#have been seeing it all over the dash is it good? more importantly is it happiness? because if no then not rn agshshd

[jessicas-pi]

Dad Vader (But He's Got The Wrong Son) AU thoughts, part three

part one || part two

So, picking up where we left off!

After completing the most stressful mission of his life, Kanan takes a deep breath, says a polite goodbye to the Sith Lord, his son, and the random and apparently unrelated girl tagging along with them, and returns back to normal, Sith-free life...

...for all of two weeks.

See, what happened is this.

After they part ways with the Spectres, Vader brings Ezra and Sabine back to Lothal, scolding them thoroughly for getting caught up in a Rebel plot ("But, Dad, you helped with the Rebel plot!") and disappearing without a trace. He threatens to ground them from vandalism permanently, but after they promise to be very very careful and not go anywhere with strangers again, Vader begrudgingly allows Ezra and Sabine to go cause more chaos. Except, now that they've been seen with known Rebels, they've gone from a nuisance to a threat in the eyes of the Empire, and a bunch of stormtroopers ambush the kids.

In the following mad dash to get away, a stray blaster bolt knocks Sabine down. She's got her armor, she's fine, she just face-planted in the dirt and the only thing damaged is her dignity, but Ezra doesn't know that. All he knows is that Sabine just went down.

Sabine. Who is his hero. And his best friend. She's awesome, and she's amazing, and he looks up to her, and he might be kind of in love with her, he's not sure yet, but even if he's not, he definitely worships the ground she walks on, and--most importantly--she's one of the two people in the galaxy he would kill for without hesitation.

And in the heat of the moment, he forgets that the first lesson she gave him in Having A Moral Compass That's Not Just Doing Whatever Vader Does was that murder is an absolute last resort and not the go-to plan in most situations.

To put it mildly, Ezra goes postal.

It takes a stun bolt from Sabine's own blaster to stop him. She throws him over her shoulder and gets out of there as fast as she can, feeling a strange combination of nausea and fury.

She's had moments of doubt over Vader's total disinterest in reigning in his son's temper, but this takes it to another level. No decent parent would raise their child to think that it was okay to do something like THAT.

Ezra regains consciousness in time to hear Sabine reading Vader the riot act over his parenting techniques.

Vader would, under usual circumstances, ignore everything she's saying, but when she finishes her speech by snapping that someday, Ezra's gonna end up hurting his own friends if he doesn't get ahold of his temper, it makes him stop. Because she's right. She's really really right.

"...yes," Vader says, after a long pause in which he spends several seconds being very sad about his dead wife. "That will most likely be the case."

"Well, what are you gonna do about it?!" Sabine demands.

Vader thinks a bit, and comes to the conclusion that (a) okay, admittedly, the Jedi probably were onto something with their bit on emotional regulation, and (b) oh boy he's gotta get his kid to a Jedi.

Obi-Wan would be Vader's first choice, frankly, because he was an obnoxiously good Jedi, but Obi-Wan's not here right now and he probably wouldn't be inclined to train a junior inquisitor anyway.

Thankfully, Vader did just meet a Jedi recently, so he grabs his kids and hunts down the Spectres... just in time for the Grand Inquisitor to make his appearance.

Vader yells at him to go away.

"Please," Ezra adds politely.

"And thank you," Sabine snarks.

The Grand Inquisitor makes himself scarce, and Vader turns to Kanan.

"I need you to train my son."

"...huh?"

"My son. I need you to train him to be in control over his emotions."

"...huh??"

Ezra, staring down at the floor and looking remarkably like a guilty puppy under the force of Sabine's judgmental glare, mumbles, "I... did... a thing."

"He tried to kill a lot of people," Sabine specifies. "We need you to fix him, because right now, his reaction to me getting hurt is to dismember everyone who tried to hurt me, and not check and see if I'm okay."

Kanan is understandably VERY wary of training this kid, but also, he probably shouldn't be left UNtrained. So... ??

Vader sees the need to sweeten the deal, and offers a salary and, when that doesn't quite work, Sabine pipes up and suggests he throw in amnesty for Kanan and the rest of the Spectres.

Vader actually considers this.

"But they're Rebels," he points out. "They're just going to go back to... rebelling... or whatever it is they do."

"They free Wookiee slaves!" Ezra says, perking up. "What if they promised to just do that and stop doing... other... rebelling... things?"

"Well..." Vader says. "Maybe..."

Hera (who is also there, and intrigued by the situation) leans in, eyes narrowing. "We also get to run relief missions to other planets."

"Doesn't seem like a bad idea to me," Sabine shrugs.

"Yeah! And they can hang out with us in the comm tower when they're not busy!" Ezra grins.

Vader caves in with a sigh. "Fine. But they can't kill Stormtroopers anymore."

"What about when they try to kill us?!"

"If you're paying them, then they work for the Empire, right?" Ezra asks Vader. "Just make them outrank the stormtroopers and the other officers who get in the way all the time. They they can do whatever they want. Make them in charge of a relief corps of something!"

"Son, I cannot simply invent a new division of the Imperial government--"

"Sure you can," Sabine interrupts. "You're Darth Vader. Who's going to stop you?"

Vader can't deny that she's got a point, but he did NOT intend for this conversation to end with him hiring known Rebels, much less putting them in charge of some kind of newly-invented Imperial Relief Corps. He was going to pay one (1) Jedi to teach his son how to not fly into a murderous rage. That's it.

But it's too late. Ezra and Sabine have both latched onto the idea--Ezra, because he thinks the Spectres are cool and it'll be okay to be friends with them if they don't technically count as rebels anymore, and Sabine, because she wants to stick it to the Empire, and making KNOWN ENEMIES OF STATE into IMPERIAL OFFICERS and then making them OUTRANK the other imperial officers is just too good an opportunity to give up.

"Fine... but you have to wear Imperial uniforms," Vader says smugly. (If they're in Imperial uniforms, then any good they do is ultimately credited back to the Empire. HA!)

"I'm not wearing an Imperial uniform!" Zeb (who is also there) snarls. "They killed my people!"

Ezra speaks before Vader can. "Perfectly understandable. You don't have to. But Kanan and Hera will. Sound good?"

Kanan and Hera are about to say that they are NOT wearing Imperial uniforms under ANY CONDITIONS when Sabine slides in smoothly.

"AND, since they've got to outrank anyone who might get in their way, their uniforms should be a different color than all the other ones!"

"Beige," Vader says.

"Orange," Sabine counters.

"I like orange," Ezra seconds.

Neither Vader, Kanan, Hera, nor Zeb know how it happens, but by the time they part ways, Ezra and Sabine have talked them all into a deal where Hera is the Chief Officer of the Imperial Relief Corps, the Spectres have full authority to do basically whatever they want as long as it involves improving people's lives, and the Ghost has official clearance to refuel at any and all Imperial Fuel Depots.

And their uniforms are going to be bright orange. Eye-catchingly orange. Obnoxiously orange.

(Rebel orange.)

to be continued...

[milkpansa-archive]

darlings should i start the eighth sense?

[marlynnofmany]

One More Earth Animal -- Part Two

(Part One is here)

Fernando Hwan Tengku-Jones was expecting a cat. His friend on the colony world had said they were sending one that somebody’d left behind — poor thing! —and Fern couldn���t wait to give it a good home. He’d already cat-proofed his quarters as best he could. Fragile things were put away, his reading lamp was secured to the bedside table, and he’d grabbed a few cardboard boxes from the recycle stash that would make good hidey-holes. A litter box should be available somewhere in this space station’s commerce sector — he’d been here before. He could check after the drop-off. As much as he would have liked to get that set up first, he wasn’t in charge of the schedule.

His Frillian crewmates were curious about the companion animal that the captain was allowing him to bring onboard. He’d spent the last half of the trip telling them every story about cats he could think of. Each of them rippled their frills in patient disinterest, but he didn’t mind. They’d be won over by the adorable kitty soon enough.

When the ship docked at their usual berth, Fern did his part in helping unload the usual shipment. The specialty maintenance shop here always ordered the same stuff at this time of the rotation. Everything was normal. But then Fern got to dash off to meet another ship, and he was more excited than he’d been in a long time.

He called ahead, and was told to meet at the cargo bay door. When he arrived, he saw that this ship was unloading boxes as well. He didn’t see any logos anywhere, and the boxes weren’t even all the same kind, plus the crew wasn’t wearing uniforms.

Looks like one of those freelance setups, he thought while he patiently waited at a distance. That always sounded like such an unreliable way to make a living. But at least they get to travel to interesting places. Where there are cats!

When the crew finished handing the motley assortment of boxes off to a motley assortment of customers, the one with the tablet waved him over. This was a cute little lizard who probably wouldn’t want to be described that way. As yellow as a very serious banana. She called into the ship for somebody else to come out, and Fern was delighted to see another human carrying a cat-sized cage.

“Hello!” the other human said, waving her free hand. “I have something important to tell you about your new friend here.”

Fern was immediately worried. “Is it injured? Or pregnant?” His captain had approved a single animal, not a litter.

“Thankfully, no!” she replied, setting down the cage with the front turned away from him. “First of all, he’s perfectly healthy and perfectly tame. And he’s been fixed. But most importantly, his stink gland has been removed.”

“His what?” Fern thought of his aunt’s cat who had stunk up the house by scent-marking the walls. Wasn’t that just pee, not a gland?

“Congratulations,” the other human said. “You are the proud owner of a non-spraying skunk.”

“A what?” Fern said on reflex, processing her words.

She lifted the cage and turned it so he could see inside. “This is the friendliest little snuggle buddy, and he likes being brushed.”

Fern stared. A very fluffy skunk stared back. While most of his brain was still circling in shock, the thought surfaced that the animal really did seem tame: not threatening to spray even though its gland had been removed. Theoretically.

He asked, “You’re sure it’s completely de-stinked?”

“Yes.” The other human nodded. “Our medscanner is top-notch. And I spent a lot of time with him on the trip here; I’m certain he was hand-raised as a pet. No idea how the poor guy ended up in the middle of nowhere, but he more than deserves a loving home. Think you can give him that?”

Fern’s heart twinged, and he shook himself. “Yes, absolutely. Did he come with a name?”

The other human smiled. “Nope! That’s up to you. I’ve been calling him Fluffy, but that’s just a placeholder.”

“Seems pretty accurate,” Fern said, gazing through the bars.

The yellow lizard stepped forward with the digital paperwork. Fern signed for the skunk, his thoughts in a whirl.

“If you’re already set up with cat food, good news: skunks will eat that,” the other human told him. “They’re omnivores, so this guy will eat a lot of the same stuff you do, just try to keep it as close to nature as you can out in space: plain and not overly processed. He’ll love peanut butter and chicken eggs if you can get them. Oh, and keep him away from the usual list of Crazy Human Toxic Foods! No chocolate, onions, garlic, or caffeine. Or hot peppers, though that’s more unpleasant than poisonous for him.”

“Right,” Fern said, handing the tablet back. “Good to know; thank you.”

“Sure thing! I hope you guys have a long and happy life together.” She presented him with the cage and gave his uniform a look. “Merchant ship, right?”

“Talented Toolmakers, of Frillian Pride,” Fern recited automatically as he accepted the armload of skunk. “I got hired when the route changed to spend more time in human territory. But then it changed back, and I haven’t seen much from home lately.”

“Well this guy’s glad to have you,” the other human said. The lizard was already walking back into the ship. “We have to rush off to another delivery, but good luck! Skunks can get into places they shouldn’t, and claw things open that a cat wouldn’t be able to, so keep him away from the engine room.”

“Got it!” Fern waved goodbye as the other human trotted back onto her ship. While the bay doors closed, Fern took careful steps back toward his own.

He expected his crewmates to react in alarm at the news that his cat was a skunk … but he’d forgotten that they were unfamiliar with Earth animals.

“If it can’t make that smell, and it isn’t going to bite anyone, then I don’t see a problem,” the captain said. “Just keep it in your quarters while it gets settled in. You can bring it out under supervision later.”

