelligent stoic. Someone not interested in seeing their son look at their phone at the dinner table. Paul smiled thinly back.

“We can't even have a jack-o'-lantern?” Eden’s whines came into focus once more. “Not even one?”

“I'm not encouraging anything or anyone to enter this house,” Secondo reminded her stiffly, releasing Paul from his gaze. “Our home is our domain and I keep it well tended.”

Secondo, known in the past as Papa Emeritus II and leader of the Satanic Church of the Void, had always been a serious man. Serious, but never humorless. His wife Sandra has gifted him a bright orange shirt that said “This is My Halloween Costume” and he wore it now as he cut his pizza slice with the grace of some sort of aristocrat. His younger children had dumped tribute drawings around him: scrawled images of him as a skeleton man surrounded by assortments of demons and pools of blood. Eden idolized him, and his youngest idolized his sister and so the two of them had become his most loyal cultists whether he liked it or not.

Paul took the chance to answer Dana back.

Paul L: my dad is

Dana: yeah

ill ask

Dana:🙂

“If you’ll excuse me,” Secondo muttered with a regal bow of his head. He unhooked his forearm crutch from the back of his chair and maneuvered himself to his feet, politely grabbing empty dishes to deliver them delicately to the sink as he left the kitchen.

Paul turned quickly to his mother. “There’s a party tonight and…”

Sandra smiled wryly. “I’m always happy when you want to be social. But your dad will have to drive you.”

Right. Secondo had retired to his study for an hour before taking the younger kids out. In Paul’s experience of suburban fathers, there was a seasonal quality to all of their domestic obsessions. Some dads fretted over lawns, or snowfall, or their collection of vehicles in various states of disrepair. Secondo’s special interest at this time of year was obscure arcane protections. Paul had never once experienced any sort of supernatural event in their home, but as he grew up he suddenly became responsible for helping his father with his weird chores. Burying recycled jars filled with nails and rat bones. Standing on ladders to hand specifically colored yarns around the outside perimeter of the house while Secondo commented on ideal placement. Collecting perfectly good specimens of mullein or rue from the side of the road with the shovel Secondo always kept in the backseat of the truck. In his mind’s eye Paul wondered what strangers thought of the impromptu highway gardening, or the digging, or all the rock arrangement. Maybe they assumed the teen was enduring some old time tough love father-son punishment.

Honestly that would be far less embarrassing.

Paul found Secondo in his office. The room was dimly lit, with scarves draped across the computer and all of his work things. There were more books and journals than wall space, and so some were stacked neatly in piles besides the shelves that went right to the ceiling. Said ceiling was stained with areas of candle soot, the walls doubly so. Secondo stood in the far corner of the room, the doors to an old TV hutch open to reveal the magical seat of his home: his altar place.

“Dad, can I go out tonight?”

Paul saw the familiar diagrams and charts taped on the inside walls, along with some twig and twine poppets right out of a horror film. Deeper into the hutch lay even more oddities: deer jawbones, rocks of Significance. Some desiccated bundles of herbs. A mason jar of old buttons.

Secondo was whispering something into a waterclear crystal skull. He lowered it and stared into Paul, the white Infernal Eye settling in to regard the teen like an old crow. “Hm?”

“Yeah uh…a party. It’s everyone from theater club. Tonight.”

“Parents will be there?”

Shit. Paul wrung his hands. “Uh…I think so?”

Secondo let out a puff of air through his nose, a wordless sign of him mulling over facts. He didn’t speak much, but his elegant movements and subtle expressions spoke more than any words could. He gently replaced the skull on his altar and closed the doors, tying a red ribbon across the knobs. Paul waited with bated breath.

“All your homework done?”

“Yes.”

“Are you certain?”

“I—” The two little ones bounded into the office. Sam launched himself at his brother’s knees and squeezed.

“Put our facepaint on, Paul!” said his sister.

“Yes, please,” Sam added. Paul looked up to meet his father’s eyes once again.

Secondo was smiling.

“What did Daddy’s face look like? I want it to look like that,” Eden insisted. In the bathroom Paul applied the white makeup to the entirety of her face while she frowned and got into character.

“I dunno, some kinda…skull or something.” Paul was deeply indifferent to their father’s past life. He didn't remember the pageantry, or the tours he was dragged on as a young child. He barely understood nor cared that his father was someone who wandered the space between two worlds, who channeled dark powers through his body, who captivated thousands with twisted tales of death and demons.

All Paul really remembered was seeing his father decline. He saw his father have days of extreme pain he chose to conceal, watched his mother help her husband as good as any nurse or wife could. As the Void wracked his body Secondo couldn't do much anymore. Couldn't play with Paul or carry him or do anything more than preserve himself for when he was on stage. So Paul was indifferent to Papa Emeritus II. In some way his earliest thoughts were of happiness now that his father could be around.

And they could finally all be somewhat normal.

Paul darked the hollows of her eyes with black face paint and added long lines across her mouth to simulate snagged teeth. He recalled the exaggerated lines across the jaw. Satisfied, he turned his sister around to show her in the mirror. She nearly jumped out of her skin the moment she saw the face that was no longer hers. But then she laughed wickedly.

“Oh I want to be a skull now!” crowed Sam, tugging at Paul’s clothes. “Make me a skull face!”

“No you're not allowed,” Eden said. “Pumpkin Skull? I'm the skull. Paul tell him I'm the skull!”

“Wouldn't make sense on you, Sammy,” Paul explained. “I'll give you a jack-o'-lantern face.”

“Yeah okay but make it scary,” Sam muttered.

Eden had worked for days on her costume. It was of course an homage to the towering glory of her father’s previous life, in miniature form. She had fashioned a cereal box into a decent miter. Secondo had coaxed her out of applying true upsidedown crucifixes to her outfit, and so wrathful skull heads scowled down the pillowcase chasuble and bats adorned the miter. “I'm a…Hell Priest.”

“She made it herself.” Sandra shrugged. “Turn around, honey, you're the cutest little hell priest I've ever seen since your father.”

Sam extended his little arms and wiggled his fingers, grinning. “And I'm a…Hell. Pumpkin.”

“My adorable little freaks,” said Sandra of her children, nudging Secondo next to her on the couch. Secondo had his usual severe frown as he watched the little ones scurry around the carpet and howl. Sandra addressed Paul. “And you're wearing that? To a Halloween party?”

Paul looked down at his jeans and band tee, old ratty hoodie and sneakers. “Halloween’s for kids, mom.”

“At least the shirt’s clean,” said Secondo.

“You two are really boring, you know that?” Sandra ribbed over the rim of her coffee mug. “But have fun? Extra fun for me.” Out of all of them she loved Halloween the most. It was a love of the macabre that drove her to join a Satanic Church, after all. Sandra held the work phone for the memorial home in her hand as her family got ready to leave for the night. She had selflessly volunteered to be on call so her brothers and husband could bring all their kids around the neighborhood. Then again, watching the goriest horror films at home without the prying eyes of her children was a decent consolation prize.

Sandra caught her youngest in her arms and brought his little body into a hug. “You know, you can die… but no one really stays dead on Halloween.” She immediately pretended to bite him all over, and Sam screamed and laughed.

“You're deeply unprofessional, dear,” muttered Secondo, yet a small rare smile hovered across his face. He gave his wife a peck on the cheek and pulled himself to his feet. “Let’s go. Paul, help me get your siblings in the car.” The younger ones let out shrill shrieks and jumped towards the door, grabbing their candy pails while already whining.

Sandra gave a soft chuckle, then reached out to gently touch her eldest son's hand. “Paul, have fun alright? You need it.”

Paul smiled faintly and returned her affection with a hug. “I’ll be fine. Thanks. I hope you…don't have to work tonight.”

“Same,” replied his mother. “But you got to take everything as it comes, right? Be always ready.”

“Paul,” said Secondo.

“Hm?” Paul had been staring out the window as they drove across town. Behind them in the backseat the younger kids were chatting wildly about all the candy they were going to eat later. By this time in his life Paul was used to drowning it out. Ever since Sam could talk, Paul finally got a break and Eden got a perfect little peon to hang on to her every word.

Secondo had both hands on the wheel as he drove sensibly. He never looked up from his task but he never had to do more than slight gestures or certain tones of his voice for Paul to know what came next. “Name it,” he said.

Secondo was talking about the feelings rolling around in Paul’s insides. From a young age this was a common ritual he shared with all of his children. Paul realized more and more that Secondo now didn’t demand a vocal response to this request anymore the way he did of the younger ones. After years of this, Paul had an automatic cool response to any sort of restlessness in his mind.

Paul let out a soft breath, imagining himself holding the feeling in his hands, like always. It felt prickly, hot. Torn right from his chest and squirming like an impatient puppy. So he looked down and named it. Apprehension. Worry.

The little feeling stopped jostling him. But there was something else tugging at him, gripping its sharp little teeth into his pant leg and pulling. Dana’s picture on his phone came to mind. He swallowed.

Crush.

The truck stopped, Secondo put it in park. High school kids idled out on the front porch of a large house cheerfully decorated with pumpkins and the warm glow of string lights. The little demons of feeling that tugged at him skittered away to wait in the shadows. Paul gave a weak goodbye utterance to his family and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Secondo spoke. “And Paul.”

“Yeah?”

The intensity of the whitened eye in his father’s skull never ceased, even when freed for an instant as he blinked. “You are a person of integrity.”

Paul gave a half-hearted nod, slamming the door. He watched the red lights of the truck veer slowly away and occasionally stop to avoid throngs of trick-or-treaters. Now before the house, before this strange new world, his nerves began to circle.

Like it? Reblog it! Thanks so much, see you in Part 2���..

Next chapter link in comments!

[xxnashiraxx]

Pairing: Astarion/f!Tav ~ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia) Word Count: 6,774 Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Inappropriate Use of the Tadpole, PiV Sex, Riding, Oral (Female & Male Receiving), Fingering, Masturbation, Slight BDSM, Restraints, Gagged, Blindfold, Melted Candle Wax, +Some Soft Astarion, Porn Without Plot, Slight Fluff, Biting Summary: Ofelia's mundane evening is interrupted by a certain vampire utilizing the tadpole to entice her to his tent during dinner. She takes the bait, ending up biting off more than she chew... literally. ˖ A fun, all porn no plot oneshot featuring Astarion and my longfic main character, Ofelia set during Act 3 but completely separate from the main fic!

divider here 🩸

AO3 | Song Reference: No One Like You - Scorpions

Ahh, the final installment is here!! These were all so fun to write!!! I had such a blast making these this month- it made for some great practice for the main fic, and also helped me explore their dynamics for once they're in a more trusting and happy place later on in the story! ❤ This was seriously such a fun time- I couldn't have done it without the encouragement and inspiration from some of the coolest and most talented people (@khywren, @pinkberrytea, & @verbenaa to name just a few!)

Now, please enjoy this one- it's a bit shorter than the others (for my sanity). It'll be back to my regularly scheduled programming of With Stars to Fill My Dream updates after this, and look forward to a fun one-shot for Christmas where Ofelia shares the tradition with her companions! ❤ (Spicy art WIP for a scene in this fic at the end!)

