#caught a lick

[darkurgediaries]

Mentally, I am here.

[panevanbuckley]

so many thoughts about this interaction (husband-coded) but my main one is the way charles looks at max when he thinks max isn't watching him 👀

[unstablerk800]

Little did Hank know that Connor, indeed, will put more evidence in his mouth in the future. ✨

[onwolves]

[theoneofmanyofficial]

Can't relate

I say as I laugh in 10 alarms, 4 missed check up calls, 1 dog (35 lbs) dropped on me, and a karate chop (right in the stomach) from my sister

Also

This would be my reaction but in the opposite direction. Four alarms is not nearly enough for Silver. That boy needs an entire collection!

[tomatoluvr69]

I love the portion of a sleepless night where you’ve totally given up, and start looking at your phone for some relief of the frustration and boredom, but it’s a double edged sword, bc it’s like damn my entire brain and eyes feel like gravel right now, why am I reading Lucy Sante’s obituary of Paul Auster lmfao

[sukibenders]

RANDOM WIP

A small snippet from a random chapter that I have in mind for my Marina fic. No idea when I'll even publish it, but I think my girl deserves better, so this idea was birthed! A work in progress.

Time for some was nothing but a memory, coming and going whether steady as a river flows or erratic like the breeze during a storm. Some took no note of it, filled with relative ease about the progress of their lives and saw little to worry for. A blessing. A privilege that it was. Others, however, were not so lucky as time could bring a great series of dread, a collection of omens gathering overhead: How will I pay for this expense? Will this be enough for even a meager meal? Who will take me in when there is nowhere to turn?

Those thoughts had been something akin with familiarity to Marina. From the moment she was old enough to understand whilst living on the farm with her parents, to the moment she entered society, it had been a common worry. It only grew tenfold when she realized that she hadn't experienced her monthly and the weeks that followed proved her suspicions to be true. With the weight of a great shame and it's progression nearing impossible to hide, options had become smaller and smaller by the days.

Who will take me in when there is nowhere to turn? Marina shivered at the thought, as she often would whenever her mind began to venture farther than reach. She no longer had to worry about that now, she had told herself over and over. Phillip's arrival and his courteous actions had proven that when he arrived at the Featherington's doorstep (even after she sent him away) with the promise to care for her and her child (children). And he had, adorning her with the title of "Lady Crane" and a well-established home in the country that Marina could have only dreamed of living in when she was a little girl.

Back when she hadn't realized how cruel the world could be.

But Phillip had shown the opposite, albeit awkwardly during the first year that the two spent together. It was clear that her love and grief for George had been shared, and would always remain as she watched the slight sheen of wetness overtake the youngest Crane's eyes whenever he saw the twins, Amanda and Oliver, a small tremor shaking his lips as he forced a smile even through his pain.

But, perhaps with security came healing as with the passage of time, that ache that had been left by George had, slowly, began its own form of healing. Not completely, not that Marina was sure that it ever would, but enough that it had long been since she found herself in tears at the mere thought of him.

Marina often found herself doing the same.

Maybe time could heal some wounds, but this one currently proved more troublesome. Following the disastrous affair of Lady Whistledown's expositions and what they had reaped, visitors and even friends had been very far and far in between to find regarding her. As, who would ever want to be in association with the woman who had found herself with a child and no partner nor sign of marriage in sight? Who had tried to marry into a well-known and respected family while concealing such a secret? Marina had...made her peace with it (no matter the sting), but that had not meant that Phillip faired the same way.

As awkward as the scholarly man was, he had a boyish charm about him that only grew whenever he found himself in discussion about his plants (something which she still didn't fully understand). To her surprise, however, others had shared his similar interests and, within a few days, an invitation had been sent their way. Lord Jerald Belmont, an older gentleman with a generous fortune had been hosting alongside his wife, Lady Regina, a sickly woman who brightened at the view of flowers and any plant there was. It appeared that Lord Jerald had been attempting to bring back his wife's good spirits and Phillip had shown his value in that regard.