“It really is as fluffy as you said,” remarked the engineer.

“What does it eat?” asked the pilot.

Fern replied, “A lot of the same things I do.”

“That’s convenient!” the pilot said. The others agreed.

And that was that. Fern took the skunk into his quarters, let it waddle around and sniff everything, then fed it a messy plate of cat food. He put a folded hand towel in the cage and gently stuffed the skunk back in so he could run off to buy a litter box without worrying about what it would do while he was gone.

He splurged on a fancy litter box with a covered top and an auto-scooper, designed for ship’s cats. When he set it up and opened the cage, the skunk went right for it, which was a relief.

Probably a relief for him too, Fern thought. He’s been in that cage a while.

The captain announced that they were taking off. Fern settled down to socialize with his new pet, confident that he wouldn’t be needed for a while yet. Their route was predictable, after all, and this next part involved a lot of empty space before they reached the warehouse.

A lot of empty space, and pirates.

Human ones according to the intercom, which just made the whole thing more insulting. This was NOT the taste of home he’d been missing. The captain’s announcement held a lot of profanity, and Fern could see why. It was bad enough to be shaken down when they had cargo they could be reimbursed for, but right now their hold was empty. And the pirates wouldn’t accept that.

They’ll want our own tools, Fern thought, looking around his quarters. And food, and fuel, and… His gaze fell on the skunk nosing about his bookshelf.

And fuck them.

He lunged for the intercom button. “Captain, if you’re sure they’re human, I have an idea.”

Several minutes later, the pirate ship locked onto the merchant vessel, and clamped an adapter over the airlock. Pirates gathered, ready to board, armed with guns and knives and vicious grins.

Those grins evaporated when the first pirate looked through the airlock porthole at what waited for them on the other side.

One lone human, wearing a breather helmet and carrying a fluffy, agitated skunk.

The pirates detached immediately and took off with enough thrust to rock the ship.

The pilot got the merchant vessel back on course, while the captain sang praises over the intercom, and Fern brought Fluffy the Fearsome back to his room for some well-earned brushing.

The next time that particular merchant ship passed through the area, it had a large emblem of a skunk pasted next to the company logo.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[maidflowery]

Good Morning, Have a Nice Day

Aventurine x Reader

You told your boyfriend, Aventurine, to wake you up early the next morning. But little did you know...

"-up. Wake up, Sunshine."

In your slumber, you faintly heard a voice. The tone was cheerful, almost rivaling the birds chirping outside the window.

"Mm..."

Is it morning already...?

"Oh, the Sleeping Beauty finally wakes up. Hey, don't go back to sleep."

The voice spoke, as laid-back as ever, as if trying to lull you back to sleep.

But... Why didn't I hear any alarm...?

"If you don't wake up by the count of three, I'll kiss you. One... Two..."

"What time is-GAH!!"

When you opened your eyes, Aventurine's dashing face was hovering a few inches away from you. It was apparent that he'd been watching you the whole time.

Close! Too close!

"Your response to your boyfriend's gentle wake up call is to scream to his face...?"

He sulked, but not for long. Soon, he was smiling from ear to ear again. Was the sight of you waking up that fantastical?

"Good morning~ if you sleep again, the counter will pick up from where it left off."

"...More importantly, what time is it right now?"

Seeing how bright the sun was shining outside the window only gave you bad feelings.

Pretty sure you'd asked him to wake you up at 6 AM. You even set an alarm at 5 AM. After all, your class started at 8 AM.

Aventurine looked slightly dejected for a moment, before answering.

"7.30 AM, why?" he asked as if it was someone else's business.

"7.30 AM!? But... Didn't I... Tell you to wake me up at..." You were so shocked that you could only stutter.

"Well, yes, and I promised to wake you up as early as I could." Aventurine innocently shrugged his shoulders.

As early... As he could?

Somehow, you felt there was a huge emphasis right there. The two of you stared at each other, one dumbfounded, one smiling nonchalantly.

Ah!!! Right!!!

He sucks at getting up early!!!

Actually, both of you were.

If this was a movie, then it was probably the moment when the main character shouted, 'I shouldn't have trusted him!'

Thus, you bolted out of the room and began preparing at the highest speed known to man.

"Aventurine!!"

A few minutes later, you dashed straight toward his room again. By that time, you had showered and dressed for college.

But the moment you stepped in, your jaw almost dropped to the floor.

Aventurine stood there with only a white towel draped over his waist. He'd clearly just stepped out of the shower, as his body glowed with a wet sheen.

Glittering droplets of water clung to his chiseled abs, some trickling down even further below. It took you everything not to follow them with your eyes.

Aventurine, who was drying his hair, finally turned at you.

"What's the matter? It's nothing you haven't seen before."

He cocked an eyebrow at you, a playful and tantalizing grin tugging at his lips.

"Aventurine... Why... What are you doing naked!?" you couldn't help but blurt out.

"Says the one who barged in without knocking. Anyway, need anything?"

Saying that, Aventurine approached you, his broad chest filling your field of vision.

Trying to block the view, you shoved your phone to him.

"I'm here to talk about this! Why did you turn off my alarm!? No wonder it didn't ring!"

"Ah, that... But weren't you tired last night? I just thought of letting you sleep a bit longer. How are you feeling now? Did you rest well?"

Aventurine stared at your phone, not trying to deny or affirm it.

Based on his words alone, he sounded like a caring, attentive boyfriend who was just looking out for his girlfriend.

Except you didn't buy it, because of two glaring contradictions.

"Whose fault is it that I barely got any sleep last night!? Also, if that's the case, you must've either disabled it right after I fell asleep, or woke up way earlier!"

"But in the end, I still woke you up, right?" Aventurine gave you an 'all's well that ends well's' smile.

"What do you mean 'in the end'? Were you planning to not wake me up?"

"In the end, I still did, right?"

"..."

He totally planned to!!

Seriously, why is he acting like this!?

In truth, you knew why. You also knew that underneath his nonchalant and flippant attitude, he was sulking.

As you stood there, fuming, Aventurine asked you, putting the towel around his neck.

"Won't you be staying for breakfast?"

"No. Thanks to someone, I have to skip it."

Despite the hint of wistfulness in his tone, you bluntly turned him down, averting your gaze.

"Then, will you be having lunch with your team leader instead? Say hi to him for me."

Hearing that, you raised your head and shot back.

"We've spoken about this! It's just an obligatory meeting to discuss the assignment progress!"

"One that you set a bunch of alarms and even skipped breakfast for. Totally not important indeed."

... It was because you'd ditched one too many of such meetings, missing the next one would totally get you axed. In your defense, that team leader was a prick.

Of course, there was no way you could admit that you often skip group activities to your boyfriend. Or that karma was finally biting you in the ass. That'd be super lame.

We are getting nowhere fast, and I'm running out of time.

"...A-anyway, I'll get going."

You awkwardly turned around, still trying to maintain a tough front.

"Hey, you forget something."

You turned around. "What is—"

His lips sealed yours, and you were unable to finish your words.

"!!"

Aventurine ferociously devoured your lips, leaving no inch untouched, as if imprinting himself. He nibbled on your upper lips, before gnawing on the lower ones. He allowed you a brief moment of respite to reclaim your breath, before resuming his onslaught from a different angle.

The delicate string that was holding your rationality together was about to snap. You were basically holding onto him at this point.

He stroked your tingly lips with the tip of his tongue, gently parting them. Then, his tongue slid in, coiling around your own.

Just as you thought of surrendering completely to this mind-blowing kiss, he stopped.

"...Aren't you going to be late? Whoops."

Aventurine caught you as you toppled forward, burying you in his chest. Immediately, the refreshing, masculine fragrance of his cologne filled your nose.

Embarrassingly, your legs had turned into jelly.

"Oh no. Can you stand? Should we call in sick?"

Within his arms, you could hear him suggest that a tad too happily.

"...No thanks. I'm still going."

You somehow managed to squeeze out those words despite the supple tenderness around you.

"What a shame. Even though your dear boyfriend is home at last."

He spoke in a deflated tone that you could tell was genuine.

Aventurine was a busy man. His business trip would sometimes last for more than a month. Today, he finally had a day off.

All you could do was stare at him as he wiped a trace of saliva from his lips, smiling provocatively at you

"Oh, well. We can always save it for later. If it gets too unbearable, you can always come back to me. Have a nice day."

The kiss that ended as abruptly as it started was his way of giving you something to think about.

As underhanded as always...

You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face!

You grabbed the towel around his neck, pulling him toward you. Briefly, you saw his eyes widen as he was caught off-guard.

"Mmh-!"

Then, you gave Aventurine the taste of his own medicine, but with your own finishing touch.

After the kiss had ended, Aventurine, seemingly taken aback, reached for his lower lip. A red mark had blossomed on his lip, turning it a deeper shade of crimson.

"...I told you, I'll sneak off in the middle, so please wait for me." You said.

Still tracing his lip, Aventurine stared straight at you, his violet-cyan eyes burning from within.

"...Alright. I'll be patient. But I won't wait for too long."

Extra

...Aventurine's patience lasted only until lunch break.

Read more stories

[dancingbirdie]

Here’s a smut idea that’s been stuck in my mind, how about the reader getting caught in the middle of “taking care of themself” and Astarion decides to join the fun but only to guide their hands along and just cooing soft, encouraging/teasing words into their ear 😩

Hi, anon! This was so naughty and I loved it. I wrote this fic in, like, less than two hours. So I guess that shows how excited I was to sketch this out haha. I hope you enjoy! xoxoxo

A Good Show

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings/Tags: masturbation (fem), praise kink, voyeurism, slight dom/sub vibes

Summary: Astarion catches you playing with yourself and is all too eager to help you finish.

*****

“Your wicked tongue got you into this predicament. You know that, don’t you?” Astarion smirked down at you, sprawled as you were on hands and knees over his lap. 

You whimpered as his fingertips traced across your backside, feather-soft, mapping the skin there. 

You heard the crack of his palm against your bottom before you actually registered the sting. A desperate mewl slipped from your lips as your mind attempted to reconcile the pain with the flood of arousal in your lower abdomen. 

You were so wet. Dripping, filthy wet. And he knew it. 

“Tch. So naughty. Not even a good smack can get you to behave. Whatever shall I do with you, hmm?” Astarion murmured. His hand resumed its tracing while the other carded through your hair lovingly. 

“Whatever you want,” you breathed, trembling with want from the obscene position you found yourself in. Naked, bent over Astarion’s lap, ass smarting, and cunt as wet as the Chianthar. 

“Dangerous words, darling,” he chuckled, dipping his fingers lower and slipping all too easily between your slick folds. 

You moaned as you felt him insert two fingers inside you and begin pumping at a leisurely pace. His other hand soon joined, thumb circling slowly around your swollen clit. It was all you could do to remain balanced and not collapse on top of his lap. 

You could see it so clearly in your mind’s eye. 

Although it was your fingers pumping inside you, it was his hands you thought of. It was his slender digits, impaling you again and again. It was his thumb circling your clit until you nearly saw stars. 

You’d shoved the collar of your tunic in your mouth to keep your voice muffled. The vision you were concocting was so vivid, it was nearly impossible to stop yourself from moaning. The humble little inn you all had settled in for the night was so quiet; you could only pray that no one heard you through the thin walls. But just a few more pumps of your fingers with fantasy-Astarion goading you on, and you knew that a climax would be nearing ever closer. 

Your hopes for secrecy were dashed as your ears pricked, honing in on the quiet cough emanating from the corner of the room. You froze. To your horror, you realized the door to your quarters was ajar and who else but Astarion himself was now peering around it to find you, perched at the end of the bed, trousers at your ankles, playing with yourself. 

You could have sworn you’d secured the latch on the door beforehand. But, then again, this place was in shambles. It was fully possible that the thing was too rusted to do its simple job. Either way, it hardly mattered now, given that the subject of your pleasure fantasy was now locking eyes with you in reality, his eyebrows raised in obvious amusement. 