Tags: @zozoparsnips ❤

Prompt 1 | Prompt 2 | Masterlist

Girl, there are really no words strong enough,

To describe all my longing for love.

I don’t want my feelings restrained.

Oh, babe,

I just need you like never before,

Just imagine you’d come through this door,

You’d take all my sorrow away,

***

Ofelia stares into her soup, slightly groggy.

The day had been long, full of fighting through a disgusting sewer looking for Jaheira’s old comrade- who turned out to be surprisingly nice, but it was still a sewer. Ugh. The bath she’d taken still didn’t feel like enough. Despite everything, her companions manage to find entertainment in the form of Scratch performing tricks to which they happily clap and cheer in their little camp beside the harbor.

“Is it not to your tastes?” Gale murmurs, hushed tones doing nothing to mask his question from the others around the campfire. She smiles softly, stirring the clear broth and noodles.

“No, it’s really good… I’m just a little tired from the day.” He offers her an understanding smile before Karlach knocks into him from behind in her bid to have Scratch chase the ball she holds aloft.

Ofelia pushes her utensil around the bowl, mind wandering to their resident vampire as vague loneliness distracts her from truly joining the others. Astarion had gone to his tent long before dinner was served and with a chaste kiss, he left her beside the fire, a glimmer to his eyes and a lingering touch on her shoulder. She had wondered if he wanted her to join him, but she hadn’t been sure. Usually, he’d just ask—this time he didn’t. So she’s stayed, catching herself almost falling face-first into her food a few times.

As the rest gather closer to the campfire, listening to Jaheira and Minsc tell stories of their old adventures, Ofelia starts to feel it. It begins as a tingle in her belly and a gentle onset of warmth that unfolds over her face and abdomen, making her feel overheated and flustered. At first, she blames the broth, wondering if she’s starting to get sick until the sensation settles between her thighs and she inhales sharply.

“Ofelia? Is everything alright?” Shadowheart asks, but Ofelia doesn’t reply. Her heart starts to race, sweat breaking over the back of her neck, and she shifts in her seat to stifle the feeling but it’s no use. An ache, stunning in its force, unfolds below and she sets her bowl down on the ground with shaking hands. The tadpole chitters in her skull- a familiar throb beginning at her temples and she instantly knows what’s happening.

She feels him, his motions, the air puffing through his flared nostrils as his teeth anchor over his rolled-up shirt, long, deft fingers palming the hard bulge over his pants. She feels it as if she is him and she tenses when he unties the laces and lets his cock spring free as a quiet sigh of relief pours from his lips.

“U-uh yeah…” Ofelia looks up at Shadowheart, eyes misty and cheeks red. The half-elf frowns, holding the back of her hand over her forehead, and Ofelia jumps at the contact.

“You’re feeling a little warm…” Shadowheart continues, but Ofelia’s lost in the feeling of Astarion finally stroking himself, she can feel his stomach tightening and his fangs digging through the fabric into his lower lip as he holds back a soft moan. Sensations build across her skin, her forehead feverish and her mouth dry. She shifts on the log, holding back a soft whine as heat pools between her legs and the feeling of him swiping his thumb over the wetness gathering at the tip lights her nerves on fire.

She feels him set a slow pace, driving himself mad at the gentle rocking of his hips as he fucks his hand. Ofelia bites her cheek hard, eyes squinting shut as the sensations of relief clash with her unrestrained desire- frustration causing her to twitch and dig her nails into her arms. She tries to reach out, but there’s a strange wall up between them keeping her strictly in receiving territory.

“Ofelia…” The blunt edges of her teeth almost cut the tip of her tongue off when her jaw snaps shut. His voice in her mind, chanting her name, is the gavel that seals her fate. She fights the urge to make a sound of discomfort, more of his pleasant sighs ringing in her ears as she stands abruptly.

“I… don’t feel well. I think I’m going to lie down.” She says through gritted teeth as Astarion quickens the pace of his movements, her body flooding with a rush of heat that spreads from her core outward. Shadowheart looks vaguely troubled, as do the rest who’d looked up at the quiet commotion, but no one interjects. Ofelia manages to slip away, thanking whatever gods that Astarion had put his tent as far from the fire as possible- yet still very much in hearing range. She throws open the entrance to find him smirking up at her, the culprit in hand glistening gloriously in the candlelight. The sight makes her knees weak.

“You… did you do that on purpose? How come I couldn’t get through?” Her voice is hushed but measured and dangerous, his smile deepening as she steps fully inside.

“How else was I going to get you over here?” he murmurs, soft and seductive. She carefully lowers herself to her knees beside him as he idly moves his hand back and forth, maintaining eye contact as they remain connected. She can feel the twist of his fingers and the subtle flex of his wrist. When a soft groan echoes in her mind, she opens her eyes to blink in confusion.

“Was that only in my head?” His grin deepens, hands abandoning their task to unclasp her corset and tug it off completely.

“Correct,” He reaches up and pulls her down till her lips crash over his and he devours every little breathless sigh and tremble of her body. “We haven’t touched like this in so long… we’re too close to everyone…” She hums at the words in her head, soft as she can, unable to linger on them as the slightest touch of his lips to her neck sends chills down her spine. He undoes her bra and her nipples stiffen in the chilled air, unable to restrain the gasps that slip past her teeth as his fingers barely brush over them. She’s so sensitive… doesn’t remember ever feeling it this intensely before.

Perhaps it has been a while for them… they’d not done much else but fight through the Lower City for the last few days, and before that, it had been fighting to get to the gates and through Gortash’s Steel Watch. Which hadn’t put up much of a fight, since they’d been allowed entry at the cost of a sham deal. Her eyes widen at the mental count she’s gone through, the number eighteen shining in her vision as his soft tut slices through the realization.

“Eighteen gods damn days and I haven’t been inside you for a single one of them. I feel like I’m dying,” He growls. She flushes hard, lips parted as she holds his ruby eyes in her gaze. They pierce right through her and he uses the connection to withdraw the scene playing within, lips ticking up at the corner to reveal his pretty fangs.

“No snooping,” She pouts, her cheeks rising in temperature as his hands move to enact the craving she’d accidentally let slip.

“Please, you were leaving that exactly where you hoped I’d find it.” She squints her eyes shut and holds back a noise, unwilling to tell him out loud what that gravelly growl just did to her. With a light chuckle, she knows he’s very aware, and one hand nudges her thighs apart so he can dip between them and lightly run up the seam of her through her clothes.

“Mmmph!” Her hand flies up to cover her mouth, heat surging through her veins at the light touch. It’s enough to leave her trembling, eyes snapping open to zero in on him through the haze around the edges of her vision.

“I barely have to try and you’re already so wet for me… tssk tssk.” She whimpers softly, letting him do it again, and another gush of wetness dooms her further, making denial impossible as she bites down on her fingers to stifle the moan.

Shakily she lets him guide her onto her back on the blankets, heart fluttering as his cool digits caress the plump skin of her belly to rest at the waistband of her pants. His eyes linger over hers as he sits up, moving smoothly through her vision as he gently prods her knees and she complies by propping them up. Once he’s pushed them apart, he sits between them, those painstakingly perfect curls of his now tousled and lying in soft sweeps over his forehead and ears. Cute and messy- just the way she likes.

“Everyone’s still awake and just outside…” She whispers, though her eager pants and the waves of longing growing within push the concern aside. He tightens his grip on her legs, leaning down ever so slightly, and as he hovers above a wicked smile unfurls over his pale pink lips.

“And?” Cheeks aflame, she brings her hands up to rest over her bare breasts, obscuring the stiff peaks from his sight, and his eyes glint with disapproval. “Hmm. Seems like I’ll have to use them after all.” Before she can open her mouth to question him, he’s reaching for something beneath a cushion in the corner, and her eyes widen in realization when he pulls it and its companions out from their hiding place.

“Really? I didn’t think you’d like this sort of stuff,” She smirks, watching his smile deepen.

“Oh, but your eyes lingered a little too long on them in that shop window, and I assumed. Do feel free to tell me if I’ve made a mistake.” Her entire body roars with heat at the sight of the pretty, silken red rope as he beckons for her to give him her wrists.

“Astarion… this is dangerous. What about everybody?” She murmurs, obeying his command as she weaves her fingers together so he can restrain her properly.

“Use the tadpole.” She cocks a brow, focusing on the sweet divot between his brows as he focuses on the task of now tying her forearms together. Her eyes dip further, taking in the bunched-up fabric of his shirt sitting above his narrow waist, and further still until they find the flushed head of his cock and the soft bulging veins that decorate his shaft, saliva pooling in her mouth as she pictures her tongue following the thickest of them from root to tip.

“Naughty,” He chides with a laugh, pinching her nipple as punishment, and with a soft gasp he finishes securing her arms.

“Use the tadpole how?” He sits back on his heels, admiring his handy work, before pulling his shirt off to discard behind him.

“Watch, feel,” She does. His long pale fingers move down the front of his body, gleaming like alabaster beneath the soft golden light. He winds his talented hands around the base of him, trousers slipping down his thighs, and her eyes follow the gentle fist he makes as he drags it up once, lashes fluttering shut as a soft groan enters her mind.

“Wow…” She breathes, and his lips tick up to expose the sharp points of his fangs as her voice mixes within their shared connection. His eyes open, narrow crimson irises tethering to hers, and she shifts and squirms beneath him, desperate for relief as he pumps his hand back and forth faster. Every stroke draws a soft noise from him, breath stolen from her lungs as she lies captivated by the glistening fluid he spreads from the tip over his twitching shaft, the lewd schlick schlick sounds as he pleasures himself in front of her leaving her shaking all over.

“Astarion,” She warns, pinching him with her knees. He laughs under his breath, pausing in his motions to reach forward and slowly drag both her underthings and pants off. She lies there naked, need pooling in her core, and he shuffles his pants off before reaching for one of the other items he’d retrieved earlier.

“Lift your head up, love.” She complies, stealing a kiss from him before silk covers her eyes and he ties it securely in the back.

“Hmmm full of surprises tonight, aren’t you.” She smirks, not knowing if he’s still hovering over her or if he’s leaned back again courtesy of the blindfold.

“Do you trust me, Ofelia?” She frowns at the odd question, shaking her head.

“Of course, why?” She hears a light hum, bubbling out of his throat before his hands run over her hips. It makes her jump, not expecting the contact, and angry waves of lust grow ever insistent against her skin.

“Good. Just remember- the tadpole, darling,” She nods, still mystified, as his fingers begin to work soft breathy sighs from her lips. They caress her cheeks, dance along her neck, stroke the pillowy swells of her breasts to linger over her stiff nipples, before descending further. She gasps when his tongue moves to lave over the places his hands have been as he starts to spread her thighs, gently squeezing the plump flesh.

“Nng… Astarion…” She rolls her hips up into his hands, redirecting the noises she’d like to be making into demanding whines that flow through the stream binding their minds together. His voice is smooth and soft as velvet as he coos back, lips idling below her navel as he kisses her there.