How? Marina wasn't entirely sure but plastered a small smile onto her face as Philip recanted his joy, scrambling to gather as many journal entries as he could, unaware of the troubles that brewed in Marina's mind. Troubles that followed throughout the night at Belmont residence as stares and whispers circled her, upturned noses and cutting scoffs at every corner. What more had she ever expected from the Ton? Under the safety of her new home, it had been easy to ignore. Hardly any issue of Lady Whitlesdown entered their abode and nearly none had swept past her gaze, so she had little knowledge of what went on outside of the country besides that out of the mouths of maids and others who worked within the Crane household.

But now? Even as she tried to ignore it, to watch from afar as Phillip conversed with Lord Jerald and witnessed him nearly trip over himself, that option proved difficult. When she still lived on the farm with her parents, even when in attendance at the Featherington home, she had never been one to back down from a fight. Standing tall and proud in the face of trial, Marina pushed on because it was needed of her. To survive she had to fight. But she no longer needed to fight as she was now married and well cared for, her twins were healthy and loved and she no longer had to fear the what if. She was...surviving. So what need was there to fight?

[deathfavor]

@requiemofrebellion said: "3, 2, 1..." (hanma to kazutora , any verse !)

Send "3,2,1..." for a new years kiss from my muse

These grand celebrations aren't Kazutora's cup of tea so to speak, but he plays an important role in this new Toman. He knows he's expected to be there. If nothing else, it's a moment to flaunt to the world how a freed tiger is doing. How he thrives in the dark belly of the underworld. So Kazutora dresses to impress while still maintaining his own style. Leather and fancy silks, his usual earring, and other accessories that draw eyes to him. And it works, because when he saunters into the celebratory party, he can feel the crowd's eyes immediately focus on him.

He gracefully makes his way through the crowd, accepting a drink from one of the waiters that flits around the space like birds delivering drinks and snacks to guests. Leave it to Kisaki to spare no expense. It's impressive though, Kazutora muses as he takes a sip of the drink, gold eyes trailing over the crowd. He recognizes many of the faces, but some are new. All seemed to be basking in the luxury of this ornate party and delighted in the buzz of excitement. The ceiling to floor windows also offered a gorgeous view of the city and the fireworks of people celebrating. Undoubtedly, this event will be all the talk for the next few days.

Kazutora isn't interested in that at the moment, as pretty as they are. His eyes are searching, hunting through the crowd even as people try to get his attention. He entertains some, but his attention diverts as soon as he sees who he's been looking for.

" Hanma ! " Kazutora's eyes brighten as he sets his empty glass on a passing tray and makes his way over to the one he's followed all this time. The one whose never looked at him with disgust or fear.

Time passes, and while the tiger does part now and again, sometimes to dance, sometimes to fetch a drink, he isn't far from Hanma. And as the final moments of the year approach, Kazutora returns to Hanma's side, where he finds the towering male seated on a leather couch. As many people as there are at the event, most seem to give Hanma plenty of space for himself on the couch.

The countdown beings.

The tiger makes his move.

Kazutora flashes a confident grin as he approaches, fearless of the reaper. He slides himself onto Hanma, straddling his hips while his knees sink into the fabric. It's just enough that he can comfortably reach Hanma's face as the countdown grows closer and closer. It's strangely intimate to share the last dying moments of a year together, gold stares locked with one another.

3...2..1...

Kazutora leans forward, crashing his lips against Hanma's. But there's nothing unskilled about it. Kazutora knows what he's doing as he slots their mouths together and presses himself flushed against Hanma. There's jealous stares at them, but Kazutora couldn't give a shit about what the rest of these people were doing or thinking. His hands cup Hanma's cheeks, his eyes fluttering shut as he presses into the kiss further.