“My, my. What do we have here? And, more importantly, why didn’t I receive an invitation?” he smirked. 

His voice spurred you into action, and you quickly rose from your reclined position to attempt to cover your not-so-decent bits from view. You could feel the red crush of embarrassment coloring every part of your body it could. 

“Astarion, I’m so, so sorry. I swore I closed the door earlier and… and…” you trailed off, burying your face in your hands. “Gods, this is worse than a javelin to the thigh,” you finished in a muffled tone.

You heard his throaty chuckle. “These locks are all but disintegrated, darling. They’d barely hold a mouse at bay, I’d wager.” 

You nodded, too mortified to continue having this conversation with him. It was bad enough to have been caught in the act, but to be caught by the very person you’d been fantasizing about? The gods were truly cruel. 

You heard the door close with a quiet snick. Assuming Astarion had sauntered off down the hall, your shoulders sagged with the weight of all that had transpired. 

You didn’t expect his voice to call to you again. This time, a little closer in proximity. 

“Well, is that it, then?” he goaded. 

You lifted your head slowly from your hands to peer at him. He was watching you with an intensity that one might see in a predator observing their prey. 

“What do you mean?” you hedged. 

“I mean, are you going to leave yourself half-sated, or are you going to finish what you started?” Astarion intoned. 

“What - are you thinking of staying for a show?” you retorted, flabbergasted at yet another turn in the course of these events.

“Wouldn’t you like me to?” he pressed, a teasing smile stretching his lips wide. His fangs glinted in the candlelight. “I heard you sigh my name, you know.”

You stared at him in horror, but he only chuckled again. 

“The wonders of elf ears and vampiric senses. They never cease,” he explained. 

Then he made his way further into the room, closer to you, before slouching against one of the bedposts at the foot of the bed. 

“I know you want to,” he murmured in a low drawl. “I can feel your arousal. It’s still boiling within you.”

Your breath stuttered of its own accord. His voice was so deep, so smooth, it was nearly impossible to resist.��

“I don’t know that I can…” you whispered, not trusting your voice to keep the gravity of your desire a secret. “What with you, you know, just standing there watching me…”

“Oh, darling,” he cooed, peeling away from the bedpost to crawl up on the mattress behind you. You watched him, awestruck, until he disappeared from your peripheral vision. 

“I plan to do much more than that,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. 

You shivered as you felt his legs stretch and line up against yours, while his hands came to band around each of your wrists. You groaned as you felt the hardness of his erection pressed firm against your backside, realization dawning on you that he was enjoying this, too. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” you breathed as you allowed him to lift your hands from your lap. Like you were a marionette on strings. His marionette. His strings. 

“Making sure you give yourself a good finish,” he crooned. “Now, lean back into me, and start touching yourself again.”

The obscenity of it all caused your cunt to flush with arousal all over again. You clenched on thin air, a pitiful whine escaping your mouth. 

“Three fingers this time, please,” Astarion whispered, nudging your right hand down lower. “I know you can take it.” 

Your fingers followed his orders almost of their own accord. Like your body was primed and ready to take Astarion’s demands, whatever they may be. 

You groaned as you sheathed three fingers inside your dripping cunt, pulsing them in and out. It was tight, so tight, but in the most delicious way. 

“There’s a good girl,” he murmured through a kiss against your temple. “Now the other hand, if you will.”

You whined as he guided the fingers of your left hand to begin circling your swollen clit, almost too sensitive to bear. 

“That’s it, darling. Yes. You follow orders so well,” he crooned. “Give yourself a good finish. Let me see how you touch yourself when you’re thinking of me.”

You were beyond words. Couldn’t fathom enough of them to string together a sentence. His name and a plea to the gods were all you could muster, and after a while those two seemed to blend into one. Astarion was the only god here that you could feel. And it was his praises you sang as he kept a firm grip on your wrists, forcing yourself to usher in your completion. 

“You’re so close, I can almost taste it,” he breathed into your ear. You could feel his ragged breathing behind you as you continued to touch yourself, back arching into his chest all the while.

“Give me a good show, darling. Come for me. Come with my name on your lips,” he ordered. 

Your body was more than willing to comply. With a last thrust of your fingers, landing all the harder thanks to the extra force Astarion applied to your hand, you wailed his name as you climaxed. Your body shuddered as you reeled from the pleasure of it, stars exploding behind your eyelids and reforming from the dust that remained. 

It was the hardest orgasm you had ever experienced by your hand, and you knew it had everything to do with the one who had been guiding you. You collapsed your full weight into Astarion’s chest, soaking in the coolness of his skin against your heated flesh. 

“That was… that was incredible…” you murmured after a moment spent collecting your breath. 

You bounced against his body slightly as he chuckled. “It was, wasn’t it?” he mused. “You gave quite the performance, I have to say.” 

“I had an excellent instructor,” you teased, eliciting a true bark of laughter from him at last. 

“Free lessons for you, whenever you’d like,” he retorted, kissing your temple once more.

[v3nusxsky]

DarkDomReader x SubLarussa where reader sees Morticia/Marilyn getting touchy with Larissa and they stop her, taking Larissa home and facing into oblivion to remind her who she belongs to?

Promts 27,37,41??

Hers to keep 18+

*Authors note~ outstanding uni work✨but✨ fics for advent need to breathe their first breaths. And in the words of Rio vidial “I’ve missed you”*

Trigger warnings ~ dark ish? Reader, sub Larissa, jealousyyyy, reader has a rough past hints to abuse and neglect as a child foster care etc, begging, breeding kink, daddy kink, oral sex (Larissa receiving), degrading with a dash of humiliation, very light pet kink (Larissa literally gets called kitten and that’s it), slightly toxic r?, strap on sex (Larissa receiving), oral stap (r receiving), praise/reasurance, aftercare

Prompt ~ see ask^^^

@dingdongthetail and @pebbleswritessometimes for pre reading some parts

To say you’d healed from the past was a lie, your scars remain as jagged and raw as they did in the beginning. Invisible to everyone else but you. Perhaps that’s why Larissa doesn’t seem to notice your clear discomfort around Marilyn. Now you are no fool, you know Larissa has been hurt before, her own father being the first to show her a cruel hands touch. But you knew your girlfriend had her aunt to fall back on. At least one person in her corner, she was wanted. And although you knew she deserved all the love in the world, the jealousy sat simmering underneath the layers and layers of masks you put on. Truthfully, you admire your lover, she’s so strong, kind hearted and intelligent. Everything you wanted to be but got told you would never be. The past, your past, would define you for the rest of your life. She was wanted, in Nevermore, by you and the students and her aunt.

You however were not. Your whole life was spent fighting for love and acceptance. Your own mother was disappointed the day you were born. Nothing but a reminder of your father, who mind you left as soon as he found out you were created. Disappointment. Right from the start. And she made sure to remind you ever since you could remember that it’s all you’d ever be. Growing up in a home with the absence of maternal love, and the basic necessities to survive made life more complicated for you. Yet you fail to see what Larissa sees. She sees you for who you are, your heart, mind and soul. The fact you are still fighting is a true testimony to your character. You have no one to thank but yourself for getting here. A lovely girlfriend, an education, a roof over your head and food on the table. Most importantly finally experiencing love. And yet you refuse to accept that you did that. You made it. All that noise from your long, onyx covered, twisted forest of a past are wrong. You made it.

You find it hard to understand why Larissa would choose you. All your life you’ve never been good enough, there’s always someone better, prettier, nicer, kinder and well rounded than you. And you know that. You’ve experienced and accepted that. Perhaps that is why jealousy cripples you. Terrified of losing the only good thing in your life. Her. The same gorgeous goddess who Marilyn is currently monopolising all her attention. Sure, it’s a work function so it’s completely normal for the principal to be the one everyone wants to see. You know that. Understand that even. But the irrational part of you wants to keep your golden girl to yourself. Safe. Yours. Yet you can’t. So you sit here nursing your first and only drink on the night, eyes stalking her every movement. Just incase.

You and Larissa talk in great depth about your feelings and how to best help you heal and grow while maintaining a healthy relationship for you both. Larissa loves how protective you are of her. It makes her feel safe and wanted but she wishes you didn’t feel so inferior to everyone. So much so she spends extra time to build you up, to reassure you of her feelings for you. And that works most of the time. Apart from tonight.

The second you catch the ginger teachers pale hand on Larissa’s shoulder somethings snaps inside your messy mind. The fact Larissa didn’t instantly remove herself for the situation only further fuelling your irrational fears. Larissa was comfortable. This other woman touching what you considered to be your person. Your lover. Yet you remain rooted to the spot, taking in every single second of the interaction on high alert. You watched the way Marilyn trailed her hands down your lovers arm as she laughed at something Larissa said. You couldn’t help but notice how her eyes lingered seconds too long when Larissa was sipping her wine, licking her lips or simply shifting her weight from one leg to the other. Marilyn was practically undressing her despite the fact you were right here. And that’s what caused you to stride over to Larissa with an unmatched bout of jealousy and fury. The two emotions crashing around you like tidal waves in a storm.

You immediately made sure to let your arms wrap around your lover. Obviously staking your claim to the other woman. “Who’s your friend darling?” You couldn’t help but borderline snarl the word friend, eyes flicking up to Marilyn’s. “Marilyn is teaching bounty for me this year my love. She’s just here to get to know the staff before she starts in the new school year” her words fell on deaf ears. “Well she’s certainly getting to know you very well” you quipped before completely ignoring the red head, “Larissa I feel rather unwell, I’ll head back to OUR room” you mumbled spinning the blonde in your arms to join your lips together. “Have a nice evening Marie” was all you offered before detangling yourself from Larissa, “don’t be too long baby.”

You knew it wouldn’t be long before Larissa made her way to you. You paced your shared bedroom trying to clear your head. You know Larissa’s yours. It’s clear. But the idea of someone taking something so precious from you just sends you into a blind rage of jealousy. Losing Larissa would kill you. And to Marilyn? No way in hell would you allow that to happen. Larissa deserves the world and Marilyn isn’t that.

“Darling?” Her voice guides you out of your own irrational thoughts with a practiced ease. “You remember me then?” You muttered taking in her stunning appearance once again that night. Suddenly what you need dawns on you. Her. “Sweetheart? You know I’m yours right? I was simply being friendly darling.” Friendly. “Marilyn sure looked like she wanted to be friendly with you when her hands were all over you.” The words hit Larissa like a wave of realisation. “I- my darling I only want you. Let me prove it to you?” Her whispered words echoed around your mind for a few seconds. Well what an offer that was. How could you refuse?

“Come be a good kitten and prove it then. Kneel and crawl to me” you demanded loving how her eyes darkened ever so slightly at the demand although her cheeks blushed a beautiful crimson colour. Seeing the principal bend to your will, on all fours crawling towards you with embarrassment clouding her features just set you off and when she held eye contact with you you couldn’t help but immediately free the faux cock you’d been packing all night. “Show daddy this is the only dick you need darling. Show me how much you want me.”

On instinct Larissa immediately took the head of your strap between her ruby lips, tongue swirling around the head with a practiced ease. Your hands immediately falling to her perfect up do. Pulling strands of hair as you forced yourself further down her throat until she released little gags of protests. “Dirty girl, you’re so good at this. Sweet little mouth just made to take me hmm” you mewled as the base of the strap rubbed against your clit with just the right amount of pressure. “Just imagine what Marilyn would think about seeing you on your knees for me like a common whore? The way you cry so prettily for daddy as I use your sweet mouth? Such a slut for me aren’t you baby?” To her credit, she tried to reassure that she is yours but it’s rather hard to do with your brutal thrusts and a mouthful of dick.