“Good girl,” She spasms as his tongue gathers the juices leaking from her core to flick lightly over her clit, teeth digging into her lip as she fights the urge to voice her reactions into the night air. Her hands strain against the rope, wanting madly to touch him, to do anything, but it’s no use. The material digs deliciously into her skin, her breath coming out in ragged bursts as he does it again and the spark of pleasure that flashes between her legs and behind her eyes almost blinds her.

 “So pent up… so wet… and you taste so sweet.” Her head thrashes from side to side as he resumes his gentle laps over her soaked core, fighting to keep still beneath his strong hands. A few sounds slip from her lips, strangled and soft, and she feels him drag his fangs over her skin in a warning.

“Please go slower…” She pleads, swallowing each whimper that threatens to pour over her lips. It’s so hard… so hard… and he’s ignoring her request, the tip of his tongue pushing the hood back to expose the sensitive nerve as he sucks it roughly. Her hips jerk and her legs tent around him, muted moans escaping her control.

“I thought I told you to keep quiet.” The growl in her mind leaves her thighs trembling and she startles when she feels his fingers grip her chin, a touch on the stern side, as a piece of damp cloth gets pushed against her mouth. She opens up, stifling another groan as her teeth dig into the smooth cotton, tasting herself on the fabric as a shiver pulses down her body at the realization, and every nerve lights up anew.

His mouth closes around her tender bud, sucking lightly just as his fingers sweep over her thigh to leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Every light touch feels magnified, her eyes closed beneath the blindfold yet straining to get a glimpse him. She bites harder down onto the fabric when his fingers find her slick entrance to lightly trace the fluttering outline, her muscles seizing and her hips grinding against his mouth in an effort to gain relief. He’s been teasing her thus far, even his lips bathing her in only the daintiest of glances. A growing whine builds in her throat, spilling into his mind through the tadpole, and his pleased hums thunder in her ears as she rests her bound hands over her stomach.

“Please, Astarion,” Her tone is desperate, far past the notion of dignity. When she’s with him, there’s no outer shell. He dismantles her with practiced hands, slow and sweet, and it's both agony and bliss to be known this way.

He plunges his middle finger in to the knuckle and she throws her head back against the cushions, teeth digging into the material further dampened by her saliva as the flames threaten to burn her alive. She utilizes the connection, making sure he can hear every noise she wishes she could voice aloud, and his soft laughs carry through the air in reply- not unkind, but frustratingly smug. He adds another digit and curls them perfectly, her muscles tightening and her impending climax looming closer as he flicks his tongue over her clit.

“Do you think you could be even sweeter and come on my fingers, darling?” She inhales sharply, feeling her walls clench around him in response.

“Yes… anything you want… yes,” He kisses her stomach softly, fangs leaving treasured impressions against her skin, and his free hand tugs her closer before curling beneath her leg, face fully buried between her thighs. Her heart throbs in her chest at the attention, arms extending as far as she can reach to tangle her fingers in his soft hair.

He pumps his fingers in once, twice, mouth latching on fully to suck and lick and push her closer, and suddenly before she can fall off the edge, his face and head leave her grasp. His digits work faster until withdrawing completely to replace his mouth and before she can adjust to the change, the swollen head of his cock is plunging inside, pleasure snapping like a whip over her as he thrusts to the hilt.

“Astarion!” She complies with his request, though he’d been the one to change the terms. Her entire body curls in, the intensity of white-hot ecstasy stealing her breath and raking over her with sharp claws. Her mind lists, falling from the connection before his tadpole latches back on forcefully and she’s gazing at her sweat-slick body through his eyes, watching her chest rise and fall in an effort to come back down.

“Beautiful,” His voice is reverent and soft in the tent, her vision dimming back into the welcoming darkness of the blindfold as he strokes over her waist. She sighs, still riding out the aftershocks of her climax as he throbs inside her, and she feels his hands close around hers before dragging them up above her head. She lifts a brow, curiosity crossing the bridge between their minds, and he clicks his tongue.

“You'll see…” She waits impatiently as his movements cause him to sink even deeper, and she gasps as she adjusts to the stretch. He does something to secure her hands before his warmth leaves her, raw and aching in the space where he’d been.

“Oh, you really planned this out,” Humor laces through the words she projects to him, and with a punitive flick to her nipple, she quiets with a yelp, fire burning hot in her belly at the action.

“Don't sound so surprised,” His tone sends shivers down her spine- deep and flaring with warning. She decides to test her luck further, pulling futilely at the rope around her hands before letting him hear the laugh she wishes she could make.

“Sorry darling,” She chides, hissing as he drags his length out of her. She mourns the loss, but her smile around the gag in her mouth widens at the possibility of where he may end up next. “Just didn't expect this level of forethought-”

“Silence,” He growls in her ear, pulling her underthings out of her mouth much more gently than she'd expected as his tongue sweeps over the wetness left in their wake. “Even gagged you still keep talking. Seems I'll have to shut you up some other way.”

She whimpers with anticipation, only having a second to rub her thighs together once he's left his place between them before the fat head of his cock presses against her grin. She greedily opens her mouth, groaning as he slips inside, and his echoing moans fill the tent with almost alarming volume.

“Thought we were being quiet?” He fists her hair and tips her face to get a better angle, her soft cry smothered by his shaft, and she blissfully dissolves into the feeling of him filling her as his hips move in barely subdued snaps.

“Hells, enough woman. Now be good and stay. Quiet,” He punctuates the last word with a growl and a sharp thrust, slick gushing from her at the sound of his voice. She hums in delight, rosy waves of devotion mixing with the peel of want that crackles through her mind. He strokes her cheek in approval and she trembles at the contrast in comparison to his deep thrusts.

“Alright, pet?” He coos, voice rushing through her and hard to fully grasp as it trickles between her thoughts. She tries to nod, wanting to see the way his hips move as he rocks them back and forth, hunger sharpening into heady desire and he chuckles in reply.

“Suppose you deserve a reward for taking me so well, darling.” She shudders and her cunt clenches around nothing, longing for him in two places at once.

She blinks when he pulls the blindfold up to rest over her forehead, awash in his pale glow as he moves in the candlelight. Every undulation of his body fans hot flames of desire burning low in her abdomen, dangerous and all-consuming. She could stare at him all day- all night. She's especially hypnotized by his spit-soaked length disappearing beneath her nose as her fucks her mouth, her vision going blurry with tears as he starts to rock deeper.

“Gods, look at you,” The words exude awe and barely restrained lust, ragged and restless as they echo back to her. She hums, hollowing her cheeks and swirling her tongue and he hits the back of her throat at last with a shift of her jaw, broken whines spilling from him.

“Fuck,” He hisses outloud, voice barely a whisper as he pulls out enough to let her catch her breath. His face is devastating, screwed up in pleasure and flushed full of the blood she'd given him before dinner. With a loving swipe of his thumb, he gathers the drool covering her chin before pressing the tip of his cock back over her lips.

“Can I feel it too?” She whispers, watching his ruby eyes darken into tiny slivers.

“Gods, yes… Open,” He commands, and she does, their connection strengthening as he pushes inside again.

A bolt of pleasure sparks between her legs at the odd sensation of his entry, and she feels faint at the disorienting pulse of want throwing her into the fire as she discovers firsthand just how lovely her own mouth feels wrapped around him.

“Don't… move for a second,” Her voice rings back, sounding embarrassingly depraved, and she shudders at the way lightly flicking her tongue over the tip feels. He crowns her head with his fingers, lightly scratching at her scalp, and a fever breaks over her skin as he drags himself out before gently pushing back inside.

“Ofelia… this may not be a good idea,” She releases him with a soft pop, feeling their link slacken until only intentional thoughts remain shared.

“What’s wrong?” She speaks low, watching his brow furrow as he releases his lower lip from beneath his teeth.

“I… your bleeding over… gods, it feels new. I won’t last.” A smug grin tugs at her lips and he exhales in sharp rasps.

“Would that really be so bad?” He sighs, stroking her hair, before shuffling down her body. No matter how much she whines in protest, he ignores her, knees caging in her legs as his elbows rest beside her shoulders.

“It is when I’ve got more planned,” She rolls her eyes playfully, huffing a laugh when he tugs the blindfold back down and affectionately pinches her cheek.

With her senses rendered to four once more, she strains for any indication of his next move as she feels him sit up, backside resting against the tops of her thighs as his heavy cock bumps her stomach. She twists her arms until the silk closes around her wrists painfully, letting out a shuddering sigh at the feeling as she lies in wait.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Astarion murmurs, finally, and she tenses in anticipation of what he’s alluding to. She doesn’t have to count the seconds for long, a drop of heat landing on her right breast to singe her before cooling against her skin.

“You didn’t…” She rasps, feeling the web holding her thoughts aloft begin to fray at the seams. She writhes and moans, inhaling sharply when his palm covers her mouth and a few more drops spill over her chest.

“You make such lovely noises for me, darling” He whispers, thumb caressing her nipple as wax drips across her sternum. She catches a finger in her mouth and nips at him, earning a gravelly growl as he presses two digits against her lips. She sucks them in like her life depends on it, teeth closing around a bite every time he spills more.

The sting of the rope and the molten fire trickling down her breasts shred her mind into ribbons, lungs heaving for oxygen as she tries to hang on. She can hear him everywhere, cool breath tickling her skin as he whispers filthy affections into her ear. Her body simmers beneath the pain of the wax and the lightness of his touch as breathing normally becomes a herculean task.

She weeps beneath the fabric covering her eyes, tears sinking into her scalp as a few scorching drops roll down the plump planes of her stomach. Every sear against her skin has her softly pleading his name through the tadpole, surprised to feel their bond strengthen as breathless whines spill from his lips and he experiences the melted bliss of the wax as if it were grazing his skin.

“You look lovely…” He whispers to her, a fresh drip landing on her clavicle to pool against the hollow of her throat. She reacts to him with feeling alone, pulling at her restraints as she rolls her hips against him.

“A-astarion…” Her voice barely passes from her throat, nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

“Ofelia,” He croons, both hands back on her body now. He must have set it down or blown it out, and she sighs in relief as he drifts over the cool, hardening liquid against her skin. “Like you’re covered in blood,”

She startles when the blindfold slides off, disoriented and struggling to keep his face in view as everything blurs together. Through her daze, she looks down to appreciate the deep wine hues of the wax covering her body like pretty splatters of the sanguine liquid he’s so fond of. He leans down to softly cradle her face in his hands and she gazes up at him, eyes glancing off his flushed cheeks, his pupils eclipsing the pools of flaming red as he captures her lips in a kiss full of sharp teeth and earnest, sweet sighs.

She shivers when he moves her thighs apart and sinks between them, cock sliding against her wet slit before dipping further to brush her clit with each pass. Her fingers twitch, longing to pull free and touch him everywhere, but the slow torture of him doing whatever he likes to her has her drunk on the feeling.

His to mold, his to take. His, his, his.

His hands run up her arms and she feels the rope slacken, allowing her to remove them and linger over the pretty red marks crisscrossing her skin. Her affectionate eyes find him and he kisses her again, breath stolen from her lungs as her body yearns to press against him, like this forever if she were allowed. Her arms wrap around his neck and he slides inside her slowly, little noises mixing on their tongues as he bottoms out and they both exhale in relief.