His teeth come to nip playfully at Hanma's bottom lip, soothed over when his tongue glides over where his teeth just were. They both taste of alcohol but Kazutora would gladly drink it from Hanma's lips if it were given. He sighs soft and quiet before he pulls back slightly. His eyes flutter to half-open, eyes as dark as the midnight skies with how wide his eyes are, dilated with his interest. His fingers trail down, along the slender column of his throat before simply resting against Hanma's chest. As for Kazutora, his pink tongue darts out, licking his own lips like he can swallow the last trace of Hanma on him while he flashes a pleased grin.

" Happy New Year ~ "

[selenya]

👅

[drawnecromancy]

🧡 Having one of their secrets revealed publically

🍒 Being hit on by a stranger

For Hélianthe?

From this ask game !

🧡 Having one of their secrets revealed publically

Oooo, that would depend on the secret.

The one thing that would make him smile and lie and use all of his charisma, skills, and maybe a bit of magical nudging to put people in his camp would be revealing to the court of Monthaut that he is a vampire. Because that shit will get him killed, and he needs everyone to not believe the person revealing the secret. He'd turn against anyone if they revealed it, destroying them first socially and then later making sure they never speak again.

No matter what it takes.

🍒 Being hit on by a stranger

Oh he loves being hit on by strangers, he hits on strangers all the time, he'd be flattered and hit on them back. Flirting with people in that way is like, one of his main hobbies when he lives in Forge, long before he's anywhere near the plot of Le prix du Sang !

One of the very first things he does around Atropa, actually, right after he's done being intimidating, is hitting on her. Because he's normal like that.

[invinciblerodent]

one of my favorite little pieces of headcanon I have been rotating around in my mind is that in the graveyard scene in Astarion's romance, there is such a realistic chance for being caught.

i mean, it's in the middle of the Lower City. it's literally in a hotbed of activity (criminal and otherwise), at a place that's frequented by mourners, and zombies, and elements even less savory than that. the security, even if it does relax, probably doesn't stop at night, or at least not for as long as it should.

in my hc, the Mortarch who is patrolling the grounds during the day lives in one of the buildings overlooking the graveyard, and i'm thinking about a possibility where she just... happens to glance out the window on her way back from the bathroom, and catch a not entirely unusual glimpse of a macabre couple. (This is Baldur's Gate. There are most definitely people who are morbid enough to want to make love on top of a grave without any specific inspiration for it, and to be fair, it'd be more concerning if someone's first thought at seeing that was "hm, well hold on now, one of them could be the deceased, and this moment could be a beautifully cathartic metaphor for rebirth".)

in this version, a shout startles them apart, and they have roughly a minute to disentangle themselves from each other and flee before the Mortach would make it down the stairs.

yanking clothes on to make themselves actually presentable isn't really feasible, of course: Astarion can manage to pull his pants up to the point where they're kind of on, if undone still (they were around his knees, the upward motion wasn't the difficult part, it was stuffing himself back in there that proves a futile task), and Iona manages to make a split-second decision and opt for throwing on his shirt (which is at least long enough to pass for a dress on her, if a deeply indecent one, especially with nothing else on), and it's with truly uncontrollable, free laughter bubbling from them (and the rest of whatever clothing they -mainly she- had on clutched in their fists) that they half-run, half-drag each other out the gate.

the city is fairly quiet, of course. it's gone past being late and well into the small hours of the morning, the pink dawn is just about to start licking at the tiled roofs, and even a city as bustling as Baldur's Gate is largely empty, as if asleep.

they run and stumble through the streets chased by the echo of their own giddy laughter bouncing off the walls. they dodge the patrolling guards and Steel Watchers by ducking into side-streets and doorways, pushing and dragging each other up against the wall for playful kisses- a ruffle of his hair, a squeeze of her ass, a thigh drawn up to his waist with a grip just this side of rough, a scratch down his chest and a nibble on an earlobe, they just can't keep their hands off one another for long enough to make it back home.