The moment you pulled out, Larissa greedily sucked in breaths of air. A slither of spit being the only connection between her and your cock. Doe eyes, on her knees, lipstick smeared and hair an absolute state, Larissa couldn’t look more beautiful if she tried. “Get on the bed and be ready for me slut” you practically grunted to the principal. Something about Larissa lying there completely bare was stunning. It didn’t take you long to bunch her dress up to her hips and rip the lace off her body finally exposing her soaked core to you. “Daddy” she whined feeling the intensity of your gaze. A simple plea that would’ve normally been enough to have you worshiping her like your own personal goddess. “Please what? Shall I go get Marilyn for you? Or shall i remind you that only I get to taste this pretty pussy.”

The moment you finally allow yourself to taste her is heavenly. Her little gasp of need and the way she practically melts on your tongue is divine. It doesn’t take you long to work her to the edge. Larissa loves to suck you off. It’s embarrassing and slightly humiliating to think of herself in such a position but god does she love it. The weight of you on her tongue, the way you lose control and thrust deeper and the way you eat her out after like a starved animal never fails. “Please daddy” she whimpers out causing you to scrape your teeth across her adorably swollen clit before pulling away from her cunt.

Her whimpers of disappointment as she takes in the sight of your lower face drenched in her slick only adds to her growing need. “Darling I-“ you cut off her pathetically needy words by taking a swipe of her slit with your index finger, “open slut” is all you offer before thrusting your finger into her awaiting mouth. The happy mewl she lets loose as her tongue swirls around your finger, tasting herself on you. “Please” Larissa sobs as you pull your finger back, “I just want you to fuck me daddy. Please! I’m yours. Only yours just please, please fuck me.”

“Nothing more than a desperate whore aren’t you? Imagine what everyone would say if they knew you begged for my cock like a bitch in heat? The all put together Larissa Weems is nothing but a desperate slut for me. No one else can fuck you the way I can. No one knows that you love to be ass up, face down as I pound your cunt” you teased happily manhandling the woman to be in the exact position you know she craves. “Fucking leaking all over the sheets. Good thing we both know that only I can give you what you need. Your mine aren’t you?” You let the head of the faux dick rub along her slit occasionally bumping her clit. The moment your hand roughly connects with the soft globe of her ass she immediately moans. “Filthy girl, tell me whose you are” you grunted fighting the urge to bury yourself in her awaiting core.

“Daddy’s! Yours just please fuck-“ she whimpered feeling the burn and stretch in some areas as you sunk into her pussy effortlessly. "You would look so good with my children baby” you grunted settling into a lethal pace, your fingers were gripping her hips so tightly there was a hundred percent guarantee of bruises remaining for days. Not that either of you minded. “Want daddy to finally breed her girl? Show everyone you’re mine by carrying my baby? Hmm? I’d fill you up so good darling every night until you finally grow round with our baby like a good little breeding bitch.”

The brutal sounds of skin slapping into one another accompanied by the most sinful sounds clawing their way from her throat was the only encouragement you needed. “Bet my dirty girl would love that. God baby you feel so good around me. This pretty pussy is just made to take me. God you take me so well” you granted with the force of your thrusts bringing a hand to her hair to pull her back to your chest. “Daddy oh fuck” she mewled, the change of position caused your dick to reach deeper than before, “please” she whined feeling the coil in her stomach tightening once more.

“Cum for me baby, show me how good only I can make you feel” you plead with her while letting her hair go and moving your hand to find her sensitive bundle of nerves to give her that last push over the edge. The way she cums for you, the noises she makes as you watch her ride each and every wave you provide is enough to send you hurtling over the edge as well. Slowing your thrusts down to drag out every inch of pleasure for you both as the woman underneath you is clearly spent. Her voice is hoarse from all the noise she made as she took everything you offered on a plate. With an ease only she could provide. Only Larissa could do this for you. To calm your irrational jealousy in the best ways. “mm stay” you heard her mumble into the pillows as her hand reached back for you. And you knew she craved the connection as much as you do. “I’m yours. I’m here baby” you whisper pressing sweet kisses onto her sweat covered neck.

Only when she was ready did you get the wet rag to clean her glistening folds gently murmuring praises to the overly sensitive woman. The switch from insanely jealous to caring and loving was instant for you. This woman was yours. But you also care for everything that’s yours so deeply that Larissa would get only the best aftercare from you. Your now quiet, stated mind allowing you to devote your full attention to the principal. You would die for this woman and she would die for you too. “Baby? what can I do for you?” Your whispered words caused her to smile slightly allowing you to adjust her to be lying comfortably on the bed. “Come here sweetheart, I just want to feel you” she murmured opening her arms for you to settle on her bare chest, her heart beating for you only being all could hear. Together as one the whole night seemed to blur together as you both drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

Word count~ 2372

[wikiangela]

Hi, a bit late but joining in on the @alliwantforchristmasislou project 🫶

I decided to donate to a polish organisation called the stonewall group (which is why the pic is in polish lol)

chose this one just because im the most familiar with this one, and they do amazing work in support of lgbt+ people and fighting for our rights in this... not so queer-friendly country 🫶

now, ive been in the 911 fandom for almost 4 years now (gonna be 4 in i think February), and i only started after the episode Buck actually bc it was allll over my dash. i binged the whole show in a week, before the next episode is even aired, I loved it SO much.

as most of y'all know, I initially shipped buddie - it was the big ship, ofc i did, i wrote so much fic for them and i had so much fun and met so many moots i still love seeing on my dash 🫶❤️ but it might've been obvious (or not, idk) i was kinda getting bored and losing enjoyment, more and more of my fics and snippets were focusing on other characters with buck or eddie, i wasnt really as into it anymore - but i still loved it and wanted to enjoy it (which ironically was killed dead later on by the buddie fandom itself lmao)

and then came bucktommy and everything changed. initially i tried not to give in but within a few days i had two fics and more ideas lol they completely took over my thoughts. ive never been this inspired to write, to create, I even learned how to make gifs for them (with lots of help from amazing talented friends 🫶🤣) during fall and winter I always get so depressed and sad and having very dark and depressing thoughts (last year my buck driving fic was a result of that lol), and its so hard to find motivation to do anything, even write. but this year, even tho I had a lil crisis moment, i wrote through it and im as inspired as always - i havent stopped writing since april. they're literally the most inspiring ship ever - and fun fact, usually i prefer writing about fanon ships, so this was a huge change and surprise

I always related to buck a lot, and especially once we got his bisexuality canon - checking out and appreciating hot people of the same sex and not realizing what it means is too real lol - and Tommy is so compelling and theres so much potential for so many stories there, I wish the show would do something interesting with him 😭 despite being so confident and cool, he feels like he's holding back some sad, maybe (probably) traumatic backstory that could be so good and interesting - and lou is such a good actor and itd be amazing to see more from him in this role

they wrote tommy as the perfect love interest for buck, and it was amazing to see it on screen, it was such a breath of fresh air to see this kind of queer representation on a network show, it was so gentle and adorable, and they initially handled it with so much care, and id love to see where they'd go from there 😭 the break up broke my heart not only because it happened, but because it felt ooc and abrupt and not at all like that's where the story was going. wish they'd fix it and give us tommy back 😭🙏

and lastly but most importantly - thanks to bucktommy, i met so many amazing friends ❤️😭 even when I was writing fics and interacting with mutuals on here, i was never really talking to a lot of mutuals, not for longer than a few messages, and now i got this wonderful community that i feel so comfortable in, everyone is so nice and friendly, and I love y'all so much, this is the best fandom experience ive ever had ❤️

thank you all, ive been having so much fun since april, i love y'all. here's to more bucktommy in 2025 ❤️

[toriaanin]

Shit Stirrer: A great cause with a dash of irony

Jumping into my first blog post with Nicola!

Looking fresh, well rested, gorgeous and Christmas ready from - I'm assuming - her family's Galway living room, Nicola posted a photo of herself today wearing 1 of 8 specially designed "Saltburn Insults" t-shirts. These limited edition t-shirts were created by Carey Mulligan and Emerald Fennell (director) to both celebrate one year since the release of the movie Saltburn on Netflix and, more importantly, to help raise funds for War Child UK's "Emergency Christmas Appeal" fundraising efforts. War Child UK's single goal is to ensure a safe future for every child affected by war. This is a cause we know Nicola stands firmly behind! If you're interested in supporting this important cause, follow this link for the t-shirt Nicola is wearing... or scroll to the bottom of the Everpress page to see the other 7 "Saltburn Insults" t-shirts on offer: https://everpress.com/warchild-x-shitstirrer#more-info

So what, you ask, did I mean about that dash of irony?

Look at the angelic look on her face. Nicola, a shit stirrer? Shady Whistledown herself?! Maybe, perhaps sometimes 😉

Over the last week the Lukola fans in my chat groups as well as those sharing thoughts in my live streams, or those sending me DMs, have been expressing the same thing: exhaustion! They (heck... me too. We!) are tired and feeling a whole lot of frustration. Some quotes:

"I feel like we're all here trying to defend Nicola and Luke, trying to fight off all the negative propaganda being put out by the Jakolas and trolls, and all the while Nicola is the one feeding much of the {front facing} narrative. I'm tired and discouraged." "I believe they're together - 100% I do - but I'm tired of not knowing for sure and it's annoying to spend so much time worrying about a couple that may only come clean years from now, or if they get papped." "I'm sick to death of breadcrumbs. I want the whole loaf now!"

Yet we also laughed at the ironic humour in Nicola as a "Shit Stirrer"; the primary distributor (and organizer of other distributors, with Shonda's & JVN's help sometimes) of breadcrumbs, morsels and golden nuggets! The breadcrumbs are so much fun to find, and they can also be confusing and frustrating! Shit stirrer indeed. Xx

Nicola also has ruffled some feathers because of her political and social beliefs (support of the LGBTQ community [Gay Icon!] and abortion rights in Northern Ireland), humanitarian work. From my perspective, GOOD work! To others who perhaps have a vested interest in the status quo? Shit stirrer indeed. Xx

Yes, we Lukola fans know that Nicola and Luke don't owe us anything and that privacy is their right. We also know that Tomdaya took years before they acknowledged their relationship publicly. We should be prepared for the long haul, yes? Yes. 🥴 Le sigh.

As we enter into a new year I know the question for me will be how much of my time, energy and heart will I place into all things Lukola? Over the next week or so I'll think about the wonderful connections I've made in our Lukola community (and the angst I've experienced because of divisions)... I'll think about how fun breadcrumb speculation is, how I relish the hunt for golden nuggets (those solid truths that are ballast for our ship)... and of course the enthusiasm (and agony) that I feel for the ongoing watch for launch.

Today I'm feeling tired and at times, discouraged. My plan is to relax, reassess and come to 2025 with a fresh mindset. No obsession... just patience and fun will be the aim... and keeping up with this blog too.

Will you be on the ship with me in 2025? Or will Nicola and Luke launch before the New Year and save us all from the misery?! Ha!!

Cheers to Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Seasonal Celebrations... and to my fellow Commonwealth Countries, Yay for Boxer - I mean Boxing - Day (Dec 26th)!!

P.S. Best doggos in the whole wide world! Convince me otherwise ;-)

[edges-of-night]

Omg I'm like in love with ur blog rn 💕💕 I was wondering if you could do one where the reader comes from a culture that honors warriors and such (kinda like the dwarves)? And so the reader is basically very skilled with weaponry, fighting...etc

Thank you sm 💕

Thank you for your patience with this request – it was a lot of fun to write! Enjoy!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Having traveled a lot, Aragorn is familiar with your culture, though he has never been as close to someone from it as you. Seeing your famed warrior skills in person surprises him quite a bit – in a good way. He is enamored with the way you carry yourself and your weapons and, most importantly, how you lack a taste for cruelty and instead embrace mercy. He never gets tired of telling you that; it’s a value you both share.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen has great respect for you, since she is familiar with your warrior culture through her noble schooling. That said, she is also quite determined to introduce you to the finer side of life – something that you were never comfortable with or had any experience in. After all, the folk back home frown upon elaborate gowns and indulgent balls – but Arwen doesn’t care about your clumsiness. She always has a big smile on her face when you practice dancing! ♡

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Up until meeting you, Boromir has thought your people belonged to the realm of legends and children’s stories. Imagine his surprise when his rescue from the Orc attack came in the form of such a legendary warrior, dashing, loud and proud! To top it all off, you do not see the big deal of the affair and act very casual around the starstruck soldier. One smile is enough to make Boromir realise he has fallen for what he would’ve deemed a fairytale just one day ago!