“You always feel so good, Star,” She murmurs in his ear as he presses his nose against the side of her face. A rumbling growl vibrates against her chest and she smiles, feeling him kiss the drying tears near her temples. “So good,” He groans and finally thrusts, hard, earning a sweet gasp in return.

The inferno burns hotter in her belly, every drag against her walls leaving her desperate for more of him to cling to, to kiss, to touch. The bruising grip he has on her hips leaves her dizzy in the wake of his tender kisses, and she strengthens their bond to share the feeling with him. His pace stutters to a halt, each muscle rippling in a struggle to hold back as his eyes fall shut and he bites his lip to suppress the guttural noise catching in his throat.

“You can’t,” He pants, moving involuntarily and she watches a full-body shiver run through him at the sensation.

“Let me,” She pleads, propping herself up on her elbows to gain leverage, and with it, she pushes him down on his back against the soft blankets. She clambers on top of him, wanting him back inside, but she represses the instinct to softly caress the planes of his chest. He shivers, looking up at her, and once she confirms his consent, she moves her hands over her breasts and touches them like he does.

“Nng… Ofelia…” He whines, hands slipping over her hips. The way his features twist in pleasure and his body curls towards her has her mind spinning, flush with the feeling of him.

She wants to make him feel just as good as he makes her feel, wants him to enjoy every moment, as she always does, forever grateful that he'd chosen to share the pain of his past with her and trusts her with it enough to embrace her in this way. She'll hold it all in her heart, for as long as he'll have her, and longer still if he chooses to bury any of it with her once she's gone.

“You're not going anywhere,” He mumbles, eyes stuck on her. She smiles adoringly, running her fingers over his lips before she sinks to kiss him.

She can hear her heart race through his ears, sharpened by his abilities. She runs her hands up his arms, worshiping every square inch with soft fingertips and eventually her mouth, too. Every noise that he makes sinks her deeper, reveling in the way it all reflects on her body and sends tingling pleasure across her skin. The Astarion she knows, with his haughty attitude and snide remarks, falls away beneath her touch and she can’t hide the pride that tears through her mind, knowing it’s all because of her. Every sigh, every twitch, every whispered plea washes over her and it’s almost hard to tell which moves are his and which are hers.

“Ahh… ahh… slow…” He murmurs and she nods, hovering over him, shaking from the promise of having him inside and wanting it so badly she can hardly breathe. She closes her eyes, sinking her teeth into her lip until the flesh splits beneath them when he finally slips in.

“Gods…” Their voices mix within their minds, and she’s looking up at herself and looking down at him, uncertain which sets of eyes she's supposed to be seeing through. Her vision spins and she grows dizzy, mind melting into pleasure as she forces her hips down in one quick thrust that has her sight leaving her in a flash of light followed by the sweet darkness of her fluttering lashes.

She sways astride him, the sounds he’s making loud and frantic, his entire body pulsing with need and blinding sensation. There’s no way they’ve managed to hide their affairs from the rest of camp by now, but that thought drifts from her mind and vanishes among the unbearable heat building in her core.

“Are you okay?” She whispers, reigning in her sense of self as much as she’s able to while laboring under the feeling of his cock swelling and pulsing inside her. She can’t look at him, eyes shut tight as her thumbs brush over his chest, trying to soothe him into a reply as the ghost of her touch drifts over her skin.

At an unspeakable urge, she opens her eyes to lock onto his, and she digs her nails into his skin at the look he gives her. His hands tighten over her hips and she reaches for the stool behind him, letting her breath out in a rush as he lifts her and slams her back down against him.

“Star!” She tastes iron in her mouth, eyes trained on his and thoughts lost to the void as she rides him. With each thrust she loses the dividing line distinguishing their bodies from each other, feeling the insistent demand to take him deeper, harder- anything to get to the edge. The impressions of his fingers adorn her skin in violet petals, each thrust leaving her trembling as she chants his name in her head. Her gaze seeks reprieve within his as he tangles his fingers in the hair at the base of her skull while the other hand rests over her shoulder, pulling her close as they chase the building heat unraveling them.

“Love…” His voice is raw when he opens his mouth, her fingers tracing his cheek as she tightens her hold on his waist to slow to a less energetic bounce. “I love you.” She blinks in surprise, the phrase rare and sweet in her ears- one he never utters frivolously. Thoughts of him dapple her vision, a recollection of every moment she’s felt so sincerely in love with him. She melts into a breathless laugh, smitten beyond the point of no return as they fade back into precious memories, edges tinged in hues of warm pink.

“I love you too,” She sighs, kissing him once before peppering more over his jaw and down his throat. His answering groans have her walls constricting around him as he pulls her against his chest, deep thrusts propelling them closer and closer. She licks a stripe up the side of his neck, reveling in the twitch of his cock inside her before she nips him.

“Ofelia!” It’s just as sweet as she’s always pictured when her teeth sink into his flesh, her neck throbbing at the phantom pain. He stills, lust and roaring heat dancing between their connection as his nails sink into her hips. She reaches down, stealing his hands to intertwine with her own, and rises to resume the punishing rhythm as she dredges wounded cries from deep inside his chest.

The band tightens, walls fluttering when he angles himself and hits the spot that has high-pitched moans marking each upward drive of his hips as she stares into his eyes. His smolder with approval and his hands slip from her own to cover her breasts, kneading the soft flesh and drawing little breathy whines from her mouth. Gods… she could ride him all night.

“I won’t stop you,” He huffs with a smile and she laughs, ending on a needy whimper.

“Need more…” She pleads and he wraps his arms around her back, stealing kisses from her mouth, before stilling her movements and readjusting their bodies. Once he’s settled, she’s perched in his lap, holding onto his shoulders for balance as he lifts her once, holding just the tip inside, before thrusting up.

“Hells…” He sighs, expression contorted as if in pain. “Come for me?” Her eyes fly shut and she nods madly, fireworks bursting behind her lids as one hand snakes between their bodies to rest where they’re intimately connected. Deft fingers slide over her aching clit and she digs her nails into his back as her thighs begin to shake.

“Astarion… I’m so close… please.” She begs, whimpering beneath the soft swirls of his fingers. His face nestles against her neck, fangs hovering over her skin in a vow to pierce and drink and she silently compels him forward, craving the intrusion and the overwhelming maelstrom it provides. Bitten and dizzy, she cries his name, falling apart as he strokes over her and her climax bleeds onto his mind.

His strangled shout is lost amid the flood, following right behind as he spills inside her. He presses them together, shivering and sweaty, the mental thread between them finally severing as they drift in and out of coherence. She caresses his hair, fighting for breath as his lips brush over the punctures in her neck before pulling away.

Heavy-lidded, he appraises her form before softening and she smiles sleepily at him, hooked on the pretty blush covering his cheeks and the blood smeared at the corner of his mouth. As her hands move to his jaw, she grazes the delicate points of his ears until shivers wrack his body and her mouth widens in amusement. He grumbles dramatically before pulling her down to cover her smile with a passionate kiss, hands fisted into her hair as she rocks against him.

“Maybe we should go without for a month next time if this is what I get for it.” She laughs at the disdain on his face, humming softly as his hands run over her breasts and gently squeeze.

“Over my dead body,”

“Star, you are dead.” He lays her on her back, stiff and swelling inside, and she makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat as his lips drop to the shell of her ear.

“Mmm, not happening. I think I'll have you again now,” His teeth catch the tender lobe and her breath hitches, the sweet rolls of his hips drawing more hoarse moans from her mouth.

“Wait… do you hear that?” Astarion stills at her question, quirking a silver brow.

“What?” She shakes her head, listening for any noise but not even the lapping of the water against the docks is audible.

“I don't hear anything…” Embarrassment washes her face in a sheen of scarlet and he laughs.

“I heard Gale cast it thirty minutes ago. Not to worry dear, you can scream as hard as you want when I make you come again. No one will hear.”

“Ughhh!” She covers her face with her hands, shame like a brand heating the surface of her skin. “That’s so humiliating!” He chuckles and resumes his thrusts, apparently serious about going again, and she sighs as her hands fall onto the cushion beside her head.

“Don’t be such a prude, they’ve all heard us before.” She rolls her eyes, gradually forgetting her discomfort as he brings the stars close again.

In their own little haven, separate from the rest of the world- the Absolute, her complicated heritage, and the looming fight to finally free him from his master- the silence shields them from it all. She loses count of how many times they fall apart, the spell from before crumbling before he’s finished with her, but that doesn’t stop him. She holds fast, his neck muffling her sobs as he draws out their bliss with every soft-spoken word and move of his body. He hovers above her when he’s spent, and even as she’s rapidly losing the fight to stay conscious, the smile won’t leave her face.

“We have to get up in a few hours,” Ofelia mumbles, trying to swat him away when he goes to pinch her cheeks.

“Don’t tell me you’re regretting it all,” He laments, expression breaking into those big wet eyes she both loves and despises, mostly because he uses them to get his way.

“Of course not… but I’m going to be exhausted tomorrow, so if I ask you to carry my pack I don’t want to hear it.”

“Deal,” He noses at her neck, soft and sweet as he finishes cleaning them up, and when they curl together under the blankets she presses kisses to his lips.

“What do we do once this is all over… no more tadpoles?” Her question is hushed, posed in such a way that it could lead to a multitude of answers.

He stares at her, wrapped up in his arms, and he brings a hand up to rest against her face. Cool marble against a sun-soaked beach.

“I don’t know. But at least we’ll be together.”

***

Guys- I HATE DRAWING HANDS but please look at this WIP I'm working on. 👉👈

[sidekick-hero]

steddie | rating: t | wc: 2.345 | tags: au, rockstar!eddie, drummer!steve, onesided enemies to lovers, part of our upcoming fic Pickup Note | art credit: @firefly-party

Eddie's living his dream, literally. Ever since his mom danced him around the living room to the sounds of Muddy Waters and Jimmy Hendrix, he has wanted to be a rock star. 20 years later, he made it.

So why is there such a sour taste in his mouth when they stand in front of their cheering audience, bowing and clapping with them? Why does the sight of Harrington throwing his drumsticks into the crowd turn his smile into a frown before he can stop himself?

He knows he's being childish. But knowing something has never helped him much in suppressing those irrational feelings that bubble up inside of him until they spill over and make a mess. Eddie's alignment has always been chaotic, so at least he's trying to make it a chaotic good one.

Lately, though, it feels like he's failed at that, and it's all Harrington's fault.

The guy just had to waltz in and take Gareth's place, with the other guys falling all over themselves with praise and gratitude when Harrington should be grateful. After all, he gets to go on a world tour with the most talked about newcomer metal band right now, when the biggest venues he played before were the local bars and sports halls.

But no, Steve Harrington didn't even have to audition, not really. Not when Gareth's boyfriend had vouched for him being a great drummer and an even greater guy, and Gareth, being the love-struck idiot that he was, had just said "Yes, my love, of course, anything you say" or some equally lovey-dovey shit like that. And now Eddie had to endure the guy's company for three whole months.

"Are you alright, man?" Jeff's hand on his shoulder is grounding and his deep voice pulls Eddie back from his gloomy spiral. He gives his oldest friend a smile that lacks the usual Munson charm, but is still genuine enough for Jeff to return it with one of his own.