she bloody well squeals as his hand finds its way under "her" clothes as she runs up the stairs to their rooms (to be fair, her ass was at eye-level, what's a man to do?), and picking that lock should be the easiest thing in the world (the key? who knows. probably fallen out of her pocket and into a sewer somewhere. absolutely not important.), but not with the dirty, airy whispers in his ear and the hot, insistent kisses being mouthed onto his jaw, his neck, his shoulder...

the communal room may have been a mistake in retrospect, but the roof... may offer some privacy. probably. it's more than nothing, at least.

besides, there is scarcely a better way to greet the first golden morning of a free life than... bathed in its light, warm and content, while overlooking a city full of such endless possibilities.

[nanamimizz]

Rin after u dunk him in milk like an Oreo

licks him clean like a mother cat does to her kitten

[nobodieshero-main]

another possible idea for tfc could be that they never make it to the ocean at all, and instead R is killed in Slova's place

[aibafiles]

not the weed incident

[oculusxcaro]

🍳 [Rorschach will beat up Khare's landlord for being a creep and a lazy slob (งಠل͜ಠ)ง ]

Send a 🍳 and my muse will cook something for you

Ever since the landlord came back from hospital, life had improved considerably. Things had stopped disappearing from her apartment other than the snacks that Khare left specifically for Rorschach to enjoy whenever he needed to lay low for an hour or two or the use of utilities he couldn't access out on the streets. She didn't mind, even when he didn't clean up after himself because it wasn't that big of a deal and she'd come to adore him as a friend. Khare wondered briefly how things might have turned out had she never ran into the masked vigilante. It wasn't a pleasant thought, not after some of the close calls she'd had that had been prevented because of him, be it because of his street smarts and natural disposition to violence making him right at home in a city as unfriendly as Gotham. As aloof as Rorschach could be, she did consider him a friend, a good one and wanted to do something nice for him, but what? Food was always a good choice since the man never carried anything other than the bare necessities, not trusting anything but canned food he could carry around. More tins of food wouldn't be turned away, she imagined, but maybe he'd like something else? Cold tins of beans day in and day out had to get boring, even if he didn't seem to like other foods very much. Khare perked up. There was something Rorschach liked very much, not the healthiest thing exactly but something she had easy access to - sugar. Rorschach loved sweet things, she'd even caught him sucking on sugar cubes, making her think about the sorrel horse she'd grown up watching back home in Hull. The next time she went to Pauli's Diner, Khare had a plan. A simple enough plan that should Rorschach pay a visit tonight, she'd have something nice for him to try - Vanilla Cupcakes with Buttercream Frosting. It wasn't a regular item on the menu but other than the buttercream frosting used for other desserts, a few eggs, sticks of butter and flour wouldn't go amiss in the kitchens. Besides, she needed the icing piper to be able to put the buttercream frosting on top, which was what she suspected Rorschach would be more interested in than the cupcake itself. With fresh vanilla buttercream whipped and whirled, the time came to pipe the stuff on top when the familiar *ting* of the diner entrance caught her attention. "Just a sec, I'll be right with you!" Khare called out as she washed her hands quickly, breaking out into a smile when she saw it was Rorschach. He was in his disguise, hard-lined face impassive as he approached the counter in the same manner he always did. His face free of the scruffy beginnings of a beard marked him as the culprit of the mess in her bathroom the other morning when she came home from work but Khare wasn't thinking to reprimand the man about the untidy way he'd left the place, rather that she had something important to share... "Hey Walter, long time no see! We've got some tins out in the kitchen if you'd like to take them off our hands but we just finished baking too if you'd like something fresh out of the oven? One time special per customer tonight, and since you're the first..." Khare said, retrieving the bag of canned beans along with a plated cupcake topped with extra buttercream. "Thought you might like something different from beans for a change, at no extra charge."