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

Elrond deeply appreciates how dutiful and tidy you are. You two are much alike in that regard. The kind Elf values your time together. That is the reason he sometimes wishes you were his little secret – he is quite tired of the ‘scandal’ your presence in Rivendell is to some particularly insular individuals. Whenever someone would dare to even insinuate bigotry toward you, Elrond would be the first to defend you – rather ardently, too, having served in war himself: “Let us see how you speak of them after having your life saved in a bloody battle!”

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Éomer may always say that he admires a fellow warrior – but the truth is, he first needs to come to terms with the fact that you are much more skilled and experienced than him. That is difficult for him precisely because he could very well imagine you as his romantic partner, but he knows that a relationship with such envy would be hard. The solution to his distress is hand-to-hand combat, which you never particularly cared for since it is not regarded as important in your culture. But dear Éomer is more than eager to practice with you!

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

It is absolutely needless to say that Rohan’s Shieldmaiden would be head over heels for you – but anyway! Not only does Éowyn love how adamant and strong you are, she adores training and sparring together with you. Her enthusiasm for your warrior culture can be overwhelming at times. You sometimes need to remind her that you are more than that. For a change, Éowyn would then teach you the songs of Rohan or tries to cook with you!

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Faramir adores you a lot. He would offer to be your squire and tend to your weapons, your armour, as well as your wounds after a fight. He would always make sure you never lost that spark in your eyes – he loves it too much! And while he is a very skilled archer and captain himself, he would never miss an opportunity to announce you to his enemies or bullies. He would also defend you ardently against anyone who criticises your perceived ‘lack of culture’ and give them an entire lecture of your people’s history and customs.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would’ve never known you were real. He has read about your people in his books and even imagined himself as such a warrior when he was a child. To meet you in person delights him to no end – he has a bit of a celebrity crush on you! However, with his attention so sharp, Frodo wouldn’t fail to notice your distress in social interactions. But luckily, being both a gentleman and social butterfly, he can help you with that – maybe in turn for a show with your knives?

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel has understood that you were the perfect bodyguard for her very early on. Other Elves may frown upon that – a warrior brute, without any regard for royal protocol or knowledge of Elven culture? So close to the Lady of Light, all day and night? But Galadriel doesn’t care a bit. She delights in the stories you tell her and even shows an interest in your swords, though a sorceress as powerful as her would never need one herself. She never treats you disrespectfully and values your opinion.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf cares very little for your culture’s glorification of warfare and honour. He’s seen the negative fallout of such extremes and is thus wary around you at first. Once he understood that you had a sense of humour though, he’d tease you quietly or give a flippant comment about one of your culture’s idiosyncrasies. It’d all be in good faith – Gandalf knows of the importance of self-defense, for example. Still, he much prefers just drinking a cup of tea with you ♡

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

You could bond almost instantly with Gimli. You two speak the same language. There is, of course, an element of rivalry – especially when it comes to axes. That said, Gimli would absolutely fall head over heels for you after seeing just how skillfully and lightly you could handle hatchets and axes alike. Maybe you’d even “show him how it’s done” and then nonchalantly lean against the weapon, giving him a smirk – he’d melt on the spot!

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Haldir would, as always, pretend very hard that he doesn’t care at all for your weapon skills, stealth and sense of duty, and instead even show great disgust for your perceived lack of etiquette and politeness. But the truth is that you are the most intriguing and alluring creature he has ever met! He has always aspired to your level of conscientiousness and combat skills. He’d never say that, of course… but he might just challenge you to a duel and see how it goes – fully aware he would never stand a chance against you!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas definitely has a thing for warrior types like you. He delights in your strength, skills and sense of duty. After all, he himself is an enthusiastic archer and wants to learn as much as he can from you. That said, he also teaches you some much needed levity – not every social interaction is a battle! Observing you amuses him a whole lot, but his smirk is never cruel. He is also the perfect partner to help you unwind after a stressful day of etiquette and polite smiles – he just gets you!

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry is a big fan of warriors. He yearns for your respect and affection – so much so that he’d greatly exaggerate his own combat skills to you, thinking he’d need to be just as martial as you to deserve your love. That is of course not the case, though you appreciate the effort he goes through. You would bond over combat training and philosophy alike. Merry is quick and eager to learn as much about your culture as possible.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin doesn’t know about the prejudice the old Hobbits have towards your people and thus treats you very differently than the others. He’d ask questions about war and honour that many would deem inappropriate. Even you yourself have to admit he is sometimes a bit overly eager. That said, Pippin would just as merrily introduce you to Hobbit customs, food and history. He’d also make a big point of the Tooks being “perhaps the most warrior-like Hobbits there ever were, honestly”, with an important look on his face, before breaking into laughter upon seeing you smile.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam leaves all the fighting stuff to you. He may dutifully separate the warrior and Hobbit cultures, but he really loves the dynamic you two share. He never shuts up about how proud your people must be of you, back home, seeing just how amazing of a fighter you are – sometimes that just means shooting an arrow to get a particularly red apple from a tree. To you, it’s a simple game, but Sam always kisses your cheek with great gratitude afterwards ♡

[yanderes-galore]

I'd like to ask for a Lego monkie kid Mk with your prompts 6, 12 and 14.

Sure! I love MK, such a sweetheart... despite the tendency to... oh I don't know... trap his partner?

Yandere! MK Prompts 6, 12, 14

"A good partner must be willing to make sacrifices for their beloved! Don't you agree?"

"You were never meant to see that! Oh, what have I done...."

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Stalking, Isolation, Attempted Imprisonment/Kidnapping, Delusional behavior, Overprotective behavior, Consensual turned forced relationship.

You love your boyfriend... he's always your sweetheart.

How could you not? MK has always attended to your every need. He's a hero, beloved by many. MK has always vowed to keep you safe....

You'd never suspect him of anything.

Everyone expects heroes to be perfect. Unfortunately, it's exactly the opposite. Ever since MK's had to deal with the issues around his town... He's never been the same.

Around you, he's all giddy and excited. However, all the traumatic experiences MK has gone through has hardened him. How could he not worry about potential threats?

Especially when it comes to you....

MK knew he had to do something as your partner. After all, how can he protect you if he doesn't have his eye on you? The idea of losing you... well...

It stresses MK out more than anything.

MK does his best to show nothing's wrong around you. After all, he's your hero, he loves you. It's his job to have you loved, cared for... and most importantly... safe.

MK's paranoia only seemed to worsen the longer he dated you. The longer he was with you, the more he was attached. Horrible events are always bound to happen when it comes to MK....

At first, his obsession over your safety started by just following you around.

Watching your daily life or clinging to your side was originally how he tried to soothe his fears. Although, even that wasn't enough for MK. Eventually... He wanted to have a future with you...

But such hopes were quickly dashed once you found out his little plan to keep you safe.

"You were never meant to see that! Oh, what have I done...."

It was bound to happen, really. You, as his partner, were going to find out about your boyfriend's imperfections eventually. Although, it wasn't anything small...

You had found a whole room in his house dedicated to you, surrounded with your interests and all sorts of different notes... along with a large bed... all meant for you.

"It isn't ready yet, baby... But, um, I was meant to sorta... ease you into it...?" MK panics, unable to look at your distressed gaze.

"Ease me into what...?" You ask shakily, looking around the room. It's your favorite color and everything. Is this the reason he didn't want you over at his house for a long time...?

"Ease you into, y'know, living with me...?" MK asks shyly, fidgeting with his hands.

"MK... it's a bit too soon—" You try to speak, but you're still in shock... and the look in his eyes doesn't help.

"A good partner must be willing to make sacrifices for their beloved! Don't you agree?" MK desperately blurts out, caging you in the room. You panic, was he trying to trap you here...?

"I get that, but-" You try to speak but MK doesn't give you time to recover.

"If you live with me, I can keep you safe! That way we can both sleep easy at night... and I can make sure nothing hurts you!" MK forces a smile, but you can see the desperation in his eyes. "C'mon, baby... It's perfect!"

"MK... You didn't need to do all this behind my back! I'm fine... I can be okay at my own home! We probably shouldn’t live together so soon...." You try to talk him down, getting close to slip by the door.

Mk, however, pushes you back and locks the door to your new room...

Your new home.

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!" MK pleads, stepping closer as you back away.

You try to find a way to avoid him but there's no use. The room has no windows you can open and MK has the door locked. You try your best to plead, but MK doesn't listen.

"Babe, please..."

"You've SEEN what I deal with out there, right?" MK states sternly, glaring at you as you back yourself near the bed. "Lady Bone Demon, Azure Lion... I've had to deal with calamity after calamity since becoming Monkey King's student!"

You're practically on the bed at this point as MK stands in front of you. There's annoyance in his eyes, but desperation glistens the most. There's no reasoning with your boyfriend...

Is he even your boyfriend at this point...?

"You... just don't understand, baby." MK tries to reason, gaze softening once he sees your fear. "You don't understand the world's dangers... but I do."

MK gets on the bed, sitting between your legs as he cups your cheeks. His gaze and smile are soft, but you feel threatened in his grip. MK, your perfect boyfriend who you used to trust...

Scares you more than any demon could.

"This is why I made this room for you. This is why I need to protect you. I'm meant to be a hero... and you're meant to be my partner. Baby... living here won't be so bad!" MK grins, acting like you two are going to be married or something.

"Just... Let me protect you...." MK whispers, leaning in closer to ghost his lips over your own.

"Let me love you like your boyfriend should...."

It's then you wonder if any of this is real. You wonder if this is all some nightmare your brain conjured due to MK's odd behavior. Maybe you're not really trapped and this is a sign to reconsider your relationship with MK—

Yet, the moment you feel MK's lips on your own, you know it's real...

That thought alone is enough to make you cry.

[heliads]

can you make a nikolai lantsov x reader?? i've been thinking about one where reader was one of sturmhond's crew as a tidemaker and they were together for a long time, but when nikolai became king, the two separated because royalty had done too much harm to r family and she didn't want to become one of them (besides her being Grisha). maybe after RoW they finally talk and get back together??

yesss pirate!reader x nikolai my beloved

masterlist

If Nikolai Lantsov were to regret anything in his life, anything at all, it would be how he handled her. It’s not that he regrets her, he wants to make that clear. He couldn’t if he tried, and Nikolai has tried many times to get over her, to find some flaw out of an improbability of perfection so he might not feel as achingly heartbroken as he always does.

But when Nikolai lies awake at night, unable to sleep despite a gilded bedroom and dozens of lush pillows and luxurious blankets, the worries troubling his mind are not of a country to run, nor the endless cycles of politics constantly reinventing new problems to crush his world beneath his boot. No, he thinks of one woman. He thinks of you.

Before Nikolai was the latest Lantsov king, before he was a homeward bound prince, he was a boy, and a boy who wanted to run. A much younger Nikolai in body and spirit had signed onto a pirate ship the second his guards turned their backs. It was a terrible decision for a golden prince to make, but the best choice for the bastard who never wanted to see another silver spoon again unless he was stealing it.

When Nikolai was a young man, he determined that he would be the captain of a ship, and a captain always needs a crew he can depend on to carry him through thick and thin. Nikolai sailed to countless foreign shores, finding friends and enemies in oceans sapphire and stormy, cerulean and calm. He wore dashing waistcoats and ruined them with the blood of slashed throats. He blockaded and benefitted small towns with equal joy.

And, most importantly of all, Nikolai found his first mate. It is a difficult thing, of course, choosing someone who could be your successor. If he picked someone a little too captivating, he ran the risk that they could depose him in a mutiny. If he gave that spot to someone the crew hated, though, his leadership would be undermined all the same.