"Yeah, 'm fine, just tired," he only half-lies. It's been a long day, hell, a long week. Add to that giving his all on stage, jumping up and down and singing his heart out while letting his sweetheart sing for him and thousands of fans, and he's bound to be exhausted as soon as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

Jeff and Grant don't seem to fare any better, coming down from the post-concert high almost as fast as Eddie and crashing as soon as they get to their tour bus. The only one who seems to be full of restless energy is Steve, who can't seem to stop moving, arms and hands and fingers acting like there's still a drum kit to be played. Eddie swears he can feel him vibrating with it and it sets his teeth on edge.

He's a hypocrite, and he knows it. Hell, the Eddie of a year ago would be out partying right now, dancing and drinking and fucking the night away, high on adrenaline and endorphins and maybe something else if the mood struck. But he left that Eddie at the Crossroads, along with his addiction and most of his anxiety disorder.

While Grant just grunts his good night before falling face first into his bunk bed, Jeff goes over to Harrington to check in on him as well. Eddie remembers the one time Jeff tried to play a DnD character that was anything but good. It was painful to watch and Eddie was almost glad when his Demogorgon killed Jeff's character and the rest of the party and they were able to start a new campaign.

If there's anyone on earth who's intrinsically good, it's Jeff Robinson.

Jeff walks over to Steve and pats him on the back. "Great job, man. You were on fire up there. Can't believe you learned that whole setlist in two weeks."

Steve glows from the praise, a bright smile lighting up his whole face before he ducks his head in what looks like genuine bashfulness. Eddie snorts at the thought and Steve's eyes flick over to him, his smile fading.

Harrington looks hurt and Eddie really wonders why. Why should he care what Eddie thinks of him? It's not like they're friends or anything. The way Jeff is glaring at him, Eddie guesses he still needs to apologize to the guy, but just as he opens his mouth to formulate some half-hearted apology at best, Steve turns away from him and squeezes Jeff's arm.

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I think I'll head to bed, if you don't mind. Get some sleep."

"Yeah, of course. It's been a long day, get some shut-eye. But you really did a great job, man. I'm glad we found such a kickass stand-in for Gareth on such short notice. You saved our asses."

Eddie bites his tongue so hard he thinks he tastes blood.

It's actually Steve who says what Eddie is thinking. "Are you kidding me, man? I'm the one who's glad you let me come and play with you. I mean, today? Being in front of thousands of people, doing what I love? I've never felt so... fuck, I don't even know. Myself? Happy? Alive?" He laughs, but it sounds tentative, and Eddie can see his cheeks glowing red even in the dim night light of their bus. Steve rubs a hand across his neck in obvious embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

Jeff laughs, amused. "Don't worry, it's the concert jitters. Eddie wouldn't stop talking for hours the first time we played in front of more than maybe five drunks back home."

"Har-har," Eddie laughs sarcastically, but there's still a smile on his face that takes the sting out of it. Those were good times, before things got complicated. Before fame and money and being on the road all the time had made them complicated. "I'm gonna hit the hay. Night, Jeff. Harrington."

They return his goodnight wishes with one of their own and Eddie is glad that he already changed into his sweatpants and hoodie backstage. He slips under the covers and turns on his side, facing the wall, listening to Grant's snoring and the sounds of Steve and Jeff getting ready. Eddie knows that sleep won't come anytime soon. He's been an insomniac for as long as he can remember, sleep as absent from most of his life as his father. He has learned to make do with the bare minimum, catching a few hours here and there whenever he can.

Tonight it's Steve Harrington that keeps him awake. Or rather, it is his thoughts and feelings about the man. It's not the first night this happens, but it's the first time he really wonders if maybe he is the asshole after all. Steve's words run through his mind on a loop and every time he closes his eyes he sees the way his smile died on his face, replaced by that kicked puppy dog look that tugs at Eddie's heart no matter how hard he fights it.

Maybe he should at least try to be nicer to the guy.

Sure, he is everything Eddie hated in school: a preppy ex-jock who got everything he ever wanted with his pretty face and his daddy's money. No one ever called him a fuck-up, Eddie is sure of that. While Eddie had to fight for every single thing, even his life, Steve Harrington just got a place in the band and the hearts of their fans and the respect of his bandmates with a few flutters of his long eyelashes. It's true, he's good, Eddie begrudgingly admits. He has found himself staring at Harrington more than once tonight while the man has been playing, mesmerized by the passionate yet easy way he has mastered every single song on their setlist.

Eddie's so lost in his own thoughts that he misses the bus pulling up, only jolted out of his reverie when he hears someone get out of his bed and walk to the front door of the bus.

It's Harrington, talking to the driver. Eddie checks the clock on his phone and is surprised to see that it's already four in the morning. When did that happen? Maybe he fell asleep without realizing it.

Up front, the driver explains that they're stopping here for a few hours. There was an accident further up the highway and the traffic jam is so bad that the driver decided to take his break here. Steve asks if it's okay if he goes outside for a while and Eddie catches himself smiling at the question.

He wonders if Harrington can't sleep, just like he can't. Maybe he's still thinking about Eddie's reaction earlier...no, that would be ridiculous, right? Still, the thought sits heavy in his stomach and after another five minutes he gives up and rolls out of bed to follow Harrington outside. On the way he grabs two hoodies and pulls one over himself.

The cold night air hits him hard as he stumbles down the stairs, but it feels good after a second or two of adjustment.

"Can't sleep?" A voice to his right asks, and sure enough, it's Harrington, leaning against the side of the bus, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"I was going to ask you the same question." Eddie replies, walking over to Steve. "Here." Steve stares wordlessly at the offered hoodie, making no move to take it. "It won't bite, I promise. I doubt you can play with your hands frozen."

That does the trick and he finally reaches out to take the black garment from Eddie and pulls it over his head. It's a little long on the arms, but otherwise it fits well, maybe a little tight around the shoulders. Of course, the guy has broader shoulders than he does, Eddie thinks, not really able to muster much annoyance.

"Thanks," Steve says in a quiet voice, giving him a strange look. And then, as quickly as if he were ripping off a bandage, "I just can't get to sleep. I tried everything, counted backwards from one hundred, counted sheep, did that weird breathing thing Robin showed me, tried reading... nothing. I'm so fucking exhausted, but I just can't sleep."

Eddie hums, knowing the feeling only too well. Harrington sounds on the verge of tears and maybe it's the lingering guilt, the memory of his own racing thoughts, all circling around the man in front of him. Whatever it is, something compels Eddie to say, "I don't have a solution for you. I don't sleep more than three, maybe four hours a night. But I can show you something that might make it more bearable, if you'd like."

Steve looks at him and for the first time Eddie allows himself to look back. To let their eyes meet and lock.

"I'd like that."

Clapping his hands, Eddie abruptly turns and stalks to the back of the bus. When he doesn't hear footsteps following him, he turns and calls out, "You comin' or what?" and grins as Steve almost trips in his haste to catch up.

When they reach the back of the bus, Eddie pushes on a panel that is somehow hidden under the license plate. A small metal shape protrudes from where he just pushed, and when he pulls on it, it turns out to be a metal ladder.

"What are you -"

"Patience, young Padawan," Eddie admonishes with a grin, secretly pleased with Steve's reaction. He's kind of proud of his little secret hideout.

Placing the ladder against the back of the bus, Eddie begins to climb up the stairs to the deck, and when he's at the top, he turns and reaches down for Steve to follow. "Do you trust me?"

Steve looks up at him, his eyes bright in the light of the stars and the moon shining down on them. "Yes."

"I can show you the world," Eddie begins to sing, once again letting his impulsive thoughts dictate his actions. The song came to him the second he looked down at Steve.

Steve comes up the stairs and grabs Eddie's hand, laughing. "Oh my God, are you singing a Disney song?"

"You're the one who recognizes it. I bet you even know what movie it's from, don't you, big boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway, as if he's secretly charmed by Eddie's antics. "Does that make me the princess?"

"And me the ruggedly handsome thief with a heart of gold," Eddie agrees, pleased that Steve got his reference.

Steve snorts, and it shouldn't sound cute, but oh, does it, his nose crinkling adorably. "Yeah, whatever. As long as this isn’t your flying carpet. I don't trust the structural integrity of this thing to actually fly."

"Big, big words. You sound like Henderson."

"Oh God, don't tell him, I'll never hear the end of it."

Eddie taps his chin thoughtfully. "I'll...think about it," he finally settles on, grinning playfully at Harrington. Silence falls over them, and for the first time since Steve walked into their rehearsal studio, it doesn't feel awkward or hostile. In fact, it's nice to share this space up here with someone.

Eddie sits down at the edge of the bus and Steve joins him, sitting maybe a foot away from him in a slight sprawl, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly open as his eyes take in the clear night sky above them. They're far enough out of town to actually see the harmonious arrangement and movement of the stars in the cosmos, forming a celestial symphony that Eddie has often tried and failed to capture in his songs.

Tonight, however, his eyes are caught by another ethereal sight.

"It's so beautiful," Steve whispers, as if sharing a secret with Eddie. "It's so vast and so beautiful, it’s almost frightening, don’t you think?"

"It is," Eddie agrees, never taking his eyes off Steve. So frightening.

They sit there until the sun slowly rises in the east, Steve's eyes on the sky and Eddie's on his own enigma.

This is a sneak peek from @firefly-party and me for our upcoming project Pickup Note to celebrate our dearest friend and collaborator's @thefreakandthehair birthday. Lex, you are our MVP and we are so happy to call you our friend! We love you and we hope you have the best day, week, month and year, because you deserve it 💜💜

[swifty-fox]

yo you post your fics on AO3? if so please share your user babe

omg yes I do! you can check my swiftywrites tag but

Masters of the Air:

Kingdom for a Kiss - 104k Long-form Postwar exploration of Clegan's relationship and their trauma. Explicit.

Gale takes a deep breath to compose himself, tucks the jagged angry edges of himself back to face inwards. “You said you would write.”

understanding in a plane crash: WIP (5 parter, three parts up) Prequel fic to Kfak, as told from John Brady's perspective as a POW

“The thing you can't quite put your finger on about DeMarco,” He says, “is that you want him to fuck you til you cry. Sorry to spoil the game for you.”

Brady stares at him and stares at him, alone in the Base’s Chapel and rosary halfway finished. He thinks he might throw up, or maybe strangle Curt Biddick and then throw up.

“Lock it up, Johnny, they’re gonna see you bleeding it all over soon.”

press your tired hands against my lips darling: Finished. 3K word re-write of the Bucks final conversation in the cockpit. Loose prequel to KfaK but with some minor inaccuracies Mostly SFW

Gale takes John's hand, brings the scarred knuckles to his mouth and holds it there, turns their hands over til he can place his lips to the pulse point at John’s wrist. It’s not a kiss, there’s no press or pursing of lips, but tender nevertheless, intimate in a way that makes Gale shudder. Cautious of whether John will even allow this.  