He was just starting to think it would be impossible to find the right sort of figure, and then this young woman he’d never met before had simply walked up and asked for it. Technically, it wasn’t such an easy meeting as that. She had actually stolen one of the rowboats off of his ship while it was tied to their ship in the harbor with her abilities as a Tidemaker, then used the water to ferry her over to him.

From anyone else, Sturmhond would consider that a punishable offense. However, the privateer in him was also a politician, and one used to fronts and facades at that. Nikolai looked at the woman in front of him and realized that she wasn’t looking to use him as an avenue for a coup to captainship. She’d done her research and figured out that he was the best captain to serve under, and was simply ensuring that she made a good impression.

There is nothing Nikolai can appreciate like a fine display of showmanship, so he’d accepted her acceptance of his non-offer and told her to move her belongings into the first mate’s cabin that night. The crew woke up to a new member, and they took to her as readily as Nikolai himself.

After that, it was easy. Nikolai skimmed over frothy waves and he had someone by his side, a proper companion. He has liked his crew heartily all this time, but Y/N– he likes Y/N even more. Saints, he loves her. It takes him a while to realize that, but he does. Once that knowledge is common to him, the fact that he could have felt anything else is nothing short of absurd.

He’d given her his name a long time ago. Part of it, at least. They’d been on night guard together one shadowy twilight and she’d begged him for some sort of name she could use. Sturmhond, although great for inspiring fear and leadership as he saw fit, wasn’t personal enough for a friend, and Captain was too formal. Nikolai had witnessed many years of his father forcing everyone to refer to him as the king and nothing more. Never will he force a title on anyone.

So he’d said Nik, she could call him Nik, and that was more than good enough. It feels like cheating, a little, to have her bypass his real name and go straight to the familiar nickname. If anyone could do it, though, it would be her. Captains aren’t supposed to have favorites among their crew, but this is Y/N, and he loves her, so she calls him Nik, and he– he lets it happen.

All this truth, this love, and he never told her who he was. Not by choice. How could he? Y/N hated the monarchy, and so did he. The elder Lantsovs did not treat Grisha kindly, only tolerating them in the confines of the Little Palace. There was nothing Nikolai could do to protect them, to protect her, half as well in Os Alta as he could as Sturmhond, so he kept it a secret.

You could call that selfishness. You would be correct in doing so. Nikolai did not tell Y/N he was a prince because he was terrified of how she would push him away. In the end, there was nothing he could do to avoid that. The Darkling called on his help in capturing Alina Starkov, and Nikolai revealed that last ace in his sleeve the night before he was to dock in Ravka and personally escort the Sun Saint and her friends back to Os Alta.

He will never forget how Y/N had looked at him when she finally learned what he was, not as long as he shall live. He had asked her to come to his office, to lock the door so no one could hear. Y/N has been host to a great many of his secrets, good and bad and terrible, so she thought she could handle just one more.

She was wrong. Nikolai stood before her, and said, “I am the son of the king.”

She’d laughed, actually, but that had dried up when she realized he wasn’t joking. “No. You can’t be serious. All this time we’ve been out here, and you haven’t told me? You would have told me.”

Her eyes were desperate, pleading. Y/N L/N is one of the finest pirates Nikolai ever had the pleasure of meeting. He’s seen her go into no-luck gunfights with a grin on her face, and now she looks like all of her luck has finally run out. How awful, that he would be the one to finally crush her spirit underfoot.

“I knew you wouldn’t like it,” he tries to explain.

Y/N shakes her head. “No. I don’t like it when Tolya borrows my knives to slice fruit. I don’t like it when we stay in small towns too long. Nik, it’s not that I don’t like it that you’re a royal. It’s that you’ve betrayed me. You know how the Lantsov kings have treated Grisha, how they’ve treated anyone who isn’t an elite.”

It occurs to Nikolai that this might be how he loses her, in truth. “Y/N, please. We can change everything. Why do you think I came out here in the first place? I want to help Ravka. I want to help my people. Just come with me. We can do it together.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “No. I don’t want to be one of them.”

Not like he is, at least. Nikolai is endlessly, ineffably them, but she doesn’t have to be. She’s safe from them. From him. “Y/N. I love you, and I want you with me. Please, come to Os Alta with me.”

She turns to him abruptly, eyes violent. “No. That’s final, Nik.”

Ah. So it ends. And so Nikolai had gone to bed alone, heart a bitter mess of hurt, and he had disembarked from his ship with Alina and Mal and the rest. He had taken them to Os Alta, he had reclaimed his position on the throne, and all the while, he knew that he would never want anything in the world half as strongly as he just wanted her. 

It’s funny, isn’t it? Nikolai is a king now, and despite all his reach and power, the one thing he desires most will never be in his grasp again. She will always be the sea’s, and, as of late, that means she will never be Nikolai’s. Nikolai is chained to the crown; he will never leave it, he can never leave it. Y/N will be out there on the storm-tossed waves forever, as wild as the night he met her, and that will cause him grief until the day that he dies.

Nikolai grows up and it gets no better. He watches friends lose themselves to war and misery. He wears the crown upon his head, and then, surrounded by the clamoring voices of those who wanted him gone, he relinquishes it. Nikolai had tried to do his best while he was in office, but, walking back from the meeting with a strangely light feeling upon his head and shoulders where a great burden no longer rests, he wonders if it had ever been enough.

No one can ever be enough for Ravka. This he has known since he was a child. He had tried, though. The trying should at least get him somewhere. Nikolai passes blind laps around the Great Palace, attempting to remember every garden and room before he leaves it. He’ll have to pack his bags at some point, move out and find somewhere else to call a home after so many years in this one place.

Zoya has already offered for him to stay here, albeit in a different room. He’s a valuable advisor thanks to all his years on the throne, and he’s still as good a diplomat as ever. Nikolai will probably take her up on it; he wants to help Ravka, and this seems like the best way to do it.

About a week later, Zoya knocks on the door of his new rooms before letting herself inside when he invites her in. She’s taking to her new royal title very well, even if this seems to include her stealing his tea far more times than is strictly proper. 

This time, though, she isn’t here to stop and talk. Instead, Zoya hovers hesitantly at his door, and says, “There’s someone here to see you.”

Nikolai arches a brow. “I didn’t realize relinquishing my crown meant I got to have the Dragon Queen herself here to announce my visitors. Will you do this every time?”

Zoya laughs sarcastically, but her voice is still stilted when she adds on, “Just this time. She says she knows you. She was on your crew. First mate.”

Nikolai swears his heart stops in his chest. This is– no, it couldn’t be. He told Zoya about Y/N a long time ago. She’d asked why he hadn’t been more invested in finding a suitor and he’d admitted that he was pushing it off for as long as possible, knowing he couldn’t love unless it was her.

He nods a little frantically. “Alright. Where is she?”

“Here,” says a voice behind Zoya, and then the queen of Ravka is disappearing back down the hall and Nikolai is alone in a room with someone else and– and it’s Y/N, Y/N after so long, and he doesn’t really know how to think straight, let alone say anything at all.

She pauses over the threshold before finally going inside and shutting the door behind you. “I suppose I should be glad you’re speechless. Shows you still care, at least.”

“Of course I do,” Nikolai chokes out. “But– you do too? You’re here.”

She inclines her head, taking a seat on the chair opposite him. “I came as soon as I heard that you would no longer be king. I thought it would be hard. To lose this one last thing from your family.”

Nikolai frowns. “You hate my family.”

“I don’t hate you,” she says simply, “and even if they treated you harshly, they were still your blood. That means more than any of us want to admit, I think.”

Nikolai sighs. “You’ve always been the wise one, Y/N.”

She smiles at that. “Isn’t that why you hired me, Nik?”

The nickname again. His heart contracts painfully in his chest. “I should have told you,” he blurts out. “I should have told you everything.”

“I knew a lot,” she replies, “Enough to love you. I’m glad for every moment. There would have been fewer if you had told me sooner.”

Nikolai grimaces at the truth in that. “So you’re alright with me being a Lantsov now?”

She furrows her brow. “I heard some whispers that you aren’t entirely a Lantsov at all.”

He can’t really argue with that. “Who am I, then?”

“You’re Nik,” she tells him, “My Nik. My captain. And yes, my king, even if you’ve given over the throne. I always kept track of what you were doing during your reign. I was always proud of you.”

A bright burst of pride flares in his chest. “What do you advise I do now, if my reign is over?”

She stands, extends a hand to him. “We could always go back to a good time. The sea only gets bigger.”

Nikolai looks up at her, and he thinks– this is what he’s missed. Nikolai makes a fine king, but he has always missed adventure. He’ll have that now. And, when they both get old and tired, they can come back here, and continue making policies now that they’ve lived the lives of both the rich and the outlaw. It sounds wonderful to Nikolai.

He takes her hand. “Shall we go, then?”

She smiles. Radiant. He loves her just as much as he did at the start. “I think we shall.”

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @budugu, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[radioisntdead]

(To maybe save our hearts from the angst, how about a cuter idea? could be any gender really and be seen as platonic or not just very vague fluffy fun)

A reader who is similar age to Susan and is the opposite type of old person, a gentle Grandparent who has old person candies at all times. Most importantly however is the only one who can calm Susan's feral chihuahua energy, only when they need to of course.

They play cribbage on weekends, and definitely both chat about the youngins- maybe playfully feud on which is better Knit or Crochet

Good evening my dear! This is a little shorter then I wanted but I did write it in a hair salon, where at the time of posting I'm still in.

Bitter and sweet

Warnings!!!

Cannibalism, Reader is GN but gives off old lady grandma vibes, this is written in little drabbles mainly because I wrote them in an hair salon

Susan had a neighbor, she lived to the left of her house, while Susan's house was more stale and strict appearing her neighbor's was more soft colors, with gnomes outside and a lovely garden filled with all types of hell's flora,

You'd think the two would be at odds but they got along well, going out for tea each day, on weekends they'd go to bingo or play a game of cribbage, although they did get into tiffs about what was better between crochet and knitting, like how crochet is easier for some to pick up with the sole hook, or how knitting uses less yarn then crochet, They were dear friends, and this is some tidbits with them.

You and Susan had opposing aesthetics but that didn't stop the two of you from matching outfits in some way or another, she wore her usual pinkish dress? You were two feet away from her in more brighter attire.

"Kids these days are getting more and more foolish each day, fucking crying in the middle of the streets!"

Susan said, sat on a bench looking across the street at some poor cannibal gal sobbing as her dearest assumingly ended things

When you didn't respond she looked over at you only to see that you were gone,

"Where the hell- [Name]!"

You had dashed over to the gal, swatting at her former lover with your handfan, scolding him for breaking things off in the middle of the streets inside of somewhere private or inside a restaurant as the girl sobbed into your arms,

"Shh, it's alright you deserve better, someone with manners!"

You said patting her back, glaring at the unmannered former lover while Susan groaned from her seat, you just had to butt into other people's business didn't you!

Like she didn't do the same at times.

......

"You uncultured, red-40 looking, bad dental hygiene, modern technology radio man!"

Susan raised her cane to the Radio Deer man, you had just entered Rosie's Emporium for a snack,

"Susan! No! That is terribly rude!"

You shouted dashing over quickly before Susan could do anything, pushing down her cane, while apologizing,

"My apologies! I'll escort her out, here buy yourself something tasty"

You said taking the radio demons hand and placing some money and a few pieces of candy into it before linking an arm with Susan and taking her outside while scolding her as she grumbled, leaving the Radio demon lowkey stunned and missing his mother.

You were how he imagined she would've been if she lived to be elderly.

.....

"For fuck's sake! Why are you in my house?"

Susan shouted as she walked into her kitchen only to see you adorned in an old lady apron chopping away at some vegetables while some type of meat simmered on the stove,

"Making us lunch obviously! I have news about that lovely gal we met on the street a few months ago! She's going steady with my nephew, the one with the good job not the one that's married, and I must tell you what her scandalous ex lover had to say-"

You rambled on, mixing up slang from different decades Susan could care less about the gal who was sobbing on the streets but you seemed to hellbent on telling her about the 'tea' as you called it.

.....

"Susie, let's listen to what the princess has to say before booing her off the stage, this is why she called you an old bitch''

You said linking an arm with Susan before shouting over at Charlie as Rosie pulled her aside,

"My apologies!"

You chased down Charlie at a later date to give her some candies for her troubles with Susan,

You paid visits to the hotel after that, bringing treats for the residents.

....

"Knitting is superior, it uses less yarn then your hook, knitting takes far more skill and that little crochet thing seems easier.''

Susan said knitting a scarf as you sat across from her, crocheting a net.

"Susie, you are my dearest friend and I love you, But I can and will surplex you into a wall if you say that again."

Hearing that while you wore the sweetest smile would strike fear into the average sinner.

......

"Are we thinking barbecue? Grilled? Perhaps baked? Oo I recently picked up some new seasonings we could try!"

You shouted over to Susan as you threw a net at an exorcist pulling them down and stabbing them with an angelic weapon before discarding them to the side to harvest their wings later,

"I don't give a donkeys ass as long as they taste good!"

.....

"Susie?"

"Hm?"

"I'm dying again."

"Don't be dramatic!''

She smacked you gently on the head with her cane as you broke out in laughter, angel wing in your hand and gold around your mouth.

Good evening folks! I am actively dangling Susan around like a keychain, I should invest in a Susan keychain, are Susan keychains a thing???

[seastarblue]

Writemas Day Twenty-Four

guys????? this events literally over???? it went by so so quick 😭 but this was fun! even if I didn’t participate every day, I still had so so much fun!

for this last (slightly late) one, I’ve prepared a big ol’ thing for yall! I feel like this could function as a first chapter, kinda.

before you ask, it’s not for Interwoven, my main WIP and the one I’ve been posting about most of the time. It’s not even AGGTRG, another WIP. It’s from a WIP called The Guiding Star (TGS), and this very thing is the first thing I’ve ever written for it!!! wild, huh?

I’ll make a WIP intro for it soon enough hehe but!!

today’s (or, yesterday’s?) prompts!

and the ones I used were:

setting: a castle

setting: a road (gotta squint to see it hehe)

“She They started to give chase, laughter echoing louder than her footsteps hoofsteps on the ancient floors.”

feeling: the chill of rain (gotta squint 2: electric boogaloo)

———

Footsteps echoed through the castle halls, almost completely drowned out by the rattling of a sack and the occasional clack of hooves.

“Be careful with those bones, mate, they can’t break or this whole operation’ll be dead,” a husky voice ordered. “So dead, even I won’t be able to revive it. Got it?”

“Aye, Captain,” the sack-carrier replied.

As they made their way deeper into the castle, the captain asked that some full skeletons be hidden amongst the decor. When asked why, all they said was that it was for the best.

The hoofsteps stopped, suddenly, and all the clattering ground to a halt. The footsteps, quiet as always, made their way to where the hooved tiefling stood, overlooking a grand ball. Light filtered through the skylight, casting the pirates in a golden glow.

The pirate captain had one particular ball goer in mind—and just as their new informant had told them, he made his way further and further away from the center of the party.

“Fuckin’ traitor, can’t he stay with his prissy little friends?” they muttered, crimson eyes filled with rage.

“What was that, Cap?” the sack-carrier asked, gently placing the bones next to their feet.

The captain took a breath. Anger, being the finest fuel one could have nowadays, needed to be used sparingly. Spending all of it on badmouthing the ball wouldn’t help in any way. “‘S nothing, Amir. Get the last skeleton outta that sack, and go to Indra—tell ‘er to stay vigilant.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Amir nodded, following his captain’s order. He slung the bag onto the floor, crouched so that he was level with the knot, and untied it so that the ivory bones peeped through.

“Good man. Keep outta sight, understand? I’m dealin’ with ‘im alone,” Captain said, cracking their knuckles and shaking their hands out. “That fucker’s gonna regret messing with the wrong crew.”

Amir straightened his long limbs, glancing sideways at the captain. A strange look dashed over his features, as he warned, “Stay safe, Zenith.”

“Ah, you know I’ll be careful, don’t get your ears in a twist.”

Amir’s elven ears twitched, but he grinned, black teeth matching his dark eyes. “Then, Indra and I will see you soon.”

With a flick of his wrist and a flurry of shadow, the elf was gone, leaving Zenith with their bones, their fury, and most importantly: their magic.

~~~

Amir slinked through the shadows, quiet as ever. He slowly, slowly, made his way to the outside of the castle while pickpocketing a few of the lazier guards stationed at the gates (he needed some fun tonight, what could he say,). Soon enough, his ears picked up on his dear Indra’s voice, smooth and sweet as ever.

He sidled beside her, gently placing his long fingers over her eyes. “Guess who?” he whispered.

Indra started a bit, but when her forked tongue flicked in and out, she relaxed. “A… silly old man?”

“Correct!” He engulfed her in a hug, nuzzling his face on the crown of her head. “How do you fare, my dearest lady?”

“I’ve been well, no thanksss to your creeping about,” she replied, leaning a little more into her husband’s body. “You’re more sssnakelike than me, Amir.”

“Well can you blame me?” he asked. “You’re too stunning to not want to imitate—”

A loud crash interrupted the two spouses. After tilting his ears around to check for the source of the noise, he sighed and said, “Looks like Zenith finished up. Let’s get going, yes?”

“Mhm.” Indra started to slither away.

The two made their way back to the ship, arm in arm.

“Do you think they’ll be alright?”

“I sure hope ssso.”

~~~

Zenith waltzed through the castle corridors, one hand playing with their runic pistol as they debated whistling to pass the time. One reanimated skeleton trailed them, acting as a sort of bodyguard. Zenith wasn’t good at fighting, but since their magic could do the fighting for them, they felt no need to learn how. Besides, people tended to be too scared to fight corpses, even if the bones were all that were left.

Just as they turned a corner, they saw him. The traitor, the one who dropped a tip to the authorities of Bell Island that the infamous Guiding Star crew would land there soon. Zenith grit their teeth as they puppeteered the skeleton into a more discreet place, hiding beside it. They’d beat this man with nothing but fear.

The man, drunk off of whatever fancy drink they served at the ball, teetered to and fro as he tried to leave the castle altogether. His intoxication would be his downfall, however; he simply wandered deeper into the castle instead of leaving. If this went according to plan, he’d never leave, period.

When he finally realized he was lost, his shoulders slumped. He dragged his feet along, now barely an arm’s length away from one of the previously placed skeletons. That’s when the necromancer let the magic run wild.

Bony hands grabbed his ankle, clawing their way up to his knee before crumbling apart at the joints. The man shrieked, kicking the bones away. Zenith could see him trembling all the way from their hiding spot.

His fear filled them with ecstasy. Forget about caution, they wanted to have some fun with the guy.

They dropped the hiding act. Steadying themself, they started to give chase, laughter echoing louder than their hoofsteps on the ancient floors.

The man shrieked again—was he loud or what?—as he started to run away. His legs were much better built for running than theirs, but a quick yank of Zenith’s hand stopped that, as two more of the skeletons knocked him down.

The man whimpered as Zenith walked over. He flinched as they lowered themself to his level, and barely had time to scream again as they said, “This is what happens when you mess with my crew, you sick fuck.”

Then they cocked their pistol, shot, and the man was no more.

A couple guards filed into the halls, alerted by the squabble and the gunshot. ‘Maybe I shoulda been quieter,’ Zenith thought.

They didn’t really have time to regret their decision before they were sprinting, faster than they ever did before. Two guards weren’t a problem, between the final skeleton placed just at an exit and the five remaining bullets in their pistol, but Indra would have their antlers if she found out they’d been caught, Captain title aside.

Bursting outside, they didn’t have time to take a nice breath of fresh, rain-chilled air. Quick as a flash, they aimed their pistol and fired two shots, one at each guard, meant to kill. It merely disabled one, and the other was still in hot pursuit.

Cursing their shitty aim, they kept moving, just needing to make it to the ship docked at the port. Just a little farther…