“I ain’t prayed in a long time,” Gale says whisper-soft. He feels John’s pulse skip a beat, “but I prayed every day you were safe and alive and coming back to me. Every morning, and every night.”  He lets himself cry again, tears hidden against the scarred skin of John's hand. 

Little Beast: Ongoing. Porn with a bit of Plot modern au of Burnout John and Priest Gale. total of 30k of them fucking and arguing. Three Parts so far. NSFW to the max

“It’s such a shame you’re cooped up in here like Rapunzel there Buck.” John drawls lazily. He makes a show of looking around “Is Mother Gothel nearby?” 

Buck has to fight back against another smile, wouldn't give him the satisfaction or the encouragement “Father Huglin is away at a conference today.”

“All alone without a chaperone.” 

The Old Guard:

in another life maybe you and i would be walking down an aisle in white: Finished Joe/Nicky (18K) Art Professor Joe & Art Conservator Nicky reconnect after ten years. This one is uh. Sad. Mind the tags. It's an incredibly personal piece to me and probably one of my favorites .NSFW

Dear Joe, you have always been the brave one and I wished every moment for even a drop of that. Perhaps that is why I claimed you as mine, out of a desperate need to have even an ounce of what made you, you. I desired you but I would not, could not ever let you in. I loved you and kept you and hurt you, keelhauled you against the impenetrable ship that was my heart and when the ragged pieces were left behind I still asked of you your silence.  

It is no wonder our love was left in bloody tatters on that lawn. 

Make me a Saint: Finished (8k) Nicky and Nile mete out some justice to a corrupt priest. NSFW for violence. Mind the tags. As of right now, my most popular fic

“ I was a priest before your bible was even written old man ” Nickys voice thunders in the tiny room, crackling over the walls like fire. Even Nile flinches at the sudden volume. He takes another step forwards, bracketing Father Marcus’ arthritic twisted feet with his own.

His voice does not shake.

“I preached the word of God before your language was even invented . I have known the church for longer than you can comprehend. I have seen great men and evil men take up the word of the Lord and I have seen them all rendered dust. I have seen you and I have judged you, Father Marcus. The Church may practice restraint but I do not. The diocese may have turned a blind eye I but I do not. The courts may have found you innocent but I do not . 

Calcification of a God: Finished (4K) Nicky has a lil Menty B and then Joe gives him a bath. Mostly SFW if I recall correctly

“I think,” Nicky says “If I were God, it was you I modeled humanity after. I think if I were God I would have left my throne in heaven to walk beside you and I would have been richer for it”

Yusuf chuckles “Death makes you sentimental my darling.”

Wolfstar:

Oh Captain, My Captain!: Finished, 1.6k Drabble of Wolfstar cuddling and reciting poetry. SFW

He cups the back of Remus’s head, presses him further into the safety of his body with a hand on his mismatched, misaligned rib cage and rocks them slightly. Remus grunts slightly. Sirius hides the teeth of his smile against the follow of his own neck and allows the curtain of his hair to cover them both for a moment. He listens to the two of them breath, always slightly out of sync, out of rhythm. Remus quick and labored, Sirius racing to catch up only to find himself charging ahead only to drop back behind when he tries to slow down. 

“ If I vibrate with vibrations other than yours, must you conclude that my flesh is insensitive ” That doesn’t fit quite right, so he tries another, brow furrowed and fingers tracing the knobs of Remus’ spine like the knots on a tree, with reverence and a little hint of greed. 

[bullet-prooflove]

Birthday Bingo Celebration: Paris: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @volumesofforgottenlore@kmc1989@somethingdarkside17@noonee333

You spend your thirtieth birthday alone in Paris, touring all the places you haven’t had an opportunity to visit during your time with the residential program. You trawl through the vintage shops in Le Marais, selecting some of the less expensive pieces. You wander through the Jardin du Luxembourg and finally you visit the Louvre.

It's there that you meet him, the man that changes your life forever. You’re sitting on a bench admiring the painting ‘Orphan Girl at the Cemetery’ by Eugene Delacroix when he sits down alongside of you.

He’s tall, well dressed with soft, silver hair that falls across his handsome features. He places his palms in the space behind him as he leans back, his head tilted as he surveys the image.

“Do you think she’s questioning God’s will?” He asks you and you pause your sketching for a moment to consider his words.

“Most people assume she’s raising her eyes towards heaven.” You tell him as you place the mechanical pencil down upon your sketchpad and set it aside. “I don’t think it’s as cerebral as that. I think we’re looking at a girl who has just made the realisation that she’s completely alone in the world. The colour scheme Delacroix has chosen and the way the background blurs is meant to instil an aura of solitude.”

Your cheeks colour then as you tilt your head towards him because you always do this, talk too much about art. You think you must sound pretentious.

“Sorry.” You say as you gesture at the paint. “It’s just the work, it excites me.”

He smiles then and it feels like your whole world just lights up.

“Don’t apologise.” He tells you, shaking his head. “I enjoy spending time with someone so passionate, please tell me more.”

So you do. The two of you tour the entire museum together discussing the art on display before you take him to Musée d'Orsay to view the impressionists. It’s there that he discovers it’s your birthday.

“Let me take you to dinner to celebrate.” He requests as you stand in front of Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ and you agree because you’re having a wonderful time in his company.

You spend the rest of the evening, sipping champagne in La Bouche while Terry tells you stories of his trips abroad, about how he spends the majority of his time travelling absorbing different cultures.

You can only dream of the places he’s visited. Once you’re residency is up you’ll be returning to LA, to the dumpster fire that was your world before you left.

“It sounds like such a wonderful life.” You tell him earnestly and he smiles as he reaches across the table, his hand clasping yours.

“Tell me.” He says quietly, his thumb chasing over the hollow of your wrist. “How does a woman as extraordinary as you end up alone in Paris on her birthday?”

“I’m a bit of a cliché I’m afraid.” You sigh as your fingers entwine with his. “The very definition of running from your problems.”

“Ok.” He says as he brings your hand up to his lips and kisses the tips of your fingers. “Why don’t you tell me all about them over dessert?”

Love Terry S? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[butterfwiesndinorawrs]

Therapy Activities with Bo Bunny!

🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰

Hi everybunny! My name is Bo and I have a passion to help others grow! My human Misky has studied holistic healing and art/play therapy techniques for years and I've picked up a thing or two here and there. This is my opportunity to share what I've learned along my trails.

🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰

Helping Hands

Often times I notice most people help others as much as they can and that's a wonderful quality to have. However they can also forget to help themselves too. It's easy to neglect yourself when life gets busy, or others are counting on you, your responsibilities pile up, I get it- from a bunny's perspective being a human looks rough! You are important too, your goals and interests are important, your health, overall well-being and happiness are important as well!

🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰

Reflection

This time we're going to do our reflection first. Take a few moments to think about ways you can help yourself. These can be ways that help you reach goals, or finish daily tasks, or even just to bring a little more happiness and comfort into your life. If you struggle with this think about ways that you help others in your life and how can you help yourself in those same ways.

Some questions to ask yourself:

🐰 What goals am I trying to reach?

💙 In what areas do I feel I need more support and how can I provide that for myself?

🐰What brings me happiness and joy?

💙 What can I do to help myself feel more organized in my daily life?

🐰 What is most important for my overall well-being?

🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰

Activity

Create your own helping hand. Put your hand on paper, you can paint your hand and stamp it onto paper or you can trace your hand, draw your hand, take a picture of your hand, get creative with it as long as it's your hand. Now think about ways in which you can help yourself. These can be simple like remembering to take your medicine, brush your teeth, eat healthier, get enough sleep, laugh more, color, cuddle your stuffies.. anything and everything that helps you in any way you'd like. These don't need to be big scary goals, these are little ways you can help yourself reach goals or just achieve a more calm and happy state of mind. Add these ways you can help yourself to your helping hand, you can paint or draw pictures, write the words, find pictures in magazines, anything you desire that represents how you can help yourself. When you're done hang this up somewhere that you'll see it often to remember small ways you can help yourself.

🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰

Examples

(From left to right)

💖 Clear my mind

💖Speak my truth

💖 Play

💖 Create my own happiness

💖 Love myself more

(From top to bottom)

🐰 Eat more carrots

🐰 Remember slow and steady wins the race

🐰 Stop to smell the flowers

🐰 Be creative like the easter bunny

🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰

Final Thoughts

That's all I have for today! Remember to have fun, make it your own and get creative with it. I hope this helps you find small ways to help yourself more and remember that you're worthy of your own support too. If you'd like to share your own helping hands Misky and I would love to see! Feel free to post and tag us, reblog this with your own helping hand or submit a post to our blog. Until next time remember you are worthy of support and love especially from yourself. Nobody will ever know you as good as you know yourself, you know your needs and desires and it's okay to provide those to yourself! Be kind to yourself, be patient with yourself and show yourself lots of love, you deserve it!

-Bo Bunny 🐰💙

[emeryhall]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Also, thank you to @you-remind-me-of-the-babe for asking me this question too! ❤️ Here goes...

Only Creatures (88K, E)

The fic I just completed. I think this is my best plot with the possible exception of, well, see below. In the middle, I felt like I had so many balls in the air, I was afraid I wouldn't catch them all, or at least not gracefully, but I think I managed it. I've been working on my plots hinging on character choices. They walk through a door, the door shuts behind them, they cannot re-open it, and they change. I feel like I finally got it with this fic. And then there was the morning I woke up to find that @artsyunderstudy had drawn art for chapter 5 and my heart exploded. Except she kept drawing art and every time, I got to see my words come to life in the most beautiful way imaginable. Oh, oh! And then @monbons sewed me a little wings & tail Simon doll and Baz in his PJs, and I adore them ❤️❤️

Blood Sugar Sex Moony (63K, E)

The other contender for best plot. I think this is possibly my most creative fic. Sirius and Remus are both canon-compliant guerrilla soldiers from 1981 AND a goth-boy and star quarterback at a SoCal high school in the mid-90s. I wrote it for the 2023 @rsbigbang, which finally narrowed the wolfstar community down to a small enough group that I could make friends! It's also how I met @euripidestrousers who shaped this fic into what it became. And I was lucky enough to get the amazing artist @spikesteaseasalt as its illustrator.

A Little Bit Deadly (49K, E)

Derek Jeter. Need I say more? This fic was my introduction to the Carry On fandom, and that is reason alone for it to be one of my favorites. Y'all are a beautiful community of people who have been so kind and enthusiastic and welcoming. I'm delighted to be a part of you. ❤️ This fic was another one where I woke up from having posted the last chapter and found that @letraspal had made art - ART! And then she kept making art, including the glorious Mr. June. Derek Jeter was modeled on my amazing orange chonk who died, and every time I see Annie's drawings of him, it makes me cry a little. I feel like he gets to live on in this fic and Annie's art.

The Space Between (34K, M)

This is the first fic I wrote, having read absolutely zero fanfic. It was tagged entirely wrong, had a terrible summary, and only three kudos for, like, ages. But I had one enthusiastic reader who left me the kindest comments about my writing, and since then, it's gained its handful of fans who don't mind a little sadness. I still think it contains some of my prettiest writing, and I love the "behind the veil" space I created, which came out of my studies of Symbolist playwrights for my doctorate.

night after night, I let you eat me alive (8K, E)

Aka, my cannibalism fic. This one took me by surprise. I wrote this ridiculous short story because I needed a break from my Big Bang fic, then wondered if I should post it at all because I thought it was too out there. Happily, some of the RS/BB crew encouraged me because people love it. I love writing comedy, and I think this is the funniest thing I've written. But also, a sweet little fluffy love story - with a twist!

[33max]

# M A X F E S T 2 0 2 4 ✨

I want to say a huge thank you and well done to everyone who created something for Max Fest this year - I have enjoyed taking a sneak peek at all of these and can't wait to properly dive in and read!

Please remember to show the creators some love in the form of kudos, comments, or these pasteable buttons. You can also check out the Tumblr tag #MaxFest2024 to reblog the works on here.

You can also join our Max discord server, Golden Boots Boy, here!

Better Days by @puzzlebean (Fic, Daniel/Max, rated T)

Max can't take it anymore. It's like he's entire life is falling apart and he doesn't know what he wants anymore.

Max Verstappen [Art] by @puzzlebean

Beautiful art of Max with very fluffy hair.

I Was Busy Dreaming ‘Bout Boys by @tyrannosaurus-maxy

A wonderful and funny video of Max and his many boyfriends.

to make form from chaos by @maxybabyy (Fic, Daniel/Max, rated E)

He digs his knees into the backs of Max’s thighs and throws an arm around his waist, flipping them over until Max is pressed into the bed underneath him. He straddles his back, one hand spread wide over his spine to keep Max shoved into the mattress as the other squeezes at the nape of his neck.

If I loved you more I’d fade by cilantropudding (Fic, Daniel/Max, Rated E)

“Do you have a lighter?” A voice asks, and another figure joins him under the overhang above the club’s back door. The man is wrapped up in a thick coat, and it takes a moment for Max to be able to discern head from body under all the fur and padding. “Left mine inside and if I go back I’m not gonna have the balls to come back out.”

If The Shoe Fits by @miesgaga (Fic, Charles/Max, rated E)

Charles and Max have had a rule since they started being roommates: if you're fucking somone in your room, put their shoes in the fuck spot. This way the could keep their space clean and know when to wear earplugs.

grab your passport by @thatsapodium

The most amazing art inspired by @33max’s (my!) Turkey Dinosaurs series.

Which Max Verstappen helmet are you? by @33max

A uquiz of Max’s special helmets.

Airplanes cut through the clouds by @33max

Max hadn't mentioned that he was thinking of refurbishing the plane to Daniel. He frowns. Did Max mean to send him an invite to this? Did he mean to invite Raymond so he could organise the refurb? Why didn’t he mention something like this to Daniel?

Max Bicons 💙💜🩷 by @thatsapodium

Bisexual Max Icons!

Lawfirm AU by @thatsapodium

Daniel doesn’t even care about the mistakes and errors that Max has been making, honestly couldn’t give a fuck about the messed-up coffee orders, missed emails or the wrong files at a meeting with a high-profile client. It’s the dark circles and bloodshot eyes, the tight shoulders and shrunken posture, the torn skin around his nails.

Bracelets inspired by Max Verstappen by @speedyseastars

Friendship bracelets inspired by Max Verstappen

[hiemaldesirae]

i have less than 24 hours left before i have to go through one of the most stressful days of my life so. heres a list of my fav radiostatic fic recs in no particular order

clarification: by radiostatic i mean fics where vox is 100% not the dom in the relationship. most of these dont contain explicit sex though, and im not recommending any straight porn fics here because you can easily find those with a click and search through the bottom vox tag lmao

most of these fics are unfinished, so be warned that i will not take accountability if you get attached to these without them being finished properly. in fact ill just laugh at you because then we'll be suffering together

now, that aside- starting off strong with some of the more popular fics:

RHTVS / Radio Healed the Video Star by Aspiring_Forest_Witch

notes: LONG fucking fic. like this guys almost 700k words long fic. one of the best things ive ever read in my life though and it has a plotline thats frankly more engaging than the actual showing of hazbin on amazon. so. you know. if you have the time to read it Please do you wont regret it

Unraveling Emotions by Xaelei

notes: one of my favourite fics ever on god. started my brainrot for dad!husk, portrays one of the most scrumptious radiostatic dynamics and is generally so very well written that i might end up trying to recreate one of the scenes in comic form. genuinely in love with this fic and im so glad i can say i was the first comment on this fic because my God its such a treat to see new chapters drop for this. unfortunately i havent had the time to write out a detailed comment as of now but if someone wants to let the author know that im still in love with their fic and will continue supporting it until i drop dead go ahead for me

Safe with Me by rillyrillo

notes: the prequel and main fic of this series is human radiostatic, though the sequel is set in hell. it comes with gorgeous gorgeous art and frankly one of the most exhilirating endings ive ever had the pleasure of witnessing play out. i recommend you guys check out their other fics too, the art continues in them + their radiostatic is written wonderfully across all universes!

A Month of Rut by Vylad

notes: this fic is very self indulgent to me. i love the way radiostatic is written in this one because theyre very soft and sweet, but others may not prefer it if theyre looking for freak4freak radiostatic. if you just want something to indulge in and relax with at the end of a heavy day though this is my #1 rec. i read this sometimes when i find myself crying at night lmao

Down, Up, and Back Down by CowboyEnthusiast

notes: made me sob like a baby. 10/10 no notes whatsoever read it for yourself because you WILL not regret it. i genuinely am always at a loss for words whenever i reread this because it is among the most gutwrenching but beautiful and poetic works that ive ever read and i think it deserves some recognition

Mind the Gap by ZLynn

notes: again, to reiterate, i do very much dislike the abusive!staticmoth portrayal i see in a lot of fics. but in this one... it's written so perfectly, i can definitely see it actually happening. i enjoy the way that val does still seem to care about vox, albeit in his own twisted way that eventually breaks and fractures their love and trust, and its just. Ugh. So fucking good

+ with the less popular but still wonderful depictions of radiostatic that i love to indulge in:

i'll give you a show (cause it helps fill the seats) by dead_and_dreaming

notes: absolutely shameless plug from me for my dear mk's work because i cant stop thinking about the way that she's portrayed al here. its actually insane how fucked up that stupid little deer is and i just. i really fucking love the way that their alastor is written, it's genuinely probably my Number One depiction of alastor ever. i demand more of this stupid little freak RIGHT NOW!!!!

Any of the fics by Rachello344 in the Hazbin Hotel Fandom Tag on their profile

notes: so remember when i told you guys i wouldnt be linking straight porn. looks away... okay in my defense though i read the smut for the characterization and their unique dynamics. its sooo interesting to see how their radiostatic is explored here and im honestly refreshed by the depiction of their relationship. im here for it !!!

The Read 'Em and Weep Series by TooManyPseudonyms

notes: so from what i was able to piece together (everything flies over my head when im reading, forgive me for my low media literacy) this is an au set before the hotel where (in the first work) al and vox are in a qpr relationship. in the second work this evolves into a romantic relationship, and the exploration of their dynamic through this is just... Yeah. please read it its 100% worth your time and so underrated it hurts my heart

Uneasy by Saezs

notes: this fic is one of the first radiostatic fics i read (the others being RHTVS and... i think i tried the 666 series, but it didnt appeal to me lol) and its actually just wonderful. i really love saezs's genderfluid vox and how supportive the other vees are of them <3 their portrayl of the characters puts a smile on my face whenever i reread their work

Heat Waves by HappyPRAWN

notes: i'll be fr dsmptsd hit me like a truck when i read the title but it is such an interesting debut! only at one chapter as of me making this post but the way the author wrote this is so engaging and it really makes me wonder what they have next in store for the fic

Do I have your attention now? by Chi_Chi25

notes: wow no way we have the same name... anyway ahem. ill be completely honest this ones a bit of a guilty pleasure for me. this fic is a bit fragmented and short, so for people who click off fics when they see imperfect grammar this one may not be for you. however if you can look past that, it has an engaging storyline and quite the juicy concept :)

Killer Ex by FanGirl48

notes: gorgeous, gorgeous little human! radiostatic oneshot. i love the relationship that vox and al have here... the reasons why they both stayed away from each other even though theyre still so very clearly down bad for each other... anyway. i think about this one a lot and i still go back to reread it sometimes lol

Negotiations by FanGirl48

notes: i didnt realize until i started making this list that this fic was also written by fangirl48.... go off queen keep feeding us (me). this one was a fic recommended to me initially by link nonny, and i can 100% vouch for how good it is. its got appletv interactions, radiostatic plus lucifer trying to navigate heaven, angels... basically everything needed for a very varied and well packed with flavour story

The diary of a Serial Killer by ShippersCave

notes: okay im running out of brain juice at this point but. yeah this fic is soooo self indulgent to me. this ones another human au, with al as a serial killer and vox as the journalist trying to conduct interviews with him. its got SUCH a good dynamic between al and vox, i encourage you guys to check it out and give it a chance even if youre not really into human aus.

My heart's been pierced by Cupid by ShippersCave

notes: pirate/siren au !!!!!!!!! RAAHH !!!!! i dont have to say anything else for this if thats not enough to get you to click then i dont know what is

System Shutdown by Swoolie

notes: i cant believe i nearly forgot about this one LMAO... vox goes onto a temporary hiatus and everyone goes crazy about it. im not really sure if this counts as radiostatic frankly because of the way its tagged but its so good i think you should give it a read anyway

Together in Radio Static by Anonymous

notes: QPR media husbands radiostatic au !!!! i love this one especially because it opens off with vox slapping alastor across the face for leaving him LMAOO (deserved)

What Has Been by Tianren

notes: another human au (YEAH YEAH I KNOW. JUST HEAR ME OUT OKAY i swear im cooking) look, as someone with religious trauma deeper than i can properly express and the worlds fifteenth worst parental issues, the depiction of vox in this fic just really hits home. i really adore the exploration of voxs past and how the themes of religious guilt and cults are woven in so far- and it blends very seamlessly with their human au, despite the characters eccentricities

you're too sweet for me by awestruck_atrophy and moonbeanies

notes: basically, vox and al make a deal where vox tries to help him out of the shackles or whatever that are bound to him because of his stupid dumbass lusting for power. its very intriguing so far and i love the setup and worldbuilding the authors have done, so you should check it out if you want a unique perspective on radiostatics relationship

candlelight by curtailed

notes: the best way i can think of to describe this one is like... fake marriage but instead of fake marriage its. fake roommates??? the author probably puts it better than me tbh. its super interesting so far, i cant wait to see where this one is headed especially with how unique its premise is!

Zero Day by Anonymous

notes: this one is like those time regression manhwas. you know, the ones where the protag goes back in time and proceeds to try and avoid everyone who made their life miserable- only to fail because for some reason now they're paying attention to them more than they would have had they stayed the same person. its certainly very promising, though! i do love indulging in time regression stories, especially when the mc is someone i love like vox. i really cant wait to see which direction this one is headed in :)

Never as Good as the First Time by IComeForFanficsNowin403

notes: okay. so, uh. um. so- this one is in spanish. HOWEVER its premise (serial killer alastor meets television star (?? i think. its not quite clear) at a party hosted by rosie, moves into his neighborhood to keep an eye on the pretty prey) is just so unique i honestly think its worth the experience to pull out google translate and try living the machine translated life. really. give it a chance. also its got beautiful art to go along with, so.. you know. thats just a bonus!