They ran, fast as they could, but the guard was faster. She managed to pin the pirate down, and soon everything went black.

~~~

“This fucking idiot,” Indra muttered, chomping on the guard’s arm. After holding it for a bit, she let go. The bastard would die soon enough. Naga venom was no joke.

“Agreed. They’ve passed out,” Amir concluded. “From shock, by the looks of it.”

“Idiocy and cowardice are not a good combination.”

“You keep taking the words right from my mouth, love.”

Indra heaved Zenith onto her shoulder, grunting slightly at the sudden weight, but still holding strong. Once the three were out of immediate danger, Amir dropped the shadows he’d conjured, and starlight bathed them all.

As the three followed the roads back to the abandoned dock where their skyship, their home, came into view. Indra reluctantly asked, “…Are you sure it’s not a concussion?”

“No, I’m quite certain it’s shock. You don’t need to worry, they’ll be okay.” Amir placed an arm on her shoulder, the one that wasn’t carrying the tiefling.

“…Okay… since you’re certain.”

“I always am, Indy. Now,” he said, patting the side of the ship. “Ladies first~”

“‘M not a lady…”

Indra nearly dropped Zenith off the island from surprise. When she realized they were okay, they really did drop them, but not into the cloudy abyss below.

“Oof—the fuck was that for?!”

“Scaring me, nearly getting us caught,” she started, ticking off her fingers. “Being an absolute buffoon, as well.”

“…the first and last ones didn’t warrant a dropping, did they?”

“Yes. Yes they did.”

Grumbling, they got up. “Almost crushed my tail… stupid guards, stupid skeletons, stupid Indra, stupid Amir—”

“Hey, what did I do?!”

Zenith ignored him as they climbed onboard the Guiding Star. “Stupid informant, stupid skeletons, stupid guards…”

Indra rolled her eyes. “Let’s get going then, Amir.”

They climbed onto the ship, and away they went, sailing into the vast inky sea of stars.

———

RAHHHH

General Writing Taglist! Lemme know if you’d like on via dm!

@bunnymermaidwrites @abiteofhoney @aalinaaaaaa @vesanal @cepheusgalaxy

@fifis-corner @urnumber1star @thebookishkiwi @sunflowerrosy @theink-stainedfolk

@threedaysgross @mundanemoongirl @satohqbanana @bamber344 @imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese

@viridis-icithus @cc-writes-stuff @anothersummerofsleep @sharkblizzardblogs

@verdant-mainframe @kittrrrr @ruvastuon @agirlandherquill (<- the host!) @annothersummerofsleep

@nczaversnick @zerotothex @oliolioxenfreewrites

yay I hope yall enjoyed :>

[redemn]

＊ 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐌 / 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐍 . ＊ independent , selective , private . ː 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧 from rockstar's 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ➁ . penned by kat , she/her , 28. a study in ː the reclamation of the self , preservation of the moral code in sedition , and the perpetuation of circumstantial change .

i  always  knew  you  had  to  be  willin'  to  die  to  even  do  this  job  .      but  ,      i  don't  want  to  push  my  chips  forward  and  go  out  and  meet  somethin'  i  don't  understand  .      a  man  would  have  to  put  his  soul  at  hazard  .      he'd  have  to  say  :      '  o.k.,      i'll  be  part  of  this  world  .  '

⁰¹⋆ carrd. ⁰²⋆ pinterest. ⁰³⋆ spotify. ⁰⁴⋆ prompts. ⁰⁵⋆ hcs. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⁰⁶⋆ tyler owens. ( if i'm not here , i'm there )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤtruncated rules under the cut.

⁰¹⋆   on followers + following .   no minors please .   in fact ,   i'd be more comfortable with people over the age of 21 due to my own age .   i am not interested in keeping a large following of people i do not interact with ,   or who do not at least like my posts every once in a while .   whenever i'm on the dash ,   i try to do the same courtesy .   also ,   sometimes i don't keep up with developments in the rpc ,   so if you ever see me interacting with anyone who has been proven to be problematic in the past or even recently ,   please let me know so that i can cut it off .

⁰²⋆   on shipping .   like everyone ,   i love shipping ,   but i'm not someone wants to jump into it without proper development beforehand .   i prioritise and often populate my blogs with primarily platonic or non-ship-oriented threads .   i practice ship exclusivity ,   which means i will only ship with one version of a character ,   and i expect the same courtesy .   if your muse ships with another arthur ,   unless you are a very very close friend ,   i will not ship him with that muse ,   period .   [ … ]   on a related note ,   please don't ask to write smut if we barely know each other and / or haven't written any "regular" threads together .   i do write smut with those i ship with ,   mostly on discord ,   but pwp doesn't interest me at all ,   so save us both time and don't ask .   i'd write 10 fluff threads over a smut thread any day . my thoughts on the matter . i am also not open to shipping if we don't at least write threads on here . again , i am not interested in immediately shipping if we don't have something built up first , and it makes me feel like people don't appreciate it if they don't at least try to answer asks that i send or write some form of thread on here .

⁰³⋆   IMPORTANT .   i understand that arthur is a canon character and everyone's interpretations of him are different . but please do not impose what you think arthur would do or how he would react on my interpretation . please also do not try to ship without first plotting out a thorough friendship between them , because both i and arthur need chemistry in order for that to work . otherwise i personally will not be invested . arthur is demisexual and won't form any sexual attraction for anyone until he has a strong connection with them , and no , just saying "they've been friends" is not good enough for me .

⁰⁴⋆   on content .   triggering content will be present on this blog ,   due to the nature of the game and my own writing .   i tag all my triggers with "trigger //" for reference . most importantly , there will be mentions of terminal illness // here .

⁰⁵⋆   on activity .   i work a full time job ,   monday-friday .   please respect that in regards to my activity .   my other blog is penddraig .   hi .    :)

⁰⁶⋆   if you could like this post after reading my rules ,   i would appreciate it .   this is not mandatory ,   for those of you who are anxious about it .   i just like knowing and i like a little interaction .   i hope my rules don't sound too harsh to all of you .   i promise i'm not mean !!   i'm just old ,   i've been in the rpc for a long time ,   and want to nip issues i've encountered in the bud before they start .

[anartificialsatellite]

I've been thinking about it because I've seen some insightful posts cross my dash recently on related subjects, and I think one of the big sources of bad blood in this fandom stems from an inability to really agree on the fact that we are in the Hetalia fandom and not the Actual Literal Real Life Political Entities Called States/Countries fandom, no matter how much those characters may have their characterization and backstory inspired by aspects of the history and culture of Actual Literal Countries.

What I mean by this is that the expectations people have of how they and others should conceive of, react to, interact with, etc. Hetalia countries are all over the place because some people approach them as if they are characters inspired in some way by aforementioned political concepts and some people approach them as the actual country -- And to complicate this I think most people differ on who, when, where, and to what degree they do this and perhaps more importantly, the degree to which they think other people are or should be doing this.

In essence I think at least this specific issue comes down to an ability to see one's own favorite or least favorite characters or even OCs and know that, you know, this is my country-themed Boy that I am playing with and obviously I know they're not the same thing, yet struggling with the uncertainty of whether other people know that they aren't the same, and rather than saying "Well maybe they're just like me and their opinion and understanding of the Country is more nuanced and complex than their opinion of the Boy," sometimes/often then defaulting to the assumption that they don't have that separation.

And when we assume they don't have that separation, then it follows that there is a direct correlation between how they treat the Boy and how they feel about Actual Country, whether it is in the "i'll excuse the Bad Government and Bad History because I love the Boy" direction or the "I love the Boy because I excuse the Bad Government and Bad History" direction. It means that a difference in interpretation or minor historical inaccuracy suddenly becomes A Big Old Deal because instead of being wrong about a Fake Thing, they are now assumed to also be wrong about a Real Thing (and so probably lots of other real things too) and that is way more important.

And, alright, look, I won't even say that nobody is like that, because I know for a fact there are people with genuine bad opinions about characters who also have those genuine bad opinions about real countries and people from those countries, though I would argue that typically they're in the category of already having had bad opinions before Hetalia. (Those people also tend to be obvious in other ways.) And there are also definitely people who are wrong about history in minor ways who also happen to be wrong about history in big and important ways.

But people come to a fandom for different reasons, and they get different things out of their fandom experiences, and the assumption that we can tell how they feel or how much they know or care about a thing by simply looking at how they play with the characters and concluding there is a 1-to-1 correlation there is not, uh... It's definitely not nice, for one, but it's also not conducive to a welcoming or enjoyable community, and I'll go ahead and say that it's pretty arrogant, too, whether one means to be or not.

Giving people the benefit of the doubt, adjusting our expectations and assumptions, approaching other fans as people who have the same capability we have to differentiate between a Hetalia country character and an Actual Country, and above all presuming good faith unless/until given a reason to think otherwise, would go a long way towards making the fandom experience better, broadly and individually.

[jerzwriter]

It always starts somewhere...

This is my entry for Day one of @choicesjanuary2024 January Challenge. I hope you enjoy it!

Book: Crimes of Passion (post book 2) Pairing: Trystan Thorne x Carolina Rose Category: Fluff with a dash of angst Rating: Teen Words: 1,200 Summary: It's a tradition. A day Carolina always looks forward to, even if it's filled with bittersweet memories. But tonight, the tradition starts anew, with Trystan by her side.

Darkness had already enveloped the city as Carolina drew the curtains. Her face bright with anticipation, she gazed out her bedroom window onto the street below. There was only one thing on her mind as she mindlessly twirled the crystal flute of Chardonnay in her hand, nearly forgetting it was there. But the moment she remembered, she eagerly brought the glass to her lips, savoring the rich, oaky flavor as it swirled over her tongue, warming her more than the roaring fire ever could.

Despite the dipping temperature, she slipped off her cardigan and tossed it on a nearby chair. Eyes still focused on the freezing pavement, and she couldn't help but smile. This wasn’t the first time she had practiced this ritual; it was practically as old as she was, even its practices had been amended over the years. The ceramic mug her father bought for her when they saw Annie was no longer in her hand. The delicious aroma of the hot cocoa that had filled it was also gone, just like her father, who once sat at her side.  

The unwelcome visitor was drawing near. Sadness, reaching in and gripping her as it often did made her eyes flicker away, but she turned back with determination. No! Sadness and despair would not win today; not on a night as special as this. Her fingers traced the rim of the crystal chalice that her father had used years before. The only one she’d consider using today.

“Ves eso, Papi?” she whispered into the deafening silence. “Any moment now.”

He must have entered quietly, or perhaps she was too distracted to hear him because his breath was warm on her neck and his arms gently encircled her waist before she heard a sound. Then, she had to laugh. Was she even a detective after all?

“What will be any moment now?” Trystan whispered, brushing her hair to the side and placing gentle kisses on her freshly exposed skin. She leaned into him, a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding escaping her as she melted into his arms. Just like that, all was right with the world.

“Mi Vida,” she smiled. “This is a very important night.”

His eyes widened for a quick moment... concerned he had forgotten an important date. Then, his expression softened as he recalled the stormy forecast.

“That’s right,” he grinned. “The first snowfall of the year.”

“Mmm hmm,” she nodded. “More importantly, our first snowfall together.”

“I see you have your father’s wine glass,” he smiled. “And the curtains are drawn, so you have everything you need.”

She gently placed the glass on the table beside her and turned to face him; her eyes lingering on his moonlit features. “At least I do now." Her lips moved toward his, claiming them as her own in warm, comforting kiss.

“Mmm-mmmh,” he simpered before playfully pulling away. “Oh, no, Lina. No way. I’ve been waiting to participate in this ritual for some time, and I will not allow you seduce me away from it.”

She strolled toward the old mahogany sideboard with a chuckle. "Oh really," she said, pouring another glass for her love. A playful smirk tugged at her lips when she placed it in his hands. “Then you’ll need this... if you plan to do it right."

He nodded with approval upon taking a sip. “This is quite good; I suppose the seduction could wait.”

“How noble of you!” Carolina teased.

“But, of course! I am a prince, after all.”

Shaking her head with delight, she fell into his arms and and Trystan tried to determine if that sound of her laughter had become his favorite melody of all. It was undoubtedly in his top three, each spot now claimed solely by his Carolina. But his body tensed as he realized her laughter had turned to tears that dampened the crook of his neck. He clasped the sides of her face, worry weighing on his features.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, gazing into her tear-filled eyes. “Are you all right? I thought this was a happy tradition?”

“It is,” she sniffled, wiping away her tears. “But it’s different now, and it’s my first time sharing it with you.”

“Is that OK?” he asked. “If you’d rather be alone...”

“No, no!” She grabbed his hand and held it against her heart. “I’ve done this alone for years now, ever since my father died. Honestly, I never thought I'd share this with anyone else again, but now... I can't wait to experience this with you by my side.”

He pulled a chair closer to the window so they could sit without missing a thing, then motioned for her to sit on his lap. “I’m glad to hear that,” he assured. “Because there is no place I’d rather be.”

“So, how does this work?” He asked, getting down to business. “Do we do anything special while we wait?”

“Nope, we just keep watch. Whoever spots the first snowflake has to yell, ‘Look, it’s a blizzard!’ and then we share a toast.”

“A blizzard?” Trystan chuckled. “Carolina, a flake of snow does not a blizzard make.”

“Of course not, but it is how each one begins. Everything has to start somewhere, and that’s what makes it so remarkable. We watch one single snowflake fall to the earth, so innocent, so insignificant on its own, but when we wake up tomorrow the city will be blanketed in snow, and you and I will know, that it all started with that one little flake we watched together.”

She could feel him swallow as he gently turning her chin his way. “Everything starts somewhere,” he whispered. “And we never know what beautiful places it might lead.”

The world fell into slow-motion as their lips came together. The familiar, sweet taste filling their sense as everything else fell into the shadows. He pulled her closer, as her fingers ran through his hair, and the rest of the world was lost.  Neither knew how long they stayed like that, but they couldn't forget Trystan's childlike gasp when he briefly opened his eyes.

“Look," he pointed with exasperation. "It’s a blizzard!” A solitary silver flake glistened in the streetlights as it slowly twirled down to the street below. They jumped to their feet, foreheads pressed against the cold glass, unwilling to miss a moment as it descended to the earth.

“It is! It’s a blizzard!” Carolina squealed, grabbing their wine glasses to propose a toast. “It’s our first snowflake, Trystan! The first snowflake has fallen, and with it, a new chapter begins.”

“To new beginnings,” he smiled, reaching out to caress her cheek one more time before they emptied their glasses. Side by side, they watched as more flakes fell, one by one, until a whispy, barely there sheet coated the sidewalks.

“You see, it’s happening!”

“It is," he smiled. "I dare say that we will wake to that blanket of snow tomorrow."

“We will,” she beamed. "But until then, I was thinking I'd like to get under the blankets with you. Are you in?"

Trystan took Carolina in one arm, as the other hastily pulled the drapes closed, a devilish glint in his eyes.

"I am so in," he smiled. "Look at us, sharing new things every day."

"Yep," she agreed. "One day this will all be old hat... we'll be some old couple boring those around us with stories of all the blizzards we've watched begin together. Hopefully, you won't grow tired of it by then."

"Are you kidding? Each snowflake is different, no snowstorm the same... and every day is a new discovery because I fall in love with every little thing you do."

A/N: Incorporated all 3 parts of @choicesjanuary2024 Day 1, though, I cheated and didn't use the sentence as the first line! Also participating in @choicesflashfics, prompt "I fall in love with every little thing you do."

@choicesficwriterscreations Tagging others separately.