+ honorary staticmoth and one-sided/past radiostatic fic rec:

Freak-A-Zoid by Femalefonzie

notes: this fic deserves every single piece of praise its ever gotten because good lord. its SO good. i was not seeing the radiostatic twist come in, but it *is* mostly staticmoth. and also a/b/o but i mean. who *hasnt* indulged in a little bit of a/b/o before honestly

there are other fics that i personally like to indulge in, but i frankly wouldnt recommend to anyone else because they're either the kinds of fics that i myself can only bring myself to read after ive spent 8 hours at work crying into my pillow and need to look at something entertaining, or when im starved of content and cant be bothered to cook myself so i pull out the translator and start going at it. (technically i should know how to read french by now but. urgh. anywway..)

[willakk]

Cradle-to-Cradle

After plot plaguing my mind, most often when I was trying to sleep, I decided to do Invisobang this year! I had the wonderful opportunity to work with two fabulous artists: tinyspectre (art) and EyesofCrows! They put so much love into their pieces so please go check it out! I'll link their art here soon! I also had some help with all the nitty gritty of the story by my beta reader WriteDreamLie! I hope you enjoy the story as much as she did!

Anyways, here's the story I've been working on!

Cradle-to-Cradle (1229 words) by WillaKK Chapters: 1/14 Fandom: Danny Phantom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton, Danny Fenton & Tucker Foley & Sam Manson, Danny Fenton & Danielle "Dani" Phantom Characters: Danny Fenton, Jazz Fenton, Sam Manson, Vlad Masters, Danielle "Dani" Phantom Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Vampires, but not an au, Blood and Gore, Blood Drinking, Characters Consuming Ectoplasm (Danny Phantom), Ghost Hunger (Danny Phantom), Self Depreciating Thoughts, Slight Panic Attack Summary: What starts as what appears as a change in heart with Vlad unintentionally leads to Danny being placed in a fatal situation, one that doesn’t involve his typical fare of rogue ghosts. Instead it’s vampires. Danny now has to ensure that Vlad’s schemes are stopped before it is too late for Elle while also navigating his new relationship with his mortality.

Here’s the first chapter below the cut!

Danny hates Vlad. No, hate is too simple a word. Danny despises Vlad.

Poor, unassuming Danny thought that Vlad was finally turning around. Of course, he wasn’t; Danny should have known better. See, earlier that evening, Vlad had invited Danny over for a dinner of reconciliation. With the elder Fenton’s out that weekend at a conference, it seemed as if Vlad left his scheming behind. Vlad could have easily benefited from them being away from Danny’s safe embrace. Vlad could have easily taken control of the situation and finally accomplished one of his greatest goals. But, he didn’t. He stayed in Amity Park and asked for dinner over kind and apologetic words. Danny should have known better.

When Danny arrived at the way too grand house, Vlad welcomed him in with open arms. Of course, Danny was still apprehensive. While seeing Vlad like this was not too uncommon, it was typically when he put up a façade. That was something that Danny was too used to seeing whenever his family interacted with “Uncle Vlad”. The instance here could certainly just be a façade, Danny realized. But, maybe he is finally changing? Maybe he finally realized what he was doing was just wrong and plain creepy.

It seemed as if Vlad was true to his words as they had conversation over dinner. He apologized for his spur of the moment actions that caused the Fentons harm in the past. He said that he had gone to meetings with a therapist who helped him understand and better his thoughts. (Danny couldn’t believe that Vlad would actually admit to needing help, but that night was full of surprises wasn’t it?) Vlad then apologized for all that happened with Danielle.

“Words aren’t enough for that, though, Vlad.”

“I know, Daniel, that’s why I would like to at least financially support her so she can live a life like a normal child. I wronged her in the past” — Danny huffed at that — “It’s my responsibility to rectify that.”

Danny couldn’t help but applaud Vlad for his change in attitude. Maybe things would finally turn around. Maybe Vlad could live up to “Uncle Vlad”.

The food was also very delicious, Danny had to admit. Vlad did have a keen eye for high-quality delicacies. The Italian Soda that Danny had did taste a bit odd though: “Do not worry, Little Badger, it’s made from specially imported syrups straight from Italy! You just are not used to the pure high quality. Now, maybe if you came over more often this would not have been a problem, would it not?”

With all the talk, food, and Danny’s horrible sleep schedule, Danny was already getting pretty tired by dessert. But it was chocolate lava cake so Danny couldn’t pass on that (not like he would want to pass on dessert in general). Vlad had made sure that the dessert was really something special: he had to since it was commemorating a monumental time of change. Instead of the typical plain rich chocolate, there were spices in it as well. It was an awesome idea, Danny had to admit, making the chocolate lava be reminiscent of lava. But, he couldn’t really enjoy it in all of its glory because he really was getting tired and maybe his thoughts were becoming a little fuzzy. Maybe he should get home. And, it seemed as if Vlad was getting a bit tired as well, if Danny interpreted his expression correctly.

Danny exclaimed that he best be getting home because it was getting late, yet omitting the fact that he also didn’t want to keep Jazz waiting around for him (“Just in case,” Jazz said). He then added that he was glad Vlad was finally making a change for the better and that hopefully they could have dinners again.

“Of course, Little Badger, I look forward to it.” Vlad escorted Danny to the door and bid him good night. It seemed so normal, especially for Vlad. Maybe things were really turning around. Oh! How much easier Danny’s life had just become. Maybe he’d finally get to finish the movie marathon with Tucker.

As Danny left the single lamp lit doorstep towards the street leading home, the cool autumn breeze was inviting. The fireplace that Vlad had burning made the home a bit too stifling for Danny’s ice core’s taste. The breeze also woke him up a bit, and, wow, he really was getting tired. He didn’t realize that he was this tired before. Maybe he should walk home a little faster.

Wait, flying would be faster, wouldn’t it. It was only a fifteen minute walk, but anything to shave that down would be welcomed. Danny double checked his surroundings. Luckily, no one was out. Even the outskirts of Vlad’s higher class neighborhood were still nice enough that no one loitered and most people stayed in their welcoming homes late at night for comfort (and safety from ghost attacks that were all so more unsuspecting in the night). With no bystanders in sight, Danny went to transform. But all he felt was a small fizzle of energy. Yes, his brain was a little fuzzy, but he still realized that that wasn’t normal. He tried again: the same results.

Oh, Vlad. What did he do? What was he up to? Danny really shouldn’t be this tired. Maybe he should sit down for a minute. No! Keep walking Danny, keep walking. No falling asleep now. Ugh! I should have known Vlad was up to something. What if something happened to Jazz, too?

Ten minutes away now, he was almost there. He needed to make sure she was safe. Wait, who is “she”? Sam? Elle? … Jazz! Jazz is home alone. Oh, wow! It got dark really fast. Are those street lights not working? Hmm, they really need to fix those. Wasn’t that where Skulker … Focus Danny. Keep walking home. No stopping.

Eight minutes away. Oh, there’s the cafe. They have good croissants. But, they’re closed now, aren’t they? Too bad, Jazz would have liked one of them. Jazz! Walk faster. Could he close his eyes while he walked? He was really tired. Was that a noise? No, it’s just my feet.

Is that a person? Maybe. But he just needs to walk. He’s right next to the cafe now. It feels like a whole minute has passed but he’s only walked a short distance. Is there more than one person? Ah, it doesn’t matter. Wait! Does it? They are moving very very fast, or is Danny just moving very slow?

Ouch! What was that sudden sharp prick of pain near his neck? He should fight those people off. He can fight them off for Ancient’s sake! He’s Phantom. Oh! But maybe he shouldn’t. No, he really doesn’t need to. There’s no problem. The pain is still there but it’s okay. Isn’t it? Wow! The world is getting really fuzzy. It’s like it’s covered in a big fur blanket. Like Cujo! Hmm, yeah, he’s a nice doggy, very nice. Hmm, maybe he should just close his eyes now. Yeah, that’s a good idea, then the street light a few doors down wouldn’t be so bright. Then he could sleep. He liked sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Hmm, what’s that “ba-dump” noise that’s been slowly slowing down? It’s too loud, he doesn’t like it. Oh! Is it stopping? That’s nice. Sleep.

[desertrose244]

Hii!!

I was wondering if you could share some of your favorite fics? I've been in a drought and was just curious 🦅

RAH YES I CAN THIS IS MY FAVOURITE QUESTION TO GET!

I wasn't sure if you wanted fandom specific ones so here's just a collection of some of my all time favourites. These aren't one's that I've linked on this blog before, just because I already have given those appreciation posts and I have SO MANY FICS and authors that I love. Anyways, all of these are /reader - and most have mature tags, so just be mindful : )

BG3:

[Ongoing!] Hellish Rebuke by @bludazey is an Ascended!Astarion fic that answers the open ended state we left Tav and Astarion in. It's dark and filled with drama in such an addicting way I am literallly almost falling off my chair waiting to see what happens in it! Everyone within it is characterised well and the lore put into our MC makes choices a much more 3 dimensional thing as they are not a blank slate like the ingame Tav! [Complete!] Aleatory by @avas-poltergeist is a prequel fic for a durge run centering Astarion x Durge and it's a fic that knows the tone it should take and executes it perfectly. I especially love how it doesn't hold your hand through it's narrative and doesn't treat it's reader as if they are stupid. Some actions, feelings and thoughts are almost done as if they are environmental storytelling and I am a SUCKER for it. Also I just adore the durge being a halfling- they are characterised perfectly. Transformers:

[Complete!] Gravity by @shinyportalsandthings - ohhh my god I dont even what to say. This fic is a Starscream fic and wheeew boi it can be hard to make the gremlin a compelling romance but this fic blows it out the park. The dialogue is witty and natural- I adore the scale of it because it's not a "let's end the millions of years long war" it's just a "let's go be happy" - UGHHH It's just so fun, redeemed Starscream I love you. ((More reccomendations for Transformers are on my metal dune, found here!)) Misc:

(Doom (2016)): [Complete] Rip And Tear (Into My Ass) by Goremungunder is one of two inspirations for my entire writing style. It's a Doomslayer insert fic and it's just perfect in every way. Such an enjoyable read and an excellent fic for a x reader tag that doesn't get much attention. I think about this fic at least once a month and have read through it like 5 times pls give it some love its amazing.

(League of Legends) [Complete - I believe- but set to ongoing] Dream a Little Dream by OrangeCrushCrushCrush is just hilarious and at the end of each chapter even features some art made by the author! All of their work is enjoyable to read, even without knowledge on the world or a pre-existing like for the character. I mean, the second half of this fic is centered around Yorick Mori- a character in League I had literally NEVER touched- but then I read this and mained top lane for like 4 months after.

I think I could actually go on forever, but I'll stop here for now. Thank you for the question Star! I really love getting to go through my bookmarks and deciding what I want to reread XD